The Pregnancy Project

“Champ looks too young to be away from her mom,” Ella observed during the elevator ride that Jacob Weber would likely have left silent.

“She is. I found her in the gutter at the curb in front of my place about four weeks ago. Since she seems to be a purebred, the best guess is that her original owner was moving the litter for some reason and she somehow fell or got out of the box unnoticed. I knocked on a few doors but no one knew anything about her so I took her to a vet around the corner. He thought she was five or six days old at the time and said she wouldn’t live without special care.”

“And you decided to keep her and give that special care?” Ella asked, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice.

They’d reached the ground floor, and the doctor held open the door long enough for her to precede him out of the elevator.

“The vet was too busy to do it so I did,” he said matter-of-factly.

“What kind of special care did she need?” Ella persisted as they left the office building.

He continued in that same no-big-deal tone to outline a regimen of feeding and watering the pup every hour round the clock until recently, of caring for her day and night to pull her through, of her still needing to be looked after closely and not left unattended for long periods.

By the time they’d walked across the street to a row of brown brick town houses, Ella was amazed that the gruff Jacob Weber had gone to such lengths to save the animal.

“You’re a dog lover,” she guessed.

He shrugged as he unlocked and opened his town house door, reaching in to flip on a light, then motioning her inside. “I’ve never had a pet of any kind before this,” he said as he came in after her and closed the door behind them.

“And you still kept Champ and did all that for her?” Ella marveled.

“What was I going to do? Put her back in the gutter to die?”

That snide statement was more like what Ella expected from Jacob Weber. As was the curt “I’ll only be a minute” that came next.

But for the first time she didn’t take him or his surliness as seriously as she had before. How could she when, as he turned to go into what appeared to be the living room, he reached into his pocket and extracted the tiny dog to hold up to his face and say in a tender voice, “Okay little girl, outside to do your business and then I’ll have to put you in the crate for a while. Don’t worry, I promise it won’t be long.”

Then he lowered the puppy to hold to his chest just as they both disappeared from her view.

Maybe you’re not such a hard-nose after all, Ella thought.

Of course despite his treatment of Champ, Jacob Weber had still left her standing in the entryway rather than offering her a seat in the living room. Which would have been the polite thing to do.

But at that point Ella merely shook her head and remained where she was.

Well, almost.

It was just that the longer she stood there in the narrow entrance with nothing but a steep set of stairs rising up in front of her to study, she became curious about what his place actually looked like. And what it might say about him.

She wasn’t brave enough to do any actual snooping, but she did slide a few feet to where the entry merged with the living room, leaning enough to her left to peek into that other section of his house.

She was glad that there weren’t any signs of the doctor by then and she assumed he’d gone through the living room into the kitchen that was visible at the other end, at the rear of the town house. But given that brief opportunity, she did take stock of the living room from where she was.

Not that there was much to take stock of.

What little furniture decorated the space appeared expensive and tasteful but there was definitely not much of it. An elaborate oak entertainment center on one wall sported a big-screen plasma television and an impressive stereo system. Directly across from that sat an exquisite overstuffed black leather sofa with a floor lamp to one side and an oak coffee table in front. And that was it. There were no pictures on the walls, no plants to warm up the place, and no other seating. And while the sofa was large enough for more than one person, the room still seemed to be a one-man setup that didn’t welcome company.

It made Ella wonder if that was Jacob Weber’s own goal—to keep himself removed—or if his off-putting disposition had simply forced him into the role of loner.

The doctor had apparently gone out the back door with the dog because just then Ella heard it open, and the sound of him saying something she couldn’t make out gave her fair warning of his return.

She hurriedly straightened up again and sidled to her original position.

He came as far as the living room where she could again hear what he said as he informed Champ that she had her pillow, blanket, bear and monkey to keep her company, instructing her to nap while he was gone and promising treats when he got back.

