Marriage, Bravo Style! Read online

  “Is everything all right?” He frowned.

  Elena and Irina shared a glance of womanly wisdom and mutual understanding.

  Then Irina said, “First babies are often late. You know that, Caleb. We read about that in the baby books before Hanna was born.”

  “Uh. We did? Hanna was right on time, born on her due date.”

  “Lucky you,” said Elena mildly as she piled on a couple of thick slices of perfectly roasted pork shoulder. She passed the platter on to her brother and picked up her fork and knife.

  Caleb shook his head as he served himself. “Well, I’m getting worried. That baby better come soon.”

  His wife reached over, patted his arm. “A week late is nothing to get concerned about.”

  “That’s right. Everything’s fine.” Elena sliced off a tender bite of meat and dredged it in the amazing potatoes. She put the bite in her mouth and chewed. “Heaven, Irina. As always.”

  Irina smiled modestly. “I am so glad you like it.”

  “You are the best cook in the whole world. Just another reason I’m glad you married my annoying big brother.”

  “Hey.” Caleb pretended to look hurt. “You couldn’t get along without me.”

  “True. But that doesn’t make you any less aggravating.” She ate another bite of potatoes and sighed in pleasure at the taste.

  The last few weeks, Irina was constantly inviting her over to eat. Elena really appreciated the great meals and the good company. Plus, since they’d had Hanna, her brother and sister-in-law had started eating dinner early. No more cocktails at seven and dinner at eight.

  They ate at six, sometimes even earlier, which suited Elena perfectly. Lately, by nine, she was ready for bed.

  Elena picked up her water glass. She set it back on the table without drinking from it when she felt the funniest little twinge, low down. “Ouch.”

  Caleb stiffened. “What? Is it—?”

  Elena and Irina laughed in unison and Elena said, “Settle down, big brother. It’s nothing. Just a cramp.”

  But an hour and a half later, the cramps were starting to get stronger. And she found herself timing them as she sat in one of the big lounge chairs in Caleb and Irina’s media room watching some thriller Caleb had chosen.

  She waited until the end of the chase scene, when the main characters were in a dark warehouse trying to decide what to do next, before admitting, “Sorry, guys. I think I need to call my doctor.”

  The doctor said she would meet Elena at the hospital.

  Everything was ready to go. Elena was pre-admitted. And she called her mom and dad and her sister before they left Caleb’s house.

  Luz would go straight to the hospital and meet her there. Javier would stop off at the condo to pick up the fully-packed suitcase waiting in the coat closet by the front door. Mercy was on her way, too. It would take her a little longer, coming in from the ranch. And she wanted to feed her baby daughter, two-month-old Serena, before she left.

  “But I’ll be there as quick as I can, chica,” she vowed.

  Irina stayed home with the sleeping Hanna. Caleb drove Elena to the hospital in his prized Audi R8—the new one he’d bought to replace the one he’d wrecked a couple of years ago.

  He hustled her out to the car and they took off. Literally. He drove way too fast. But then, he always had.

  Elena tried to ignore the speedometer and the sounds of the tires squealing. It wasn’t that hard. She had plenty to do just riding out her contractions, gripping the armrest to steady herself when the pain got too bad.

  At the hospital—Sisters of Mercy, the same hospital where her father had had open heart surgery last year—Caleb pulled in beneath the maternity wing’s porte cochere.

  She sent him a grateful smile. “Thanks, big brother.”

  “I’ll park and come in.”

  “Great.” She popped the clasp on her seat belt and reached for the door latch.

  He grabbed her arm before she could shove the door open.

  She frowned at him. “Caleb, what in the…?”

  His expression was way too intent. “I know that he would want to know, want to be here. I think you know it, too.”

  Suddenly, she wanted to burst into tears. Or maybe bop her brother on the head with her purse. “Caleb. Come on. Can’t you see I’m a little busy right now?”

  He refused to let go of her arm. “Let me call him. Before it’s too late…”

  “Caleb, you promised.”

