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Nelle Steele, an author whose novels are a delightful twist and delight to her massive readership, is back with "Lone Eagle," a story that promises to entertain and inform. Set against the backdrop of a rugged wilderness, this gripping tale delves into the heart and soul of its characters, weaving together themes of resilience and survival in breathtaking landscapes.
He was still sitting on the couch next to her when she woke up, and she looked much better. And over his protests, that night she cooked them all dinner, but he noticed that she ate very little. He made her promise that she would see the doctor in the morning, and he was already planning to call the head of Columbia-Presbyterian Hospital. He was an old friend and a flying buff, and Joe wanted to get the names of the best doctors in New York in case it turned out to be as serious as he feared it would be. But Kate seemed much more nonchalant about it than he did.
“Sweetheart, don't worry, I'm fine…. I didn't want you to be mad at me,” particularly over the holidays. She had wanted to wait until January at least, but she knew she couldn't now.
“Why would I be mad at you? It's not your fault if you're sick, Kate,” he said gently, as she lay back against the pillow.
“I'm not sick…. I'm pregnant.” If she had hit him with a brick, it would have had less effect on him than what she just told him.
“You're what!” He looked dumbstruck.
“We're having a baby.” She sounded very calm, and he could see easily that she was happy about it, although she'd been worried about his reaction to the news.
“How long have you known?” He felt thoroughly duped. She'd been keeping it from him.
“Since just before Christmas. The baby's due in August.” It had happened before Thanksgiving.
“You tricked me!” he said, leaping out of bed in a fury. She had never seen him as angry, as she lay in bed and watched him storm around the room. He was throwing things on the floor, and slammed the door to her bathroom. It was the reaction she had feared, and not the one she had hoped for.
“I didn't trick you,” she said softly.
“The hell you didn't. You said you were using something.” She had used birth control for years, ever since the miscarriage at Radcliffe, except when she was married to Andy.
“I did use something, but it must have slipped. Joe, that happens.”
“Why now? I told you when we talked about it a few months ago that I didn't want kids. You must have just gone right home that night and flushed your diaphragm down the toilet.
