He Missed Our Daughter's Birthday novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The Cafeteria

Randall gives a second version of events, then Stephanie meets Regina alone and gets a child's drawing and a warm story; her blood pressure is dangerously high and Randall doesn't answer her texts.

"Eleven times," I said. "Since April."

Randall sat down at the kitchen table and put both hands flat on it.

"Last night you told me you didn't know whether Jasper was yours," I said. "Eleven Tuesdays says you've known him for a while."

"I haven't known him. I've visited him."

"Why?"

"Regina called me in September," he said. "She said she had a sick little boy and he might be mine. I went to see him once. Then I went back, because he was alone in that room a lot."

"You went back ten more times."

"Yes."

"And you told me you were at the Charlotte warehouse."

Randall closed his eyes.

"I didn't want you upset. You were pregnant. I thought I'd wait for the test, and then tell you with the result in my hand."

"That's the second version," Dennis said from the doorway. "What's the first one?"

"There isn't a first one."

"There was one last night. You told her it was a work emergency."

Randall looked at me.

"Steph. I'm telling you the truth now."

"Now," I said.

I took my coat off the hook.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"To meet Regina. She texted me while you were in the lab. She asked if we could talk, just the two of us."

"I don't think you should."

"That's the first thing you've said all morning that I believe."

I went anyway.

The hospital cafeteria smelled like toast and floor cleaner.

Regina was at a corner table with two paper cups of tea, and she stood up when she saw me.

"Thank you for coming," she said. "I got you ginger. My sister said it helped her the last month."

I sat down, and she pushed the cup toward me.

It was the right tea, and it was warm, and I hated that it was a kind thing to do.

"I want to say it plainly," Regina said. "I'm not here to take anything from you. Randy and I were together a long time ago. Then I left town. I didn't know I was pregnant until after I'd gone."

"And you never told him."

"I didn't think he'd want to know. And then you were married, and you had Birdie. I didn't have the right."

She wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

"Then Jasper relapsed in September, and the doctor said, find the father. So I called."

"You called my husband, and he came."

"He's a good man, Stephanie."

I looked at her tired face and her chewed fingernails.

She was either honest or very good at it.

"Do you need money?" I asked.

"No. Please don't think that. I just need his blood. That's all I'm asking for. I'm so sorry it landed on you the night of your daughter's party."

She reached into her cardigan pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"Jasper made this for the baby," she said. "He heard you were expecting. He draws all day."

I unfolded it.

It was a yellow duck wearing a crown, drawn in thick marker.

Under it, in crooked letters, he had written: FOR THE BABY.

I folded it carefully and put it in my coat pocket.

"Thank him for me," I said.

"I will. Thank you." Her voice cracked. "I'll stay out of your way. I promise."

I stood up and my back gave a hard, hot twinge.

"Are you all right?" Regina said.

"I'm fine. I have an appointment anyway. My obstetrician is in the building next door."

"Please go. Go."

I went.

The doctor's office was warm and smelled like lavender.

The nurse wrapped the cuff around my arm and the machine squeezed.

She frowned, and she took it again on the other arm.

When my obstetrician came in, she was reading the screen before she sat down.

"Stephanie, your pressure is a hundred and fifty-two over ninety-eight," she said. "Last time it was one-twenty-six."

"I haven't slept."

"I believe you. But I want you to hear me. If it goes higher, or if you get a headache that won't go away, or spots in your vision, you come straight in. You don't wait."

"Is the baby okay?"

"The baby looks good. You are the one I'm worried about."

She wrote something in my chart and looked up again.

"Who's driving you home?"

"My husband," I said.

I took out my phone and called Randall from the exam table.

It rang four times.

It went to voicemail.

I texted: I'm at the doctor. My blood pressure is high. Please call me.

I watched the screen for ten minutes.

It said Delivered.

It never said Read.

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