No Greater Love (9 page)

“It won’t hurt me.” He turned completely serious for the first time. “You do know that, if it has been a while, it may hurt you, don’t you?”

She nodded against his neck, deciding against telling him anything that might spoil the moment.

“Not enough to warrant anesthesia,” he murmured as he continued to walk her backward to the bedroom.

She pressed closer as a giggle slipped out.

“I thought you told me you couldn’t giggle,” he grumbled as he removed the rest of his clothes.

“Aren’t there any more different kisses?” She pouted.

“Just one, a shared one asking permission and giving consent.” He molded her body to his and let her feel the heaviness of his arousal against her stomach as he plundered her mouth and rejoiced in her acceptance. He lowered them both to the crisp white sheet and, with his fingers and mouth, started learning her body. Sliding on top of her, he began to move, taking her with him, until they were joined as one.

“
Iyi
,” Janan murmured as she slid her hands down the smooth, warm length of his back, over his taut buttocks, and then wrapped her arms around his waist holding him close.

Without opening his eyes, he asked, “And exactly what does ‘
iyi
’ mean?”

“It means good, very nice, well done,” she whispered.

“Well done?” he said, sucking on the lobe of one perfect ear as he rolled onto his side, taking her with him. “May I ask what you were using for comparison?”

“I didn’t have anything to compare it to but ‘
iyi
’ means well done in relation to what one expected.” She tried to explain between irregular gulps of air.

“Was it what you expected?” he asked as he felt his body begin to harden again and he turned them both so that her incredibly delicious body was on top of him.

“I didn’t know what to expect.” She pressed her face into the curve of his shoulder to conceal the blush creeping over her. “It was glorious,” she whispered against his chest, “I didn’t know that my whole body would sing.”

“I didn’t know what to expect either,” he said as he held her closer. When she didn’t say anything but burrowed deeper into his arms, he continued, “Not that I am complaining, mind you, but I believe it’s customary for a lady to inform a gentleman in advance if it is likely that he will encounter a barrier.”

Lifting her head to meet the black gleam of his gaze, she said, “Would it have changed anything?”

“I might have offered more vigorously to do the honorable thing,” he said as he slowly slid his hands down her back. He felt her smile against his throat and growled, “But probably not.”

“
You have the most beautiful dimples,” he murmured as he molded her on top of him so that he was covered from head to toe with her silky body. “
Dimples of Venus
,” he said, stoking the curves of her back.

“I didn’t know I had any dimples.”

“Well, you have two.” He slid a hand lower, over the small of her back to rest just above the curve of her buttocks. “In Latin, they are
Fossae Lumbales Laterales
, lateral lumbar indentations, but I like
Dimples of Venus
better.” He chuckled. “I remember the day we learned about them in Anatomy. We all underlined the words but I never dreamed that I would be lucky enough to encounter such beautiful ones. He licked the rim of her ear. “See how perfectly my fingers fit,” he said, placing his thumbs around the front of her hips and letting his fingertips fill the dimples on her back as he arranged her more precisely on top of him. “I think the Gods made them so that man could hold on as he enters paradise on earth.”

She smiled as she slid a finger across his chin. “You have a dimple, too. Right here in the middle of your chin.”

“Please! It’s a cleft, not a dimple. They are passed down from father to son and cause lots of problems in shaving.” 

She smiled lazily. “I love it here but maybe I am too heavy?”

“You are perfect.” He rocked her into a better position. “Perfect in every way.”

“She raised her head. ‘You’re not going to . . .?”

“I am not sure that I got it right the first time,” he said gravely as he adjusted her slightly. “My memory may have been faulty.” He began to rock her slowly, waiting for her to catch the rhythm. “Remember, it goes better if we share the work.”

