Janet Evanovich - Thanksgiving

“All right,” she said. “Dinner. That’s a great idea. Someplace dark and quiet.The darker the better.”

Pat swallowed and racked his brain for the noisiest best – lit place in Williamsburg.

“I’m going upstairs to freshen up,” Megan said. “Would you call my parents and tell them I’m going to be later than expected?”

“What are you going to do upstairs?”

“It’s of a personal nature.”

“You’re not too depressed, are you? I mean, you wouldn’t jump out a window or anything, would you?”

“Pat, if I jumped out a window, the best I could do would be to break my knees.”

“Not if you jumped head first.”

“Well, yes, but that would ruin my hair.”

That made him feel better. Worrying about your hair was a sign of good mental health. He’d read about it in a mental – health course.

Megan ran up the stairs and checked out the candles, making sure there were fresh tapers in all the holders. Then she turned down the bedcovers and closed the curtains. She didn’t want to waste any time once they got back from the restaurant. They’d have a memorable meal, a knock – your – socks – off proposal, then they’d rush back here and jump into bed.

She brushed her hair and applied fresh lipstick and a dusting of blusher. She felt much better, she thought, smoothing her sweater over her hips. She really had her life under control now. Good thing she was such a levelheaded person. Some women would have gone off the deep end over losing a baby, but not her. She was flexible. She could find creative solutions to problems like this.

Pat cleaned up the broken china and doused the fire while he waited for Megan. He looked at the empty crib and felt a surge of sorrow pass through his heart. It had been nice having a baby in the house. Someday he’d have children of his own. A whole pack of them, with dogs and cats and hamsters.

For now, he had to admit, the sadness of losing Timmy was being replaced with a sense of relief. Timmy belonged with Tilly and Lenny. And Patrick Hunter belonged with Megan Murphy, he thought wistfully. That was a tougher problem to solve. At least they no longer had the pressures of an instant family. There really was no reason they had to get married immediately.

He looked toward the stairs and wondered what Megan was doing. Probably in the bathroom, crying her eyes out. She’d seemed a trifle desperate for a few minutes, but he was sure she’d be fine. She wasn’t the sort to go to pieces and do something dumb… was she?

“Megan,” he called, “you okay?”

“I’m fine. Peachy – dandy. I’m almost done here. I’ll be right down.”

He zipped himself into his jacket and paced in front of the door. They needed to go someplace loud tonight, he decided. Someplace fun. He didn’t know any loud, fun places, so he called his answering service and asked for advice.

“Go to the Pit,” he was told. “Great chili dogs, and you can drink beer and play darts.”

The beer part sounded good, but he didn’t know if he wanted to put a sharp object in Megan’s hand. But then he told himself he was being stupid. Next he’d be looking for an Ethiopian restaurant; so she’d have to eat with her fingers.

Megan bounced down the stairs. “Here I am. Let’s get going. Let’s not waste a single minute. Gotta get going and eat, eat, eat.”

He looked at her suspiciously. “Why are you so happy? Have you been drinking my aftershave?”

“I like being happy. You wouldn’t want me to be a party pooper, would you?”

He put his hand to her forehead. She didn’t feel feverish, but her eyes had a feverish glitter to them. “You’re sounding a little… um, crazy.”

She looked insulted. Her lower lip trembled and her eyes flooded with tears. “Boy, that’s the thanks I get for trying to be happy. Here I am trying to make the best of things, and you tell me I’m crazy.”

Oh, great, Dr. Hunter. Wonderful bedside manner, Pat chided himself. Now he’d made her cry.

“Don’t pay any attention to me,” he said. “This business with Timmy has me off balance.”

She gave him a hug. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it all figured out.”

“You do?”

“Trust me.”

He smiled lamely. He trusted her… but he still wasn’t going to let her handle any darts.

He escorted her to his car and watched her crawl across the front seat. He’d gotten his window to stay up, but he still hadn’t fixed the passenger door. He slid behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. He tried it again and was treated to a low whimper. He sighed. “It’s the battery. I need a new one.”

“You need a new car.”

“I could get one if I fired my receptionist. I can’t make payments on both a car and a receptionist.”

They crawled out of Pat’s car and into Megan’s. Pat tried it three times before it started, with a cough, and backfired. He slowly backed out of the driveway and rumbled down the street. “You need a new muffler,” he shouted over the noise.

