Chapter Nine
Monica could not sleep or even think about anything other than that pregnancy test she had picked up at a Dollar General on the outskirts of El Paso. Thank goodness, Fiona had mentioned she had used up the last roll of toilet paper and gave Monica the excuse to go into the store on the way home.
Now the test was hidden deep in her purse, but there was no way she was going to take it until Fiona was asleep.
Finally, she couldn’t stand the not knowing another minute and tucked the long, narrow box into the pocket of her robe.
She tiptoed to the bathroom, opened the kit, and read the instructions.
She followed each step exactly and then laid the stick on the cabinet. The next three minutes lasted two days past eternity. Just as she was about to look at it, Fiona knocked on the door.
“Hey, are you going to be in there all night?” she asked. “I’m doing the pee-pee dance out here.”
Monica raised her voice. “Give me just a minute.” She stuffed the box, the stick, and all the papers into the pocket of her robe, and opened the door. “It’s all yours.”
Fiona rushed in, closed the door, and yelled, “I opened some black olives and ate half the can on a peanut butter sandwich. Ice cream is on the table for us to share.”
“No pickles,” Monica teased, even though she shivered at the idea of that kind of sandwich.
“Nope, but I’m thinking potato chips might be good crumbled up on top,” Fiona said, and opened the door. “I’m used to being up until all hours of the night, and I can’t sleep. Don’t go back to bed. Come to the kitchen and have rocky road with me.”
Monica pushed everything deep in her pocket and followed her sister to the kitchen.
The test would have to wait a few more minutes, and maybe that was for the best since she needed a little more time before she looked at the results.
If it was positive, she would want Spencer to know.
How could he when she didn’t even know his last name or where to begin looking for him?
“Please don’t get sick here right before Thanksgiving,” Fiona said as she got a bag of chips out of the pantry. “I need you to be my support when Mama starts firing questions at me.”
Monica shivered when she thought of how disappointed her mother would be if both her daughters announced that they were pregnant with no husband.
It was a toss-up as to who Fiona’s baby daddy was, and Monica didn’t even know the last name of her child’s father.
“As long as you don’t put potato chips on my part of the ice cream, I’ll be fine. ”
“You don’t get that kind of delicacy until you get pregnant,” Fiona teased. “And I don’t see that happening.”
“Why?” Monica knotted her hands into fists and narrowed her eyes. Was she not pretty enough for anyone to date, or maybe even plain-looking men wouldn’t give her a second glance? Was she too much of a prude to even consider a fling or casual sex?
Fiona brought two bowls and a couple of spoons to the table. “Why what?”
“Why don’t you see me getting pregnant?”
“You are the smart daughter. You will have a big white wedding dress, the four- or five-tiered cake, and a no-holds-barred reception out at the ranch. And then a year later you will announce that you are pregnant. It will all be done by the book for you.”
Monica dipped a big scoop of ice cream into her bowl and looked down so her sister couldn’t see the truth written all over her face. “What if a sexy cowboy comes along in my life, and I’m not the smart daughter?”
“That’ll never happen,” Fiona told her.
“What makes you say that?”
“You are Mama’s only hope at having a big, fancy wedding in Hatch. She’s hung her hopes on you, so you might as well start picking out cakes and decorations,” Fiona answered.
Part of Monica hoped that her sister was right. On the other hand, she would love to have a child with Spencer’s blond hair and smile.
You don’t even know his last name, the pesky voice in her head reminded her.
“Do you believe in signs and omens?” Monica asked.
“That’s an abrupt change of subject.” Fiona shook the last of the potato chips in the bag on her ice cream. “But if you mean in the universe, then yes. It has played an awful trick on me.”
“It all depends on how you look at it and how you study it.” Monica didn’t know if she was preaching to her sister, herself, or both.
Fiona shook her finger across the table. “That line comes from Grandma.”
“Don’t matter if it’s from her, from Shakespeare, or a bum on the street—it’s the truth.
When you look back after five years, you may figure out that this baby is the biggest blessing you ever got.
It could be that getting pregnant has set you on a path that brings you more happiness than you ever had before. ”
“I hope you are right because I sure liked the road I was on before this,” Fiona said, and gave Monica a curious look. “You are the most positive person I’ve ever known.”
Monica put her spoon in her empty bowl and shoved her hand in her pocket.
The stick was right there with the answer for her future in a tiny window.
“Thank you for that. I can hardly keep my eyes open. You are going to have to watch a movie, or read a book, play Solitaire, or do something to entertain yourself.”
She pushed her chair back, stood, and put her bowl and spoon in the dishwasher. “Goodnight.”
“Nite. Before you go, is there a spare bag of chips in the pantry?”
“Just nacho cheese. We’ll have to get more plain ones when we grocery shop tomorrow,” she answered.
“Hmmm …” Fiona stood up and headed toward the pantry.
Monica’s nose twitched at the idea of mixing rocky road and nacho cheese chips. She sure didn’t want to see the outcome and hoped that she didn’t have to hold her sister’s blond hair back when the weird combinations did not settle well.