Janan lay beside Pieter, treasuring the minutes as she waited for his sleep to become deep enough for her to slip her hand from his. She crept out to the living room and dressed quickly. As she hurried down the dark wooden stairs, she wrapped her coat tightly around her and reached in her pocket for her cap. After checking both pockets, she realized that she must have left it in Pieter’s room but there was no going back. She turned up her collar, and, with tears burning behind her eyes, walked through the lobby without looking at the few people lingering there.
She had asked for one night but it was not enough. Would she ever see him again?
His touch, his taste, his scent were embedded in her mind. Her body felt incomplete without the touch of his. How could she live without seeing him, without holding him, without being as one?

Chapter 7

Carl looked up from his paper and studied Janan as she placed a vase with a mixture of late-May flowers in the middle of the table that she was setting for their dinner.
How to say what he knew had to be said? How to help her without hurting her?
“My dear child”—he beamed at her—“I have just discovered something so wonderful that I am bursting with joy. You are going to be a mother!”

Stunned by his words, Janan stood without moving, clutching the back of the nearest chair.
How had he known what she had just had confirmed by a drugstore kit?

“You have that wonderful glow of a woman who is going to have a baby.” He did not mention that he had noticed her struggling with nausea as she prepared their meals and the many flights to the bathroom followed by the painful retching. “May I be the first to offer you best wishes on this happy news?”

She nodded, unable to speak.
He had known her since she was a little girl. What must he think of her now?

“Let’s see. You were a twin and you said that your mother had been a twin.” He spoke slowly, pausing to let his words sink in. “That means that there is a good chance that you may have twins.” He waited for her to speak. When she didn’t, he continued, “I know that you are healthy, but you should make an appointment with an obstetrician as soon as possible.”

She nodded and, as though his words had released her, hurried to arrange the silverware beside each plate.

“I must ask, my dear child, if you have told the father?”

“No.” Her answer was firm.

“Is there anything I can do to help you with that?”

“No. I will not be notifying the father.” A slight shudder ran through her as she tried to repress the searing hurt that came with any thought of Pieter.
He had not contacted her since that one magical evening and she could never endure the humiliation that would follow if she told him about her pregnancy and he offered to marry her for the sake of the baby
. She set the casserole on the table and motioned for Carl to join her. “I know there will be gossip but this is my baby. I’ll take care of everything.”

“But you will see an obstetrician immediately.” Carl’s words were an order, and she nodded.

“Janan, this is not working.” Carl could not conceal his anxiety as he watched her come through the door one afternoon in early July. “You are pale. Your face is puffy and your hands and ankles are swollen. Now tell me the truth. What did your obstetrician tell you on your last visit?

“He said—” She stopped, not knowing how much to say.

“He probably said that you should stop working, get more rest, elevate your feet, and reduce your stress level?” He glowered at her. “Right?”

She nodded wearily, dropping into the nearest chair. “Other women work all the way through their pregnancies.” She covered her face with her hands. “What’s the matter with me?”

“Yes, some work but they often have someone at home to help with the other things. You are working full-time, trying to sell your house, and looking after me.” He snorted. “Three jobs.”

She shrugged listlessly. “I’ll manage. I have to.”

“Sit down, my dear child,” he said sternly. “You know that these symptoms are not common so early in a pregnancy. They are suggestive of preeclampsia. If you develop preeclampsia and high blood pressure, your life will be in danger. Your baby’s healthy development, even its very life, will be in danger.” He regarded her sternly. You have one question to answer—Do you want to save this baby?”

“Yes, oh yes. More than anything.”

“Then I think you must notify the father and let him help.” He patted her shoulder awkwardly. “You must tell him and accept his help.” When she shook her head, he added, “For the sake of the baby’s welfare.”

“No,” she said flatly as she thought of the misery of a life with a man who married to do the honorable thing when faced with the news of an unplanned pregnancy. “It wasn’t supposed to happen,” she added in a strained voice.

“But it did, my dear child, and we must do what is best.”

“We?” She struggled to her feet. “This is not your problem. You are not to worry about it. I will manage.”

