The Greek's Innocent Virgin Page 9

  His mother's gasp was followed by a moan of true Greek distress. "And how can you be so sure of this?"

  Used to his parent's unquestioning approval, her continued certainty he was in the wrong made him angry. "How do you think?"

  A word came out of his mother's mouth he'd never heard her utter before.

  "Do not tell me that you ac­cused her of these things after making love with her."

  "I will not be deceived like my uncle."

  "No, you will merely deceive yourself. Oh, you foolish child."

  Despite his annoyance at being called foolish yet again, his mouth twisted at the incongruity of being called a child at the age of thirty.

  "On what evidence did you base your assumption she is not a virgin?"

  "That is not something I will discuss with you."

  "Who will you discuss it with then? If you can make the accusation, you can tell me your reasons for doing so."

  "She did not bleed." Even though miles and phone lines separated them, he actually flushed with embar­rassment after saying such a thing to his mother.

  "So?"

  "So, she wasn't innocent like she claimed and damn it, Mama, I would not have cared, but if she would lie to me about this, she would lie about other things."

  "And on this reasoning you broke her heart?"

  "I did not break her heart."

  "You did not reject her?"

  "I made her no promises to begin with."

  “And she is the one you call a deceiver?'' Suddenly, his mother went off into a tirade about id­iotic and stubborn Greek men. She informed him that even a dinosaur like himself should realize not all women made it into adulthood with their hymen in­tact. The lack of blood was no evidence at all.

  His mother was ashamed of him for taking Rachel's innocence outside of the bonds of marriage and then accusing her with trumped-up charges. She ended by telling him that he would deserve it if Rachel refused to ever speak to him again and she, Phillippa Kouros, would never attempt to match make for such an idiotic son again.

  If she wanted grandchildren, she would have to wait for his brother to be ready to wed because she didn't want her grandchildren carrying such imprudent, cynical genes.

  Sebastian's ears rang for several minutes after his mother hung up on him.

  His mother was right. How could he have con­vinced himself of those things about Rachel? She had never in any way exhibited the least tendency to be like her mother and yet in true Greek vendetta fash­ion, he had held her accountable for her mother's sins.

  The blood drained from his face as he remembered all the things he had said to her, the accusations he had made. He'd hurt her when she had given herself to him freely and the truth had been in her lovely, wounded eyes for him to see.

  He had even convinced himself that making love without protection had been her fault when in fact, it had been his. He was the experienced one and want­ing to be inside her more than he wanted to breathe, he hadn't even thought of safe sex.

  His mother's words were nothing compared to the thoughts castigating him now.

  A deep abyss loomed before him, dark, cold, and isolated. If he could not make it up to Rachel, he would fall into it.

  Not looking forward to swallowing his words, he went to her room to find her, but when he reached it, it was empty.

  Not only of Rachel, but of her things.

  His stomach tightened into a knot and his breathing became erratic as he yanked open bureau drawers and closet doors, confirming what he knew to be true: she was gone.

  His gaze skated around the room, looking for any sign of her, a note, anything and he noticed a deco­rative box in the trash bin. It looked like a memory keepsake box like his mother had on her bedroom dresser. She kept things that had belonged to his fa­ther in it.

  What was it doing in Rachel's trash bin? She'd brought it all the way from the island, it was odd she would choose now to throw it away.

  He picked it up and opened it without compunc­tion. As his eyes registered what was inside, a feeling of dread swept through him. She had literally thrown him out of her life and every memory that accom­panied him. Mementos from as far back as their first meeting nestled together in a carefully arranged as­sortment, all of it testament to feelings Rachel had had for him since the beginning.

  Feelings he had ignored.

  No, that wasn't quite true. He'd noticed her shy adoration and he'd played up to it sometimes, being kind to her because she'd drawn him like no other woman. Even when she'd been a mere seventeen years old. He had wanted her even then, but her in­nocence had screamed out at him, as had her reticence around men. She never swam when her mother's friends were around, though she'd gone swimming a few times with him.

  She had avoided Andrea's parties when she lived on the island.

  The sheer idiocy of his earlier convictions struck him anew. His only excuse was that he'd been going crazy since Matthias's death. His grief at losing a man who had been both a father figure and a business men­tor to him had been intensified by the senselessness of the old man's death and grief at the thing his life had become since marriage to the bitch, Andrea.

  Mixed with a need he had not wanted to feel for Rachel, but could no longer control, it had fried his brains into oblivion.

  Rachel sat in the vinyl covered office chair, numbing disbelief paralyzing her vocal chords.

  The doctor's no-nonsense expression offered no comfort in the face of such devastating news.

