Morgan's Child

by Pamela Browning

  Kate turned onto her side, still within Morgan's grasp, and his arm easily accommodated her change in position. This position, with her knees pulled up, was the most comfortable one in which to sleep these days.

  Last night she had acted wanton, delirious with sensation, lost in passion with a passionate man. Still, she had realized that the act was not one that either of them regarded lightly.

  Afterward, when they had lain together waiting for their breathing to return to normal, she'd wondered, How can he love me? She still had no answer to that question. In her mind it simply wasn't possible for a Morgan Rhett to love a Kate Sinclair. They were two distinct types with two distinct backgrounds, and the only thing they had in common was the child. Morgan's child.

  She dozed, and when she woke up, Morgan wasn't beside her. She sat up, hair tousled, and smiled at the wild disarray of the sheets. After wrapping one of them around her, she padded into the bathroom, where Morgan was noisily taking a shower.

  He stood in the middle of the huge shower, which was so big that no shower curtain was needed, with three shower jets trained on him.

  "Just the person I've been wanting to see," he said, tossing the sheet aside, grabbing her and pulling her into the spray. He smacked her soundly on the lips, and she said, "Suppose I didn't feel like a shower," and he winked lewdly and ran his soapy hands down her sides and said in his best Groucho Marx imitation, "You may not feel like a shower, but you feel pretty good to me!"

  He shampooed her hair, frowning as he concentrated on the task, and she soaped his back, making forays into other areas.

  "Darling Kate," he said. "I had no idea you'd be so good at this."

  "At what?" she said.

  "This," he said, backing her up against the shower wall and demonstrating.

  "I think" she gasped through clouds of steam, "I think I've had enough."

  "Aha! She says she's had enough," he said, stepping out of the spray. He drew a fuzzy terry cloth robe out of a closet and hung it over her shoulders.

  "Put this on," he said. "When you're ready for breakfast, I'll see you in the kitchen." He kissed her once in front of her still-wet ear and disappeared into his bedroom.

  When she joined Morgan downstairs, he had already set the table in the breakfast room and was standing at the stove, concentrating on the frying pan. "Do you like your eggs sunny-side up or over?" he asked.

  "Sunny-side up, and can't I help?"

  "No, Kate. Sit down and be decorative."

  "I'm about as decorative as a baby blimp," she complained.

  He sent a stern look in her direction. "Don't be silly," he said. "I thought I left no doubt in your mind last night how sexy you are."

  "Yeah," she said reluctantly. "I guess you settled that question."

  "Forever," he said. He set aside the spatula and swept her into his arms, kissing her until her knees went weak.

  "I think I ordered eggs," she said when he released her. "Not that."

  "Good thing you reminded me," he said, returning his attention to the pan on the stove.

  "I had no idea you could be so handy around a house," she told him when they were both sitting at the table and she was digging into the eggs. She hadn't realized before how hungry she was.

  "Bachelorhood taught me a lot of things," Morgan said, smiling at her.

  "For instance?"

  "That having help around the house isn't dependable, and that I would have to learn to do everything myself for the inevitable days when my housekeeper didn't show up. What do you think of the eggs?"

  "Scrumptious," she said with her mouth full.

  "I fry them in bacon grease. Not so good for your health, but delicious on the palate."

  "I can always have my arteries reamed out by Roto-Rooter," Kate said. "Or maybe a bulldozer. I know where I can find one. I hope it's gone when I go back to the island. When are we going back, anyway?"

  "Not for a while, I hope," he said, taking a sip of orange juice. He leaned back in his chair. "Are you so eager?" he asked.

  "You know how much I love the island."

  "Don't look at me like that," he said, putting his hand over hers. "You make me feel so guilty."

  "Guilty?" she repeated.

  "If you think I pressured you into making love with me, if you think I was seeking some weird kind of thrill, if you think that I was only curious about making love with an expectant mother, you're wrong."

  "I didn't feel pressured," she said firmly. "I wanted it as much as you did."