“We will say no more for now,” he said soothingly as his mind began to work.
He had no way of knowing for sure but he knew that he must contact Pieter. He must at least tell him about Janan’s condition. The rest would be up to him. Yes, he had to write to Pieter.

It has been three weeks,
Carl thought.
I have sent him a letter and had no response, and each time I‘ve called, his mother said that he was too ill to be disturbed.

“Janan, my dear child, we need to talk about our problem.”

“I told you before. It is not your problem,” she answered, swaying slightly where she stood.

“Sit, sit. Of course it’s my problem. You have been a part of my life ever since you came here as a little girl.” Carl folded his hands and leaned forward in his chair. “I have had plenty of time to think and I have a plan of action that will help both of us.” He waited for her to look up.

“A plan?” she mumbled, too exhausted to consider anything that involved action.

“Yes.” His eyes gleamed. “It will solve your problem of needing rest and my problem of that infernal Arnold nagging me every chance he gets to give him power of attorney. Somehow he’ll find a way to have me declared incompetent and, as my only kin, he’ll get the power he wants so desperately.”

“Has he been back?” she asked anxiously.

“No, but I heard that he’d been talking to the neighbors about my activities.” He brightened. “Ready to hear my plan?”

“Yes.” She tried to smile and failed. “It won’t hurt to listen.”

“I must warn you, it comes in four parts.” He held up his hand and counted on his fingers. “First, you will quit your job effective tomorrow.”

“I can’t do that,” she said quickly, “I need the income and I can’t lose my health insurance.”

“Second, you will sell the house immediately even if you have to reduce the price and take a loss.” He held up his hand to prevent her from protesting. “Third, we will be married.”

“Married,” she choked.

“Yes. We will be married tomorrow. You’ll move here. Nothing will change but you can rest. I have private health insurance that will cover you and the baby.” He hurried on, “Mrs. Potter and Miss Abbott will do the housework as usual and young Harold will shovel the walk and fetch and carry for you.” He sat back, well pleased with his plan.

“Married? You know what people would think.” She shuddered. “They would think I am taking advantage of you.” She groaned. “They’d call me a gold-digger.”

“If there was ever any gold in my family, I am sure that the Nazis looted it along with everything else.” He gave a shrug. “Yes, there will be some gossip for a short time and then the novelty will die down.” He added sharply, “What people are you worried about?”

She sat quietly looking at the floor. “There really is no one who matters. At least for me but what about you? You are revered. People may say hurtful things, and your great-nephew, Arnold, would be furious.” She groaned. “It is likely he would do everything he could to prevent it.”

“I took that into consideration.” Carl rubbed his hands together. “I talked with my old friend, the county judge. He will help me with the license and he will marry us the same day.” He grinned mischievously. “He has the power to do that.” He chuckled. “My primary care doctor insists on being my witness.” He turned toward her and waited.

“I don’t know anyone that I could ask to be my witness,” she said as the thought of how alone she was made her shiver.

“Of course you do. That good woman you found to come in every afternoon. Mrs. Abbott. Yes, that’s her name. She knows you.”

“Marriage . . . I don’t think I can.” Janan finally forced out the words.

Carl considered her with compassion but nevertheless spoke firmly. “I realize that it is not what you have dreamed of but the world is not kind to a baby born to an unwed mother. I know that times have changed but it still puts a child at a disadvantage. The stigma may be more subtle now but it leaves a life-long mark. Is that what you want for your son or daughter? To be born without a father’s name?”

“No,” she whispered, “I know how cruel people can be.”

“Now I have a perfectly good name. Never used. I would be honored to provide it for your baby.”

“Babies,” she corrected him in a low voice.

“Wonderful!” He chuckled. “I am so happy for you.” He quickly turned serious.

“Twins make it even more vital that you stop working and rest.” He added sternly, “You want to do everything you can to safeguard those babies, don’t you?”

She gave a small nod and asked apprehensively, “The fourth step? What is the fourth step of your plan?”

“To go home. As soon as possible, you will take us home, to Leiden.”

Chapter 8