Their Precious Christmas Miracle: Mistletoe Baby / In the Spirit of...Christmas / A Baby By Christmas

Gown? Fancy term for a large piece of paper with two holes on the sides and a strip meant to tie in the back. When the nurse shut the door behind her, Rachel gulped.

David wasn’t meeting her gaze now. “I guess I should go wait in the hall.”

Considering that she was standing there pregnant with his child, that seemed a lot like closing the barn door after the horse already got loose. “You could turn around. Promise not to look?”

“You’d trust me?” He turned toward the wall and a pink poster about new Pap smear methods.

“Trust was never the issue between us,” she said. Whatever else his faults—or annoying lack thereof—it wasn’t as if she’d worried David would betray her.

“I don’t know,” he said after a moment. “There’s more than one kind of trust. What you said today about needing to protect yourself from getting hurt …”

There was a raw pain in his voice she hadn’t expected, and she paused in the act of unfastening her bra. He was keeping his word, not watching her, which presented an unusual opportunity to look her fill. He wasn’t basketball-player tall, but he was a nice height for her, strong and solid. His posture had always been correct; no one needed to remind him to stand up straight. Even so, there was a slight rounding to his broad shoulders, the tiniest sign of dejection. Or defeat.

“David, I wasn’t trying to hurt you with what I said this morning.” She folded her bra inside her discarded shirt, then reached for the waistband of her pants. This was a surreal conversation to be having while she stripped.

His laugh held no traces of humor. “See? We really don’t trust each other. You weren’t trying to hurt me, I wasn’t trying to hurt you. So why, instead of giving the other person the benefit of the doubt, do we jump to the worst conclusions?”

Because love made people vulnerable.

She couldn’t voice the thought without admitting that she still loved him, not in the bright, think-about-you-all-the-time way she had when she’d first met him. This was more bittersweet and weather-beaten. They’d shared so much, both good and bad. They’d grown apart like vines reaching for separate suns instead of becoming stronger together, but the memories they’d created would never fade completely. Especially since we created something a lot more tangible than a memory. She splayed her fingers over her navel.

“You almost done?” he asked, shifting his weight restlessly.

She grabbed for the paper wrapper. “Just about.”

“I can’t believe I’m alone in a room with you, you’re finally naked, and I’m stuck reading about innovations in cervical health.”

An errant giggle escaped her. “Sorry.”

“Really?” His shoulders straightened. “Because there are ways you could make it up to me.”

“Not that sorry.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

There were two quick knocks on the door outside before Lydia McDermott stuck her head inside. “Everyone decent?”

“We’re ready.” Rachel scooted onto the table as the beaming doctor entered the room.

“So it looks like congrats are in order! The two of you must be thrilled,” Dr. McDermott said.

Rachel cleared her throat. “We’re … a lot of things. Surprised, for one. After all those months of trying, and then after we’d pretty much concluded we were giving up, bam.”

The doctor nodded. “You’d be surprised how it happens that way for many people. Couples who find out they’re pregnant halfway through adoption proceedings, or couples who have just adopted a baby and then find out another one is coming. The mind and body connection is a funny thing. It’s as if for some couples, once they accept that it’s not going to happen—as you said—bam, it does.”

“The universe has a sick sense of humor. Not that I’m complaining,” Rachel added hastily, not wanting to test fate. David came to stand beside her.

Dr. McDermott was a tall, aristocratic-looking woman who delivered dozens of babies each year. Though her sleek bob had gone almost entirely gray, her blue eyes twinkled and her attractive face was mostly unlined. She looked wise and capable.

Rachel knew with sudden certainty she didn’t want anyone but Lydia delivering this baby. I’m staying in Mistletoe. Which meant she had to decide on some long-term plans, the sooner, the better. She couldn’t stay at Winnie’s until the baby came this summer.

The doctor wore reading glasses on a slim chain around her neck and lifted them to better study the nurse’s notes. “How are you feeling? Any major side effects you want to discuss or ask about?”

“Well, the morning sickness has kicked in. That was fun,” Rachel said wryly. “And I was cramping a few days ago. Before the home pregnancy test. At the time, I figured it was just my stalled period about to start.”

“We’ll check everything out, of course, but lots of women experience abdominal discomfort from ligaments stretching. Things are moving around and changing, so there will be some minor pains. Don’t let them panic you. Any headaches, dizziness or breast tenderness?”

“Yes, on all three counts.” Thinking about how sensitive her breasts had become—it practically hurt to roll over in her sleep—Rachel felt herself blush. They’d always been sensitive, which, in happier times, David had used to orgasmic effect.

“All right.” Dr. McDermott walked to the counter and set down the manila folder. “Why don’t you lie back, and we’ll take a look.”

Rachel’s heart fluttered rapidly. As she reclined, she reached out without thinking. David reacted immediately, clasping her hand and giving it a brief reassuring squeeze. She couldn’t look at him—it would make the moment too unbearably intimate—but she was grateful for the contact.

If she stopped to think about what was going on, the ultrasound would have been a bit embarrassing, but she was far too mesmerized by the colors and blobs on the small screen Dr. McDermott turned toward her.

“There. See that? There’s your little one, right where he should be.” A tiny shape, curved but indistinct, a dark winking at the center.

Tears blurred Rachel’s vision. That was her baby, that was the heartbeat.

David sounded choked up as well when he asked, “It was just a figure of speech, right? The ‘he’? I mean you can’t tell …”

Dr. McDermott chuckled. “No, it’ll be a long time before I can advise you whether to buy pink paint or blue, but the months will go fast. You’re already well on your way to the second trimester! As anxious as the two of you have been, I’m surprised you didn’t take the home test sooner.”

How to explain that she’d been so preoccupied with her marriage falling apart that the first missed period had gone unnoticed? “Well, I was afraid to get my hopes up too soon.”

Lydia nodded, pressing some buttons on her machine. “Give it a few minutes, and you’ll have your first baby picture for the scrapbook. Everything looks great.”

Once the exam was over, they talked some more about what to expect and when Rachel should come back in for the next visit.

“That’s everything for now,” the doctor concluded. “I’ll step out and let you get dressed, give you a chance to think of any more questions. And a moment to celebrate your good news privately.” She smiled at both of them, then left.

Neither of them moved. David looked as poleaxed as Rachel felt.

He glanced at the grainy photo Dr. McDermott had handed him. “We did that.”

She grinned over his shoulder. “Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” The enormity of the situation settled over her; she and David had created life. There was a new little person growing inside her. Even though she’d known it on an abstract level, seeing the visual proof was profound.

“You all right?” he asked.

“I’ll be better once we hit the second trimester mark,” she admitted.

“‘We’? Meaning you and the baby?”

“All of us.” She stopped, started again. “I’m still going to see my family in a few weeks, but just temporarily. Whatever else happens, I won’t leave Mistletoe until the baby’s born.”