Page 30

They were able to schedule the exam for the following week.

Rebecca was worried, but she didn’t tell her family, or anyone for that matter, about the ultrasound. She arrived by herself and tried to relax during the exam.

After she got dressed, she waited in her doctor’s office for the results.

He came in looking as serious as ever, and Rebecca had to bite back tears. Then he smiled, his first real smile, and she did cry.

“It is okay, Rebecca. The baby looks good. The baby is embedded where it should be in the uterine wall. Looks to be about six to seven weeks along. I put the due date at around May 15 th .”

“I’m so relieved. May I hug you, doctor?”

The gruff man was soft at heart and gave her a hug as she cried on his shoulder.

Rebecca watched as fall came to the beach, offering some of the most gorgeous sunsets of the season.

Her parents let her go about two weeks between visits.

Yet again, she felt the relatives were on a rotation.

If she wasn’t seeing her parents, it was her brother Alex.

At one point, her cousin, Spencer, dropped in because he was “in the neighborhood,” which was a fat chance.

He lived in Texas. They spent several afternoons sitting on the deck and reminiscing about Mitch.

“I remember watching you two playing Monopoly that day when he asked you out right in front of Alex. I could feel the tension,” Spencer said.

“I think if Alex had picked up on it, he’d have been beside himself,” she said.

“I never told you this, but I pulled Mitch aside that night and told him I approved.”

“You did?” Rebecca asked, placing a hand on her cousin’s arm.

“I liked him. I liked you two together.”

Leaning toward him, she kissed her cousin on the cheek. “You are such a troublemaker. I love you.”

Everyone seemed to understand that she needed to be treated gently.

When Alex arrived in early October, driving his car of the moment, a Porsche Panamera in black, he brought her takeout in a cooler from an Italian restaurant she liked in Portland.

“You must really feel sorry for me,” she said as he unpacked the food from Pastini and started placing it in her fridge.

“I’ve had practice with Mom. She is a bit inconsolable. I think Mitch was her favorite child. Forget about us, her actual children. He had dimples or something she just can’t forget.”

“He did have great dimples,” Rebecca said, rubbing her tummy.

“He got away with calling her Vic. Who does that?”

“Spencer calls her Aunt Vic,” Rebecca countered.

“But seriously, you seduced my best friend when you were eighteen?”

“Dad told you?”

“He’s kind of upset. Every father’s daughter is a virgin, and to hear any different is really Earth-shattering.”

“Well, I’m married, and I’m pregnant. And for the record, Mitch and I had a lot of fun together. We loved each other, and it was like we were meant for each other.”

“La la la la…” Alex said, covering his ears. “Look, I’m glad you two loved each other, but you are still my sister. I don’t need to hear about it. Please hold back on the details.”

After dinner, they sat across from each other and worked on a jigsaw puzzle.

The house had a closet filled with puzzles and games, including Monopoly.

She had contemplated throwing the Monopoly game away.

It wasn’t the same one they had played all those years ago, but it was a reminder of happier times.

She and Alex worked on a round puzzle that was a golf course and all green.

Rebecca liked puzzles because they helped her to think.

Where her mind wandered to was another point altogether.

She had another ultrasound at the sixteen-week mark that determined that her baby was, indeed, a little girl. A name came to her, and she decided on the spot that the little girl would be named Emily.

***Mitch***

Mitch had never been a fan of curry. It was odd because it was a staple for many of his coworkers in London.

But when he was given what he could only describe as curry and rice served in a metal bowl with a large metal spoon, he ate it.

About mid-way through it, he wondered if they had poisoned him.

Well, it was too late to think about now.

His hunger had overtaken reason. He had to act grateful.

It wasn’t easy. These were his kidnappers, but despite the horrible conditions, his leg was healing.

He couldn’t bear to put any weight on it, but it was looking better.

He hadn’t had any reoccurrence of fever for at least a week.

He’d tried unsuccessfully to ask the staff where he was, but they pretended not to understand him. He was pretty sure he was near the crash site in Iraq.

The brain fog was clearing, and he remembered the mission. Delivery of Donovan Security helicopters. He remembered the blast of the helicopter beside them being shot down out of the air. Then they were hit. He remembered the fall but not the rescue, nor the first week in captivity.

His arms were scarred now from the crash, but he was just happy they healed without infection. He’d seen his stitches, but there were others on his back that he hadn’t seen. He was lucky to still have his leg.

The sad-eyed older woman who always wore a Hijab took his bowl away when he’d finished eating, and then the “doctor” arrived, and he wasn’t alone.

The polite banter was over.

Yelling at Mitch, the doctor, who reminded him of his orthodontist, shoved a newspaper into his hand.

Something he could not read. And by the look of the lettering, it was Arabic.

The second man, who was dressed in fatigues and looked like he wanted to kill Mitch with his bare hands, pulled out an iPhone and snapped several photos of Mitch holding the newspaper.

No one needed to tell him what was going on. It was proof of life. The negotiations had begun, but when they took his ring, which had become loose on his finger, he had a very bad feeling of foreboding.