29Chapter Eleven
Ryan sat in his car outside the little motel, heart pounding in his ears. In his hand, he clutched the picture of the little girl who was supposed to be his daughter. She looked like her mother with all that sunny blond hair, he decided, except for the eyes. Instead of her mother's hazel eyes, his bright blue eyes stared at him, gleaming with the innocence only a young child has.
Taking a deep breath, Ryan got out of the car and walked up to the door. He listened closely, could hear the music from a children's program. He knocked hard, stepped back and stared at the shiny number 47 on the door.
Megan opened the door only as far as the safety latch would allow her. Her eyes registered shock, as well as pleasure. "Hi," she said shyly, reminding Ryan of the first time they had been introduced.
"Hey. Look, Sara told me… Can I come in so we can talk?"
"Danielle's sleeping right now. Hold on." Megan closed the door and reemerged with a key card in hand. She closed the door softly behind her and squinted in the bright sunlight. "I'm sorry to just… spring this on you."
"A little warning might've been nice. You know, like five years warning that I was a father."
"I know you're probably angry –"
"Probably? I am angry, Megan. I may not have been ready for a kid in college but goddamn it, I would've helped you. I would've supported you."
"I didn't want to burden you." Megan looked down at her feet, then back up at the same eyes she saw every time she looked at her daughter. "Look, we were both just getting out of college; you had your entire future ahead of you."
"And you didn't? Megan, Danielle needed a father."
"Well she's done just fine without one so far," she exploded.
"Whose fault is that? I would've helped; I would have been there if you had told me about her."
"I knew you didn't love me, Ryan. No, let's not lie and complicate this any more than it already is. You didn't love me and I didn't love you. I didn't want to be a burden on you any more than I already was."
Ryan placed a hand on Megan's shoulder. "You were never a burden on me. Yeah, I didn't love you, but I didn't hate you either. We had a fling and yes, we could've been more careful, but what happened, happened."
"So what do we do next?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing. Sara said you didn't want our money."
"I don't, really, I don't." Megan looked back at the window where she knew her daughter was dreaming peacefully. "Danielle's at the age now where she's playing with kids her own age and she's realizing that her family isn't like everyone else's. She's asked about you."
"What did you tell her?" Ryan asked quietly.
"That you couldn't be here right now, but someday you might. And that's when I started hearing about you and Sara and your wedding. Congratulations, by the way."
Ryan smiled. "Thanks. So she doesn't know about me?"
"No."
They were quiet for a moment, the sound of traffic filling their silence.
"Look, Sara and I are both almost a hundred percent positive Danielle is mine, but we talked to our lawyer over the weekend. He's demanding a paternity test, to make sure."
"I don't have a problem with that."
"We told him that we didn't think you would. When the tests come back, then we can deal more with the specifics, alright?"
"That's fine. Ryan, thank you for coming to talk to me. I've been on edge ever since Friday."
"It's not a problem." Ryan dug out a receipt from his pocket with his number scribbled on the back. "Feel free to call me whenever. After we get the paternity settled, Sara and I will have you two over for dinner, or something, to get to know each other better."
"I don't know if that's the best idea you've ever had, Ryan…"
"Why not?" He raised an eyebrow.
"I think your wife wants to murder me for ruining your fairytale marriage."
Ryan laughed, shaking his head. "Don't worry. Our marriage is far from a fairytale."
"Either way, I think the last thing Sara wants right now is to have dinner with us. But maybe someday we will." Through the door, Megan could hear the show ending. "I've got to go wake up Danielle otherwise she'll never go to bed tonight. I'll talk to you soon, though."
"Yeah, later." Ryan watched as Megan unlocked the door and let herself back in the room. Making his way back to his car, he smiled, glad that that hadn't been as awkward o as scary as he thought it would be.
On a barely contained scream, Sara pushed away from the piano and shot to her feet. She paced to the door of the studio, then back to the piano. Taking a look over the notes she had written on the sheet music she groaned and flung the sheets off the stand, leaving them to flutter to the floor.
"What's with the tantrum?" Ryan asked from the door.
Sara whirled to face him. "I don't want to talk right now."
"So this is about me, then, and not the fact that your music has sucked lately?" Ryan shot back, bracing for a fight.
"Don't start with me about my music. And no, this isn't about you. The entire world does not have to revolve around you Ryan."
"So what is it about, Sara? If you want to be mad with me for accidentally knocking up my college girlfriend, fine go and be mad. But just yell at me and get it out. Don't torture yourself by keeping it all in."
"Goddamn it, I'm not mad at you for knocking up your girlfriend. I'm not even mad at you at all. I just want to wring Megan's stupid perfect little neck for coming in and ruining my life."
Ryan walked to Sara and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Your life is not ruined. This is just an unexpected bump in the road."
"And when is it going to stop being bumpy, Ryan? When is it going to be easy?"
"Love isn't easy, Sara; you know that. Our relationship has never been easy."
"Then don't we deserve easy for a while?" Sara whispered.
Ryan laughed softly. "If this was easy, then we'd be dead. Babe, we argue, we make up and then we argue again. That's just how we are. Nothing is going to be easy for us."
"We don't deserve this – I don't deserve this."
"What don't you deserve?" Ryan asked, panicking at little.
Sara stalked away from him. "I don't deserve to have this little love child thrown in my face. Goddamn it, why does she get to have a part of you that I can't? You didn't even want children." Sara's voice broke.
Ryan took Sara into his arms, held tight. "Sara, I want children; I want your children. I just wasn't ready for a child now."
"So this other child comes along and suddenly you're ready?"
