Chapter Twenty-Three
♥
High wind, heavy rain, and dreary skies were becoming the norm, so why would doctor-appointment day be any different? Alexandra was nervous and had already survived what she was sure would be the first of the many anxiety attacks the day would bring. She’d tried to talk both Conor and Gabe into allowing her to reschedule, but there was no cooperation there.
Alexandra, Gabe, and Conor were headed toward the door when Jonathon hollered from the top of the stairs. “Wait!”
The three did simultaneous versions of raised eyebrows and what-the-fuck faces, as he was dressed and wearing a winter jacket. Knowing the drive to Cork would take a little over an hour, and there was no guarantee they weren’t going to be delayed by paparazzi, as they were on heavy patrol duty, trying to get the prized photo of the eccentric Dr. Alexandra Van Zant’s baby bump, there was no way Jonathon was healed enough to go.
“You are not leaving me here alone,” he said in explanation. “If I have to play one more hand of twenty-five or drink another cup of bone broth, I will go insane.”
No one knew quite what to say.
“Besides, the three of you got to see the ultrasound the first time and I’m feeling really left out. Please don’t say no.”
“Can you manage the ride?” Gabe asked skeptically.
“I’ve managed worse.”
Gabe angled his head toward Alexandra. “What do you think?”
Hitching her chin, she was preparing to refuse when he dropped to his knees and lowered his face. “Please, Mistress?”
Dear lord. “Stand up, Jonathon, and look me in the eyes. Standing was significantly harder than the trip down, but he managed it and met her gaze. He held his jaw tight and she wondered how hard he’d had to fight to not moan. All the reasons he shouldn’t go warred with all the reasons he should, but the peace she found just being in his presence was the deciding factor. She looped her arm through his. “Come on, hero.”
The four plus two Secret Service agents climbed into the second of three SUVs. The lead car and the chaser SUV held paid mercenaries whose sole job was to keep Alexandra alive. She hated the insane amount of attention, and the Secret Service agents made it very clear they didn’t trust them. With tensions high across the board, as this would be the first big outing post-ambush, it quickly turned into the most uncomfortable trip she’d ever taken. Conditions were exactly perfect for the big, dark cloud hanging over her head to turn stormy and dangerous.
She knew both Gabe and Conor couldn’t believe she’d allowed Jonathon to come, but as she clung to his left hand while he worked his rosary beads in his right, Jonathon became the most important man in the vehicle.
♥ ♥ ♥
The first half hour at Dr. Orlaith Ó Baoighealláin’s office was spent filling out paperwork. The second half hour was spent waiting. She directed her question at Conor since he’d made the arrangements and insisted. “Really?”
“You’re just a normal person here. Not much in the way of VIP treatment, but she is supposed to be the best.”
When her name was called, the six of them stood up, and the nurse said, “No, just the patient.”
“Sorry, she doesn’t go anywhere alone.” One of the agents flipped out his badge.
“This is highly irregular. I can’t—”
A tall, thin blonde wearing a lab coat over her gray turtleneck and gray slacks stepped into the doorway. “Dr. Van Zant, please come on back with your bodyguards, and after we talk for a moment, we’ll bring your fiancé back.”
Alexandra nervously met Gabe’s gaze, and he pressed his forehead to hers. “You’ll be okay. We’re a single scream away.”
She smiled and ducked her head.
Dr. Orlaith Ó Baoighealláin held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure. Please call me Orlaith.”
Alexandra shook her hand, hoping there was no terror plot to fear, repeating her pronunciation. “Or-la.”
As they walked down the hallway, the doctor spoke softly. “I was horrified to see the news coverage of the attack on you and your infant daughter last week. Ireland is normally a much more welcoming place.”
“It was fairly terrifying.”
“We can speak freely, Alexandra?”
“Certainly. My agents are bound to confidentiality at a threat of treason to the United States.”
“I requested the hospital files from your intake. Serious concussion. Are you still feeling nauseated, dizzy?” She went into her private office and sat behind her desk. Alexandra sat across from her. One bodyguard entered the room and closed the door, leaving the second agent in the hallway.
“Both, but I felt both before the head trauma, so who’s to say whether it is worse because of the concussion.” She crossed her legs daintily at the knee and angled her calves to try to hide the fact her left foot was twitching at about a million tics a second. If the doctor noticed, she didn’t comment.
“Morning sickness?”
“All-day sickness.” Alexandra’s right hands started tapping on her thigh.
“I’m going to write a script for an antinausea because my first concern is your weight, and the babies’ weight gain. Are you currently on any MAOIs for your depression?”
