him.
The guard retreated back to his booth and picked up the phone. He had a brief conversation.
Nicole’s heart was pounding again. When the man came back to the taxi, he was stone faced and unapologetic. “I’ll relay the message ma’am.”
“Is he here?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. But I’ll do my best to make sure he knows you’ve stopped by and that the matter is urgent.”
“I promise you, he’ll really want to know—“
The guard held up a hand. “I understand ma’am. This is the best I can do.”
The tears were in her eyes as she nodded and sat back in her seat. “Okay.
Thanks.”
The taxi driver glanced in his rearview mirror at her. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Just take me back to the train station,” she said softly.
***
There was nothing to do but go back to the apartment and sulk and fret and pace.
She couldn’t sit still and watch TV or read a book. There was nobody she trusted enough to call or talk to about this, other than Red. And apparently he didn’t want to talk to her. She couldn’t even be sure he was home or knew she’d come by.
After all, the word around town and in all the gossip sites was that Red had lit off for unknown territories; they had him looking like Tom Hanks in Cast Away. Bearded, perhaps wearing nothing but shorts and a tattered old t-shirt, stumbling about on some faraway beach and drinking Coronas, eating clams, getting that beer belly he’d always sworn he’d never get.
If Red were in such a place, doing those things, then perhaps it would disturb him to know that back home he had a pregnant ex-fiancé who desperately wanted to have a word with him. Or maybe not. Maybe Red had specifically run away in order to never again be confronted with a needy chick asking something of him that he could not give.
But even if he was trying to get away from her entirely, Nicole knew she had to have this conversation with him, even if it was the very last one. It was her duty to tell him she was pregnant with his baby, and then it would be up to Red whether he wanted to shirk his obligations or not.
How can I get in touch with him? She wondered.
Nobody seemed to know where he was, his work email was nonfunctional since he was no longer at the company, and she couldn’t get past the front gate of his house.
If only she knew some of his friends or family members that might have spoken with him recently, someone who might have a sense of where he’d be staying right now.
His mother was a nightmare, and Nicole doubted they’d spoken at all since he kicked her out of the house. Even if they had somehow talked since that horrible day, Nicole doubted that mean old crab would tell her anything helpful. She’d probably just take the chance to throw in a few of her vicious digs about why Nicole wasn’t worth her son’s time.
Pacing back and forth in the kitchen, chewing her bottom lip, Nicole suddenly thought of Red’s younger brother, Jeb. Jeb had been nice to her and they’d even had a pretty warm conversation the very last time she’d spoken to him.
She didn’t have his number, but she knew his name and also knew he had a family practice just outside of Chicago.
Nicole ran to her laptop and quickly did a Google search for Jeb Jameson, family practice, Chicago. A website came up that she knew had to be his. Her heart racing with excitement but also fear—if Jeb didn’t know how to reach Red than she would be at a total dead end—Nicole picked up her phone and quickly made the call before she could second-guess herself.
A moment later, a friendly sounding woman picked up. “Jameson Family Medical Group,” she said perkily.
“I need to speak with Doctor Jameson,” Nicole said, trying to steady her voice.
“Are you a patient, ma’am?”
She debated lying. But what would be the point of that? Instead, Nicole said:
“I’m a friend of Dr. Jameson’s brother, Red. There’s been an emergency and I need to