Chapter Twenty
Archer
I’m flat out over the next few days. I don’t mind at all—I’m happiest when I’m busy, and I’m enjoying the combination of seeing clients in the morning and working at PAWS in the afternoon.
It’ll be even better once the clients are coming to my own therapy center.
I’ve told the guy who runs the Sunrise Bay Community Wellbeing Center that I won’t require the therapy room I rent there from the end of March, and that felt like a huge step toward the beginning of my new venture.
While Isaac and his team start painting the inside of the center and laying the vinyl, Cullen, Tyr, and I work hard on the grounds.
This involves having a truck load of gravel delivered and spread over the drive, fixing holes in the fence that surrounds the main garden so no dogs can escape, and setting up the assault course with a variety of agility tasks to keep the dogs entertained and fit.
We also spend time on the garden to make it attractive for the staff but also dog-friendly, trimming the trees and planting bushes like camellias that aren’t poisonous to dogs but that will give them some shade and have pretty flowers.
Beth turns up each afternoon, and we have a hug in passing, but she’s busy with Isla helping source office equipment, and she and Natalie also have the windows measured for new curtains and blinds.
Last week, she came to my place most evenings, but on Monday and Tuesday she tells me after work that she’s really tired and claims she’s bad company.
So even though I offer to cook her dinner and tell her I don’t mind if she falls asleep in front of the TV afterward, she gives me a kiss and says she’d rather go back to the cottage.
I don’t argue, knowing it’s important to give her some room, plus I’m tired, too.
Even so, I’m disappointed that she doesn’t want to just spend time with me.
Does she think I’ll expect sex if she turns up?
Because as much as I enjoy making love with her, that’s not the case.
I just want to be with her. Maybe I haven’t made that clear enough, and I decide to talk to her about it on Wednesday.
I plan to find some time at the center, but mid-afternoon she comes and finds me out watering the camellia bushes and says, “Is it okay if I come over to yours tonight? I need to talk to you about something.”
“You can talk to me now,” I tell her.
But she shakes her head and says, “No, it’s okay, I’d rather wait. I’ll come to yours around six?” She smiles.
“Sure.” I open my mouth to say something further, but she turns and walks away.
My stomach flips uneasily. During my years as a therapist, I’ve developed a sixth sense—I’m not sure whether it’s just instinct and experience, or something more ephemeral like being able to sense someone’s energy or aura—but using it now, I’m sure that something’s wrong.
It sits at the back of my mind all afternoon, my brain worrying at it the way a tongue probes a loose tooth.
Is she about to tell me she doesn’t want to be with me?
It would explain why I haven’t seen her the last few evenings.
I can’t think why she’d come to that decision—I know she’s struggled to put her previous relationship behind her, but she’s been very clear that she’s enjoyed being with me.
She even said I think we could have something very special.
Has she seen Jude, maybe decided to go back to him? She is working at the Ark after all, so she’s bound to bump into him. I discount it, though. I don’t think either she or Jude are interested in picking things up again.
I’ll just have to wait to find out.
When I come back inside around five, I plan to ask her if she wants to walk to the house with me. But she’s already gone back to the cottage, so I walk home with Queenie trotting at my side, telling myself not to worry, and failing.
Not sure if she wants dinner, I turn the oven on, make the dough for a pizza, and layer it with toppings.
I’m just about to feed Queenie when I look out of the window and see Beth arriving on her bike.
Suddenly nervous, I go to the front door and open it, waiting as she leans her bike against the wall and walks toward me.
“Hey,” she says. She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She bends to fuss Queenie, avoiding my gaze.
“Come in.” I watch her pass me and close the door behind her. Normally I’d have grabbed her for a kiss, but nerves stop me.
She walks in and looks around, then gestures at the sofa. “Come and sit down with me.”
“Uh-oh,” I joke, “this doesn’t look good.”
To my alarm, she doesn’t reply with a chuckle or reassurance but goes over to the sofa and sinks onto it.
I pick up Queenie’s food and place it next to her water, then turn off the oven, because I don’t think we’ll be eating anytime soon. “Would you like a drink?”
“No thanks.”
I walk over to the sofa and sit beside her. “Come on then,” I say softly, “out with it. You’ve not been right for days.”