“I’ve taken no medication for almost two months.” She gripped her knees in her hands to keep from tapping with either of them.
Dr. Baoighealláin prodded, “You stopped taking your prescriptions because…?”
“I thought I might be pregnant and didn’t want to risk any abnormalities.”
“You’ve already miscarried one baby—at twenty weeks.”
Alexandra nodded.
“Did you bring the medications with you?”
Alexandra pulled out a fabric case and removed twelve bottles. Upon seeing them, the doctor made a soft whistle. She picked up each bottle and typed the medications into her laptop. When she finished, she set three bottles in front of Alexandra. “Okay, pancreatic enzymes are fine, as are the medications for your heart. Take them exactly as written. How are your moods since being off the medications?”
“I’ve returned to my past manic-depression cycles, typically six months of mania with mini bursts of gloom, followed by two months of depression with mini bursts of euphoria.”
“Any hallucinations or voices?”
Alexandra laughed. “Sorry, that was completely inappropriate. My brain talks constantly; imagine a hundred Internet tabs open at once and trying to scan them all simultaneously while watching several television shows at the same time.” Alexandra clustered four bottles together, which included the mood stabilizers and the ADD and OCD controllers. “These make it manageable to function within society.”
“You’re not taking these currently because of the known birth-defect risks?”
“Correct.”
“Here you are—in my office, functioning. Can you explain that?”
Alexandra thought a moment. “It’s kind of embarrassing because I’m not sure which element of change has seemed to open a void in my mind I can relax into.”
“I’m interested; share your hypothesis.”
“Ummm, people trying to kill me has given me a new focus. For the first time in my life, I’m actually trying to avoid danger instead of running straight into it when my mind gets overwhelmed.” She lowered her voice. “And the sex. I mean, it’s like that perfect state of Zen people refer to after meditating, maybe, but for me it’s a void of thought, so I’m finding when my brain gets a little too intense, I seek out sex.”
The doctor cocked her head. “Interesting. Hmm. So for you, being part of a ménage à quatre has been most beneficial.”
“Not to be overly dramatic, but being in a relationship with three men has been life changing as far as whether I control my condition or my condition controls me.” Alexandra narrowed her eyes and worried her lip between her teeth, wondering just how direct she should be with her new physicians because she had a list of questions.
Orlaith smiled and volunteered, “You can maintain sexual relations with your men up to the moment it is determined you are dilating. When I contact a colleague in Cincinnati, I’ll mention we need to take a look every visit to verify you are not dilating. Does that address the concern you were wanting to ask?”
“Halfway,” Alexandra replied. “Gabe mentioned bondage, is an interest he pursues.” Alexandra exhaled hard, admitting, “That’s not completely honest.”
“Slow and easy, ask your question. I’ve heard it all by now, so I assure you that I am not going to be shocked by much, okay?”
Alexandra nodded, breathing easier. “My fiancé, Gabe, is a shibari master, and it is an interest he wants us to pursue together. Is it safe for me to be bound in rope while I am pregnant?”
Orlaith looked like she was thinking. “Give me one second, and do you mind if Gabe joins us for this conversation?”
Alexandra turned to the agent, and he nodded, speaking into his wrist comm.
Orlaith typed into her laptop, and within seconds her printer was printing a page. She took it out and handed the page to Alexandra as Gabe entered the room. He asked, “Is something wrong?”
Alexandra felt horrible. He looked terrified, and she’d never seen Gabe scared by anything.
Orlaith smiled. “Everything is fine; have a seat. Alexandra asked a question I want you to hear the answer to.”
Gabe took a seat next to Alexandra and reached his hand for hers. She took it and held tightly. She hadn’t realized until that moment just how afraid she was without her men near.
“Alexandra asked if bondage play was safe during her pregnancy. As you know, my specialty is high-risk pregnancy, so I err on the side of caution. So my first thought is that during any intimate pairing, if you are uncomfortable in any way, stop immediately. As long as you adhere to that rule, sexual relations can continue until you start to dilate. In response to the bondage and”—Orlaith tilted her head, meeting each of their gazes in turn—“any other types of dominance play, my concern is that as you get larger, your center of balance shifts, and the risk of falling is very high without the added worry of any outside stressors. Swelling and circulation issues may come into play, so I am referring you to a list of specialists located in Cincinnati and Washington, DC. I want you to consult before you engage in anything beyond basic intercourse.”
Alexandra handed the list to Gabe, and he read it over. He agreed, “We can do that.” He met Orlaith’s gaze. “Should I go out now, so you two can continue in private?”
“Please.”
