Father Found. Muriel Jensen

about them, and it makes me feel a little like an orphan.”

      He felt a desperate need to cheer her up. “You still have your sisters.”

      She straightened in her chair, suddenly smiling. “Yes. I’m a triplet. That’s different, isn’t it? In the photos on my bedside table in Pansy Junction, they look like two clones of me, yet I don’t remember them. Where are they again?”

      “Athena lives in D.C.,” he replied. “She’s a lawyer. And Alexis, the artist, lives in Rome.”

      She turned the names over on her tongue, saying them over and over, closing her eyes as though that could form an image in her mind. When she opened them again, her eyes were troubled, her bottom lip shaky. “I don’t remember them. Neither of them. And they’re probably wondering where I am.”

      He hated to tell her the truth here, but he knew he had to. “I’m sure they are,” he answered. “You were all over the news when you were pulled out of the water and didn’t know who you were or where you’d come from.”

      “That’s cruel, isn’t it?” she said urgently. “They don’t know that I’m safe.”

      He nodded. “That was the choice we had to make to keep you safe. Any attempt to call either one could result in our being tracked.”

      She settled down, apparently accepting that that made sense.

      “I like knowing I have somebody.” The statement was plaintively made, as though she desperately needed someone—besides him.

      It was interesting, he thought clinically, that no one had been able to hurt him since his mother’s ugly drunkenness when he’d come home from school, anxious to tell her about a success only to find her passed out on the sofa. No one, that was, until now.

      He’d die without question or hesitation for Gusty and their baby, but she couldn’t remember their relationship, was certain there was something wrong with it, and that she needed something more than he could give her.

      On some intelligent level, he knew it was foolish to be jealous of her sisters. He loved his own sister very much. They’d sustained each other through the worst times in their lives.

      Gusty had turned him inside out over the past eight months, but her safety and the safe arrival of their baby into the world was all he dreamed of, was the reason he’d abandoned everything to hide away with her and keep her from harm.

      It was selfish and egotistical, he knew, to want to be her everything, but knowing that and changing how he felt were two very different things.

      “You ready for that shower?” he asked, pointing to her abandoned bowl of ice cream. “You can even turn the head now to adjust the spray.”

      She ignored his question and nibbled on another cookie, looking more composed.

      “Am I a good teacher?” she asked.

      “There’s a Teacher of the Year plaque in your office at home. I pointed it out to you, remember?”

      She frowned and gave one nod. “I do, sort of. But home was kind of overwhelming. All those things I’d hoped I’d remember when I saw them, and didn’t.”

      “I think you’re good at everything you do,” he assured her. “You seem to know all about gardens and cooking.” He held up his cookie. “And you’re thoughtful. Always trying to help someone, or comfort someone.”

      She frowned over that. “Am I wimpy?”

      He laughed. “As the man who’s had to argue with you over just about everything, I can say no to that with authority.”

      She pushed away from the table. “I guess I’ll clean up and have that shower.”

      He went around the table to help her up. “I’ll clean up, you go ahead.”

      SHE SHOULD HAVE ARGUED, but the prospect of a stream of hot water beating on her sore back was too delicious to delay. She went to her bedroom for the flannel nightgown Bram had bought her in town, then doffed her clothes in the bathroom.

      She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she stepped into the shower stall and was a little startled by her size. It was one thing to see herself clothed, and quite another to see her naked, pregnant self.

      She stepped into the shower stall, closed the door on the mirror, modulated the water temperature carefully to hot but not too hot, then turned the water on full force. She groaned at the instant relief provided when she turned her back to the spray.

      She let it beat for long moments, then got serious about washing. With that accomplished she took the shampoo from the shower caddy and set about the major production of washing her hair. She scrubbed at her scalp, then brought her hair over her shoulder and, starting with the bottom few inches, slowly scrubbed her way up.

      She rinsed slowly and carefully, combing her fingers through it to make sure she was rid of all the shampoo. After giving her body one more rinse, she turned off the water.

      She put both hands to the sides of the shower as sudden dizziness overtook her. It was almost as though the thrumming of the water had kept her upright, and now that it had stopped, her own rhythms seemed at odds with the universe. She felt as though she might fall at any moment.

      She waited for the moment to pass. When it didn’t, she forgot all reluctance to be seen naked and shouted for Bram at the top of her lungs.

      She heard the bathroom door open in an instant, then the shower door was yanked open and he stood there, a dish towel over his shoulder, his face grim with worry.

      “What?” he asked urgently, reaching in for her.

      She leaned heavily against him, her head still spinning. “Dizzy,” she said.

      He pushed the bathroom door all the way open, yanked a bath towel off the rack and wrapped it around her. “Are you in pain?”

      “No.”

      “You didn’t fall?”

      “No. But I was…afraid I would. That’s why I called you.” Leaning against him was a little like lying on a firm mattress. There was solid support against her weary body, and a sense of security that made her want to close her eyes and go to sleep.

      “It’s like a sauna in here,” he said, rubbing her back through the towel to dry it. “You might have just gotten a little carried away now that the shower-head works. The heat built up in this little room and made you feel faint.”

      “The shower,” she said slowly, enjoying the massage, “felt sooo good. My back was hurting.”

      “Let’s get you dried off, and I’ll call the doctor.” Holding her with one arm, he reached for her robe with the other and put it on her shoulders. Perfunctorily he dried her breasts and belly with the wadded towel.

      She didn’t know whether to admire or be offended by his clinical detachment when she was suddenly very much aware that she was large and grossly unattractive.

      She drew a deep breath of the cool air coming in from outside the room and felt suddenly better. “I don’t think that’s necessary. You were probably right about…” She hesitated, the breath stuck in her throat as he swiped the towel down her thighs.

      “About…the heat in here,” she finished haltingly as he tossed the towel aside and drew her robe together.

      As he did so, the baby delivered a strong kick to her abdomen that Bram must have felt against the inside of his arm. He reached inside her robe to flatten his hand against the beach ball of her belly.

      She drew in a small breath, aware of every fingertip in touch with her skin, of his intensity as he leaned slightly over her in concentration.

      As though recognizing the touch, the baby delivered several more staccato kicks right against the palm of his hand.

      “Wow,” he said simply, quietly.