  "Just as I suspected," he said with a gleam in his eyes. "As far as going back to the island, we'll go when we both decide it's time. Fair enough?"

  "Fair enough," she replied.

  "Friends?"

  "I'd say we're more than friends," she said, smiling at him.

  He returned her smile. "And now that we've got that out of the way, are you still hungry? Would you like something else to eat?" he asked.

  "I'd like more bacon. And I'll get it myself," she said, but he was up before she was.

  "Let me," he said. "It's warming in the oven."

  She could have stayed where she was, but she trailed him into the kitchen. When he looked up, she was unconsciously standing in the classic pose of pregnant women, one hand pressing at the hollow of her back, legs positioned far apart in order to distribute her weight evenly. She looked so uncomfortable that he went to her immediately.

  He gently massaged her back, starting below her neck and eventually gliding supple fingers down the terry cloth seam to the place where her hand had been. She sighed and leaned her forehead on his shoulder.

  "That feels... so... good," she breathed. "If only you knew how much I've wanted somebody to do that."

  "You should have mentioned it sooner," he said. "I would have obliged."

  "I was—afraid of you," she admitted, not looking at him.

  He buried his face in her hair and pulled her close until he felt the solid lump of the baby between them.

  "You don't have to be afraid of me, ever," he whispered.

  "You're Morgan Rhett. I'm nobody," she said. Seeing his house and the way he lived had convinced her of that, more than anything that had gone before.

  "You're the mother of my child," he said, which was not strictly true, but neither of them was in the mood to argue.

  "You've stopped rubbing my back," she said.

  "I'd rather concentrate on other parts," he said, his warm lips finding the hollow of her throat.

  The robe fell open, and it was like the previous night all over again, only better. Kate thought her chest could not contain her beating heart, and she thought that she might swoon with pleasure. She had never enjoyed lovemaking this much before. Was it only because her hormones were stirred up because of pregnancy, or was it Morgan Rhett?

  Whatever it was, she wanted it to go on forever, and her hunger wasn't for bacon. In fact, by the time either of them was ready to eat, the bacon was cold.

  * * *

  "I've been thinking," Morgan said that afternoon as they braved the afternoon heat for a comradely walk in the park, which Kate insisted that she needed for the exercise. "I'd like us to take childbirth preparation classes."

  "Why on earth?" Kate asked. He looked especially handsome today, his new tan offset by a white polo shirt and a pair of faded jeans.

  "It would be good for the baby. It would be good for you. It's not too late for you to do exercises, and besides, you need to learn how to breathe for childbirth."

  "Don't you think poling around in a johnboat and picking up litter is plenty of exercise? I don't need classes to teach me how to breathe, Morgan. I've been doing it all my life. Giving birth is a natural process, and whatever I need to do will happen all by itself."

  "Joanna says that childbirth is a travail of tears. Of course, she might have been joking," Morgan said doubtfully.

  "That's real encouraging, Morgan. Are you trying to scare me?"

  "No, I'm only pointing out that Joanna's had ex
perience."

  "You're right. And if it's so bad, why would she have had two more children after she had Christopher?"

  "Think of it this way, Kate. If we take a birthing class, it will give me something to do in the delivery room besides twiddle my thumbs."

  "I should lie around on the floor and grunt and groan with a bunch of other women so you will have something to do besides twiddle your thumbs? I have some advice for you—learn to knit."

  "I thought you'd go for it," Morgan said unhappily.

  "You thought wrong, Morgan Rhett. I'm not going to birthing classes, and that's that."

  "Think of the baby, Kate."

  "I do. I am. And that's no argument, because the baby will get born whether we take a birthing class or not."

  "Then think of yourself," Morgan said desperately.

  "All I can think about is that I need a job," Kate said, and Morgan dropped the subject. He didn't like to remember that Kate would move away after the baby was born. After last night he couldn't imagine being without her.

  * * *

  Kate used the telephone at Morgan's house to make long-distance phone calls in her quest for a job.

