Baby in the Making

by Elizabeth Bevarly

  Careful, he echoed to himself. He was actually being careful with Hannah. He was never careful with anyone. Anything. Careful was the last thing he ever wanted to be. But then, Hannah was a careful person, and what the two of them were trying to do—create a life together—took care. That was all there was to his reaction. It wasn’t like he’d actually begun to, well, care for her. No more than he had before, anyway.

  The dock was attached to a clearing on the riverbank that disappeared into the forest a few hundred feet away. Yeager was familiar with the area and knew it was rife with common fossils and less common arrowheads, so they shed their shoes to dry in a patch of sunshine and spent some time looking around. When he pointed out a handful of brachiopods and trilobites to Hanna, he might as well have been pouring diamonds into her lap, so delighted was her reaction. He reminded himself again that, in spite of her rocky upbringing, she’d led a fairly sheltered life. It was hard to fathom the contradiction. Hannah just seemed like such an anomaly sometimes.

  By the time they finished lunch, their clothes and shoes were dry. Yeager packed the remnants of their meal in the cooler and secured it back in the moored raft, then rejoined Hannah on the dock.

  “Don’t we need to take those with us?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Someone will be coming for them later.”

  “The same someone who dropped them off at the first dock?”

  Now he nodded. “Ends of the Earth contracts with other travel professionals all over the world. I found one in Raleigh that got everything set up for us here, from where we started in the raft to where we’ll be camping. They’ll pick up the Land Rover, too, and deliver it to the campsite so we’ll have it if we need it.”

  She eyed him thoughtfully. “You know, when you said we’d be having an epic adventure, I had a picture of us machete-ing our way through the Everglades while dodging alligators or hang gliding across the Grand Canyon. I wasn’t planning on coolers full of lobster and San Pellegrino and Land Rovers at our disposal.”

  Yeager smiled. “Yeah, well, normally machete-ing among alligators is the kind of trip Ends of the Earth puts together. The hang gliding is more likely to happen over an active volcano.”

  She started to laugh, then realized he was serious.

  “Anyway, I’m having to break you in gently,” he pointed out. Not to mention he’d been trying to do something a little romantic, which rarely included machetes and often included lobster.

  “I didn’t say you had to break me in gently,” she told him. “I just said I couldn’t travel outside the US this first time.”

  “Fine. Next time, we can go someplace where there’s a political coup happening during a tsunami.”

  “If there is a next time,” she said.

  Right. Because if her calculations were correct, and everything went according to plan, this would be the only time the two of them did this. For some reason the realization didn’t sit well with Yeager. In spite of what he’d just said about political coups and tsunamis—as fun as that would have been—he already had their next time planned, and it would be a shame to have spent an entire week working on it for nothing. Hannah was going to love canyoneering in Morocco. Which reminded him...

  “Just in case, did you apply for your passport?”

  “Yes.”

  “And did you—”

  “Yes, I paid the extra fee for expediting it,” she answered before he could even put voice to the question. “I should have it in a couple of weeks.”

  “Good.”

  “If I need it.”

  Why was she harping on if? Was it such a hardship for her, sexing it up with him? Hell, she’d enjoyed that kiss as much as he had.

  He decided to change the subject. “Ready to hike? We’re burning daylight here.”

  He told himself he did not sound impatient. There were still a lot of hours to fill before bedtime and the hike to their campsite would only use up a few. But that was okay. Just because Hannah wanted to wait until nightfall for the main event didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy themselves before they enjoyed each other.

  Six

  It was dusk by the time Hannah and Yeager arrived at their campsite, made even duskier by the trees that towered overhead, obscuring what little was left of the sunlight. She was more than ready to call it a day. A walk in the park. Ha! Maybe if it was Yellowstone Park and the walk involved all eight billion acres of it. She’d figured hiking and walking were two different things, but she’d assumed those differences lay mostly in hiking being more vertical and walking being more horizontal. She now knew that hiking was actually different from walking in that it was like dousing your legs and feet in gasoline and then setting them on fire.

  When they finally reached their destination, however, her mood improved considerably. Because, as the hiking path emptied into a clearing surrounded by evergreens that disappeared into a purpling sky, she saw a campsite setup that was more reminiscent of a vintage Hollywood epic than a modern epic adventure.

  A round, canvas tent stood in the center, its flaps thrown back to reveal a platform bed with a pile of pillows. There was a copper chandelier with a dozen candles flickering in its sconces—the kind that worked on batteries, not the kind that could, left unattended, leave the Smoky Mountains in ashes—and a few others twinkled on a bedside table. To the right of the tent was a copper fire pit ready for lighting and a love seat laden with more pillows. On the other side was a table and chairs—set with fine china and crystal—and an oversize copper ice chest brimming with bottles and other containers. Across it all zigzagged strings of tiny white lights that glimmered like stars. Hannah had never seen a sight more dazzling.