Gabe exited, and Orlaith looked at Alexandra. “And the mood swings themselves, do you feel like you could use a little help?”
“In the past, during the mania, I typically wore myself out physically and forgot to eat, but now I have a fabulous support system, and I’m meeting or exceeding my calorie goals. Regardless, I’m still not gaining weight.”
“That’s a concern. I believe the antinausea will help, but I’m also going to advise raising your calorie intake by half until you see improvement, and then you can reduce if you start gaining too much. I’m not going to advise a daily antidepressant regimen or a mood stabilizer unless your manic episodes become completely unmanageable, but I would like you to start taking a nightly sleep aid to guarantee eight hours’ sleep. Each script is considered safe during pregnancy.”
Alexandra sighed with relief. “One more concern. I’ve explained the potential for postpartum psychosis to them and asked them to make certain I’m never left alone with the babies.”
The doctor glanced at her. “I know you’re scared; many of the horror stories we’ve all heard are real. But if you trust me and heed my advice, I think we can get you through your pregnancy and birth without a psychotic break. I’m bipolar myself, and I’ve delivered two healthy babies, and I suffered no psychosis. I’ve also treated hundreds of bipolar-disorder sufferers with success, so I’m not just reading from a manual. I’ve prepared a packet for you and your significant others to read.”
She passed her the folder.
“Now our biggest hurdle is your return to the US. I want to make certain you are seen by a qualified obstetrician every two weeks. I have conferred with my colleagues, and there are physicians in Cincinnati and Washington, DC, willing to share the case with me. If you’d like, I will take the liberty of scheduling an appointment in Cincinnati for the week of January seventeenth. Continuing from there, once a month I can do a house call wherever you happen to be, whether that is Cincinnati or Washington, DC.”
“Can the doctor in Cincinnati be one of the ones on the list you gave Gabe?”
Orlaith smiled. “Of course. I will send you an e-mail confirmation as soon as the appointment is confirmed, and will ask the doctor to do an immediate phone consult to discuss anything you or your partners feel is pertinent.”
“You are very well read on my schedule.”
“When your significant other Conor Larkin first called, I didn’t accept the case. After he hung up, my phone rang almost immediately, and it seemed one of your government officials called one of my government officials and arranged to make it possible for me to work you into my caseload.”
“God, I’m so embarrassed. I knew all our calls were screened. I didn’t realize how closely they were screened or that my government was in the strong-arm business. I’m so sorry, Orlaith.”
“Don’t be.” The doctor stood. “I did some background research on you and your life and your value to your country, and I, as a fellow researcher, would not want to be in your shoes. It really is an honor to help you through this pregnancy.”
Alexandra grabbed a tissue and dabbed at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “So, once a month I need to fly here?”
“No,” Orlaith answered emphatically. “After your return trip to the US, no more flights longer than two hours in duration.”
Alexandra opened and closed her mouth with shock, then exhaled. “I spend half my life in airplanes.”
“You have a once-a-week meeting with the president, and those flights are less than two hours. You typically overnight at the Fairmont. No place else is important enough for you to risk you and your babies’ health.”
“Have you ever considered a job in espionage? My company could use someone like you in the field.” Alexandra smiled.
“I’m happy delivering babies.” She laughed. “Let’s get you in a paper gown so I can take a peek.”
A few moments later, Alexandra was wearing a paper gown and lying on a cold table, feet in stirrups. “Is an internal exam really necessary?”
“Your ultrasound showed you are at sixteen weeks. Your miscarriage was at twenty weeks. I’m just taking a peek to make sure you are not dilating. As long as all the genetic testing you requested comes back in normal ranges, the greatest concern at this point is an early delivery. Some women benefit from a cervical cerclage, but your cervix appears competent.”
“Thank God. I’m not sure how I’d feel about being stitched shut!”
“It sounds scarier than it is,” the doctor assured her. “If you want to pull on your clothing, I’ll have the nurse send the men back, and we can take a look at those babies.”
Alexandra dressed, shivered, and mumbled, “Cervical cerclage.”
Gabe, Conor, and Jonathon entered before the doctor. Alexandra had just lain down. She smiled, seeing the slight roundness of her belly. To anyone else, she didn’t even look pregnant, but to her eye she was really beginning to pop out.
As the minutes turned to several minutes, Alexandra got nervous and sat back up. “I hate waiting. I thought she was coming right in.”
Orlaith poked her head around the partially opened door. “Sorry, that took a moment. I wanted to make certain you have the name and number of your Cincinnati physician before you leave the office. He is familiar with your particulars and is more than happy to consult. Expect a call within the next two hours.”
