“I’m used to pulling all-nighters.”
“Me, too.” An ob-gyn had to be able to subsist on catnaps.
“Besides, I wanted to hear how the whole thing came out.” He regarded her inquiringly.
“Gina’s fine. So’s the baby.”
“Mission accomplished.” He adjusted his long stride to her shorter one, limping a little, perhaps from the blow he’d suffered at the park. The struggle at the midwife’s house must have hurt like fire.
Sonya hoped he’d had a doctor examine the damage while she’d been in surgery. But if he hadn’t chosen to, she didn’t intend to volunteer. Suggesting he remove his shirt might raise possibilities she wasn’t ready to explore.
The double doors opened automatically. Outside, a chilly spring breeze made her shiver. “Cold?” Barry asked.
“Not very.”
“My jacket’s available.”
She experienced a hunger to be surrounded by fabric bearing his scent and his warmth. Bad idea. “Really, I’m fine.”
“I’ll crank up the heater. Hey, how often do you get to use those things in Southern California?” He appeared remarkably cheerful. Clearly a night person.
“Fairly often, after dark.” Just thinking about the chill made Sonya begin shivering in earnest. Inside the car, waiting for the blast of the heater, she recognized that her reaction didn’t stem entirely from the temperature.
She kept visualizing the glimmer of a knife and hearing Duke’s threats. Just before the police had arrived at Mrs. Garcia’s, he’d sworn to get revenge on Sonya for interfering. Thank goodness he was locked up.
But for how long? Once he learned Gina had flown the coop in earnest, he’d be doubly infuriated, which made Fullerton potentially a very dangerous place.
Not tonight, though. Not with Barry beside her.
“You okay?” He upped the heater another notch.
“Delayed reaction.” She forced the violent images from her thoughts. “I expect I’ll have nightmares. Par for the course.” After the accident, they’d haunted her for months. “I’d rather not have to go through therapy again.” Although she’d found it helpful, her practical nature hated devoting so many hours to her own problems.
“Many people recommend it,” he advised. “Personally, I prefer getting even.”
The remark startled a laugh from her. “I like your style.” After providing directions in case he’d forgotten the restaurant’s location, she added, “Did the police hassle you?” She’d left with the ambulance while Barry had been suffering through yet another interview
“Happily, no.” He adjusted the vents to send more heat in her direction. “Guess they didn’t check me out too thoroughly, or maybe they don’t have access to out-of-state records. I’m glad they left Mrs. Garcia alone, too. Think they’ll pester her later?”
The situation could prove delicate. “They can hardly ignore the fact that she’s operating an illegal clinic in her house. They’ll have to include it in their report.”
“Do you suppose she’ll be charged?” He sounded a little angry. But then, the prospect of the midwife’s being arrested disturbed Sonya, too.
“Since no one was hurt, it should be treated as a misdemeanor. The sentence may be suspended if she agrees to stop practicing.” Ironically, Sonya reflected, California law allowed a woman to give birth attended by an untrained friend or relative, but not by a woman like Lourdes.
“She certainly doesn’t belong in jail.” Barry fell silent, staring through the windshield into the dark.
Sonya wished he’d say what he’d been convicted of, but, since he didn’t, she considered it rude to ask. Probably ancient history, and besides, he’d proved his true worth tonight.
A single street lamp illuminated the exterior of the restaurant. The lot was empty except for her compact, and the windows had gone dark.
Barry halted. “I’ll wait till you get it started.”
“I’m grateful. You’re quite a gentleman.” Despite the absence of a ring, she supposed he might have a girlfriend or a wife. “The lady in your life had better appreciate it.”
“The only ladies in my life are my sister and my mother.”
She felt a ridiculous jolt of pleasure. For heaven’s sake, their acquaintance was to last at most another minute, Sonya mused as she got out.
When her feet hit the pavement, her knees went wobbly. A powerful sense memory swept over her of rough arms, dragging her.
She clung to the side of the sedan. If only her legs would stop shaking! She hated this weakness.
A door slammed and Barry strode around. His arms surrounded her.
“Panic attack,” she mumbled against his chest, and tried to declare that it was already past. Too bad the clattering teeth gave her away.
“I’m surprised you held up this long.” His baritone soothed the tremors. “Get back in and I’ll drive you home. You can collect your car in the morning.”
“They might tow it.”
“We’ll leave a note.” From an inside pocket, he retrieved a pad and jotted Medical emergency. Will return in the a.m. He stuck the note beneath the wipers. “If you drive in this condition, you’ll cause an accident. Which, I gather, is yet another trauma you should avoid.”
He was right. Sonya huddled into her seat. “Sorry for acting like a wimp.”
Barry took the wheel. “Are you kidding? You went through hell for that girl.”
“I’d do it again.”
“Not tonight you won’t.”
After explaining how to reach her condo, Sonya closed her eyes and luxuriated in the illusion of being cherished and cosseted. Having Barry drop into her world just when she needed him was an amazing fantasy.
A man who understood her implicitly. A man she would never have to tell about her inability to bear a child because he’d be flying across the country and out of her life tomorrow.
Cocooned in the car, she released her anxiety. Perhaps because the moment seemed divorced from reality, a sense of euphoria replaced her fears and worries. A trick of the mind, no doubt, in reaction to the unexpected support, but hey, it beat taking Valium.
The condo complex lay silent in the moonlight. Barry escorted her along a walkway lined with white-flowered bushes.
“Is that jasmine?” He indicated the landscaping. “The scent’s overpowering.”
She inhaled deeply. “Jazmín,” she confirmed, instinctively pronouncing it haz-MEEN.
“Is Spanish your native language?” He waited as she stopped outside the unit and fumbled for a key.
“I’m bilingual. My parents are from Costa Rica. They were little when their families fled, though, so they grew up here, and so did I.” She found the key in a side compartment.
“Fled?” he queried. “Costa Rica doesn’t sound like a place you’d want to run away from.”
“There was a revolt about fifty years ago. Both sets of grandparents were forced into exile.” Her world history classes hadn’t mentioned the event, but it certainly mattered to her family. “The U.S. granted them asylum.”
“Did they ever go back?”
“Only