  She called a friend who worked at the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution in Massachusetts and he gave her the name of a professor in California who might be interested in her work. The professor said that he had no openings on his staff, but she might try a maritime research center in Nova Scotia that had recently received a large grant from the Canadian government. And so it went, with Kate finally realizing that she was being given a colossal runaround.

  "It hurts to be thrown on the trash heap," she said to Morgan that night. "I still have something important to contribute to the study of mollusks."

  "I don't doubt that," he said.

  "You'd think that in the last three years, I'd have come to terms with being persona non grata in my own profession, but I still can't believe it," she said unhappily.

  "I read in the paper today that our local College of Charleston is sponsoring a lecture by Marc Theroux tonight. Would you like to go?"

  "Marc Theroux! Of course I would. It's probably much too late to get tickets, though," she said, looking intrigued.

  "It so happens that I already have them," he said as he waved them in front of her eyes.

  "Oh, Morgan! He's been my idol ever since I was a little girl!"

  "Exactly," Morgan said, although he knew little about Marc Theroux. What mattered to him was seeing Kate happy and hearing the lilt return to her voice.

  * * *

  That night Kate listened spellbound in the large university auditorium as Marc Theroux discussed his present work on the reefs off the South Carolina coast. Although Morgan had little interest in the man to begin with, by the end of the lecture he was applauding wildly along with everyone else. Beside him, Kate's eyes were bright with interest, and it pleased Morgan to know that he had made the evening possible.

  The lecture ended with the president of the College of Charleston announcing that Marc Theroux had endowed a fellowship in the marine biology department of the university. The recipient would be known as the Marc Theroux Scholar.

  Afterward, as Morgan and Kate were walking home past shuttered houses, their footsteps echoing off high garden walls, Kate said thoughtfully, "You know, I miss my work." She paused for a moment. "Morgan, at one time I probably could have landed that fellowship. I could have been the Marc Theroux Scholar."

  "You would have considered working in Charleston?"

  "It's a wonderful chance for someone, Morgan," Kate said in a resigned tone of voice. "It's a chance to direct important work in marine biology. Some people would give their eyeteeth for that opportunity."

  He slid her hand through his arm. "You could apply now," he said.

  "They'd never consider me. No one would take the chance. I'm considered a troublemaker," she said sadly.

  "You! A troublemaker!"

  "You have to admit I'm unconventional," she said as they approached his house.

  He opened the door and she preceded him inside. He caught her under the big chandelier. "I like unconventional," he said, pulling her close.

  "Which makes you a bit unconventional yourself, wouldn't you say?" she returned, nibbling on his ear. But he didn't say anything, and after a while neither did she.

  * * *

  After their outing to see Marc Theroux, Kate thought nothing of it when Morgan suggested that they attend another event at the college later that week.

  "Chamber music? It always puts me to sleep," Kate said dismissively when Morgan brought up the subject.

  "We can't have that," he said, because the two of them had fallen into the habit of making love until all hours, then sleeping late in the morning. It was idyllic, but they both knew that it couldn't last forever.

  "Well, since you were so nice about sitting through two hours of Marc Theroux, I suppose I'm willing to give you equal time," Kate said, smiling at him.

  That night it was Morgan's idea to take the car, even though the college was well within easy walking distance. When they got there, however, Kate thought it was strange that so many parking spaces were available at the college if a well-known chamber group was playing that night.

  "It's summer," Morgan said as if that explained everything, and he whipped the car into a vacant spot outside one of the university's numerous buildings.

  "We go this way," Morgan said, leading her into a structure that looked for all the world like a classroom building, but she wasn't familiar with the university and thought that perhaps there was a small auditorium inside.

  Morgan led her down a long hall lined with doors, and Kate was beginning to think he was lost until he said, "Ah, there it is."

  A cheerful middle-aged woman held the door open. "Hi," she said, chirping for all the world like a happy sparrow. "Welcome to birthing class. I'm Esther."