She handed another printout to Gabe—the contact information and a confirmed first appointment January seventeenth. She turned to Alexandra. “Cold gel, sorry.”
She glided the probe over her belly and started a running monologue as she pointed out details in the grainy images. “Baby A, head, nose, spinal column, nice strong heartbeat.”
Alexandra noted she was capturing measure images as she spoke.
“Arm, hand—looks like this one may already be a thumb-sucker—bottom, legs, and a foot. Do you want to know the sex?”
“We were told there is a boy and a girl,” Gabe said.
“Yes, and baby A is definitely a boy. Are you feeling movement?”
“Some,” Alexandra whispered.
“Well, baby B is quite the kicker, and her bottom seems to be fairly snug against your cervix.”
“Is that a concern?” Alexandra asked anxiously.
“Not at all. There’s plenty of time for them to drop into position,” Orlaith answered with a calm smile. “Here is the division between the two amniotic sacs.”
She again noted body parts and organs, taking measurements without comment.
When she finished, she set down the probe and asked, “Any questions so far?”
“Are they still measuring on the low percentile?”
The doctor tilted her head left and right before answering. “All the growth measurements are completely in normal range. They need to gain some weight, but I think that will resolve quickly once you add the calories we discussed and start taking the antinausea. If they haven’t gained a significant amount of weight in the next three to four weeks, I may ask you to start curtailing some of your activity beyond what has already been suggested.”
“No more marathon runs?” Gabe asked.
“Exactly,” the doctor agreed. “I believe you were told no sports, including running, on your discharge with the concussion.”
Alexandra sighed and nodded.
“Sometimes she likes to believe a doctor’s advice is merely a suggestion, not a requirement,” Gabe said softly.
Orlaith met Alexandra’s gaze. “Requirement: no running, no sports. I am going to help you deliver two healthy babies, because you do exactly as I say.”
Alexandra nodded.
“Now, let’s get personal with these babies.” She took a second probe and motioned to a second monitor. Baby A was revealed in 4D. “Definitely a boy. Wasn’t it nice of him to throw his legs over his head for that reveal?”
She nudged Alexandra’s belly just a little deeper with the probe, and baby A kicked down, revealing his face. He was clearly sucking his thumb.
Alexandra gasped, clutching Gabe’s hand. “He looks so…perfect.”
The doctor clicked a button, and the moving image froze for a moment. “Pictures to take home.”
The screen reverted to moving images.
“And baby B, your little girl.”
She seemed to be hugging herself and had her knees pulled up and in. Gabe repeated, “Perfect. Look at that profile. I think she is going to resemble the MacKenna women.”
The doctor smiled and printed out photos for them to take with them. “I would like to schedule a visit to see you in two weeks. I’ll come to the States anytime between Christmas and the New Year.”
“That’s a huge fund-raising week for me. We will be in Washington, DC. I would be more than happy to get you a hotel at the Fairmont where we’ll be staying.”
Gabe frowned. “You’re still planning to attend the fund-raiser?”
“Only for the opening remarks, the closing remarks, a few important meetings, and the New Year’s Eve ball.”
He shook his head. “It’s too much. You’ll wear yourself out again. I know you.”
Alexandra closed her eyes and took a deep breath, counting to ten, and then twenty. “I’ll commute. I’ll be there for the opening remarks and then come home and stay in Cincinnati until the thirtieth. That way I can be well rested for the New Year’s Eve ball and then our wedding the next day.”
“I like that plan better,” the doctor interrupted their negotiation. “A room at the Fairmont from the thirtieth to the second would be perfect if you can make the arrangements. I can be close to you for the duration of your social engagements.”
Conor said, “I believe you and a guest have just been added to the New Year’s ball guest list and invited to a wedding. I’ll forward details to your e-mail and make all the arrangements, including an adjoining suite at the Fairmont, and send a private jet to collect you on the twenty-nineth.”
♥ ♥ ♥
Alexandra held the ultrasound photos and cried as they drove back to the manor. Jonathon chattered incessantly about how perfect they were and how excited he was. When she closed her eyes and pressed her face into Gabe’s chest, everyone in the car knew she was trying to ground by inhaling his scent.
Conor gestured for Jonathon to be quiet and rummaged through her purse for mints. He popped one into his palm. “Alexandra, open your mouth.”
She opened her mouth without looking.
Conor tried to remember the other elements of grounding to help her avoid a panic attack. Scent, taste…facts, date, place.
“You’re safe. I’m here. The babies are fine,” Gabe whispered. “Tell me your name.”
“Alexandra MacKenna Van Zant.”