  She'd come in to find out what was going on with her female hormones and she'd been slapped with this.

  "It's not an uncommon condition. You would be surprised at how many people under the age of thirty have heart disease. Atrial fibrillation is the most com­mon and one of the mildest forms."

  Mild? She did not consider the risk of stroke or congestive heart failure mild, but perhaps it was all in a person's perspective. No doubt Pompella saw patients in much worse shape than Rachel quite fre­quently.

  "Successful treatment of the hyperthyroidism that caused the arrhythmia in the first place could result in the disappearance of your atrial fibrillation."

  "And if it doesn't, the treatment for that is to knock me out and stop my heart?" That didn't seem all that mild to her either.

  Pompella nodded, her dark gaze impassive. "The risk involved is quite small."

  "How small?"

  “If the cardioversion is attempted without a regime of blood thinners beforehand, it could cause a stroke.

  However, after six weeks of treatment, the risk of stroke is almost nonexistent."

  Did doctors get paid extra for talking over their patient's head? "So, how do we treat my thyroid con­dition?"

  She was twenty-three years old and too darn young to have this sort of thing to deal with. Only, according to her doctor, an overactive thyroid was also quite common.

  "You have the choice of treating it with medica­tion, surgery or mild radiation therapy."

  After explaining that the chances of long-term suc­cess with medication therapy were less than thirty percent, Rachel asked about the radiation therapy. Swallowing a drink with radiation laced iodine sounded a lot easier than having surgery.

  It was also painless, didn't have any lasting side effects, other than the desired one and was done com­pletely out-patient. "However, you'll want to stay away from small children and refrain from hugging anyone else for seventy-two hours after drinking the treatment.''

  "I see." An issue she'd been trying to ignore for the last two months refused to be dismissed any longer. "What impact might this have on pregnancy?'

  "Is there a possibility that you might be preg­nant?"

  "I don't know."

  The doctor's eyes widened.

  "I had my period a week after..." Her voice trailed off when she couldn't make herself give voice to what she and Sebastian had done. She took a deep breath and let it out. "It was light and I haven't had another period in two months."

  "No mor
ning sickness?"

  "No."

  "Are your breasts tender?"

  "A little. I guess." She didn't go around touching her breasts except to wash them in the shower.

  Had she instinctively been more careful of them lately? She thought maybe she had.

  "There are a lot of reasons for a missed period besides pregnancy."

  That's what she'd been telling herself. "I know. That's why I made the appointment for a physical."

  She had certainly not expected to come in and be told she had a heart condition brought about by an overactive thyroid.

  "Pregnancy would prevent the use of radiation therapy for your thyroid condition. If you have time, we can run a pregnancy test now, before making any further decisions."

  "Yes."

  An hour later, she sat in the same rose pink vinyl chair, feeling like her world had caved in on her. "I'm ten weeks pregnant?"

  "That is correct." Pompella closed the manila folder in front of her. "We need to discuss options."

  "Yes," but Rachel's attention wasn't focused on the doctor.

  For the same two and a half months the baby had been growing inside her, she had been shut down emotionally, surviving in a cocoon of isolation into which no other person had been allowed any real ac­cess. Suddenly, another living being was in the co­coon with her and she couldn't separate herself. She was going to have a baby and that baby would be inside her defense mechanisms for the rest of her life.

  "Is the father in the picture?"

  Rachel's gaze refocused on the doctor. "No." An image of Sebastian tried to come forward in her mind and she slammed a mental door on it with a resound­ing clang. "He's not in my life at all."

  "Ten weeks is not too far along to consider a ter­mination." Pompella spoke without a shred of emotion.

  Fierce protectiveness for the small life growing in­side her welled up in Rachel. "That is not an option."

  The other woman's mouth set in a firm line. "You should at least consider it."

  "No."

  "I don't think you've considered all the angles to your situation. If you don't treat your hyperthyroid­ism, your heart arrhythmia will continue, putting you at risk for both stroke and heart attack. The medica­tions that could treat the arrhythmia can have adverse side effects on pregnancy as well."

  "Then I won't take them."

  "Which leaves you with two potentially serious medical conditions going untreated for the next seven months."

  "Aren't there any treatments available that are safe for pregnancy?"

  "You could try beta-blockers, but taking an ag­gressive approach early in your condition is going to give you the best chance of complete recovery. And beta-blockers are not completely risk free," she stressed.

  Rachel told the doctor she would consider alter­natives and thanked her for her time, but went home determined not to return to Pompella.

  Anyone who thought killing her baby was the answer to problems she didn't even have physical symp­toms for was crazy.

