His Pregnant Texas Sweetheart (Peach Leaf, Texas)

by Amy Woods

  She only wanted Ryan Ford.

  He’d been so attentive, so sweet back at his hotel room, taking such good care of her. Surely he hadn’t behaved that way just because they’d slept together?

  That seemed unlikely, given the way he’d spoken to her last night, the way he’d told her he wanted to be a part of her and her baby’s lives. He’d said he wanted to take care of her and spend far more time with her.

  So where the hell is he now?

  Katie picked up her glass to take another sip of water, letting the cool liquid slide down her still-dry throat.

  If she could’ve found her phone, she would have texted him, but she searched the small table by her hospital bed and it wasn’t there. Finally, exhausted, she curled into a ball and attempted to sleep, trying hard not to think about the fact that he was nowhere to be found at the very second she needed him the most.

  * * *

  Ryan’s phone, always a little busy, was buzzing with such frequency he briefly wondered if the apocalypse had come while he’d been running, and escaped his notice.

  He pulled it out of his jeans pocket and stared at it, full of guilt.

  The most recent text was from June, who was back at the hospital with Katie—the hospital he really should have stayed at—and, from the number of times an expletive popped up in her short narratives, was mad as hell.

  It had not been his intention to worry anyone, and it certainly was not because he was attempting to run from his problems. Ryan knew as well as anyone that such a thing wasn’t possible.

  No. It was something different; a sort of panic had set off inside of him like an alarm, warning him that if he didn’t get out of there soon, he might explode.

  So, he’d busted through the front doors of the hospital and started running, first to his car and then, when he’d dressed for it, all the way around Peach Leaf.

  Now he rubbed his eyes as he pulled up to the familiar old house, looking forward to the visit ahead about as much as one would a root canal.

  But he knew what he needed to do.

  He didn’t deserve to let Katie love him until he was exactly the kind of man she needed and the kind he wanted to be. Honest, true and capable of forgiveness.

  He shoved his foot on the parking brake with more force than necessary, letting some of his body’s pent-up energy go. This would not be easy. Hell, he wasn’t even sure it was possible, but he would do it for Katie; he would do anything for Katie.

  He knew now, without even the slightest shadow of doubt, that he loved her and that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. All of it—from the very highest moment of happiness to, God forbid, the lowest low.

  But he had to do this first.

  Ryan opened the door and stepped out of his truck, pausing to lean against the vehicle and study the house he grew up in.

  Aside from his father’s affair and the resulting damage, Ryan had many good memories from his childhood. His mother had made the perfect home; it was beautiful like the rooms from a home and garden magazine and had mostly been full of warmth. She did all the things she could to make his life comfortable and safe. Even though she spent a great deal of her time volunteering and giving her time to others with greater need than their family, she still somehow managed to give Ryan all the attention he needed.

  When he’d come home from school, the house was always filled with the scent of baking cookies, and she would join him with a glass of milk to ask about his day, listening intently to his every word as though they were the most important things in her world. Then his mother, the sharply intelligent Harvard grad, would help him with his homework, making sure he realized the importance of reading, of education, before letting him run off to play with his friends. He’d enjoyed a lot of good times before his father’s affair, before the clipped, quiet arguments he heard at night behind his parents’ bedroom door when they thought he’d been asleep. His mother had tried so hard to shield him from the more painful sides of life, and he supposed he respected that—he imagined that when the time came, he would do the same, but it hadn’t helped him in the end. His world had been so sheltered as a beloved only child that he’d ended up lacking the coping skills it required to be a good man.

  His hasty departure from the hospital was the perfect example.

  He knew in his heart that he should have stayed, and he knew he would have to go back and face the consequences of his actions after he was done here; he just hoped Katie would be able to see the real him and let him back in once more.

  He stared up at the large white Victorian, its wraparound porch surrounded by pristine landscaping...and then he dared a look next door.

  Katie’s house.

  Butter yellow, with a porch covered in an array of pots filled with bougainvillea, her home wasn’t anywhere near as large or immaculate as Ryan’s parents’, but he knew it contained far more warmth.

  All right, enough.

  It was time.

  Ryan stepped up to the porch and placed a hand on the polished brass knocker, pounding it into the door three times.

  He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until it opened and his eyes landed on his mother.

  “Mom,” he said, lurching forward to wrap her in his arms before she even had a chance to speak. Her frame felt only slightly thinner than it had in the past, he noticed as he held her. He was glad there was still meat on her bones in the wake of her illness and, even though her snowy hair wasn’t as thick as it had always been, the change was so subtle that Ryan couldn’t be sure if it was a result of the cancer or her age; he hoped for the latter.

  “Oh, Ryan, honey,” she said, squeezing her arms around him before backing away to get a better look. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  She stepped back from the doorway and waved an arm. “Come on in, son.”

  Ryan obeyed, following her down the shining marble floor of the foyer. He wasn’t surprised when she led him to the kitchen, and he half expected her to pull a sheet of cookies out of the oven, but instead, she pulled out two mugs and filled a kettle with water.