  He continued as if she’d never spoken. “Before his son is born without him there to see it. A man has a right to be there, to see his baby born.”

  “Oh, God…” Another contraction started. She sat there in that gorgeous car, panting, riding it out. When it was over, she realized that Caleb had given her his hand to hold onto.

  “Okay?” he asked, so gently.

  She couldn’t tell if he meant was she okay? Or was it okay if he called Rogan?

  Maybe a little of both.

  She sucked in a slow breath. “I need to go in.”

  “I know. I’ll help you. Screw it. I can leave the car here.”

  “No, really, I…” Right then, she glanced toward the building and saw Luz coming out through the two sets of double doors. She followed an orderly pushing a wheelchair. “My mom’s here. She can take me in.”

  “Great, then. That’s handled. Let me call Rogan.”

  She wanted to punch his lights out. But he did have a point. Rogan might want to be there for the birth. “All right.”

  Caleb smiled then. “Good.”

  And instantly she realized what a bad idea that was, what a terrible thing to do to Rogan, to let Caleb call him, out of the blue with the big news that she was not only having his baby, she was having his baby now.

  Uh-uh. Bad, bad idea. She needed to wait, as she’d always planned to do, to call him after the baby was born, when she was able to think more rationally. She needed to tell him herself, not hide behind her brother. “Wait. No. Never mind. This isn’t the right time.”

  “Elena, it’s never going to feel like the right time.”

  She wanted to cry again. “It’s really rotten of you to do this when you swore you wouldn’t—especially now, when I can’t even think.” There was a tap on her side window. Her mom. She rolled the window down. “Just a minute, okay?”

  Luz and the orderly blinked in unison and her mom said, “M’hija, come on, now. The doctor’s waiting.”

  “All right, all right.” She pushed open the door and swung her feet to the pavement, pausing before she turned and settled into the wheelchair to mutter over her shoulder, “Caleb. Don’t.”

  “It’s the best thing. You know it.” He was still smiling. “Don’t worry, little sister. It’s all going to work out just fine.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Oh, Rogan.” His date laughed at the silly joke he’d just made. She had a great laugh, really. Kind of husky. “I’m so glad we’re doing this.” Her name was Pauline Trent and she was a nice woman. She owned a coffee bar, Perfect Brew, where he’d been buying his morning coffee since Brenda went off to school in New York.

  “I’m glad, too.” His cell vibrated in his breast pocket. He tried to ignore it. “What do you think? Ready to look at the dessert menu?”

  “Oh, I don’t know…”

  “Come on. Take a chance. We can split something.”

  She slanted him a glance. “I can hear that thing buzzing.”

  He gave her a rueful smile. “And they call it ‘silent page.’”

  “It’s okay. Really. Go ahead and answer it.”

  He pulled the phone out, though by then the vibrating had stopped.

  You have 2 missed calls.

  Caleb. Again. He’d called once already, about a half an hour ago. Rogan had felt fine about letting the first call go to voice mail to deal with later. But this second call worried him. Was there some emergency?

  Another message popped onto the screen: You have 2 voice mails.
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br />   He thought, Elena. Could something have happened to Elena?

  And then he told himself not to be an idiot. Caleb didn’t even know about him and Elena. If she was sick or in trouble, Caleb would hardly be calling him.

  Unless, maybe, she had asked for him….

  “You should see your face,” Pauline said.

  He looked up from the phone, tried to smile.

  “Go ahead,” she said. “Call whoever it is back. I’ll get us something chocolate.” She signaled for the waiter. “Two spoons?”

  “You got it.”

  He rose, dropped his napkin on the chair and headed for the hallway outside the restrooms. There were pay phones there. And stools. He took one of the stools and hit the call back button on his cell.

  Caleb answered before Rogan even heard a ring on the other end. “There you are. About time.” He sounded frazzled. Annoyed. Maybe angry, even.

  “Caleb, what’s going on?”

  “You sitting down?”

