Fourteen
Except, of course, it was not okay. Because the next day was marked with nausea and vomiting too, and as much as Rowena told herself it wasn’t possible to be pregnant, that insidious little thought wormed its way into every waking moment. And some sleeping ones.
Like it had for a decade of her life.
A decade of hormonal hell with a side of mechanical sex and marital discord, punctuated by hope and devastation in equal measure. An emotional roller coaster that she’d clung to no matter the cost, until it had terminated at the platform labelled D.I.V.O.R.C.E.
Trying to think logically amongst the tangle of emotions was difficult, but it was imperative she did, because allowing herself to spin unrealistic fantasies wasn’t an option.
FACT: there was a vomiting and diarrhoea virus going around town and she’d been at the coal face.
So it had to be that. Even if it was acting atypical to what she’d seen in the community, that was entirely possible. Variances were normal. Although she was surprised, given the virulence of the strain, that she’d dodged the diarrhoea part.
But …
FACT: She’d had unprotected sex seven weeks ago.
FACT: She was on no contraception.
FACT: Her period was overdue.
Inasmuch as her period could ever be called overdue. It swung wildly anywhere between three and six weeks and had always been a guessing game. This year, what with everything that had happened, it had been particularly erratic.
It was why her absence of a period hadn’t even registered, especially with how busy and exhausted she’d been lately.
FACT: She’d tried for ten years to get pregnant, with all the best that science had to offer, without success. Which was, ultimately, the most important fact of all.
Add to that Lachlan’s mention of his own fertility status.
But, also, FACT: She was due to go back to work tomorrow. And they needed her there. She couldn’t keep taking days off because she felt sick particularly if it was from a non-infectious cause.
Like a baby …
No. This was crazy. She couldn’t be pregnant. But if she wasn’t and this nausea wasn’t virus related, she’d need to seek treatment so she could get back on deck. And the first thing they’d ask was could you possibly be pregnant?
So … the easiest thing to do would be go into town, get a test kit, pee on the stick and be able to confirm she was absolutely one hundred per cent not pregnant.
Easy.
*
One hour, two litres of water, three fits of crying and four vomits later, Rowena was staring disbelievingly at three positive pregnancy tests.
Three.
They’d only had one four-pack left in stock so she’d taken it.
When the first one came up positive, she’d shed a bunch of tears, drank some water then gone again.
Because it had to be wrong. When that one was positive she’d actually sobbed, drunk some more water then gone again.
When the third gave the same result, she’d crawled into bed and bawled for an hour.
And now she was just staring at them all lined up on the dining table.
Three. Positive. Tests.
How could life be this cruel? Because she couldn’t be pregnant. It had to be a bad batch—that was the only answer. Batches could be bad. It happened. Maybe not often but it did happen. And with her fertility history, it was statistically more likely to be the batch.
The only way to prove it was to wait for new stock to come in with a different batch number. The assistant had said there’d be a box of single tests coming in overnight. Or she could sneak one of the test kits from the storeroom at work tomorrow.
But there was no way she could wait until tomorrow. Which only left the third option.
Pulling out her phone, she texted Lachlan’s number. It took several drafts because her head was woolly and her fingers were uncooperative and it was hard to make any sense when pregnant, pregnant, pregnant was battering at her brain with a massive freaking ram.
Finally she settled on—When you’re done for the day could you please drop by?
It was short, sweet, not demanding and non-alarmist. It was maybe a little formal, but she honestly didn’t know the proper etiquette for tone in this situation.
His response was swift. Sure. Probably be around six?
Rowena glanced at the clock on her phone. Just after one. Gah! She wasn’t sure she could wait that long. Her mind was already spinning around and around, thoughts endlessly chasing each other, jockeying for supremacy. But beggars couldn’t be choosers.
She tapped out a reply. Cool. See you then.
And with a calm she didn’t feel, she crossed to her bed, climbed in and pulled the covers over her head.
*
Rowena’s pulse spiked at the rap on the door a few minutes after six. She appreciated his promptness, but five hours with three positive pregnancy tests staring at her had ensured she was wound about as tight as she’d ever been and, given her recent history, that was saying something.
She had to physically stop herself from running to the door and reefing it open. Instead she crossed to the kitchen and tried to perfect a casual pose as she called, ‘Come in.’
Lachlan strode in, Red at his heels, looking strong and capable in dusty jeans and a flannel shirt open at the neck, a streak of grease near the collar. There was also some kind of grimy smudge on his forehead that drew her attention as he absently ruffled his hat hair.