  “That’s okay, Mom,” he said, smiling when she turned from fussing with a blue enamel tea caddy. “You don’t have to make me anything.”

  “Nonsense,” she said, turning back to choose two bags. “You look like you could use a cup of tea. Besides, it’ll ensure that you stick around for more than five minutes.”

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice betraying his worry. “Are you getting enough rest?”

  “Hush now, Ryan. I don’t want to talk about that. I want you to tell me how you’re doing. How is that successful firm of yours?” Her eyes, still the vivid blue they’d always been, shined, and he could see how happy she was to have him sitting in her kitchen. For a second, he couldn’t recall why it was he’d stayed away for so long.

  Suddenly, seeing his mother join him at the kitchen table was far more important than any of the reasons he’d dreamed up over the years for staying away. Yes, they had their vacations together, but somehow it wasn’t the same. His mother had always been a woman who loved her home, and she looked at peace there in a way she never had on their trips.

  Ryan did what she asked and caught her up on his business, which they hadn’t discussed the week before. She was pleased to hear that it was still doing well, saying as much before she peppered him with more questions. After she’d poured their tea, they talked for over an hour, and it felt good to laugh with her again.

  Suddenly, his mom’s mood changed and she looked down into her tea. Ryan reached out for her hand, afraid she was going to tell him that her cancer was worse, but instead, she asked him about Katie.

  “Your father mentioned you took her to the Pumpkin Fest,” his mom said, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I was very glad to hear that, you know.”

  Ryan swallowed over the boulder that appeared in his throat at the mention of Katie’s name. “Yes, I did.”

  “And?” his mom asked, clasping a warm
hand over his cool one.

  “And,” he answered, unable to keep a smile from his voice, “She’s...Katie. Still the same old wonderful, gorgeous Katie.”

  His mom’s eyes darkened a shade. “But...”

  Ryan inhaled slowly and let the air back out. “But...I messed up with her again.” He met his mother’s eyes. “I seem to have a particular knack for screwing up when it comes to that girl.”

  “Well, son, to tell the truth, I wasn’t happy when you married Sarah.” She held up a hand to keep him from speaking before she’d finished what she had to say. “I know you had your reasons, but I always thought you and Katie would...end up together.” She took a sip of her tea and pulled away the hand that held his, wrapping both of hers around her mug. “She’s always been the perfect woman for you, Ryan.”

  “I know that, Mom. I know. I think it just...took a long time for me to see that, even though it seems so obvious. I think part of me was just afraid.”

  His mother narrowed her eyes and her eyebrows knit together. “Afraid of what, son?”

  Ryan drained the last of his tea and set his mug down on the table’s old, finished oak surface. “Afraid of losing her, I guess, even though I never really had her to begin with, did I?” He gave a sad chuckle. “And mostly, I was—am—afraid I’m not a good enough man for her.”

  His mom’s eyes filled with moisture and Ryan had to look away to keep his from doing the same.

  “Ryan,” she said, “what happened with your and Sarah’s baby wasn’t your fault. You had nothing to do with the death of that child.”

  He studied his hands as she spoke to keep a bundle of raw emotions from taking over.

  “You have to let her go if you’re going to give your heart to someone else.”

  “That’s just the thing, though. You see, Katie’s pregnant and the father, well, he’s a total ass, but the thing is, I want to be there for her, if she’ll have me. I want to be a dad to her baby, but I’m not sure I can go through that again. She’s at the hospital now. She collapsed and I took her there. The doctor says it’s preeclampsia and that she’ll be okay, but I just don’t know if I can handle losing another child...or losing her.”

  Annabelle Ford closed her eyes and then opened them again before shoving her mug aside. “Listen, son,” she said. “You have got to stop thinking like that. You have to stop being afraid of something that happened when you were barely more than a child, and get on with your life. I’m sorry to have to put it so frankly, but there it is, Ryan.”

  He nodded, knowing she was right, even though it was hard to admit, hard to let her words sink into the place in his heart that needed them to heal.

  “Life is full of hard things, son. You can’t let that stop you from living it.” She smiled. “You’re only here for such a short time, anyway. Even if you insist on being a stubborn ass, you might as well make the best of it.”

  Ryan felt a laugh begin deep in his belly, and as his mother’s wisdom began to filter in, a ray of hope shot through him, and he knew that he could do this. He could finally let go of the baby he’d lost and, if Katie would let him, he’d be the best father he could for the little one he hoped she’d share with him.

  There was just one more thing he had to do first.

  Chapter Fourteen

  After promising his mom he would return later for dinner, Ryan left the kitchen and headed down the hallway, stopping in at a powder room to splash his face.

  After years of believing he hated his father, he was surprised to find that, after seeing Katie in potential danger and after speaking with his mother, all he had left in him was low-grade agitation and disappointment.

  He wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to completely get over what had happened. From where he stood, he was sure his distaste for what his dad had done to his mom would always remain somewhere in the background; it might become easier to tolerate, like the hum of a hearing aid or a consistent, dull pain, but the truth was, no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to look at his father again and see the man he’d known before.

  Forgive and forget, the adage preached.