“Tell me your name,” he repeated in Gaelic.
“Alastriona MacCionaodha MacGabhann.”
Conor saw Gabe smile when she used his surname. “Feel better?”
She nodded. “I just want them to live so badly.”
“I know, sweetheart. I know.”
Conor looked through the car’s window at the passing gloomy scenery and tried not to think about Aisling and their premature son, Sean David, who’d died two months after his delivery. He’d been prevented from seeing Aisling or their son because they were so young themselves—fifteen and sixteen. When she’d finally made her way back to him after running away, they’d immediately eloped and hidden from her wealthy parents, but it was too little, too late, and he imagined she’d grieved herself to death over their first, Sean David, even though they’d created twin boys a year later. Though officially she’d overdosed on heroin.
“I can’t wait to see Rowan,” Alexandra said suddenly. “I miss her.”
“A few more days.”
She nodded. “Let’s get through the weekend so we can go home.”
“Home—that reminds me. Eric Brady called while you were in with the doctor, and I’m only now getting to mention it.”
She met his gaze warily. “Please tell me there wasn’t another delay.”
“No delays. The furniture was delivered two days ago, and the interior designer signed off on the project this morning. We can move in immediately.”
Alexandra grabbed his face and kissed him solidly. She pulled away. “Promise?”
“As soon as we are done here.”
“Now I’m happy. We can have Christmas in our home as a family.”
“Yes.”
“Fuck!” She stomped her foot.
“What?” Gabe looked at her anxiously.
“I haven’t bought the first present!”
He laughed at her. “I know you. You’ll e-mail a list to your personal shopper, and everything will be perfectly wrapped and delivered to our doorstep in the nick of time.”
“Well, I’m glad you have faith in me! Karen said Sarah Burton will be delivering the wedding dress in person the Wednesday before Christmas. What if it’s a wasted trip because the dress doesn’t fit? How can I gain three inches in two weeks?”
“The doctor already explained that. The baby rolled over, away from your spine. Now that you’ve stopped running, your abdominals will begin to relax. It isn’t a bad thing, mo ghrá. With two babies in there, they need a bit of room to move around.”
“Well, I better not gain another inch until the wedding is over, because the dress is an original design, and it has to fit!”
“I’ll buy you a bigger dress.”
“My dress is a Sarah Burton original—the Sarah Burton, creative director of the luxury fashion house Alexander McQueen. I can’t just replace it with something off the rack in a bigger size.”
Gabe replied, “I’m sure whatever you just said made perfect sense in some social circles, but I would honestly marry you if you were wearing a feed sack.”
Jonathon whispered, “She designed Kate Middleton’s wedding dress for when she married Prince William.”
Gabe made a face. “As if I care what the royals are wearing?”
Jonathon elbowed him, whispering loudly, “Herself cares,” as he nodded toward Alexandra. She was dabbing at her eyes.
Gabe pulled her into him and placed his hand over the slight baby bump. “You are so beautiful, and I’m so pleased with you. Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
She smiled and nodded. “As much as I love you?”
He winked. “A little more than that.”
Her phone vibrated, and she looked at the screen. “It’s a US number.”
Gabe advised, “Answer it; could be the doctor.”
“Hello? Yes, this is Alexandra Van Zant. Thank you for calling, Doctor.” She started shaking uncontrollably. “I can’t do this. Talk to my—”
She handed the phone to Gabe—“Dr. Cavanaugh, the referral from Dr. Orlaith Ó Baoighealláin”—and pressed her face into Conor’s chest, hyperventilating.
Alexandra covered her ears as Gabe introduced himself. Conor stroked her hair. “Breathe, in, out.”
She shook her head. “No.” She grabbed the phone from Gabe. “Our calls are monitored by the White House.”
Gabe nodded and took the phone back. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I just learned the line is not secure. Can I call you back from a secure line at a later time today or first thing in the morning at a time convenient for you?” He listened and repeated, “Perfect. Six p.m. your time.”
Alexandra was still shaking. Gabe ended the call. “How do we know the line is unsecure?”
“Dr. Orlaith was called immediately after she told Conor she wasn’t interested, by a representative of Ireland’s government, advising her she should take the offer, and she called Conor back.”
Conor held Alexandra tightly against his chest. “Dr. Ó Baoighealláin did call me back to set an appointment. She didn’t divulge why she changed her mind, but that story seems to support her decision to do so.”
Gabe leaned close enough to kiss the back of Alexandra’s head. “All it supports in my mind is more questions; the US government interfered, or an outside agency interfered? I want that confirmed or denied before we go further.”