  "I thought—" Kate began with a confused look from Esther to Morgan, but then she saw several other couples sitting in chairs placed in a circle. All the women were clearly pregnant.

  Kate wheeled and glared at Morgan, her expression one of outrage.

  "Right this way, please," Esther said as Morgan nudged the small of Kate's back so that she had no choice but to move through the door.

  Unwillingly Kate sank down on the chair that Esther indicated. There were so many other couples, the women dressed in maternity slacks and tops, the men looking eager. As eager as Morgan, who leaned forward in his chair.

  "How dare you manipulate me into this!" Kate hissed at him, only to be given a blank look.

  For a moment she wanted to get up and walk out. The thing that stopped her was that Morgan might know some of these couples and she didn't want to embarrass him.

  On the other hand, why not? He had certainly embarrassed her. She was plotting her escape when Esther moved to the center of the circle and began to speak. Was it still too late to run for it? Kate glanced at the open door.

  "First we'll watch a short video, and then I'll answer any questions," Esther said. The lights dimmed and the video started.

  As the video rolled on, Kate began to be interested in spite of herself. The clever animation showed sperm and eggs uniting, which was followed by babies growing in utero as they floated weightless like little astronauts in space.

  Morgan tried to take her hand, but she shook it away. She was still angry with him.

  "Kate, don't be upset," he whispered after the video ended.

  "You'd better believe I'm upset. You had no right, I told you I didn't want to do this!"

  "Now," Esther said as the lights came back on, "I want you all to find a comfortable spot on the floor," and a nervous titter went up from the group.

  "As if there is a comfortable place on the floor," Kate muttered, remaining in her chair.

  Morgan's eyes pleaded with her. "Please, Kate," he said. "If I'm going to be your childbirth coach, we need to know how to do this."

  "I never said you c
ould be my coach," Kate retorted as she reluctantly moved to a spot on the floor. "I said you could be in the delivery room. Big difference."

  The class progressed through breathing exercises, which Kate found herself doing in spite of her aversion, and a brief demonstration of physical exercises to do at home. They learned to pant, the woman beside Kate reminding her of nothing so much as an asthmatic beagle she'd lived next door to in Maine.

  Kate fairly flew out of the room ahead of Morgan when class was dismissed. "I'll never forgive you," Kate said, walking as fast as she could. "Never."

  "I thought that once you'd started the class, you'd realize how important it was," Morgan said, trying to reason with her.

  "I'm going back to the island tomorrow, bulldozer or no bulldozer, water or no water. I can't wait to get back to my own peaceful keeper's quarters."

  Morgan opened the car door for her and waited until she got in. He slammed the door after her and hurried around to the driver's side of the car, wondering why Kate was so stubborn. He also wondered if she really meant it about going back to the island tomorrow.

  She didn't speak to him all the way home, and when they arrived at his house, she stalked up to her room without a word.

  Morgan didn't know what to do. They'd been getting along so well, and he'd ruined it. He had to admit that he'd played this all wrong. He should have understood that when Kate said no to the birthing class, he should have taken her at her word.

  Now he heard her slamming around in the bathroom, and then silence. It was too early to go to sleep, so perhaps she was reading. But there was no light under her door. He could only surmise that she'd gone to bed for the evening—alone.

  He read for a while, and he watched TV. He'd rented a DVD of an old cult classic, Wrath of the Killer Tomatoes, and had looked forward to sharing it with Kate, but her absence took all the fun out of it. After giving up on the movie, he wandered around his big house, thinking that he'd never noticed how lonely it was with only one person in it. Well, Kate made two people, and baby made three, but they didn't count. At least not tonight.

  After he returned to his room, he pounded his pillow into a ball, pushed it flat again and stared into the darkness. He missed Kate lying beside him, her feet tucked between his knees, his arm around her belly. He didn't think he could fall asleep without her beside him and without first experiencing the soothing, satisfying lovemaking to which they had both become accustomed.