She went to her bedroom, pulled out the stick, and closed her eyes.
She backed up and sat down on the bed, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
When she opened her eyes, everything was blurry when she looked down at the stick.
She blinked several times, and the word PREGNANT popped right out at her.
“Sweet Jesus!” she whispered.
Her bedroom door swung open, and Fiona stepped inside the room. “What is that?”
Monica held the test out to her sister, and Fiona’s eyes got wider and wider. “Where did you get this? Who is pregnant? Are you pulling a joke on me, Monica Garcia Smith?”
“It’s mine, and it’s no joke, Fiona Martine Smith,” Monica answered.
“Well, honey, I don’t think Jesus had a thing to do with this, but it could be an immaculate conception or else it’s a false reading, and why are you second-naming me?” Fiona sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.
“Because you second-named me,” Monica said. “I’ve missed three periods now. I have been so busy that I didn’t even realize it until I looked at the calendar today.”
“How?”
“The same way you got pregnant,” Monica managed to say.
“Who’s the father?”
Monica felt like she was in a dream. What happened in Florida was supposed to stay in Florida. “A man I met when I was on vacation. His name is Spencer, but I don’t even know if that’s his first or last name.”
Fiona slapped a hand over her mouth and whispered, “I can’t believe you had a fling. That’s so out of character for you.”
“Why?” Monica wasn’t surprised to see Fiona almost speechless or shocked. “Just think … we’ll get to raise our children together.”
“Yes, and that part is great, but let’s don’t tell Mama until after Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Why?” Monica asked again.
Fiona put the test back in her hands. “Because she’s liable to faint.”
“Yep,” Monica agreed, and stared at the word written in all caps, but it did not fade—not one tiny bit.
The gold lettering on the door told Spencer that he had found Walt Givens’s private investigator’s office on the ground floor of a business complex in New Iberia, Louisiana, in the same town where Spencer lived and worked.
He was a whole lot more comfortable walking into that place than he had been parking outside the run-down place in Jeanerette.
“May I help you?” a middle-aged woman in a dark blue suit asked.
“I have an appointment with Mr. Givens at ten o’clock,” Spencer answered.
“You are a little early. Have a seat. Could I get you a cup of coffee or maybe a soda or sweet tea?” she asked.
“I’m good, but thank you,” Spencer answered.
He only had to wait five minutes before a man not much older than he was opened the door. “Mr. Hamilton?”
Spencer stood up and extended his hand. “That’s me.”
Walt shook with him and then motioned him inside his office. “What can I do for you today, Mr. Hamilton?” he asked, and sat down behind his desk. “Have a seat.”
“Please, call me Spencer. I’m looking for a woman. I thought everyone was on social media, but …”
Walt opened his computer. “Tell me what you know about her.”
Spencer talked and Walt typed.
“That’s not much to go on, but I’ve worked with less. Let’s talk fees.”
Spencer laid a check for five thousand dollars on the desk. “Will this work for a retainer?”
Walt put the check in a desk drawer. “Yes, it will. I charge two hundred and fifty dollars an hour. I will call you once a week with news, or sooner if we find Miss Monica Smith, but with a name so common, it could take a while. Did she have an accent?”
“No … maybe … She mentioned the Texas Panhandle,” Spencer answered.
“That’s good. We won’t have to look internationally.”
“What do I do now?” Spencer asked.
“Leave it in my hands. I have a very capable crew. One more thing, did you think to get her car tag number?”
Spencer shook his head. “It was a rental. I’m pretty sure she flew, probably into Pensacola or maybe to the little airport in Panama City.”
Walt stood up. “That gives us a starting point.”
Spencer took a small holder from his pocket and removed a couple of business cards. He picked up a pen from a cup on Walt’s desk and wrote his personal cell number on the back of one. “You can reach me at the number on the front during the day, or the one on the back twenty-four hours a day.”
“Give Margie the same information. She will put it in your file, and we’ll be in touch by email or by phone regularly.”
“Thank you.” Spencer shook hands with Walt again and left the building.
He hoped the PI was as sure of himself as he seemed to be when he said he and his staff would walk through fire to find Monica.
He had parked down the block in front of a pastry shop.
He went inside and ordered a cup of black coffee and two chocolate doughnuts with sprinkles.
Not in a hurry to get back to his job at his property management company, he sat down at a table and stared out the window.
Now that the ball was rolling, he worried about what he would say to her if he was able to locate her.
Would he start with, “Hello, remember me?” or maybe “It’s been difficult finding you. ”
What if she’s engaged and the vacation was her last hoorah before getting married? He countered that with the memory of when she told him she was not married and didn’t have children. He hadn’t seen an engagement ring, but she could have been on a rebound from a bad breakup.
“You look like you just lost your best friend,” an elderly gentleman said from the next table. “Only a woman could make a man look like you do if he didn’t lose his friend.” The old guy chuckled. “I’ve been married nigh on fifty years, son, so I know.”
“You are right, sir. It is because of a woman. Congratulations on being married that long.” Spencer gathered up his trash. He didn’t even remember eating the doughnuts.