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  Abby didn’t put up a fight when Chris lifted her in his arms and carried her upstairs to the master bedroom. The room was the size of his old condo in California. He still found it weird living in such a huge house, even though he’d spent part of his childhood on the plantation. It’d been different then. He was young, running wild, and only there when he needed to sleep, shower, or eat.

  Carefully he helped Abby remove her jeans. “Just because I’m letting you strip me, don’t get any ideas, Mr. Clay.” She’d no more said the words than Chester trotted in the room.

  “Come here, boy.” Abby patted the spot beside her. Like the obedient dog he was, he hopped up on the bed. He nudged her hand with his nose. “You’re my main man, you know that?” She scratched him between his ears; then he curled up next to her.

  Chris brought a cold washcloth from the bathroom. “Here, wipe your face while I go downstairs and make you a pot of chamomile tea. And I thought I was your main man,” he added.

  “Always,” she whispered, unsure how long her “always” would be.

  She closed her eyes, thinking of the zillion things she would have to do if she really was terminally ill: the animals, the house, her mother, the three g’s, Chester.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  She was not ready to die. She’d rarely been sick as a kid. Her mother was hearty, and Abby always thought she was, too. And she always had been. Except for the occasional menstrual cramps, and a few colds, she’d been as healthy as a horse.

  She closed her eyes, visions of her mother’s events, funerals. She imagined that her mother would be so grief-stricken....

  Wait! “Chris,” she yelled, “bring my purse when you come back up!”

  Abby instantly became alert, her thoughts taking her in a completely different direction. She wasn’t sure, but still, it was always possible.

  Chris came in the room, balancing a tray with a pot of tea, her purse slung over his shoulder.

  “Smells good. The purse is so you, too,” she joked.

  “Smart-ass. Here, scoot over. I made you some raisin toast. I don’t want you to dehydrate.”

  Suddenly Abby was ravenous. She munched on the toast and sipped the tea. Feeling almost like herself again, she reached for her purse.

  “What are you looking for?” Chris asked.

  “My date book.”

  “You of all people, I can’t believe you still use one of those old-fashioned things. Why don’t you keep your stuff stored on your cell phone?”

  Abby found her date book at the bottom of her purse. She removed a melted piece of chocolate from the plastic and half a dog biscuit between March and April. “I need to clean this thing out. Now, let me look at this.” She flipped through the months. Not seeing what she wanted, she flipped through them a second time, searching for that little red check mark. She looked at Chris, then back at the calendar.

  “What?” Chris said, seeing the alarm on his wife’s face. “Did we forget an appointment?”

  Abby flipped through the past three months, desperately searching for that reassuring little red check mark. It was not there.

  “No,” she said, thinking, trying to remember the last time she’d had her period. When she couldn’t remember, she plopped back on the pillows, so relieved, yet scared and excited, too.

  “So, what’s all this flipping pages back and forth for?”

  “Chris, is there a CVS or a Walgreens close by? One that’s open late?”

  “Sure, there’s a CVS a couple miles from here. Why? You need something?”

  Yes, she did. But was she going to send Chris out at nine o’clock at night to get what she wanted?

  No. She wasn’t.

  “Give me my jeans. We’re going to the drugstore. Now.” Abby took the jeans, which Chris picked off the floor, and put them on. Then she slid her feet into her hot pink flip-flops. “Come on, let’s go.”

  “Abby, why don’t you just tell me what you need. You’re not feeling good. I can pick up whatever it is you need. Even if it’s girlie stuff,” he said, grinning.

  If only, she thought, but laughed. It is girlie stuff, all right.

  “For once, just don’t argue with me. Just do what I ask without questioning it.”

  Chris held his hands out in front of him. “I thought that’s what I always do.”

  Abby laughed. “Come on before the place closes. This is something we need to do together. Kind of a surprise.” Again, she thought, If only. She could be wrong, but everything was making sense now. She’d been barfing, off and on, for weeks. More tired than usual; and now that she suspected what her problem was, she thought about the new and strange smells she’d sworn were there, when Chris swore she was losing it.