It was sweet. Maybe more sweet because it was coming from a man who otherwise appeared to be tough as nails, but sweet enough nonetheless to raise Ella’s curiosity once again, this time over what exactly lurked behind the man’s brusque exterior.

More sounds let her know that he was putting Champ in her crate and within moments of that Jacob Weber was back in the entry with her.

“Is Champ all tucked in for the night?” she asked, pretending she hadn’t been privy to any of the doctor’s exchange with his pet.

“Not for the night, no. But for the time being, anyway.” He raised a big, thick wrist to check the paper-thin watch there and added, “We need to get going.”

Ella nodded her agreement, realizing that while Champ may have somehow wormed her way into the doctor’s affections and weakened his defenses, talking about Champ didn’t soften his demeanor at all.

Maybe nothing did, Ella thought as they left the town house.

Well, fine. If he wanted to keep things purely professional, she’d stop trying to make it anything else and wait for him to begin her orientation.

Which was actually what he did as they set off in the balmy early-September evening to walk down the street toward the shops that lined the next block.

“The study begins Monday evening,” he said without preamble. “Although I won’t be there—”

“You won’t?” Ella heard herself ask before she’d considered the wisdom—or lack of wisdom—in it. And before she’d had any idea that it would come out in a tone of voice that had a slightly disappointed ring to it. To go along with the disappointed feeling she also discovered in herself…much to her own amazement.

“I’ll be there the rest of the time,” he was quick to assure her, obviously having caught the tone.

Desperate for damage control, Ella said, “It’s just that… I don’t know… I guess I thought that since it’s your study and your office—”

“It is my study and my office but in essence it will be Dr. Schwartz treating you during this initial phase. My being there at all is really just a courtesy. But I will be there. Every night after Monday night.”

Ella thought she’d successfully made him believe she’d merely had a moment of patient insecurity, because he continued with what he’d been explaining, only now his voice had a more comforting note to it. “Even though I won’t be there Monday night, Marta will be. She’ll introduce you to everyone. And Kim Schwartz is not intimidating at all—she’s not even five feet tall, weighs about eighty pounds and is very soft-spoken. Very cordial and friendly.”

“Good,” Ella said, trying to encourage his impression while tamping down on what was really going on with her. Whatever that was…

They left the row of town houses and stopped at the corner. As he watched for a break in the cars coming through the intersection, Ella looked ahead at what awaited them on the other side.

They were in an older area of Boston that had been remodeled and updated to attract new residents and businesses. It had been a success because the town houses on either side of the doctor’s were occupied and so were all of the storefronts on the next block.

Ella could see a bakery, a bicycle repair shop, a coffee shop, a bookstore, a pizza parlor, a costume shop, and several other small establishments, including their destination at the opposite corner where a neon sign jutting out from the building announced Chicago-Style Hot Dogs.

When they could finally cross, Jacob Weber picked up where he’d left off.

“Marta will be taking some routine, baseline readings on my behalf—blood pressure, pulse, temperature. She’ll also take blood and urine so we have labs on you all. Kim—Dr. Schwartz, but she doesn’t mind if you call her by her first name—”

“What about you?” For the second time Ella’s mouth ran away with her—not something that usually happened.

“What do you want to call me?” he asked, as if challenging her.

Accepting the challenge—and because first names might act as the equalizer she needed with this man, she said, “Jacob. I’ll call you Jacob.”

Ella had the impression that he considered taking issue with that. But in the end he surprised her by simply conceding, though not without sarcasm.

“Okay. Well, Ella, Kim will also be there Monday night,” he continued. “She’ll have a lot of questions for you—she needs histories as extensive as any other doctor. She’ll take your pulse, too, but not for the same purpose that Western medicine does. In Chinese medicine the pulse is taken for the strength and quality of the blood flow. The belief is that it tells something about your chi—your energy. Many practitioners of Chinese medicine base their treatments on that. Kim says she can tell when there are disturbances in the body just from the pulse. She’ll also ask to look at your tongue.”