He looked so damn good—because of course he did—Rowena wanted to cry. Again!
Smiling at her from across the room, he headed in her direction, Red peeling off to claim his favourite spot at the end of her bed. Lachlan’s gait was sure and confident, but his step faltered as he neared.
‘Oh my god, are you okay?’
His alarm told Rowena all she needed to know about her appearance. If she hadn’t felt so shitty she’d probably have laughed at the unabridged alarm in his voice.
‘I’m fine,’ she dismissed as he came to a halt on the opposite side of the kitchen bench.
‘You’re as pale as a ghost. Reggie mentioned you weren’t feeling well. Something about the bug going around?’
‘I’m fine,’ she repeated.
‘Are you sure? Maybe you should come and stay with us while you’re feeling unwell so we can keep an eye on you.’
Oh, for crying out loud, they didn’t have time for this.
‘Absolutely sure.’
Which was an absolute lie—she was far from fine—but she nodded vigorously in an effort to convince him. Then immediately wished she hadn’t as a wave of nausea rolled through her belly. Swallowing hard against it, she forged on.
‘Listen, I need you to do something for me.’
Still clearly concerned, he nodded. ‘Okay.’
‘But you can’t make any jokes or ask me any questions. I just need you to do it first and then I’ll explain.’
A furrow formed between his brows. ‘Oh … kay?’
‘Don’t worry,’ she assured. ‘I don’t need a body buried or anything.’ She gave a half laugh that echoed hollowly around the space. ‘It’s a very small thing. It’s … silly and ridiculous and, well … bizarre, really. I’m sure we’ll both laugh about it. Afterwards.’
‘Okay.’ He nodded, obviously satisfied with her elaboration. ‘What?’
Her pulse like a water hammer against the inside of her skull, Rowena reached into her back pocket and pulled out the remaining test. ‘I need you to go pee on this? Please tell me you need to pee.’
She didn’t think she could stand it if he’d just emptied his bladder and they needed to wait while the litre of water she’d put in the fridge earlier—just in case—worked its way through his system.
He looked at her as though she was absolutely nuts, but then his expression morphed to something entirely different as realisation dawned. He opened his mouth and she could see the myriad questions swirling behind those blue eyes.
But, true to his word, he didn’t voice any of them.
‘I’m pretty sure I could … squeeze one out.’
Rowena’s relief was immeasurable. ‘Thanks,’ she murmured as she passed it over, leaning into the bench as every muscle she owned unclenched.
He glanced at the wrapping for long moments. ‘I take it, it’s fairly self-explanatory?’
‘Yup.’ Rowena nodded. ‘Remove the wrapping. Uncap the end. Pee on that bit. Look at it in three minutes.’
‘You want me to bring it out here so we can find out if I’m pregnant together, or you want me to wait in there?’
Rowena wasn’t sure if he was trying to lighten the situation for his sake or for hers, but she really wasn’t in the mood for humour. ‘Wait in there for the three minutes.’
‘Okay … well.’ He tapped it against his palm a couple of times, staring at it like it might well be a poison pill. ‘I’d like to say I’ve done weirder things, but I reckon this tops it.’ He glanced at her. ‘I guess I’ll see you in about three and a half minutes.’
*
Had it been possible to wear a hole in hardwood floorboards in three minutes, Rowena would have managed it as she paced back and forth outside the closed bathroom door. Red, as if sensing her agitation, had joined her, his nails clicking on the floorboards.
When the door opened after what felt like an eternity, it startled the hell out of her.
‘Good news, honey,’ Lachlan said, holding the test up. ‘I’m not pregnant.’
Rowena’s heart just about banged right out of her chest as she stared at the little window boasting only one stripe.
She frowned. ‘It’s negative?’
He gave a confused kind of half laugh. ‘Ah … yep.’
‘But … it can’t be.’ She snatched it out of his hands and stared at it, squinting to see if she could detect any kind of faint second line.
None.
She stalked past him to the bathroom, flicked on the light above the vanity mirror and stared at it again.
Still only one.
‘Ro?’
She was pregnant? She was actually pregnant?
‘Ro, honey?’
Rowena flicked a glance at him in the mirror, barely registering his endearment as their gazes met. He was standing in the doorway, all big and calm and lovely, his expression careful.
‘You want to tell me why I just took a pregnancy test?’