  “You’re scaring the crap out of me. What?”

  “It’s Elena.”

  He realized Caleb had been right to ask if he was sitting down. He felt suddenly disconnected from his legs and his feet. “My God. What?”

  “You really thought I didn’t have a clue, huh? My sister, you sonofabitch. My innocent sister—and don’t you try and tell me she wasn’t. I know her, I know what she meant when she used to joke about being too good of a Catholic girl….”

  So. All right. That was the issue here. Caleb knew. And he was seriously pissed.

  Rogan could understand that. “She didn’t want you to know about us, okay? That was her choice. And if you just have to beat my face in over this, we can arrange for that. Later. Right now, I’m—”

  “You get down here. You get on a plane and you get your ass to SA.”

  He didn’t argue. It was only fair. “I will. Tomorrow morning, first thing.”

  “Not tomorrow. Now. Tonight.”

  Rogan blew out a slow breath. “Caleb, I can’t manage it tonight.”

  “You can’t manage it.” Each word dripped disgust.

  “No. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

  “Are you listening? Sisters of Mercy Hospital. Got that?”

  His heart bounced into his throat. She was in the hospital for some reason? “What are you saying? Is she—?”

  “Let me put it this way. If you want to be here to see your son born, you’d better get here tonight.”

  At the table, Pauline was eating a miniature chocolate cake, one with fudge sauce pooling beneath it. She set down her spoon when she saw his face. “An emergency?”

  “Sorry. We have to go.”

  He took Pauline home. Twice, the poor woman asked him to slow down. He didn’t.

  At her house, she jumped right out. “Call me. Let me know….”

  He knew he wouldn’t be calling her. So he only said, “Goodbye, Pauline. I’m really sorry about this.” Sorry didn’t begin to cover it. He was feeling like a total douche on so many levels.

  She ran up the front steps and let herself in. He put it in gear and peeled rubber out of there, headed straight for the airport.

  By some minor miracle, he got a seat on a ten-thirty flight, the last flight to San Antonio that night. The flight took an hour. It only seemed like a lifetime.

  Pregnant.

  Elena got pregnant.

  He couldn’t believe it. She’d been on the pill. They’d used condoms faithfully. Even with that one slipping off that first time, well, it shouldn’t have happened.

  But it had. He knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t be saying he was the father if it wasn’t true.

  A baby. She was having his baby. Rogan felt something like wonder.

  He also felt a slow anger, like hot coals burning red beneath a layer of ash. All those times he’d almost called her—but stopped himself before he actually went through with it. He should have called her. Maybe if he had, she would have busted to the truth before now.

  Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t be racing against the clock to have a prayer of being there when his own child was born.

  Or maybe not.

  Did she think she could have his baby and not even tell him? Just because they’d agreed to end it for good back in May?

  That was low. She had to know that all agreements were off once a kid was involved.

  He called Caleb again while he was waiting at the rental kiosk for a car. “You said it was a boy.”

  “That’s right. She had one of those routine ultrasounds several months ago.”

  “Well, then. Is my son born yet?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Here, in San Antonio. At the airport. Waiting for a car.”

  Grudgingly, Caleb admitted, “She’s still in labor.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “How long?”

  “Half an hour.”

  “I’ll be waiting under the porte cochere in front of the maternity wing.”

  Caleb was there, sitting on a bench outside the twin sets of double glass doors, as promised. When Rogan pulled in, he got up and ran around to the driver’s side.

  Rogan pushed open his door. “How is she?”

  “They took her to the delivery room. It won’t be long now. I told them that the father was on his way. They’re waiting for you. They’ll take you in—so you can be there for the birth.”

  Suddenly, his brain seemed to have gone on hold. He just sat in the rental car with the door wide open, feeling poleaxed.

  Caleb said, “Wake up. Get out.”

  He shook himself. “I need to park….”

  “No time. Go on in. I’ll deal with the car.”

  So Rogan got out. He was half expecting Caleb to punch him a good one, right there in front of the maternity wing. But he didn’t. He just got in the car, pulled the door shut and drove away.