Ella glanced over at him, finding his profile as strikingly handsome as the frontal view of his face but trying not to register that fact. “She’ll ask to look at my tongue?”

He actually did crack a smile at her reaction. Only a half smile, but a smile nonetheless that softened his features and gave him a whole new appeal as he looked at her, too. “It’s a diagnostic tool in Chinese medicine. She’s shown me what she looks for and given me the textbook she learned from. I’ve been using it myself—asking to look at my patients’ tongues to see if what I’m finding or suspecting in their physical condition really might be reflected in the way their tongues look. I’ve found some merit to it. I’ve also found that after Kim has treated a couple of my patients who went to her on their own—and helped them—that there are changes in the appearance of their tongues. It’s actually what prompted this study.”

They’d reached the hot-dog stand and although dusk was just beginning to fall, light spilled from the windows in front of it to provide plenty of illumination. Enough so that he said, “I’d rather have better light but let me see yours, anyway.”

“You want to examine my tongue out here on the street?”

She couldn’t be sure if he was kidding or not. Especially since there was an amused expression on his face.

He glanced around and then said, “Nobody’s looking.”

The man was too mercurial for her not to worry about refusing him. But they were in the open, with several other people milling around them, and Ella knew she would feel like an idiot standing there sticking her tongue out at him. Plus, mercurial or not, there was only so far she was willing to go.

“I will not stick out my tongue,” she said firmly.

“You’ll have to do it for Kim,” he warned gruffly.

“I will do it for her. But I won’t do it for you. Especially not out here.”

A passerby looked askance at her just then and Ella realized there might have been some sexual undertones to what she said. Apparently Jacob noticed the same thing, and it obviously amused him because a glint came into his eyes. A very attractive glint that almost seemed to add a certain charm to the man.

But a moment later he glanced away and it was gone.

He opened the door to the hot-dog stand then, once more waiting for her to go in ahead of him.

Ella was only too glad to do it, using the opportunity to tell herself she was out of her mind if she thought this man was capable of being engaging in any way.

He did, however, insist on paying for her hot dog and just as they turned from the register a very small café table in the corner opened up.

“Looks like we get to sit after all,” he said, leading her there.

Slathered in mustard, the hot dog tasted great, and as they ate Jacob laid out the course of treatment that would begin on Tuesday evening—when he would be in the office, he made sure to remind her.

He reached the end of his orientation at the same time they finished their hot dogs, but he no longer seemed in such a hurry to get this over with. In fact, after pushing away the remnants of his meal, he sat back as if he were surveying her and said, “So how did you become a federal prosecutor? A driving need to put away the bad guys?”

After a moment to register the switched gears and the fact that he was actually making conversation with her, Ella answered him. “Yes, as a matter of fact. That, plus I discovered in law school that I was a good trial attorney. I spent a year in a private firm but after one too many cases defending someone I really believed was guilty—in particular a woman I was reasonably sure had extorted money from an elderly man who had been left penniless as a result—I changed to the other side of the courtroom.”

“And your conviction rate?”

“It’s high. But it isn’t about the numbers for me. If that becomes the priority, then bad things can happen. Innocent people can go to jail. I don’t want that on my conscience. It isn’t just a game to me—a competition that my ego has to win—”

“It’s about right and wrong. And punishing the evildoers.”

“That probably sounds corny to you but yes, that’s what it’s about to me. If someone does something awful to you or to someone close to you, you want to know they aren’t going to get away with it, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“But at the same time, what if something happens to point a finger at you for something? For something you didn’t do? Do you want to spend years locked up because, as a prosecutor, I refused to look at everything from all sides just to keep my conviction rate up?”

“So, you care.”

“Yes, I care.”

He nodded, his deep, dark-purple eyes staying on her as if he were seeing past the surface. And maybe even as if he liked what he saw. And heard. Although Ella was wary of going that far.