  The forgiveness, Ryan thought, he could manage, or at least he could work on it and hope to get better with time, but did anyone ever truly forget the deep wounds of childhood?

  But he owed it to Katie and her child to put his past behind him as best he could. And, if he was going to be a dad himself, he needed to be able to teach his kids that family was family and that unconditional love was paramount. Maybe, he thought, over time he would come to believe those things, though he would rather cut off his own arm than ever consider cheating on Katie.

  To Ryan, love in its purest form should be a precious combination of loyalty, faithfulness, kindness and unfaltering support. He’d always expected it of others, and he wouldn’t think of giving Katie any less than that.

  He’d always held himself to high standards, and much of his disappointment in life was the result of being let down when the people in his world did not fulfill them.

  He supposed he’d have to work on loosening up a little, on meeting the people in his life where they stood, rather than expecting absolute perfection from them.

  After all, he wasn’t perfect, so how could he expect everyone else to be?

  Ryan paused at the last door on the right, raising his fist and then lowering it again, over and over, until he finally just bit the bullet and knocked.

  “Come in,” his father’s gruff voice came from behind the door, and Ryan twisted the pewter knob to open it.

  “Dad?” he said, facing his father, who was seated at his large cedar desk. The old man wore reading glasses and a stack of papers was sprawled in front of him.

  “Hello, son,” his father said, glancing up at Ryan before turning his attention back to the work. “Come on in and have a seat.”

  “Actually, if it’s all the same to you, Dad, I’d prefer to stand.”

  Ryan’s father put his pen down and met his son’s eyes. His were clouded with something that Ryan couldn’t identify—confusion, maybe, or curiosity.

  “That’s just fine, son,” he said, leaning back in his chair, setting his hands in his lap.

  Ryan shoved his own hands into his pockets and began to pace, an old habit he returned to each time he had something important to get off his chest, or something stressful to get through, like a presentation at work. Speaking to his own father shouldn’t have felt so difficult, but maybe Ryan could finally get out all the things he’d always needed to say to the older man. Then, perhaps, some of the tension would dissipate, or at least whittle down to something they could work through...together. Ryan was willing to do so if his father was.

  He wandered the expansive office, studying the bookshelves, noting the familiar leather volumes, the gilt-framed photographs of Ryan and his mother, of the three of them with family dogs over the years. He came to a particular one of his mother—one he’d never seen before. In the shot, Mom was sitting on a bench, a sketch pad or a notebook on her lap, Ryan couldn’t be sure which, and she was looking off into the distance at something only she could see. Her eyes were the color of periwinkles, calm but full of life, like the river he and Katie swam in only a couple of days before. It was an incredibly simple, amateurish shot, but even a stranger could see that the photographer was completely enamored of its subject, of the wildly beautiful woman sitting there, heart full of dreams.

  Ryan’s stomach clenched.

  “How could you do it, Dad?” he asked, the mild tension in the room growing thicker in an instant. “How could you cheat on Mom?”

  The question was direct, but Ryan’s voice wasn’t accusatory, merely sad and lost, which was exactly how he’d felt all those years ago upon finding out what his dad was up to behind his mother’s back.

  Ryan didn’t turn to look at his father; he didn’t need to see what emotions were warring on the man’s face to know that he’d stirred something deep.

  A long moment passed b
efore his father cleared his throat, which did little to remove the gravel, or the genuine sorrow, from his voice.

  “I want you to know that what I’m about to say is not my way of excusing what I did,” he said, pausing as if to measure his words carefully. “I know that what I did was unforgiveable, son, and it’s not an excuse.”

  Ryan turned to face his father and what he saw jostled something in the very bottom of his heart. The older man’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears, the normally hard ice-blue softened into cool water.

  “Rather,” he continued, “it’s a reason.”

  Ryan stopped pacing and pulled out one of the leather chairs in front of the desk, sitting down. He folded his hands in his lap and loosened his clenched jaw, hoping his features were gentle enough to encourage his dad to go on.

  “You see, son, your mom and I...we married very young. Younger even than when you married Sarah, and not for the same reason.”

  Ryan watched as his dad traveled through his memories, settling on the day he’d first met Annabelle.

  “I loved her dearly from the second I laid eyes on her, as cliché as that might sound. And, Lord knows why, she felt the same. We wed right when I graduated, when she was still a junior in high school. That wasn’t so strange back then.”

  He hesitated, seeming to think about the past before he could move on.

  “I thought she’d hung the moon, your mom. She was such a beauty...still is,” he said, grinning. “And we were happy for a long time, we really were.” He frowned. “But things weren’t perfect. We had our problems just like any other married couple and, after you were born, Annabelle became distant for a while. It may have been postpartum depression, or something else, I don’t really know, and she always said she didn’t need to talk to a physician about it. But that doesn’t matter. What I’m trying to say is that we grew apart, and that division lasted for quite some time.”

  The older man’s brows knit. “There was a period there when she said she wasn’t sure she loved me anymore.”

  He closed his eyes and Ryan swallowed, concerned that if he moved too much, his father might lose the story that they both needed him to finish telling.