Then it was gone. And it felt so good. “It’s over,” she announced on a long exhalation, almost trembling with euphoria, as if she’d just won a tremendous battle. She didn’t want to open her eyes; it would be so nice, she thought, to stay right here and float like this forever.
But Jimmy Joe was saying something to her, shifting her weight, easing her back into her own axis. Her legs and body felt odd, as if she really had been on a boat and was now having to accustom herself to solid ground again.
“That was much better that time.” A tremor crept into her voice as she felt the shock of separation, the chill of air where his body had been. “It really helped. Thanks.” And suddenly she was laughing. “‘Row, row, row your boat’?”
“Well, shoot,” Jimmy Joe said with a shrug and an abashed grin, “it was the only water song I could think of. Tell you what, I’ll try an’ see if I can come up with somethin’ better next time.” He looked at his watch and frowned, fiddled with it for a moment, then flashed her his smile again. “Okay, we’ll see how that does. Supposed to be a stopwatch-don’t think I’ve ever had occasion to use it before. If it works right, we’re gonna know just how far apart those pains are coming.”
“Right,” said Mirabella staunchly.
She realized she liked the way he kept saying “we.”
Which was a new and strange feeing for her, accepting a partnership when she was so accustomed to going it alone. And even more strange to feel so overwhelmingly grateful for someone’s presence. She, who had always valued her privacy above all else and guarded her independence so jealously. But right now, standing close to this man who should have been a stranger still, so close her belly almost brushed his belt buckle, she found that she wanted nothing but to lean against him and lay her head on his chest and feel his arms around her and his warm breath in her hair. And she wondered how it could feel so comfortable and right.
“You aren’t havin’ another one already, are you?”
She blinked Jimmy Joe’s face into focus and found that he was frowning at her in alarm, and realized only then that she’d been gazing at him-with God only knew what sort of dopey expression on her face.
“No,” she said quickly, looking away. Swallowing hard. Telling herself, It’s just the circumstances. As soon as this is over he’ll be gone. And I’ll be glad, won’t I?
“That’s good.” His frown eased into something else-something she couldn’t read. Then he reached unexpectedly to touch her face, rubbing his thumb over the place between her brows where tension gathered. “We want to be ready for the next one so it doesn’t sneak up on us again. Get you relaxin’… breathin’ right.”
“Right,” Mirabella whispered. His eyes were so dark and warm…as bracing as coffee on a cold morning. She wanted to hold on to them, wrap herself around them and drink in their strength and certainty.
His smile blossomed slowly, almost without her noticing… until, like a finger of sunlight reaching into a dark corner, it touched something deep within her, and she felt stirrings like the fine tremblings of a moth’s wings-like the first tiny movements of the new life inside her.
“We’re gonna do okay, you and me,” he said in a husky voice, drawing a feathery line across her forehead with his fingertips like someone leaving stroke marks in velvet. “Don’t you worry now, y’hear? Everything’s gonna be just fine.”
She nodded, and her hand rose unguided to touch his where it cradled her cheek-touch, then catch and hold it there. She made what was for her an unprecedented sound, a laugh so saturated with emotion it sounded almost like a sob. Embarrassed by it, she closed her eyes…and felt the soft brush of his mouth on hers. Just that, there and then gone, so quickly she might have imagined it, if his next words hadn’t blown like a whisper of breath across her lips.
“You’d best go now…get outta those clothes while you can.”
Dazed and disoriented, she let him turn her and guide her into the sleeper.
“I got that out of your car for you,” he said, pointing to the navy blue overnighter that she’d somehow failed to notice sitting in the far corner of the bed compartment. “Don’t know what all you got in there-hope it’s somethin’ you can use. If you need anything of mine, just go on and help yourself.”
She murmured her thanks, and heard the curtain slide across the opening. A moment later she heard the crackle of radio static, and his growly CB drawl saying, “Mayday, Mayday, we got us an emergency here…anybody out there listenin’? Come on…”
My overnight bag. She reached for it and pulled it toward her, smiling mistily and shaking her head even though she knew she ought to be used to Jimmy Joe’s ways by now. But she wasn’t, and she didn’t think she would ever get over being a little bit awed by him-and grateful. At least she hoped not. People like him shouldn’t ever be taken for granted, she thought. Like roses and robins, and the Grand Canyon.
Mostly her overnight case held cosmetics and toiletries, her hair dryer and changes of underwear, none of which she was likely to be needing anytime soon. This trip, however, she had thrown in a nightgown, for convenience during one-night motel stops. It was her favorite, an enormous T-shirt with a picture of a glowering cat on the front and the words, I Don’t Do Mornings. Made for comfort rather than modesty or style, it did absolutely nothing to camouflage her swollen breasts and bulging belly. It wasn’t very warm, either, but it was long enough to cover her legs to mid-calf, and since she wasn’t going to be wearing any bottoms, that seemed a big plus. For warmth and modesty she could always wear one of Jimmy Joe’s shirts on top of it.
No bottoms… A little spasm of queasiness gripped her. I feel like a virgin preparing for my wedding night, she thought. And then the irony of that struck her and she had to sit down, holding her stomach and hiccuping with silent laughter.
“How you doin’ in there?” Jimmy Joe called from the front.
She jumped guiltily and began to shuck off clothing as fast as she could, managing to answer with a muffled, “Fine…just about done.”
After a pause, his voice rode in on a ripple of laughter. “Hey, I thought of a good water song.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah…how ‘bout ’The River’? Garth Brooks.”
Preoccupied with peeling off her wet pants, she had to confess she’d never heard of either the song or, “Garth…who?”
Which clearly appalled Jimmy Joe. “Come on, now. You don’t mean to tell me you never heard of Garth Brooks? One of the biggest country singers the last couple years. Songs’ve been at the tops of the charts-Where you been, woman?”
Mirabella sniffed. “Oh…well. I told you, I don’t listen to much country music.”
“Huh.” There was a little silence, then, on a note of curiosity, “What’ve you got against country music, anyway?”
“I don’t have anything against country music. I just consider it a contradiction in terms, is all.” But she was smiling, exhilarated by the prospect of a new battle. Arguing with Jimmy Joe was such fun.
He gave a loud disdainful snort and to her delight countered with, “Don’t know why that surprises me, comin’ from a woman who thinks Pinocchio was Walt Disney’s best movie.”
“What?” She swept back the curtain with a grand gesture. “Oh, not again. How can you even argue that? It’s common knowledge Pinocchio was Disney’s masterpiece. All you have to do is look at the artistry, the animation, the characterizations, the themes… What?” Jimmy Joe was solemnly shaking his head. “Okay, why not? Just give me one good reason.”
“One’s all I need,” he said, watching her with his soft, unreadable eyes, smiling a quirky half-embarrassed smile she’d never seen before. “And I’ll tell you what it is. It hasn’t got a romance in it.”