“What about you?” She wanted to interrupt his study of her. “You must have become a doctor to help people.”

“To tell you the truth, no.”

“No?” she said with a small laugh, surprised by his answer.

“It was the science I loved. I went into medicine planning to do research, not work with patients.”

“How did you end up with patients, then?”

“I didn’t at first. I finished medical school and spent a year in research—like your year defending evildoers rather than putting them away,” he said with another of those half smiles she was a little afraid she could get hooked on.

“And you didn’t like it as much as you thought you would?” she asked, to urge him on.

“I liked it all right. It was just that during that year I discovered that impregnating mice and rats, and making charts and lists of statistics to write papers from got tedious day after day. I wanted to continue some of the research—like this study in alternative medicine—but I wanted to do it in the real world, with people.”

“Where you could see genuine results and not just compile data and end up with paperwork as your final product,” Ella guessed.

“Exactly.”

“And has it been better for you? Have you enjoyed working with people more than working with rats and mice?”

This time she got a full smile and it doubled the effect. “Don’t sound as if you can hardly believe it,” he said.

“Did I?” Ella asked, because she honestly hadn’t thought it had come out that way.

He only answered her previous question. “Yes, it’s been better for me to work with people. I think I’ve done some good for a lot of them, and if I had spent the last few years in research I’d probably still be doing the same project I started when I graduated from med school.”

“I know that from what I’ve heard and read about you, you’ve definitely done some good for a lot of people,” Ella confirmed. “That’s why I came to see you.”

That seemed to remind him of something—maybe that this wasn’t a social occasion or that their being together was a professional association—because his smile dissolved, he sat up straighter, and took another look at his watch.

“I’d better get going or I’ll be late for this meeting,” he said.

Despite the fact that a certain amount of formality had reappeared in him, Ella thought his tone was tinged with what almost sounded like regret to put an end to this.

Still, they both stood and gathered the papers and remnants of their dinners, depositing it all in the trash before leaving the hole-in-the-wall restaurant.

“I appreciate you taking the time to do this for me tonight,” Ella said as they headed back up the street. “And dinner was good, too.”

That addition made him smile another more-reserved smile, which she caught out of the corner of her eye. “I don’t think a hot dog and a bottle of water count as dinner. Don’t tell Kim Schwartz that’s what I fed you or she’ll think I’m sabotaging the study. She’s all about balanced everything—a balanced life, a balanced diet, a balanced body.”

“She’ll probably see it in my tongue on Monday night whether I tell her or not,” Ella joked, eliciting a slight chuckle from the imposing doctor and feeling far too pleased with herself that she’d accomplished it.

As they neared his town house and the building directly across from it where his office was, he pointed his chin in the direction of the office building and said, “I can never find a spot to park in front of my place so I use the office lot. Is that where your car is?”

“It is,” Ella confirmed.

They crossed the street together and went into the lot where few other cars kept company with the silver Porsche he said was his and the more economical, compact sedan she pointed out as hers.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said, following her to it and waiting for her to unlock the driver’s side door.

“Thanks again for the orientation dinner,” Ella said, looking up at him from over her open door.

“I’ll see you Tuesday night.”

“I’ll be there,” she assured him.

For a moment he just went on standing there, those intense eyes of his staying on her the way they might have had this been the conclusion of a date he didn’t particularly want to end.

But then he took a step backward and said, “Drive safely.”

“You, too.”

He raised his chin to acknowledge that and pivoted on his heels to head for the Porsche.

And as Ella got behind the wheel of her own car and closed the door, she suddenly began to wonder what it might have been like if this had been the end of a date. Would he have tried to kiss her?

Kiss her?

Jacob Weber?

That was just too weird to even think about, she told herself as she started the engine.

Too, too weird…

But weird or not, she still couldn’t get the idea out of her mind the whole way home.