  Moving on autopilot, sure this must be some weird, impossible dream he was having, Rogan turned and approached the glass doors.

  Inside, he saw Javier sitting in the waiting room, looking a damn sight healthier than he had nine months ago, but also very serious. Downright somber. Luke Bravo was there, too. Which meant that Luz and Mercy were probably in with Elena.

  The men rose and came to him. Were they as pissed at him as Caleb was? Apparently not quite. They didn’t smile. But they each shook his hand.

  Luke said, “Glad you made it,” and sounded as though he meant it.

  Javier clapped him on the back—a gesture that might have meant just about anything.

  A woman in scrubs on the other side of the admissions desk asked, “Mr. Murdoch?”

  “That’s me.”

  “Let’s get you a gown….”

  At first, Elena didn’t know that Rogan had come into the birthing room.

  She was out of transition by then, right on past what they called active labor and on to the pushing part. Or she would be, if only her doctor would give her the go-ahead on that.

  Her mom was on one side of her and Mercy on the other and her OB-GYN, Dr. Amina Sankay, was down there between her legs. The lights were low and everyone was trying to be really peaceful, really soothing.

  Gentle hands touched her, stroked the sweaty side of her neck, rubbed her shoulder and her upper back. Gentle voices told her to breathe. And she was in a world of pain and wanting so bad to push and push until she had her son safely born and held him close in her waiting arms.

  But Dr. Sankay kept telling her, “Not yet. Don’t push yet….”

  And she groaned and told them all, “I have to. I can’t stand it.”

  Her mom said, “No, m’hija. Not yet. Listen to your doctor. Wait. Not yet…”

  And she tossed the sweaty, stringy hair out of her eyes, gritted her teeth so hard she was lucky they didn’t crack, and moaned long and loud at the ceiling. It was an awful sound, like the moo of a foundering cow. If she’d had any dignity left, she would have been humiliated that such a sound was
coming from her own mouth.

  But by then, all her modesty was long gone. She didn’t care what she sounded like—or what she looked like. She just wanted to push.

  But once more, her doctor said, “Not yet. Soon…”

  And she mooed like a cow again. And right then, as the long, ridiculous groan faded off and she lowered her head, she just happened to glance toward the door.

  Rogan was standing there in a blue hospital gown.

  “Rogan?” she croaked in complete disbelief. And then she groaned again—a groan that had nothing to do with the pain she was feeling.

  Rogan. By the door. Was she having hallucinations?

  She blinked.

  But when she looked again, he was still there. He moved closer.

  And then Mercy said quietly, “Rogan. Good to see you.” Which confirmed it. He was actually there. Mercy even tipped her head at him, signaling him closer still as she scooted toward the headrail, clearing him a spot at the bedside.

  He took that spot, looming large right beside her. Somehow, she couldn’t quite look in his face. She stared at the front of his wrinkled blue gown. She didn’t know what she felt right then, beyond the pain of her baby trying to be born. This wasn’t how she’d planned for him to meet his son.

  But evidently, this was how it was going to happen.

  And that he had dropped everything and caught a flight to get here—well, that was probably a good sign, wasn’t it?

  She gathered her courage and lifted her gaze to meet those clover-green eyes. “So.” She was panting, willing the next contraction to wait for a moment. “Caleb called you….”

  He nodded, but he didn’t say anything.

  And then Mercy surrendered Elena’s hand to him. He wrapped his big fingers around it. And she felt a sudden…lifting. As if he’d reached over and taken away a weight, a burden she hadn’t even realized she was carrying.

  And all at once, she was glad—so glad. That he was here.

  Glad enough that she wasn’t even mad at Caleb anymore for going against her final, frantic instructions and calling him anyway.

  With her hand clasped firmly in his, Rogan spoke at last. He said pretty much what Caleb had said, when he let her out of the car in front of the maternity wing, “Don’t worry about anything. Everything will work out fine.”