Rachel's Hope. Carole Page Gift

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СКАЧАТЬ disturbing things Rachel hardly dared put into words: David’s preoccupation, his aura of secretiveness when she questioned him about his activities. He inevitably brushed her off with an excuse that he worried about work.

      But was it the truth? Or was her marriage in even deeper trouble than she suspected? Could it be that David had found a new interest…someone else? Until now Rachel hadn’t dared to put the thought into words.

      She chastened herself for harboring such suspicions. But the nagging questions could not be erased. Rachel’s mind wavered between two poles—the agony that her suspicions might be correct and a gnawing guilt over the fact that she did not trust her husband.

      Was it any wonder she didn’t want to face a pregnancy now? Marlene just didn’t understand. How could Rachel bring another life into the tangled web of her marriage? It was all she could do to cope with David and Brian. And lately, she was hardly able to cope with anyone—or anything—at all.

      “Mrs. Webber? Mrs. Webber! The doctor will see you now.”

      Rachel frowned, attempting to swing her thoughts back to the present, struggling to recognize the voice that spoke her name. Who called her? But of course—the nurse.

      Marlene gave her a nudge. “That’s you, gal.”

      Rachel tried to rise casually, but she felt herself on the verge of leaping from her chair. The rotund lady seated across the room glanced up momentarily from her book, a flicker of interest lighting behind her eyes. The two teenagers offered curious stares, and Rachel felt an inexplicable impulse to apologize for something, to say, at least, “Excuse me.”

      She said it with her eyes but kept her lips tightly closed as she met the starched woman’s professional gaze, then passed through the open door to the examining room.

      Twenty minutes later, wrapped in a disposable paper gown, Rachel sat facing Dr. Oberg, a tall, lanky man with a bountiful head of curly hair.

      “Well,” the mild-mannered physician declared brightly, “the results are in.” He glanced at the slip of paper he held as if it were a cue card and, with a smile, informed her, “As you probably already suspected, the test was positive, Mrs. Webber.”

      “Positive?” she echoed. She felt the color rise in her cheeks. “Are you sure? Couldn’t there be a mistake?”

      “Oh, no, Mrs. Webber. My examination confirmed it. You are pregnant.” He patted her hand gently, almost a fatherly gesture. “Is there a problem? It is Mrs., isn’t it?”

      “Yes, but my husband and son—they’ll be…surprised.”

      “Pleasantly, I hope.”

      “So do I.”

      “Do you have other family nearby…to offer support?”

      Rachel averted her gaze. “No. My parents died in a car crash when I was a teenager. And my husband’s family lives in a small town in Ohio. We rarely see them.”

      “I see,” said Dr. Oberg. He studied her chart for a moment. “I notice your son was a breech birth. There’s no reason to expect another breech, you know. We’ll anticipate a normal, healthy pregnancy. Tell me, do you have any questions?”

      Rachel shook her head, her mind numb.

      “Well, then,” said Dr. Oberg, resuming an air of formality, “if you’ll check with my nurse on the way out for your next appointment…”

      Moments later Rachel walked out of the office, dazed, telling herself, This can’t be real. It must be someone’s clever prank, a hoax. Pregnant! What would she tell David? Surprise! We’re going to have a baby. Just what our marriage needs.

      Marlene caught up with her on the sidewalk, breathless. “Rachel, honey, don’t forget me.”

      “I’m sorry. I—”

      “The test?”

      “Positive. Oh, Marlene, how will I tell David?”

      “Maybe…pray about it?”

      “I can’t. I’m past praying.”

      On the way home Rachel had a daring idea. She would not tell David anything at all. Not yet. Why stir up trouble? Why muddy the waters? It would be weeks yet before she began to show. Anything could happen. The future was anybody’s guess. There was time to work on her marriage, to improve her relationship with David, to prepare him for this so-called “blessed event.”

      Yes! Why not? For the present her pregnancy would remain her secret.

       Chapter Two

      It was late October, cold and storm-cloudy. David Webber gazed for a few moments into the dusky, smog-tinged dreariness outside his office window, then turned his attention back to his computer and the work at hand. The prints for the anti-icing design for the new regional jet had to be ready for the customer by 5:00 p.m. He fished through his desk drawer for paper clips, but as usual, couldn’t find anything when he wanted it. Rubber bands, pencils and erasers, scratch paper and marking pens. But no paper clips. Impatiently he slammed the desk drawer, saying something unintelligible under his breath.

      David caught a glimpse of his scowling reflection in the expansive windows beyond his desk. He wasn’t one to think often about his looks, but when he did he had to admit to a modicum of conceit. Although nearing his mid-thirties, he had managed to maintain his athletic physique. It helped, of course, having good genes and being over six feet tall. Weekends of tennis and jogging under a hot California sun had tanned his skin a deep reddish brown, giving him a rugged, weather-beaten, even seafaring appearance. Rachel used to tell him with an admiring smile that he looked like one of those macho film stars—he could never keep up with the names. Come to think of it, it had been ages since she’d said anything like that.

      These days it was Kit Kincaid, the engineering secretary, who fed his ego with effusive praise. She had even teasingly remarked that it must have been his double in that ubiquitous TV ad showing a smiling, virile, more-than-handsome workman chugalugging a diet soda while the office girls swooned with admiration. The comment had secretly pleased David. He was glad Kit considered him handsome—a man’s man and, yes, a woman’s man.

      He looked back at his desk. Paperwork was strewn about like gigantic pieces of confetti. Before David could make sense of the chaos, Ralph Mercer, one of the draftsmen, came striding his way. “Webber, have you gone over the check prints of my drawing?”

      “Which drawing?”

      “Last Friday’s. The top assembly for the anti-ice system,” Ralph reminded him.

      “Yeah, it’s here—somewhere.” He riffled through a mound of papers. “Yes, here it is.” He had merely set the Wellman test report on top of it. “Look, I’ll check the drawing once more and get it right back to you.”

      The draftsman left abruptly, only slightly mollified.

      David scanned the drawing, remembering now that everything was all right. If the draftsman had waited a minute, he could СКАЧАТЬ