  She reasoned that she hadn't even known about the heart arrhythmia or hyperactive thyroid until she'd gone in for her physical, so neither could be all that bad.

  She did her best to eat food healthy for both her heart and her baby, and managed a daily dose of light exercise. Working at a women's fitness center, that part was easy. She found an obstetrician and started taking prenatal vitamins as well. She felt physically better than she had at any time in her life and pushing the worry to the back of her mind. Rachel didn't bother to mention her heart arrhythmia to her OB.

  If she still longed for Sebastian in the darkest hours of the night, she refused to give such craven feelings airtime in the light of day.

  Her attitude of complacency about her heart con­dition lasted until she woke up in an ambulance, headed toward Emergency after collapsing at work.

  She was able to go home a few hours later, but the reality of her condition had well and truly sunk in.

  She had to make sure her baby would be taken care of if something happened to her. The urge to call Sebastian had been growing daily in the two weeks since she discovered her pregnancy. She no longer loved him. How could she after all he had said to her? However, she would not allow her child to be deprived of its father as Rachel had been of hers.

  It didn't matter that Sebastian thought she was a reincarnation of Andrea, or even that he would see the pregnancy as another trap. She wasn't trying to trap him and he would eventually figure that out. He loved his family and once he accepted that the baby was his he would love it too. He would ensure their baby would never be alone, no matter what happened to Rachel.

  She called Sebastian's office the next day.

  His secretary offered to take a message because Sebastian was in a meeting.

  When Rachel gave her name the secretary said, "Rachel Long?" as if she couldn't quite believe her ears.

  "Yes, though if you're going to have him call me back at work, have him ask for Rachel Newman."

  "Please, hold the line." The secretary sounded quite agitated. "I'll have Kyrios Kouros for you di­rectly."

  "Oh, no, that isn't necessary. He can call me back."

  "I have strict instructions, Newman."

  What instructions? She would have thought Sebastian would tell his secretary to refuse to take any call from her, not to interrupt him in an important meeting. She had barely a minute to consider the puz­zle before his deep voice came across the phone line.

  "Rachel?" His tone was oddly thick.

  "Yes."

  "Rachel Newman now?" he asked, a very odd in­flection in his tone.

  "Yes."

  "I...I'm..."

  He was silent so long, she thought the connection might have gone dead.

  "Sebastian?"

  "Ne, yes." Again that thick voice. "I suppose con­gratulations are in order."

  If he routinely offered congratulations in that tone of voice, he would not have very many friends.

  "What for?" No way could he know about the baby.

  "Your marriage."

  What in the world was he talking about? "Are you crazy? I'm not married."

  "You are not?"

  "No."

  Did he honestly believe she would go from him to another man that fast...and get married? She sup­posed he did. thinking she was a world-class slut and liar.

  "Then what is this Rachel Newman?" Anger vi­brated in his voice, confusing her further.

  But she'd forgotten he didn't know about her changing her last name. She told him about it now.

  "We could find nothing and that explains it."

  "What?"

  "It is not important. You called me for a reason, agape mou. What is it?"

  The phone connection must be fuzzy. She could have sworn he called her his love, but that was not possible. "I have something I need to tell you. Two things really."

  "Tell me these things."

  "I'm pregnant. I know you aren't going to believe the baby is yours until we can have tests, but I'm willing to have those." She'd made the decision not to allow her pride to get in the way of her baby's welfare before she'd ever picked up the phone to call him.

  Again the silence.

  "Sebastian?"

  "I am here."

  "Say something."

  "I do not know what to say." Then he belied his words by going on in a dazed voice. "You are preg­nant. And you called me. I give thanks to the good God above for this. You had little reason to trust me enough to do so."

  "I don't trust you." And she couldn't believe he thought she was stupid enough to after the way he had rejected her.

  "Yet you called."

  "I had no choice."

  "Because you are pregnant." The words came taut across the phone lines.

  "Because there are complications. I need to know my baby is going to be okay."

  "What is this you are saying? What kind of com­plications?" His Greek accent was very thick. "You are at risk?"

  "Th
at's one way of putting it." And she explained what the doctor had told her, but omitted her recent trip to the emergency room.

  Somehow, she didn't think that would go over very well.

  He asked a ton of detailed questions, including who her general practitioner was and the name of her ob­stetrician, in addition to many more questions about her two related conditions that she hadn't thought to ask when she'd been at the doctor's office. It embar­rassed her to have to say she didn't know, but he never once accused her of being negligent with her baby's health.

  His lack of condemnation did not stem the impa­tience she felt with herself for being such an ostrich about everything.