  “I’m only doing this because I love you,” Chris informed her.

  “And when we get home, you’ll love me even more,” she teased. Chester rolled his head around. “You stay here, boy. This is man/woman time.” She fluffed his fur; then she grabbed her purse from the bed.

  Twenty minutes and a dozen questions later, Chris pulled into the parking lot at CVS. “Okay, we’re here. Now you want to tell me what this is about?” he said, then cut the engine.

  “Come inside, and you’ll find out.” She got out of the car before he questioned her again. She’d put off answering his questions the entire ride over. She wanted this moment to be special—something they would talk about in years to come, something they would tell their children and their grandchildren.

  Chris followed her inside the brightly lit store. They had everything: Food, magazines, the latest “As Seen on TV” stuff. Soda, beer, dill-pickle-flavored potato chips.

  “Abby, do you have the munchies?”

  “God, Chris. You’re acting like I’ve just smoked a joint or something. And, no, I don’t have ‘the munchies.’ Follow me.”

  She was loving this bantering, the mystery of not knowing. Once she knew, once her suspicions were confirmed, their lives would change forever. She walked faster. When she located the aisle where they kept the pregnancy tests, she stopped and waited for Chris to catch up with her.

  She eyed the pregnancy test kits on the shelf, then looked at Chris.

  “You . . . are . . . is . . . are we? Abby!” Chris pointed to the many varied home pregnancy tests.

  “That’s what we’re here to find out,” she said, a euphoric smile curving her mouth.

  He smiled back, and Abby thought it was as intimate as any kiss they’d shared.

  “When?”

  “Pick one,” she said, indicating the variety of boxes on the shelf.

  Chris grabbed an EPT kit. “Early should work, huh?” he asked, in somewhat of a daze, but in a good way.

  “They’re all good. Now pay for that and bring it to the ladies’ room,” Abby instructed.

  “Here?” Chris asked. “Shouldn’t we do this in the privacy of our home?”

  “No! Why do you think I asked you to come along? Now get,” Abby said. “And hurry!”

  Chris took the pregnancy test kit to the front register. Abby searched the back of the store for the restrooms. Finding them, she waited for Chris to return with the paid-for test kit.

  Three minutes later, Chris found her standing by the ladies’ room.

  “Come on,” Abby said. “No, wait.” She really didn’t want to pee on a stick in front of Chris. Some things had to remain private. “Stay here,” she said, taking the test from him.

  Amused, he nodded. “Go on.”

  Once she was inside the ladies’ room, she ripped the package apart, placing the supplies on the edge of the sink. Quickly, she skimmed through the directions, thinking a kid could do this.

  Yeah, Abby. You are spot-on. A kid.

  Hands shaking, she removed the plastic test stick, followed the directions, then placed the stick on the sink and washed her hands before opening the door.

  Chris was pacing back and forth, just like one would expect an expectant father to do in the hospital.

 
Poking her head out, Abby said, “Come inside. It takes a whole minute for the results.”

  Chris entered the ladies’ room hesitantly. “Looks just like a men’s room, minus the urinal.”

  “That’s it.” Abby pointed to the white stick on the edge of the sink.

  “Okay.”

  Chris stuffed his hands in his pockets. He looked everywhere, except at the stick next to the sink.

  Suddenly, out of nowhere, Abby had a horrifying thought.

  What if Chris isn’t ready to become a father? And me a mother?

  “You’re too quiet. It’s scaring me,” Abby remarked, reaching for the test stick.

  He gave her one of those special grins, one she knew he only shared with her. “Come on, let’s not keep ourselves in suspense any longer. It’s been way over a minute.”

  She nodded. “You’re good either way, right?”

  “You shouldn’t have to ask. I believe we discussed this before we were married. You know how I feel. Now stop stalling. The store clerks are gonna think we’re stealing, or something. Let’s see those results.”

  “Okay.” Abby crossed her fingers on her left hand; and with her right hand, she held the test stick close to the light above the sink. Her hands were shaking so hard, she almost dropped the stick and had to lean against the counter to steady herself.

