Pregnancy Countdown. Linda Wisdom Randall

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      Nora couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so terrible. For all she knew, she had never felt this bad before. If she had the strength she’d beg someone to put her out of her misery.

      She sat on her bathroom floor with her back against the wall and held a wet washcloth against her forehead.

      A faint snuffling sound came from her left as a cold nose pushed against her leg.

      “Oh, Brumby, I feel horrible,” she moaned, keeping her eyes closed. She was afraid if she opened them her stomach would resume its acrobatics. She wasn’t used to getting sick just by looking at her bathroom tile.

      She’d woken up that morning feeling as if her stomach was turning itself inside out. She’d spent the next hour in the bathroom and vowed never to get takeout at that new Chinese restaurant again. By the time her stomach settled down she’d vowed never again to eat Chinese food, period. The following hour, she was starving. By then, she’d even felt well enough to fix herself a big breakfast and eat every bite. Afterward, she took Brumby for a long walk, which pleased the bulldog to no end since he loved nothing more than patrolling the neighborhood.

      That afternoon she’d settled down on the couch with a book and had fallen asleep before reading three pages. The activity wasn’t a usual occurrence for her, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

      When Nora woke up a couple of hours later, the open windows invited in the rich aroma of steaks cooking on a grill at a neighbor’s house. Her stomach rolled over as if she’d just stumbled off the fastest roller coaster in the world. She barely made it to the bathroom in time.

      Thirty minutes later, she was still in the bathroom because she was afraid of straying too far. She feared she was in for a repeat of that morning. Which meant it wasn’t last night’s Chinese food. Then she remembered several people at the salon had come down with a nasty flu virus.

      “How could I catch the flu?” she mumbled. “I take just about every vitamin I can imagine.” She smiled at the dog’s muffled snore. Her smile took a downturn and her voice turned to a groan when she heard the doorbell chime. “The last thing I want right now is company!”

      Nora remained seated on the floor. Whoever was at the door could assume she wasn’t home and leave. Even Brumby didn’t stir. Except the melodic summons didn’t stop, it turned downright annoying. She knew that only occurred if someone was keeping a finger on the button. She didn’t care. She wasn’t budging.

      “Come on, Nora! I know you’re home. You better answer before I call 911!”

      Nora muttered a curse that was very unladylike.

      “What is he doing here? There’s no reason for him to be here,” she muttered, slowly rising to her feet. For a second, the world swayed around her. Nora held on to the sink until everything settled into place.

      She paused to see if her stomach would give her the excuse she needed to ignore the doorbell. The traitorous part of her body decided to behave. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Skin white as paper. Eyes dark and sunken in her face. Her hair was sticking out every which way. She couldn’t look any worse if she tried.

      “Talk about scary. This is good. One look at me and the man will run for the hills,” she observed.

      “Nora?” Mark’s voice sounded panicked as it floated through the front window. He started pounding on the door. “I mean it. If you don’t come to the door I’m calling the cops.”

      “Not if I call them first,” she said under her breath as she slowly walked down the hallway.

      “If you don’t open this door in five seconds, I’m calling my mom!” he shouted the ultimate threat. “Do you really want her coming out here? You know she will.”

      Nora groaned. The last thing she needed was Mark’s mother showing up at her door. Cathy Walker would do just that if Mark called her to say Nora wasn’t well. Nora loved the woman dearly, but she didn’t need anyone fussing over her. She took a deep breath and headed for the door.

      “You are such a mama’s boy.” She threw open the door. “Go away.” Having given her command, she started to close the door, but Mark gripped it tightly and held fast. “Mark!” She tried pushing again, but he easily moved her to one side and stepped inside.

      “What happened to you?” he demanded, walking past her. “You look like hell.”

      “Thank you so much for that heartfelt compliment. Now that I’ve scared you into Halloween, would you please leave?” She swung the door open in hopes he would get the message. The last thing she wanted was company. While she had at first thought it was a good idea that Mark see her at her worst, she now realized she didn’t want him seeing her when she looked less than human.

      Mark held up two plastic grocery bags in one hand. He used his foot to gently move Brumby away from his leg.

      “Mom was sorry you didn’t come out for the barbecue. She asked me to drop some of the food off to you,” he explained. “There’s some of her potato salad, some of Abby’s chocolate cake, not that I’d recommend it, but Abby stuck it in. There’re also slices of tri-tip roast and some rolls if you want to make sandwiches.”

      As the aromas wafted upward to her nose, Nora could feel her stomach start to roll over again. She swallowed convulsively. The last thing she wanted was to become sick in front of Mark. If that happened, he would not only refuse to leave, he’d probably call his mother, to boot! If she thought Mark was difficult to get rid of, Cathy would be downright impossible, because she would insist on staying until she was certain Nora was all right. Nora would feel much better if Mark would just leave her alone.

      Except Nora knew she was lying to herself.

      The idea of a man taking time to stop by as a favor for his mother and not put off by a woman who looked like something dragged out of one of the hiding places where Brumby kept his precious toys, was charming. She didn’t want Mark to be charming!

      She looked at Mark. She wanted to reach out for him. To ask him to take her in his arms and tell her she was going to be all right. That he’d make it all better. She blinked rapidly for fear she’d completely disgrace herself and break down in tears.

      “I’ll have to call Cathy and thank her for her thoughtfulness. It was very nice of you to drop the food off, so sorry you have to leave,” she said, her voice husky.

      She should have known that Mark would ignore her. He walked past her and disappeared into the kitchen. She could hear the rustle of the bags as he set them on the counter and her refrigerator door open, then close as he put the perishable food away. She was ready to march in there and demand to know what was taking him so long, when he returned with Brumby following fast on his heels.

      “I hope you don’t mind that I tossed Brumb a small piece of the tri tip. Hey, are you sick?” he asked. He reached forward to press the back of his hand against her forehead. She reared back. He stepped forward again and this time succeeded in touching her.

      “It’s a toss up between the Chinese food I had last night or the beginning of the flu, which I’m certain you wouldn’t want to catch.” She suddenly felt weak in the knees. She wasn’t sure if it was because she’d been sick a good part of the day or because of Mark’s proximity. She wanted him to go before she broke down and begged him to stay. When had she turned so indecisive? She used to know her own СКАЧАТЬ