"Who said I was ready for this?" He turned Sara to face him. "Sara, I'm scared out of my mind right now. I thought you would understand that."
"I do, mostly. It's just that I'm still trying to deal with this…"
"So am I, Sara."
"I know," she said, brushing away a stray tear. "You're just going to have to deal with me being a little selfish for a bit, okay?"
"You got it."
Sara pressed a hand to her stomach as a wave of nausea shot through her body. Ryan watched Sara pale and close her eyes. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. Just felt sick for a minute there. I'm fine now."
Ryan placed his hand on her forehead, shook his head. "Sara you're burning up."
"I'm fine," she protested. "It's just a cold."
"Not when you have a fever and you're feeling like throwing up. You are going home and lying on the couch. I'll finish everything up here and meet you there. Go," he commanded with a smile. "I'll be home in an hour, maybe less. If you're not on your back on the couch when I get home, I'll put you there myself."
Sara smirked. "Maybe I won't lay down then."
Ryan laughed and led Sara to the door. "I'm not having my way with you when you're sick. And that's merely self preservation." He kissed her cheek. "Please, go home, baby."
"Fine," she sighed. "I'm going."
When Ryan walked in the door, he found his wife curled in a ball on the couch, the heavy throw wrapped around her. He shook his head when he realized she was watching daytime soaps.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, coming to a crouch in front of her.
"I'm freezing."
He placed a hand on her forehead again. "Sara, you're burning up. I'll call your doctor and get you in as soon I can."
Sara went to sit up, then lay back down when her vision started to waver. "No doctor," she protested weakly.
"I know you don't like them baby, but you're sick. You're going to a doctor."
"Just go down to the drug store and get me some cold pills. I'll be better by tomorrow."
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Sara, you couldn't even sit up to yell at me about the doctor. You're not just going to take a couple cold pills and go back to work tomorrow. Now stop protesting and just take a nap. I'll wake you up in an hour and we'll see how some chicken noodle soup sounds."
"You're a butthead," Sara said, but closed her eyes anyway.
By the time Sara had woken up over an hour later, Ryan had made an appointment with her doctor for the next morning, run out to the drugstore to buy some nighttime cold medicine, and had chicken soup steaming on the stove.
Sara shuffled into the kitchen and sat heavily at one of the stools at the island. Ryan turned from the stove and smiled sadly at Sara. "You look like crap."
"You certainly know how to charm the ladies."
Ryan turned down the heat on the pot and went to the cabinet to grab two bowls. Filling them with soup, he placed one in front of Sara and sat down next to her. He kissed her cheek and smiled. "Eat up. You have a ten o'clock appointment tomorrow morning with your doctor."
"Great," Sara groaned, then proceeded to shovel soup into her mouth.
"I see your appetite's back."
"It never left. I just felt sick at the same time."
"Well let's hope you don't puke the soup back up then. I'd really rather not have to see it a second time."
"Did anyone ever tell you that you are excellent dinner conversation?" Sara joked.
"I get it all the time, babe. How are you feeling?"
"Still like shit. I don't remember ever being this tired, even when I'm on a press tour." Sara stopped and proceeded to cough hard, her entire body jerking as she did. "And I've got this lovely cough now."
Ryan placed his hand on her forehead again. "You've still got the fever going. I don't know exactly what you've got, but it's probably bronchitis or pneumonia or something like that."
"Well thanks for that vague diagnosis, Doctor." Sara pushed her half-eaten soup away from her. "I'm going to go upstairs and change and then maybe we can just lie around and watch movies all night?" Sara asked him, looking up at him with sad eyes.
"Whatever you want, darling. I'll clean up and meet you on the couch. I'll even let you pick the first movie."
Sara sat in the swanky waiting room of the doctor's office the next morning, clad in sweat pants, a heavy sweater and Ryan's jacket, with her teeth chattering. When she was called into an exam room, the nurse looked at her sadly.
"You know, we normally make patients put on one of the lovely paper gowns, but I'm not going to make you. You look absolutely freezing."
Sara rolled her eyes at the nurse and sat at the first chair she saw, too tired to hoist herself up on the exam table.
"I'll just take your temperature real fast here, and then I'll send the doctor in." The nurse clucked her tongue as she waited for the thermometer to beep. "102.4. Quite high. Dr. Walters will be in in a moment."
Within five minutes, Dr. Margaret Walters walked into the room, her pale blonde hair glistening off the fluorescent lights above her.
"I've talked with the nurse. High fever and chills. Any nausea, vomiting?"
"Nausea last night," Sara answered quietly after another coughing fit.
"I see you have a heavy cough," she said to herself. She took Sara's hand in hers and pushed up the sleeve of the sweater to feel for the pulse. "Rapid." She marked it down on the chart in nearly illegible handwriting.
"Tell me, do you have chills? Any instances where you can't stop shaking?"
Sara stared at the doctor. "Like now, for instance?"
She murmured and took more notes down. "How about chest pain?"
"Only when I cough."
"Mmm-hmm. It's pneumonia. I'm going to write you a prescription for some medication. You'll take it twice daily, until it's gone. You should start to notice your symptoms starting to lessen and go away after three or four days. If they don't, or get worse, give me a call and we'll set up another appointment.
"In the meantime, take it easy. Don't strain yourself. Take as much time off of work as you can. Lots of sleep and liquids." Margaret ripped the prescription off of the pad and handed it to Sara. "Feel better."
Sara shuffled back out to the waiting room where Ryan shot to his feet as soon as she walked through the door. She handed him the paper. "Pneumonia. Get me drugs and take me home. I want to go back to bed."
And it's rolling right along.
This actually came out quicker than I thought it would, so hooray for you guys.
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