Chapter 2

Noah headed from the parking lot to the hospital lobby at a fast trot. "Which way is room 327?" he asked a volunteer at the information desk.

"Orange elevator.'

He walked toward the elevator, past the hospital gift shop. Noah turned around, stepped into the shop and purchased a vase containing an arrangement of flowers. He rode the elevator to the third floor and found room 327.

He stopped in the doorway. A young woman lay, half reclining on the hospital bed, gazing at the clouds out of her window. She wore a hospital gown and had an I.V. line running into a vein on the back of her left hand.

Noah cleared his throat. She turned his way and he recognized her from her dark hair, her full lips and her nose stud. "Are you the lady looking for Seth?" he asked. "My name is Noah -- Noah Warren. May I come in?"

"Please. I'm Rachel Drummond."

"Rachel -- I recognize you from Hubbard's men's department. You sold me a shirt last night."

"I have so many customers they're all a blur."

"I was the one whose Visa gave you trouble."

"I remember, now. How do you know Seth?"

Noah set the vase on a table near her bed. "I don't, alas. I have no idea who he is or where he is. Rachel -- I have an apology to give and a confession to make. I've been cruel to you even though we're strangers and without you even realizing it. You see ... all the text and voice messages you left for Seth came to my phone." He took his Blackberry from his pocket and manipulated it. "See? Here they are."

She regarded him in stunned bewilderment. "How?"

"I can think of three possibilities -- either the cell company re-assigned Seth's number to me ... or, when he gave you his number, you garbled it ... or, he gave you a bogus number."

Her jaw dropped and she blushed beet red. Tears began to flow down her face.

"I didn't reply right away because I was enjoying the drama. Then, your messages grew more anguished. You left a voice mail that disturbed me greatly and I tried to contact you. When we finally connected ... well, you weren't interested in listening."

Rachel buried her face in her hands and wailed. "Oh, God!"

"I was the one that called 911 for you. I gave them your cell number because it was the only identification I had. Thank God they traced it to you." she turned her face from him and wept. "I couldn't sleep last night, worrying about you, and I was so relieved when you left the message that you'll be okay. I know I should've texted you back right away, and I'm deeply sorry I didn't -- and deeply ashamed of my behavior. I hope you can forgive me."

Rachel bit her fist. Noah picked up a box of facial tissue and handed her one. She blotted her face and turned to him. "I forgive you, Noah."

"That's gracious of you, Rachel. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't."

"I'm not so much angry as deeply embarrassed ... mortified," she replied. "I forgive you because ... because what you did is the sort of thing I might have done." Another tear rolled down her cheek. "I don't think I'd have visited her in her hospital room or brought her flowers, though."

"I brought those hoping they'd brighten your stay."

"They already have. Thank you."

"I deduced from your messages why you are so eager to contact Seth."

She pulled down the bedcovers and ran her hands along her gown, stroking her belly. "I'm just beginning to show."

"How far along are you?"

"Halfway through my third month. They computed my due date as December twenty-three."

"I hope they're wrong," Noah said. "Having a birthday so close to Christmas is a terrible thing to do to a kid."

"I know -- it would really suck," she replied.

"How have you been doing?"

"All right, everything considered. I haven't been bothered by morning sickness ... so far."

"Tell me about Seth," he said.

"Seth Brown. He's a charmer ... a player. I met him at a singles' bar. We had a brief, torrid romance and then he dumped me. That was a couple of months ago. Then I began to suspect I was pregnant and last week the doctor confirmed it."

"He needs to be involved, even if only financially," Noah remarked. "I might be able to help you find him."

"How? What can you do?"

"My sister-in-law works for the county -- sheriff's office. With your permission, I'll tell her about your situation and ask her to speak with one of the detectives. When it's a paternity case -- the authorities can get involved. At the very least, they have the skills and the tools to track somebody down -- and deadbeat dads are one of her pet peeves."

"I'd appreciate that -- though I am coming to the conclusion that Seth Brown doesn't exist."

