The Billion Dollar Pact. Sheri WhiteFeather

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       Nine

      Carol waited for Jake to respond. But he just sat there staring at her. Was he struggling to grasp what she’d just told him? Or was he simply too stunned to move? To blink? To talk?

      After what seemed like forever, he said, “That’s impossible.”

      “In what way?” she asked, prodding him to explain what he was thinking and feeling.

      “We used protection.” He spoke robotically, like a computer stating a fact. Or someone who refused to believe what he was hearing.

      “Condoms sometimes fail.” She’d checked the failure rates and the numbers were staggering. “Mostly from them breaking or slipping off.”

      “But that didn’t happen to us.”

      “No, but I might have damaged the first one. With as much as I fumbled with it, I could have poked a tiny hole in it. Or the failure could have come from the last one we used. Remember how the edges of the packet were bent from the way it had been stuck in your suitcase? The condom itself could have been compromised without us even knowing it.”

      Jake stood and stepped away from the sofa, pressing his back against the fireplace mantel. He was beginning to look like a caged animal. Carol knew exactly how he felt.

      “Then I guess it is possible,” he said.

      “Yes, it is.” Her voice vibrated with every breath she took. She’d never expected to be in this position, possibly impregnated by a man who didn’t want children. “Last week, I thought I had my period, but it was weird. First of all, it was early and that’s never happened to me before.” Normally her cycles were like clockwork. “And it only lasted a few hours, which was even weirder.” She hated to share all of the clinical details, but considering how crucial this was, it seemed necessary. “It was more like spotting than a full period.”

      “I’m confused.” His voice was shaky, too. He even cleared his throat, as if it might help. “That isn’t an early sign of pregnancy, is it?”

      “Actually, it is. But I wasn’t aware of it until I looked up my symptoms online. At first I thought I was getting a virus based on how run-down I was feeling. Then when my period seemed irregular, I got a little worried and researched what could’ve caused that. And that’s when I came across something called implantation bleeding. It’s just like what I had. It’s a result of the fertilized egg attaching itself to the wall of the uterus. It typically happens two to seven days before the beginning of what would be your regular menstrual cycle. In my case, it’s been about six days. My period is due tomorrow.”

      He looked relieved—not completely, but at least his body language wasn’t quite as tense. “Then maybe it’ll start and everything will be okay. Maybe you’ll begin to feel better, too.”

      “That’s what I’m hoping. That’s why I didn’t want to take a pregnancy test or go to a doctor yet, either.”

      He wrinkled his forehead. “Can a test even be taken this early?”

      Carol nodded. “Yes, but I wanted to wait, just to see if my period comes first. Besides, early tests aren’t always accurate.” She reached for her soup, needing fuel, so she cut into the matzo ball and ate a portion of that. “I haven’t been queasy, so that’s a good sign. Mostly my symptoms are lack of energy and light-headedness. It might just be stress. Sometimes women’s menstrual cycles can get disrupted by that.”

      He relaxed a bit more, moving away from the mantel. “Then that’s probably what it is. It seems the most likely culprit. Even I figured that’s what was wrong with you and why you’re not feeling well. That’s why I came over here to question you about it.”

      “I appreciate your concern.” She hadn’t wanted to see him until after she knew for sure, but she was glad that she’d gotten it over with. “If my cycle starts tomorrow, we’re in the clear. But if it doesn’t...”

      He tugged at his hair, hard enough to create a grimace. “Pregnancy never even occurred to me.”

      “Me, neither, until all of this blew up in my face.” She wanted to pull her hair out, too.

      “If you don’t start your period, how long are you going to wait before you take a test?”

      “I don’t know. A few days, maybe. I don’t want to sit around on pins and needles, but I don’t want to get a false reading, either.” She was just hoping and praying that her cycle showed up. “I could go to the doctor to get a blood test. Those give you an earlier reading. But it takes longer to get the results than a urine test, so I’d have to wait, either way. I doubt my doctor would rush the results of a blood test for me.”

      “Will you call me tomorrow and let me know how you’re doing and if anything happens?”

      “Of course I will.” Now that he was part of the equation, she would keep him well informed. “But if you hadn’t come over today, I wouldn’t have told you any of this, not until enough time passed for me to be sure.” She blinked, fighting back tears. “I didn’t want to worry you if it turned out to be nothing.” She put down her soup, leaving the spoon inside the mug. “I’m so scared, Jake.”

      “Me, too.” He resumed his seat on the sofa, looking at her as if she might break. “But it’ll be okay.”

      She wished that she could believe him. But what if she was pregnant? He was the last man on earth she should be having a baby with. “You can’t know it’s going to be okay.”

      “I’m just trying to comfort you. To say what I’m supposed to say.” Clearly, he was struggling with his role in this. “Would you rather be alone now? Do you want me to leave?”

      She looked into the vastness of his eyes. “Do you want to go?”

      He gazed back at her. “I asked you first.”

      They sounded like kids, debating a silly subject. But that wasn’t the case. This was a serious discussion between two anxiety-ridden adults.

      She took the undecided road. “It’s up to you.”

      “Please, Carol. Either ask me to stay or tell me to leave. Don’t make me choose.”

      “Then maybe you should go.” If he stayed, she might fall prey to the temptation of those big broad shoulders and put her head on one of them. She might even cry in his arms, and that wouldn’t do either of them any good.

      “All right.” He wiped his hands on his pants, as if his palms had turned clammy. “We’ll just keep in touch by phone.”

      She walked him to the door, where they both stood outside. The air felt good, so she breathed in as much of it as she could.

      “Take care of yourself,” he said.

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