Page 53 of Wired Fear

She’d gone to bed early after a simple meal of canned soup, and this morning her tummy was growling with hunger, not morning sickness. “Let’s go for a run, dogs, and I’ll take you out to breakfast.”

It wasn’t long before Sophie, Ginger, and Tank were jogging through the park. Sophie felt good today: energetic, strong. The faint sting of the bald patch on her scalp rubbing against the inside of her ball cap was the only reminder of recent ugly events.

And today, she wasn’t going to focus on ugly events. She was going to enjoy running with her dogs in the park and feeling good for once.

Sophie remembered that first glimpse of the tiny shape on the sonogram and felt that excitement and anticipation all over again.She was going to be a mother!She was still glad about this unexpected miracle, even with all its challenges.

What names would be good? Dad would have ideas. Perhaps something that harked back to her grandparents, gone too soon in a flu epidemic when her father was young.

What would it be like to hold her baby? To feed it?

Some things seemed impossible to imagine, even as worries crowded in—how could she work, and provide care for an infant?

Too many questions. Not enough answers. Worrying wouldn’t solve anything; it just stole any happiness she could have now.

“A useless emotion. Like guilt,” Sophie murmured aloud, remembering Connor telling her not to bother with useless emotions.

Sophie tied the dogs to a post outside the same modest restaurant where she and Alika had eaten breakfast not long ago; she still remembered telling him about her relationship with Jake, and later finding him doing a martial arts routine alone in the alley.

So many things had happened since then.

Sophie got a table right next to the window and fetched water in a bowl for the dogs, before settling in to eat a hearty breakfast, thankful that her digestive system was cooperating.

On the way back to her apartment, walking through the park, she called the clinic on Oahu that was performing the paternity test. The clerk on call established her identity, and then passed her on to one of the technicians.

“Hello, Ms. Ang. Yes, I’m glad to hear from you. I was just putting together your report and getting ready to contact you.”

Sophie’s heart pounded and she put her hand on her chest, drawing a deep breath. “Please do get that report into the mail for me. But, since I have you on the phone, do you mind giving me the information now?”

“Certainly.” Keys clicked as the woman worked her computer. “The results came in with a 98% probability that Alika Wolcott is the father of your child.”

“Thank you,” Sophie said faintly, and ended the call.

Chapter Forty

Alika was working with his physical therapist, learning to tie a shoelace one-handed.

“Be patient. Make a loop. Pin the lace to your shoe with your thumb. Use your fingers to circle the lace around and through the loop.”

“I can just get Velcro shoes,” Alika grumbled.

Sandy Pitman, his physical therapist, quirked a brow. “You never know when you’ll have to tie something.”

Alika kept swinging his stump arm forward. He could still feel the arm as if it were there, could not stop the impulse of his ghost hand from trying to assist. The fingers of his right hand fumbled and felt too large for the task, but he’d just seen the PT perform it one-handed, so it could be done.

Alika persisted, but finally, when he tugged on the tail of the lace, the whole thing melted into a tangle. He swore. “This shouldn’t be so freakin’ hard. A kid can do this. I want to punch something.”

“We’ll get to the punching bag later. Your reward for getting this figured out.” The attractive female PT had been in Iraq, and she was missing both legs from the knees down. Alika couldn’t even grumble that the woman didn’t understand his struggle, his anger, the way even the simplest things that a child could perform had become difficult challenges—when watching Sandy arrange herself to stand gave him a zing of compassion.

Alika’s phone, stashed in the loose pocket of his workout shorts, vibrated. He didn’t usually answer it during therapy, but he needed a break. “Excuse me.”

He straightened up and walked away, feeling a flicker of gratitude that he could still do that, that at least his legs were strong and whole. “Alika here.”

“Alika, it’s Sophie. I have news about the paternity test.” Sophie’s voice was flat, uninflected.

Alika froze.Trust Sophie to cut to the chase without even a greeting!

Sophie’s pregnancy news had been too difficult to assimilate in the midst of his personal turmoil; he’d managed to compartmentalize it and put it out of his mind. The only thing he’d been really clear on when Sophie visited was that, while he’d always care for her as a friend, he wasn’t “in love” with her since the bomb had blown them apart.

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