  Looking in the result window, Abby saw the words she’d hoped for.

  “It’s positive! We’re going to have a baby!”

  Chris grabbed her and tried to swing her around in the bathroom, but there wasn’t enough space. He practically dragged her through CVS, shouting, “We’re gonna have a baby! We’re gonna have a baby!”

  Their future was bright with promise.

  Chapter 20

  Toots and Phil arrived at McCrady’s in downtown Charleston at two minutes after nine. “I hope you like the food here. It’s supposed to be farm fresh. The chef has won numerous awards. One of my old partners recommended the place. Said the food was to die for.”

  Toots scanned the restaurant-brick walls and high ceilings, with one wall made entirely of glass. She was glad she’d accepted Phil’s dinner invitation. “It’s perfect.” She’d never been here and liked the fact that he hadn’t, either. New places, and all. Maybe it was a sign of things to come.

  The hostess led them to a table for two in a private corner of the restaurant. Light green tablecloths, candles, and real silver. She was impressed, but she didn’t want to say so to Phil. She didn’t want to seem unsophisticated, like someone much younger would’ve been. Why she was having these thoughts was beyond her. A young man wearing khaki slacks, a starched white shirt, and a tie, with a long black apron to his knees, brought them ice water with slices of lemon in Baccarat water glasses. She knew this because she had Baccarat champagne flutes at home.

  “I’m starving,” she said, looking at the menu.

  “I’m glad you’re here with me, Toots. I want tonight to be special. It’s only retirement, I know, but I feel like a boat without its oar. I was depressed for a few hours after I officially saw my last patient yesterday, but I kept telling myself this wasn’t an ending but a new beginning. Now I’m probably the happiest man in Charleston.”

  Toots reached across the table for his hand. She squeezed, and he squeezed back. There was no way she could tell him about her past. At least . . . not tonight. “I felt that way for a while a few years ago.” She didn’t want to tell him how unsettled and useless she’d felt after Leland’s funeral, because she didn’t want to bring up her exes, dead or not.

  “You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who gets depressed,” Phil said, smiling. “You’re too damned ornery.”

  “You’re right, but I had a spell a few years ago. I didn’t know what direction my life was heading. That’s when the three g’s came to visit. I have to say, my life hasn’t been the least bit boring since we all moved to California, then back here. I never thought in a million years we would all be starting new careers in our late sixties.” She was rambling.

  “I’m looking forward to moving to Myrtle Beach. I plan to spend my days relaxing, and in the evening, I’ll write that novel that I’ve wanted to for as long as I can remember. I wish you would go—”

  Toots’s cell phone pinged, letting her know she had a text message. “Hang on a sec.” She took her iPhone out of her purse and read the message. “Excellent,” she said, more to herself than to him.

  “What’s so excellent?” Phil inquired.

  Toots figured it was okay to tell him because he’d know soon enough. “You know that purple monstrosity a couple miles from the house?”

  “It’s hard to miss,” Phil said.

  “I bought it several years ago, with the intention of restoring it, but then we moved to Los Angeles. You didn’t hear this from me, but you’ll know soon enough, so just act surprised. Goebel and Sophie just purchased the place.”

  “And let me guess. They have no clue you’re the former owner?”

  Toots chuckled. “You’re absolutely right. I told the Realtor to take whatever they offered. Goebel’s had his eye on the place since he sold his apartment in the city. He has a condo in Los Angeles, but something tells me that’s going to be on the market soon.” Toots had the urge to smoke, but didn’t. It could wait. She always liked a good puff when she heard good news.

  The wine steward brought the wine list to the table, giving it to Phil. He quickly scanned the list. “Do you mind?”

  She wanted to tell him she drank the cheap stuff, but she refrained. “By all means, please go ahead.”

  “We’ll have a bottle of Syrah, Raven No. 10.”

  “Excellent choice, sir.”

  Toots recognized the name, as it was a California wine, but that was it. Boone’s Farm was good with her and Sophie. She did like a good glass of scotch now and then.

