“I don’t want to be blessed. I want to be pregnant.”
“Have you spoken to Jack about any of this?”
Samantha shook her head. “No. Jack hates it when I’m negative. But I feel like such a loser. I can’t sell my book. I can’t get pregnant. Hell, I can’t even get a date.”
“Because you’re not putting yourself out there, honey. Why don’t we go out tonight, just the two of us? It’ll be my treat. We’ll find us some men and have mindless sex. Whaddaya say?”
“I appreciate the offer, Patty, but I just don’t feel up to it. Plus, I’ve got my period. There’ll be no sex for me.” Not that she was into casual sex anyway. She and Patty might be friends, but they were fundamentally different when it came to some things, like having sex just for the hell of it.
Samantha might not be interested in marriage per se, but she wanted to have meaningful relationships. She wanted to care about someone and have him care about her.
Her friend’s eyes widened. “You mean, you’ve never—?”
Samantha screwed up her face in disgust. “No way. The very idea makes me want to puke.” In high school the guys used to refer to having period sex as “the red badge of courage.” She thought it was totally gross then, and still did.
“God, you’re such an infant. Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it.”
“I haven’t tried suicide, but I know I won’t like that, either.”
Patty laughed. “One thing I’ll say about you, Samantha, you keep me grounded. You’re the most normal person I know.”
Samantha sighed, knowing she wasn’t normal at all.
Normal women got pregnant.
Normal women achieved their goals.
Normal women wallowed in self-pity on occasion.
Well, one out of three wasn’t bad.
JACK RUSHED into the apartment two hours later, slamming the door behind him, and was relieved to find Samantha reclining on the sofa. He’d been worried as hell since receiving Patty Bradshaw’s phone call.
Tears streaked her cheeks and her eyes were redrimmed from crying. Jack could be macho about a lot of things, but Samantha’s tears wasn’t one of them. He moved forward to comfort her.
“Thank God you’re all right! I’ve been a mess since I got Patty’s phone call.”
Samantha righted herself, eyes widening. “Patty called you? I’m sorry, Jack. I told her you didn’t want to date her, but—”
“Patty wasn’t calling for a date, Samantha. She was worried, said you seemed very depressed because you’d gotten your period. I thought maybe…hell, I didn’t know what to think.”
“As you can see, I’m fine. I just needed to unload this morning, and I chose Patty to bear the brunt of it. I figure you have a lot on your plate right now. And sometimes it’s easier to talk to a woman.”
“I’m never too busy for you, you know that.” He seated himself next to her on the sofa, noting how wan she appeared.
She squeezed his hand. “It was sweet of you to come rushing home. I’m sorry you were worried. Patty should never have called. I hope your business plans weren’t ruined because of me.”
“No. In fact, we got two new clients thanks to Patty. I’ll have to send her flowers or something.”
“That was quick. She just mentioned giving you the referrals this morning.”
Jack smiled knowingly. “I have a feeling Patty Bradshaw doesn’t waste time procrastinating. Hell, she practically ordered me to call the referrals right then and there.”
“Are you going to date her?”
“Hell no! Whatever gave you that idea? Life’s too short to deal with a ball-buster like your attorney friend.” Jack’s stomach rumbled just then. “I’m starving. I missed lunch today. When are we eating? Soon, I hope.”
Rising to her feet, Samantha made her way to the kitchen, Jack following close on her heels. “In just a few minutes,” she informed him, lifting the lid on the pot and inhaling deeply. “I made chicken soup. Doesn’t it smell great?”
“Soup?” His face fell. “You’re kidding. It’s got to be eighty degrees outside. Why are we eating soup?”
Indian summer had attacked New York with the vengeance of marauding Apaches on the warpath. Heat and humidity smothered the city like an unwelcome blanket.
“Because it’s comforting and I needed to be comforted. I didn’t think you’d want puree of chocolate, which was the other choice.”
He reached for her hand. “Listen, Samantha, I know I haven’t been very supportive of your decision to get pregnant, but since you’re so bent on having a baby, why don’t you consider adopting one? It seems the perfect solution to your infertility problem.”
She stiffened and pulled back. “I’m not infertile! I’m just too poor to get any more treatments. And no, I’m not borrowing any money from you, so don’t offer again.”
“Christ! I was just trying to help. There’s no need to bite my head off.”
Samantha’s sigh was desolate. “I know. It’s just…Although adoption seems like a good idea, it doesn’t allow me to experience childbirth. I want to push my own baby out of my body and see something I created. Being a man, it’s probably difficult for you to understand how important that is to a woman.”
“But with adoption, you’d have the same result—you’d have the baby you’ve always wanted.”
“Even though I’m working and earning a living, I don’t think I’ll be considered a very good candidate for adoption. I’m not married, which will go against me. And I doubt I’d pass the scrutiny they put potential parents through. I’ve heard they’re very picky.”
“It was just a thought. Maybe you can look into it, see what’s involved.”
“I guess I could. I don’t have the kind of money or connections Rosie O’Donnell does, but if love counts for anything, my child will never go wanting.”
Seeing how unhappy she was, Jack changed the subject. “Are we still going to the farm this weekend?” he asked, and Samantha finally smiled.
“Yes, and I’m really looking forward to seeing my family. You and I could both use a little R & R. In fact, why don’t we leave on Friday, if you can get away early?”
He was pleased to see her anticipating something fun for a change. “Now that I’m the boss I can do whatever I damn well please. I’ll rent the car for Friday, and we’ll leave first thing that morning.”
“I’ll let Mom know. I’m sure she’ll want to create some high-calorie meals for her favorite house-guest.”
Jack rubbed his stomach. “Man, I love your mom’s cooking. She hardly ever makes chicken soup.”
Samantha stuck out her tongue at him, and he laughed, hoping the trip to Rhinebeck would be just what she needed to make her forget about babies, publishers and anything else that made her unhappy.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE TWO-HOUR DRIVE to Rhinebeck seemed longer than usual to Samantha, owing to the traffic heading north out of the city—caused by fall foliage fans, she assumed—and her eagerness to see her family again. So when the weathered gray-and-white clapboard farmhouse finally came into view, she could barely contain her excitement.
“Look, Jack, it’s still standing!