"A pseudonym."

"An alias," she replied. "I called the home phone he gave me and get a recording that it's not in service. I sent a letter to the address he gave me and it came back, no such address. It doesn't surprise me the cell number he gave me doesn't work either." She glanced at the vase. "Can you hand me that?"

Noah reached for the vase and she took it. She buried her nose in the flowers and inhaled. "They have a nice fragrance," she remarked and set the vase on the corner of her meal tray.

"I feel at least partly responsible for you being here," he said. "I really am relieved to see you doing so well."

"The police and ambulance were at my place within ten minutes," she replied. "I was sure Seth had placed the call because he would know the address. They figured it out from just the cell number?"

"I'm impressed," he replied. "I don't know if they used GPS or what."

"They brought me here ... pumped my stomach ... gave me charcoal ... watched me all night and took blood samples. I was never in any danger ... though I would've been if it had taken a half-hour longer to get me here."

"And the baby?"

"Not enough got into my blood to give me any symptoms, much less him."

"How long are they going to keep you here?" he asked.

"They want me to meet with a psychiatrist. I need to convince him that I'm not depressed or suicidal or a danger to myself or others -- that this was merely a desperate and ill-conceived plea for attention."

"That's what it was, wasn't it? It worked."

"Yeah ... It worked."

"Well ... Good luck with that. What are you going to do about the baby?"

"I don't know."

"Are you considering terminating the pregnancy?"

She pursed her lips and sighed. "You know -- before this happened, I'd have said, yes I'd terminate the pregnancy. I'd do it in a heartbeat. But now -- I have a life growing inside me ... another human being. It's no longer theoretical ... and it's not an easy decision for a woman to make. Not even under these circumstances."

"Do you go to church?" he asked.

"No. Do you?"

"Me neither. Rachel -- despite what happened ... or, maybe because of it ... I'd like to think I'm your friend. I'd like to think you're my friend, too."

"Friends, Noah." She extended her hand. He offered her his, she grasped it and squeezed it. "I need a friend. I'm pretty much by myself -- I'm sort of an orphan ... I don't have any family."

"Feel free to call me or text me any time," he said. "You have my number already."

"Yeah. I guess I do."

"Call me and let me know how you're doing."

"I will, Noah. Talking with you has made me feel better already."

Noah returned to his desk and checked his work queue. Melissa dashed from her cubicle into his. "Well?"

"Rachel Drummond, " he reported. "She works in the men's department at Hubbard's. She has sold me shirts, socks, underwear..."

"Is she all right?"

"They got to her in time and got her to the hospital in time. They pumped her stomach and she never was in any danger."

"Why would she do such a thing?"

"Melissa -- what would you do if you had a brief but torrid romance with one of those love-em and leave-em jerks and then found yourself pregnant?"

"I'd have an abortion," she replied.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"You don't have kids yet, do you?"

"No -- Don and I aren't at that stage yet."

"Maybe that would alter your opinion."

"Maybe, maybe not. What would you do?"

"Thank God I will never have to face that dilemma. What would you do if you tried to contact the SOB who got you into this mess and believed he was ignoring you? Might you become desperate enough to use suicide to get his attention?"

"Thank God I will never have to face that dilemma," she replied. "I don't fall for the love-em and leave-em types."

Noah lay on his bedspread in his briefs watching a public affairs program on his television. His Blackberry warbled with an incoming call. He checked the number and recognized it.

"Hi, Rachel."

Hi. I changed the number in my contacts to read Noah Warren. I'm out of the hospital and I'll be back at work tomorrow.

"That's good. I take it you saw the shrink."

Yeah ... I managed to convince him it was okay for them to release me. I want to thank you again for coming by. It really helped.

"It was the least I could do, Rachel."

There was a pause. Noah?

"What?"

Would you mind staying on the phone for a while? I'm feeling lonely tonight and knowing you're there helps.

"Sure..." There was a long pause. "Rachel."