  Toots read the menu, and again she was impressed with the variety of entrees, except for the charred octopus. The wine steward returned with their wine. He went through the performance required for opening a bottle of good wine. Phil sniffed, sipped, accepted, then sent the steward away.

  “Toots, I was serious when I asked you to come to Myrtle Beach.”

  Her heart raced, and she was sure she was blushing. It was the last thing she was expecting from him. Maybe later, but now? Taking a deep breath, she prayed for the right words. “I don’t know what to say, Phil. I’ve never lived with—”

  Her cell phone rang. Talk about being saved by the bell. “Sorry,” she said, then answered the phone. “Abby, is that you?” All she could hear was bubbling laughter between words that were getting bleeped out by some electrical interference. “Abby, you’re coming in and out. Call me later at the house. I’m having dinner with Phil now.” She had clicked off and had put the phone inside her purse, when it started ringing again. “Yes?” she said, a bit aggravated at the intrusion, but she didn’t want to turn her phone off in case Bernice needed her.

  “Mom, can you hear me?” Abby shouted into the phone.

  “Yes, dear, loud and clear. We had some kind of interference a minute ago. Is everything okay?” It wasn’t like Abby to call her when she was out, unless it was an emergency.

  “I have five dogs and three cats arriving tomorrow, two of the dogs are doxies with back injuries. They’re coming from Colorado. They were lost during the fires. Do you think Phil could call Dr. Carnes and ask if she can come early? We’ll send a Flexjet to Naples. I know she’s coming for the grand opening, but these dogs need her now. I wouldn’t trust them with just any doctor, especially after Frankie’s miraculous recovery. But that’s not really why I called. Can you stop over before you head home? Both of you. I wouldn’t ask, but it’s really important.”

  “Hold on.” Toots placed the phone down. “Abby wants to know if you’ll call Dr. Carnes. She’s got two injured dachshunds coming in tomorrow.”

  Phil nodded. “Sure, let me do that now, while you’re talking to Abby.”

&nbs
p; Toots picked up the phone. “Yes, he’s calling her right as we speak. It might be late when we’re finished. I don’t suppose you’ve heard the news. Bernice has a visitor, so we got a late start.” More static. “Abby?”

  “Just stop over. I don’t care how late,” Abby said.

  The call dropped. “Phil, something is up with Abby. She’s asked me, us, to stop over on our way home. Something is wrong, I just know it. She would never call me, knowing I’m out for the evening, unless it was an emergency.”

  “Then let’s go. We can eat later,” Phil said. He motioned for the wine steward. “We have an emergency. We have to leave.” He placed a wad of cash in the wine steward’s hand, grabbed the bottle of wine, and pulled her chair out for her—all in record time. The guy was a gentleman of the first order.

  Damn, Toots loved this man! If Ida knew her thoughts, she’d never let her live them down. Toots was prepared to eat a bit of crow if necessary. Maybe she needed to rethink her decision to stop seeing Phil. He was so easygoing with Abby. And Abby really liked him. Chris too. Yes, she was going to rethink her decision, the one that she really hadn’t made yet. That doesn’t make one damn lick of sense, she thought, but she sometimes didn’t make sense.

  Again, Phil was coming to her and Abby’s rescue. Surely he would be understanding when she told him she’d had eight husbands. Yes, but then there was that dying issue. Maybe she should just forget a serious relationship and enjoy what they had while it lasted.

  Yes, that’s what she had to do. Phil was starting a new career. She couldn’t jeopardize his life because she was a jinx.

  Chapter 21

  Goebel sensed that something wasn’t right. He opened the door to the nursery. Sophie was lying on the floor, curled up in the fetal position; her blouse was torn on both sides. “Sophie?” he whispered as he lowered himself to the floor.

  She rolled over on her back. “Help me sit up.”

  “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve been through the fires of hell.” Goebel didn’t know what had happened in the room, but he didn’t like what he was seeing. Sophie looked frightened, and that wasn’t normal at all.