Raw Deal (Larson Brothers #1)(9)
“I don’t know. Obviously more than six or seven weeks but I’ve never been regular. I’ve felt a little nauseated here and there ever since the funeral but I figured it was from crying all the time.”
“First things first, you need to go to the doctor.”
Rowan stepped back and nodded, wiping at her red nose with the tissue Savannah plucked and handed to her. “How am I going to tell your parents?”
“Open your mouth and say it. Really, do you think they’re not going to be overjoyed? Mom has been begging you for a grandchild practically since you and Tommy met.”
“Yeah, she has. But . . . that was then.”
“Ro. We have a little part of Tommy still here with us now. That’s cause to celebrate. They’re going to be so happy, I promise you. They’re going to want you to take care of yourself too, so you’re right—I’m drinking all of that coffee.” That brought forth a small burst of laughter. Rowan wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. “Go see Mom today, all right? Spend the day with her. She’s going to have you shopping already. And call your doctor.”
“I will.”
“Promise?”
“I will.”
“Good. I really have to go, okay?”
“Okay. And thanks for the coffee that I can’t drink.”
“Well, I tried. More for me.”
Savannah made sure she was out of sight of Rowan’s house before she pulled her car over in a convenience store parking lot, feeling a swell of emotion surging up that wouldn’t be denied until she’d purged it. It had been weeks since she’d cried, but now she grabbed the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip and let it all out, glad she hadn’t bothered with makeup after all if this had to be the outcome.
Oh, God, I’ll do anything. Just give him back. Let him be here for his child, for his wife who needs him. Why him and not me? Why not me? He had so much to live for, so much to do . . .
The same stale prayer, never acknowledged, never answered.
Something else she had tried not to do in the past few weeks was think too much about Michael Larson, but he would forever be linked with her brother’s memory in her mind. Suddenly, there he was, as vivid as if she’d seen him yesterday. What would he think about this new development? A handful of times in the weeks immediately following Tommy’s funeral, she’d pulled up his number in her contacts and stared at it, debating deleting it like the dirty secret it was . . . when she wasn’t debating dialing it.
Why? What in the hell could she have to say to him? She knew, though, even if she didn’t want to admit it to herself. She wanted to talk to him because, despite all of her internal protests, he’d been a comfort to her. His words, his voice, especially the way he’d held her hand as they parted ways. The hand that had beaten her brother to death had held hers as if it were something precious. He’d spoken to her like he meant every word, unlike half the people she’d encountered since Tommy’s death. And she wondered how he was doing with all of this, too.
“Oh, please,” she muttered out loud to no one. He’d probably forgotten who she was by now. As quickly as she had conjured him up, she shoved him to the back of her mind. Pulled herself together, drank one of the cooling coffees, popped a breath mint into her mouth, and put on some lip gloss before driving the rest of the way to work. Somehow she managed to be right on time, pulling into the spa parking lot at 6:58 A.M. and hitting the side door at seven sharp.
The good thing about her job was that it gave her time to think. Her first appointment of the day was for a body scrub and wrap with a half-hour Swedish massage, and her client was a quiet one. So for the first couple hours of her day, she marveled over the fact she was going to be an aunt. A sweet little baby to spoil as if he or she were her own. One thing was for sure: that was going to be one loved baby. Rowan and the child would want for nothing, not with Savannah’s parents on the scene. This was going to be the injection of light and life her family needed to move on from this catastrophe. Tommy would be so proud and happy.
She guessed. He’d never actually made his thoughts on the subject of having kids clear, preferring to laugh it off whenever their mother got on his case about it. Maybe he hadn’t wanted kids.
As soon as she got a break, Savannah headed for the little on-site café to get a tea, greeting one of the other massage therapists at the counter. “Are you okay?” Tasha asked her, frowning as she assessed Savannah closely. Yeah, she usually did put a little more effort into her appearance, but Tasha knew her too well. The two of them had made fast friends and, outside of her family, Tasha was probably the person closest to her.
“Crazy morning already,” Savannah admitted, then laughed as Tasha plucked the bottle of tea from her hands and placed it on the counter to pay for it with her own yogurt cup. “Tash, you don’t have to do that.”
“Of course I don’t have to. Now hush.”
She kind of hated it that everyone at work still treated her like she was emotionally fragile. Maybe she was, especially today, but . . . today, at least, she felt like talking instead of wandering around mechanically, suffering worried stares everywhere she went and feeling like a problem everyone had to try to solve. “We found out that my brother’s widow is pregnant.”
Tasha’s dark eyes widened. “Oh! Oh. Oh, wow.”