She also couldn’t get out of her mind the lingering and purely baseless thought that it just might have been nice if he had kissed her.

Chapter Four

“N ow you’re going to let them turn you into a pincushion?”

Ella laughed at her sister, Sara’s, comment in regards to her announcement that she was about to begin acupuncture treatment for infertility. “Yes, I guess I am,” she confirmed.

It was Tuesday and Ella had taken the afternoon off to shop with Sara and Sara’s about-to-be-three-year-old daughter, Janey, for Janey’s birthday party on Friday night. After buying balloons and streamers and other decorations in the princess theme Janey had chosen, they were at Janey’s favorite playground. While Janey climbed on a giant plastic replica of a hamburger, Ella and Sara sat on a bench close by, having mocha lattes.

“It won’t only be acupuncture, though.” Ella continued to explain her next plan of attack in her attempt to conquer her childlessness. “I met with Dr. Schwartz last night and I’m also taking herbs—a powder form specially blended for me that I mix in water to drink. Plus she’ll be teaching us meditation and relaxation techniques and some acupressure, and there’s even some therapeutic massage that sounds kind of nice.”

“But needles, El, needles,” Sara persisted.

“Don’t sound so horrified. It isn’t as if she’s going to poke my eyes out with them or anything. Kim—she’s the doctor—showed them to us and they’re very, very thin needles, about the width of a hair. They don’t go in all that far, either.”

“But they do go in. Into your skin.”

“I’m sure it’ll be okay. Acupuncture has been around for centuries—longer than Western medicine. A gazillion people have survived it and I think I will, too.”

“I just don’t see how that’s going to help you get pregnant.” Sara added skepticism to her distaste of the idea of the needles.

“It may not. It’s an experimental study. That means we’re trying something new to see what happens. But one way or another it’s harmless. The goal is sort of to reset my body so everything is working the way it should be, to put me at optimal speed so that maybe, when JacobWeber does in vitro on me again afterward, it will actually take.”

“But is it worth it?”

Ella looked over at Janey just as her niece stood tall atop one end of a make-believe stack of toast and leaped off as if it were the accomplishment of a lifetime, laughing gleefully when she landed in the sand.

“Anything—everything—is worth it. And believe me, I’ve been through much worse than being poked with needles,” Ella assured her sister.

“Maybe. But have you been through worse than Jacob Weber?” Sara asked.

“I know you never liked him—”

“That’s an understatement. No one liked him and most of us actively disliked him.”

Ella knew Sara was referring to her college days at Saunders University.

“Maybe you’d feel different if you crossed paths with him now,” Ella suggested.

“How could I feel any different when he was such a creep? All those airs he put on. Acting as if it was beneath him to even talk to the rest of us. You know I was in that poli-sci class with him and when the professor broke us up into groups for a project the high-and-mighty Jacob Weber refused to work with us—or with any of the other groups—and instead did an entirely separate project on his own. He made it clear that he’d rather work alone than have to hang out with any of us. It was as if he thought we were lower life forms or something.”

Ella had heard that story at the time and on several occasions since—whenever Jacob Weber’s name had come up. That was usually because something had been written about him and his accomplishments in a Boston newspaper or in the Saunders University alumni newsletter. But for the first time, Ella felt inclined to refute her sister’s opinion of the man. Slightly, anyway.

“To tell you the truth, he kind of surprised me when I was with him on Friday night,” Ella ventured tentatively, knowing Sara wouldn’t be receptive to hearing anything positive on this subject.

“How did he surprise you? You couldn’t believe anyone could be such a big jerk?”

“That was what I thought when I first met him at my consultation and while he kept me waiting in his office on Friday,” Ella acknowledged. “But now I don’t know, something changed.”

“Like what?” Sara asked in disbelief.

“Well, for starters, he has this tiny schnauzer puppy he found on the street when it was only days old and he’s been taking twenty-four-hour care of it to keep it alive.”