I so hope you enjoyed Carly and Chuck’s story in Once Upon a Valentine’s. Please take a moment to review it at Amazon.com. When you’re done, come back and visit Erie in Not Precisely Pregnant.
BEWARE OF THE BEACHED WHALE!
That's the warning Paige Montgomery wanted to call out as she jostled her way through the crowded shuttle. Instead, she offered a series of prim and proper "Excuse me's."
The small shuttles moved up and down Peach Street, transporting shoppers from one mall complex to another. They were built for Twiggy types, not for women who were wide as Mack trucks—Paige looked down at her humongous belly—maybe even wider.
"Take my seat," said a boy who couldn't have been out of his teens. Thankfully he was toward the front of the shuttle, saving her the effort of trying to get to an empty seat in the rear.
"Thank you." She smiled at him, sank gratefully into the seat and rubbed her distended belly beneath the thin jacket. Her back ached from lugging the extra weight around.
How on earth did women do this for nine months?
"When's the baby due?" the older woman next to her asked.
"Soon. Very soon," Paige said.
Sooner than this lady could know. At the shuttle's next stop Paige was ready to head back to the studio. She had her footage, thanks to the small hidden camera in her purse. She'd add a brief interview when she got off the shuttle, and she'd be done.
The shuttle slid in front of Wal-Mart and Paige rose with difficulty. There wasn't much to recommend pregnancy, in her opinion. Although she'd only been pregnant for the past three hours, enough was enough. She wanted nothing more than to rid herself of this pregnancy belly she'd borrowed from the hospital's birthing program and slip on her jeans.
Nice, tight, formfitting jeans.
She rubbed at the fake belly again as the shuttle reached its next stop and she slowly climbed down the steps. She'd had a nagging pain in her right side all day. Psychosomatic labor pains maybe? Even her subconscious knew it was time to de-pregnate herself.
A sharp jab made her wince. Psychosomatic, she told herself. That had to be it. As soon as she got rid of this humongous belly she'd feel right as rain.
She waddled after the boy, afraid she'd lose him.
"Pardon me," she called.
He turned, saw it was her and, with the concern in his dark brown eyes echoing in his tone, asked, "You okay?"
The look endeared him to her as much as his giving up his seat. "I'm just fine. I wanted to know if you'd consent to be interviewed."
Suddenly concern was replaced by suspicion. "For what?"
"I'm Paige Montgomery, from WMAC news." She lowered her voice. "And I'm not precisely pregnant. I'm doing one of my About Town pieces and I'd like to use you. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"
"What for?"
"You offered me your seat. It might seem like a small thing, but let me tell you, after hauling this belly around all day, it's bigger than you know."
"It was nothing," he insisted.
"It was kind and I'd like to let people know that there are still people who are kind. So would you mind answering a few questions?"
Continuing to look unsure, he nodded. "Okay, I guess."
She opened her giant purse and took out her camcorder. Most of her reports required a cameraman, but it wasn't always easy to get one when you needed one. The About Town segments weren't exactly earth-shattering news, but just brief stories the station was using in its promotion, WMAC, Where Nice News Matters campaign. So she'd forgone a cameraman. The fact that they were shot by an obviously less than professional was part of their charm.
Erie liked to think of itself as a big city with a small-town heart. It was the fourth largest city in Pennsylvania, having just lost its third-place rank to Allentown, much to the entire community's chagrin. But whether it was third or fourth, it still hadn't lost its small-town flavor. It was nothing to walk through the mall and bump into friends or acquaintances. And Paige's job with her About Town segments was to capture that small town-ness in the heart of the city.
"What's your name?" she asked the boy.
"Danny."
"Danny, you let me take your seat on the shuttle. Why?"
"'Cause you needed it." His eyes narrowed. "But you didn't really, did you?"
"No, not really. But it was still nice that you did it." Wanting to put him at ease, she switched to some easy questions. "What school do you go to?"
"Mercyhurst Prep. . ."
She led him through the rest of her questions, only a small portion of which she'd use on the air. She'd spend part of her afternoon editing the piece and probably doing a voice-over for part of it.
"Well, thanks again, Danny," she said. "I'll contact your mom to make sure it's okay to air this story. But I imagine she'll be as proud of you as I am, and she will want the world to know what a fantastic kid you are."
The boy walked into Wal-Mart with a small wave.
Paige was thankful this was his stop. Her car was across the parking lot, near Media Play. Rather than walk along the sidewalk, she took the most direct path diagonally through the parking lot. She just wanted to get home and out of this huge belly.
She pulled the thin jacket tighter around her. It was cold, and getting colder. Last week they'd had a brief taste of Indian summer, and now snow couldn't be far behind. Late October was a little early though, and Paige hoped that the snow held off until at least November—
Another stab of pain hit her and she doubled over with the severity of it. This was no psychosomatic pain. Something was wrong.
The pain ebbed slightly and she unbent herself as much as she could. The pain left her feeling too weak to make it to the car. She was going to die out here in a parking lot, strapped in her pregnancy belly.
Things couldn't get any worse.
"Is there a problem, ma'am?" asked a male voice.
Paige craned her neck upward so she could see the man through the screen of her fake red hair. As she saw the sinfully sexy, dark-haired man peering at her, she knew not only was she going to die, but that things could indeed get worse, because she was going to die at Riley Calhoon's feet.
Another wave of pain made her forget all about everything else, even dying at this man's feet. The only thing she wanted was for the pain to stop.
"I need to get to a hospital," she gasped. Whatever was wrong wasn't going away. It was getting worse. What she wanted to say was Hi, Riley, long time no see, but she couldn't spare the energy. Breathing was about all she could manage.
"Don't you worry. I've got my cab right here and we'll get you there pronto. Just don't go having the baby in the back seat." There was more than a little concern in his voice.
He didn't recognize her, she realized. The wig of red hair and the pregnancy belly obviously were a better disguise than she'd imagined. Paige wanted to ask what Riley was doing driving a cab. She wanted to explain she wasn't pregnant, so there was no danger of a baby. But she couldn't make the words come out around the all-consuming pain.
The pain intensified, and she groaned as he helped her into the back seat.
"You just hang on," he said.
Hang on. That was about all Paige could do.