She meets my eyes then. Hers are serious, and frown lines mar her forehead. She’s sitting on the edge of the sofa, and she rests her elbows on her knees and puts her face in her hands for a moment.
I frown, too, and say, “What is it? You can tell me. I’m a big boy.”
She lowers her hands and exhales, a long, sad sigh. Then she looks at me again and says, “I’m pregnant.”
I stare at her.
My brain grinds to a halt. Suddenly, I’m acutely aware of how quiet it is here.
We’re too far away from the road so I can’t hear any traffic.
The TV is off, and there’s no music playing.
The only sounds are Queenie snuffling around in her bowl, and then even that stops.
A few seconds later, I feel her nose touch my hand, and I look down to see her big brown eyes studying me, as if she’s aware something’s wrong.
Automatically, I stroke her head while I look back at Beth. I think she’s holding her breath, waiting for my reaction.
I can’t think what to say.
Rather unimaginatively, I come up with, “Oh.”
She swallows. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It is,” she says. “I told you I was on the pill. And I was—I am. I guess I should stop taking it now. But that night—when I broke up with Jude—I was here in the morning, and I was so shocked when he came here, and I went home and got all my stuff… I normally take it at breakfast, you see, and my routine was all over the place, and I just forgot. I didn’t realize I’d missed one until Monday, and I waited a few days to see if my period would turn up, but it didn’t, and I know it’s only been two days, but I thought I’d do a test, so I got one this morning, and… it was positive.”
It’s a long speech, and I listen to it all without really taking it in. I do get the gist of it, though. She forgot the pill, so she’s blaming herself.
“It’s not your fault,” I say again. “I should have used a condom. It was irresponsible not to.”
“I’ve taken them late before,” she continues as if I haven’t spoken, “but nothing’s ever happened, and what with the endo, and Kim, I’ve always been convinced I’ll have the same trouble conceiving…”
I don’t say anything. Images flash through my mind.
Telling my friends and family that I’ve knocked a girl up.
Admitting my mistake to my colleagues at PAWS and the Ark.
Everyone finding out that Beth and I aren’t together, not really, and that we’ve acted like a couple of immature teens, unable to keep our hands off each other.
I think about the way we had sex in the middle of the PAWS Center and wince.
Oh, Archer, you’ve really outdone yourself this time. Thank God your father isn’t here to witness this most outstanding of failures.
She swallows hard. “It’s very early. People lose pregnancies all the time at this stage. It might not even… stick.” Her eyes shine.
That brings me partially to my senses, and professional me switches into gear.
“Hey.” I take her hand in mine. “Don’t think like that. Every baby is a gift. It’s a good thing. And I’ll stand by you. Of course I will. You’re not going to have to go through it alone.”
She blinks rapidly and swallows again. Her eyes search mine, but she doesn’t say anything.
I force a smile on my face. “It’s going to be okay. I swear. We’ll work it out together.”
She nods and gives me a weak smile back. “Okay.” She looks pale, and she’s definitely lost a few pounds.
Suddenly, I understand why—it’s because she’s pregnant. Oh shit. “How are you feeling?”
“Oh, I’m fine. I felt a tiny bit queasy the last few days but I’m not sure if that’s just in my head.
” She gives a short laugh. “I’m mostly tired.
I assumed it was because of everything that’s been going on in my life, you know, the emotion and stress, but I guess this might have had something to do with it. ”
“You should start taking folic acid. It helps prevent conditions like spina bifida.” My work voice sounds disembodied, as if I’m playing it from a recording, and I hate myself for it.
Be a human, I think. She needs a hug, not a lecture.
But I can’t seem to turn it off. “And book an appointment with a midwife. Pregnancy care’s free of course, but…
I’ll be very happy to pay for a private obstetrician if you want one. ”
“That won’t be necessary,” she says.
I try to think of what else to say, but my brain seems to have shut down. “And if you decide you… you know… don’t want it, I’ll support you, whatever your decision.”
She presses her fingers to her lips for a moment. Then she puts her hands on her knees and pushes up. “I think I’ll get going.”
I stand as well. “You won’t stay for dinner? I’ve made a pizza.”
“No, I’ve got a few things to do.”