Angels Everywhere - Debbie Macomber [82]
“Let me do this my way,” she asked, reaching for his hand and kissing his knuckles.
He didn’t respond immediately. “I can’t stand by and watch you do this to yourself. How many times have you gone through this?” he demanded. “It’s always the same and each time your hopes go a little higher and you fall a little harder. Each time it takes you longer to recover.”
Leah knew what he was saying was true, but this was different. This time she’d throw back her head and shout for joy. This time her heart and her soul would be left intact. How she wished there was some way to reassure Andrew.
“I don’t want you to worry about me,” she said.
“I am worried.”
She leaned against him. “Don’t, please.”
“Does this mean you won’t take the home pregnancy test?” The fire crackled in the distance, adding punctuation to his request.
She hated to refuse him anything, but it was necessary. Those tests dredged up far too many unpleasant memories. That was all in the past, and her future, their future, was spilling over with promise.
“No, Andrew, I won’t. Not this time.” She threw her arms into the air and fell backward so that she was sprawled across his lap, smiling up into his face. “Now kiss me, you fool.”
He closed his eyes as though to blot her out. “Leah, for the love of—”
She didn’t allow him to finish, but gripped hold of his neck and levered herself upward until her mouth met his. As familiar as she was with her husband’s body, Leah knew exactly what she needed to do to evoke a strong and positive response.
“Leah.” Her name became a helpless plea.
“I have this incredible urge to ravish you,” she whispered, opening the buttons of his neatly pressed dress shirt. He groaned when her hands met his warm skin.
“Dinner,” he managed, between slow, deep kisses.
“What about it?” she asked, rotating her hands around to his back. His heart was pounding hard and fast, but then so was her own.
“Can wait,” he told her brokenly.
Leah smiled softly to herself. “That’s what I thought.”
It wasn’t until she was dressing for work the following morning that Leah found the pregnancy test kit. How long it had been sitting on the bathroom counter she could only speculate. Probably from the night before.
The night before. A small, satisfied smile lit up her eyes. They might be an old married couple, but the lovemaking couldn’t get more incredible or more romantic than beneath a glowing Christmas tree in front of a flickering fire.
She carried the test kit into the kitchen with her and set it down on the kitchen table in front of her husband. “Is this a hint?”
“As broad as I can make it,” he said, and finished his glass of orange juice. “For the love of heaven, let’s get this agony over with.”
It was then that Leah knew.
In the beginning she was afraid he was worried about her building her hopes upon a foundation of sand. But it was more than that. Andrew was suffering the torment of the unknown himself.
For years, Andrew had disguised his feelings, not allowing her to guess how very much he wanted children.
He was studying her now, his features sharp and anxious. “How much longer will you wait?”
She wanted to make some flippant reply, some casual remark that they could both laugh away, but it wouldn’t work.
“If it’ll ease your mind,” she said, disliking even this small compromise, “I’ll make an appointment with Dr. Benoit right away.” The physician, however dear, produced a flood of unhappy memories. She couldn’t think of him and not remember the months of hormone shots, the ultrasound, and everything else they’d attempted over the last seven years.
“All right, call your doctor friend,” Andrew said, but he didn’t sound especially pleased. He wanted to know. The sooner the better.
Not so with Leah. She’d already received all the confirmation she needed.
Monica had been standing in the cold, sounding the bell for charitable donations, for nearly forty-five minutes. She was cold, her feet hurt, and she was almost convinced Chet wouldn’t show.
Not