The Pregnant Virgin. Anne Eames

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СКАЧАТЬ first. But do I detect a little reservation in your voice?”

      “It’s going to sound silly—”

      “No, go ahead.”

      “The father. Didn’t it bother you that you didn’t even have a face or—” Brad Darling sat down at the table behind Michelle and Ali stopped midsentence.

      “Yes, it did,” Michelle said.

      Ali watched as he began to read a stack of papers he’d brought with him, apparently not noticing her. Ali ducked behind Michelle and picked up her water glass, wishing again that maintenance would do something about the air. It was stifling.

      “—so that’s why I looked for a fantasy man.”

      Ali looked at Michelle, hoping she hadn’t missed much. “Fantasy man?”

      Michelle laughed and pushed away her plate. “It sounds pathetic, but every store I went into I looked at picture frames hoping to find just the right model’s face behind the glass—someone who could seem real to me—the kind of man I’d be attracted to and go out with if given the chance.”

      “Did you ever find one?”

      Michelle smiled. “Not in a picture frame. I met Kevin on a cruise—one that left the same day I was inseminated. And as they say, the rest is history.”

      Ali peeked around Michelle and caught “Darling” Brad staring at her, those damnable blue eyes boring into her, and she felt a pink tinge travel up her neck. He didn’t smile or acknowledge her in any way. Maybe he was trying to remember where he’d seen her before. Or maybe he knew exactly where and that was the problem.

      “Ali? Are you okay?”

      “Uh…sure. Fine.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “Just off in la-la land. I do that sometimes.”

      “Overactive imagination?”

      “Something like that.”

      “Was that all you wanted to ask me?”

      Was there anything else? Only one thing came to mind.

      “I don’t mean to sound like a wuss, but did it hurt?”

      “More than I had anticipated, but not too bad…and it’s over rather fast. A lot faster than the other end of the process, believe me. I’m sure you’ll hear enough of those stories when your time comes.”

      When her time came. Not if. Michelle believed it would happen. Ali hoped she was right and that her sisters’ problems wouldn’t plague her, too. Over Michelle’s shoulder she saw Blue Eyes leave the room, papers under his arm, empty tray in front of him. He had a confident yet not cocky gait, and again she noticed his narrow waist, long, lean legs and sinewy arms. And he had to be smarter than the average bear in his profession. Good genes, she thought. What more could she hope for?

      “Do you have a time table in mind?”

      He disappeared around the corner and Ali gave Michelle her full attention. She hadn’t even told her sisters this, but Michelle had been so forthright it seemed okay to do. Besides, she’d been dying to tell someone. Who better than a trusted friend who’d been there?

      Still she felt herself blush when she said, “Actually…any day now.”

      Michelle reached for her hand and squeezed it. “That’s wonderful, Ali. I wish you luck. I know this is a very private matter for you, but if you ever want to talk again, I’m more than willing to meet you anytime. Just call.”

      “Thank you. I will.” It was good to talk with someone outside the family who didn’t see her as a child. Even though Michelle was closer to Lynne and Barbara’s ages, she had never treated Ali as anything other than a peer.

      They walked slowly to the tray deposit area and Ali was tempted to tell Michelle more—how she thought she had found the perfect fantasy father. But in the end she decided some things were better kept to one’s self.

      After work, in the privacy of her apartment, Ali went to her desk and found the long list of potential donors from the Midwest data bank. Retrieving her planner from her purse, she flipped to the memo section and read Brad’s file number that she had jotted down at work. With fingers trembling she scanned the donor pages, searching for the unique number. On page five she found it. Next to it read: five-foot ten inches, 175 pounds, blue eyes—oh, yes, very blue eyes, she remembered—and black hair. Field of work: medicine.

      Before she could change her mind, she raced into the kitchen and dialed the cross-town clinic. When the secretary answered the phone, Ali read her selection in a shaky voice and said to expect her later in the week, probably Thursday or Friday. She was assured all would be ready and waiting.

      But it wasn’t until Saturday morning, the day of the football game, that Ali discovered the time was right. She’d tested herself twice and come up with the same results both times: she was finally ovulating. Fortunately it was only 6:00 a.m. The clinic opened at seven. There was still time to make the game if she hurried. She called and said she was on her way.

      Traffic was light as she drove I75 north to Royal Oak and she was making good time. Her stomach grumbled from lack of food, but there was no way she could eat. Her heart felt as though it were racing to keep up with the speedometer.

      Finally she pulled into the clinic’s parking lot, took a few calming breaths and ran through everything again—family history of fertility problems, good men were hard to find, nothing wrong with wanting a face for the baby’s father. She lingered on the last one. Michelle had felt the same way, so this wasn’t unusual. And it wasn’t as if she planned to hold the guy up for child support or anything. She didn’t want a thing from him. Just a real person behind the sterile vial.

      Lastly she thought about child care. She could ask her sisters for help if she wanted to return to work, or if she didn’t, thankfully the income from her wise investments was large enough so she could stay home and be a full-time mom. The latter sounded most appealing. She closed her eyes and imagined the soft skin of her baby’s cheek against her neck, the fresh scent of baby powder…and the beautiful sky-blue eyes of the father.

      Yes, this was the right thing to do. Today was the day.

      Three

      Back in her bed midmorning, Ali wiped away another tear. All the way home she had cried. She was surprised there was anything left.

      Everything had gone well. Too well. More like coldly efficient. Her hand circled her belly and she wondered what was going on in there. Maybe it had happened already. At the clinic they had warned her not to get her hopes up too high, that it often took a few tries. But they didn’t warn her that she might feel so blue. In spite of all the facts she had collected, this wasn’t how she had imagined things would happen.

      Yes, she had wanted a baby, but always in her dreams there had been this wonderful man who adored her, who she loved with total abandon, whose arms would be wrapped tightly around her at a time like this.

      She never felt so alone in her life.

      She closed her eyes and tried to summon up the blue eyes, the dimpled smile. Only a vague blur, nothing in focus.

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