“I could get one if I stopped eating,” she shouted back.

When Pat pulled up to a building lit by gaudy neon lights, her mouth dropped open. “This is dark and quiet?”

“I felt like beer and chili dogs. They make great chili dogs here.”

“Okay,” she said, “whatever turns you on.” She moved closer and slid her hand up his leg. “You are turned on, aren’t you?”

“Um, well, I wasn’t…”

She kissed him just below his ear and gently nipped at his neck. “I hope you’ll be turned on later… when we go home.” She whispered several things she wanted to do to him, and was pleased at the flush rising out of his shirt collar.

It suddenly occurred to her that if they did it in the car, she’d have a head start on the evening. After all, it might not happen the first time. She hadn’t calculated the correct time. They might have to do it day and night for an entire month! Besides, she wasn’t sure she trusted those sperm. What if they got discouraged and swam the wrong way?

She slid her hand higher and pressed against him. “When was the last time you did it in a car, big boy?” she asked in her most sultry voice.

“Now, Megan…”

She tickled his earlobe with her tongue and inched her hand higher on his thigh. She was a woman with a cause, a woman driven by her biological and maternal instincts, and certain rules of the road were suspended in situations like this. She had to be bold.

She took a deep breath and firmly moved her hand over the fast – growing bulge in Pat’s trousers. She kissed him hard and lay back on the seat, pulling him down on top of her. “Take me, you animal,” she cried, struggling to keep him prone.

“Megan, for Pete’s sake, we’re in a parking lot!”

“No one will notice.”

“Everyone will notice. Especially those three kids looking in the window at us.”

She turned her eyes to the window and saw three grinning faces peering in at her.

“Once we get the windows good and fogged, they won’t be able to see a thing.”

“Megan!”

“Geez, I thought you wanted a sexfest.”

“I’ve never thought of myself as being a stuffy person, but I draw the line at an audience. Why don’t we go home and do this?”

“No. Now I feel like a chili dog.”

Pat shook his head and sighed. Women could be very strange.

Megan flounced into the booth with as much dignity as she could muster, the smoochy kissing sounds of three teenage boys still burning in her ears. “You’d think they’d never seen anyone kissing in a car before,” she said, whipping her hair over her shoulders. She buried her face in the menu, trying to hide her embarrassment.

This was going to be one of those days. She’d probably get food poisoning next, break her leg leaving the restaurant, and be run over by a truck on the way to the hospital.

“Pat, this entire menu consists of hot dogs.”

“It’s their specialty.”

“Okay,” she said, “I think I’ll have a hot dog. I’ll have number seven.”

“Kamikaze Dog? It says here it’s topped with everything but Astroturf.”

“Sounds great.”

He glanced skeptically at her. “If you say so,” he murmured, then gave their order to a waitress.

Megan looked around. “The hot dogs must be either good or cheap,” she said. “This place is packed.”

People stood three deep around the oval bar, chomping on hot dogs, drinking beer, shouting to friends. Two walls were lined with wooden booths, and a small area had been set aside in the rear where a serious dart game was taking place. The room was brightly lit and decorated with college pennants riddled with dart holes, save the William and Mary pennant. Not exactly the atmosphere she’d anticipated for a proposal, but what the heck, she decided. You had to be flexible about these things.

The waitress brought their beers.

Megan folded her hands and leaned forward. “Let’s talk.”

Pat took a long draft of beer, searching his mind for a safe topic. “I circumcised Roger Bruno today. And Cynthia Kramer fainted when she got her DPT booster.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Oh.”

She lowered her lashes coyly. “Can you think of something else to talk about?”

“The weather hasn’t been very good lately.”

“Deep – six the weather talk.”

Pat wrapped his fingers around his beer glass and concentrated on the specks of foam still clinging to the sides. He suspected Megan wanted to talk about either sex or babies. Not subjects he was eager to approach just then, since he was feeling desperate about both. If she made any more suggestions like the ones in the car, he’d have to cover his lap with his jacket. And babies. He was up to his armpits in babies. He was getting new patients so fast, he couldn’t remember their names. He’d never wanted to be that kind of doctor. He wanted to be an old – fashioned family doctor. The kind who recognized his patients on the street and got invited to baptisms and weddings.