  “You didn’t tell me we’d be glamping,” she said with much delight.

  “Glamping?” Yeager echoed dubiously.

  When she turned to look at him, she could see he wasn’t as charmed by the tableau as she was. In fact, the expression on his face probably would have been the same if he were staring at the stuff in the back of the butcher shop that never made it into the case.

  “Yeah, glamping,” she repeated. “Part glamour, part camping. I saw it on Project Runway.”

  “There is no glamour in camping,” he stated decisively. “I mean, I didn’t expect us to kill and clean our own dinner or sleep out in the open, but this...” He shook his head. “Adventure travel should never include throw pillows and wineglasses. I knew it was a bad idea to hire a company called Vampin’ ‘n’ Campin’. There are way too many apostrophes in that name for it to be taken seriously. Unfortunately they were the only ones available on short notice.”

  “Well, I’m glad you did,” she told him. “This is wonderful.”

  He made his way toward the site. Still sounding disgusted, he muttered, “The privy is probably copper-plated, too.”

  “There, see? We will, too, be roughing it,” she said. “I’ve never spent a day of my life without plumbing or electricity.” Although a couple of her foster homes had come close. She kept that to herself. No need to spoil the beauty of the moment. “And there’s no tech out here. Talk about primitive conditions.”

  He made his way to the ice chest, withdrew a bottle to inspect its label, then grinned. “I guess this glamping thing has its upside. We won’t have to drink our Clos du Mesnil warm. Now that would be roughing it.”

  Hannah joined him. “That ice isn’t going to last three days,” she said.

  “No, but the solar-powered fridge and freezer they set up behind the tent will.”

  “Ah. Is the privy solar-powered, too?” she asked hopefully.

  “It is. And compostable.”

  “And I think that’s all I want to know about the plumbing. Unless,” she added even more hopefully, “you also arranged for a solar-powered shower.”

  He chuckled. “It’s not solar-powe
red, but there is a shower.”

  Considering the amount of sweating she’d done in the last few hours, Hannah definitely wanted to hear about that. “Okay, you can tell me about the shower.”

  “Actually, I can do better than that. I can show it to you.”

  She sighed. “That would be wonderful. I’d love to get clean before dinner.”

  “There should be some towels in the tent,” he said. “Our bags should be in there, too. Grab whatever else you need.”

  When she entered the tent, she did, indeed, find their overnight bags, so she opened hers to collect some clean underwear, a red tank top and striped pajama bottoms, all of which would doubtless be a far cry from what Yeager’s usual girlfriends wore for a night with him. But it was the best she could do on short notice and short funds. Not that she was Yeager’s girlfriend, so she couldn’t be held to that standard, anyway. Even so, she was now wishing she’d had the foresight to cough up a few bucks for something that at least hinted at seduction. She tried to remind herself that she and Yeager weren’t here for romance. But that didn’t quite feel right, either.

  She found the towels on a folding wooden chair, underneath a bar of soap and bottle of shampoo, both environmentally friendly. Hannah didn’t care what Yeager thought about Vampin’ ‘n’ Campin’. As far as she—a lover of the Great Indoors—was concerned, they did camping just fine.

  She emerged from the tent to find him waiting for her near a break in the trees, looking almost otherworldly in the growing darkness. His black hair was silvered by the moonlight, his biceps strained against his T-shirt, and a shadow fell across his face, imbuing him with just enough of the sinister to send a ribbon of apprehension shimmying through her.

  Was she really going to go through with this tonight? Could she? Even considering everything that was at stake, she was beginning to have her doubts. Yeager was just so...so... She battled a wave of apprehension. So intimidating. He was almost literally twice the man of any guy she’d ever dated. She normally went for guys who were born to be mild. The ones who carried a novel by some obscure author in their messenger bags and whose clothes were always adorably rumpled. Guys who spent the weekend working on their bicycles and whose dinner orders never included substitutions. Safe guys. Predictable guys. Uncomplicated guys. How was she going to react to guys like that after a few nights with Yeager? Especially if he would be popping in and out of her life forever once those nights were concluded?

  Maybe she should go the sperm bank route. If she changed her mind right now and asked Yeager to take her back to New York tonight, she might still have time to get pregnant this month. Her baby’s father would be anonymous and in no way a part of their lives. Then, someday, she’d meet a safe, predictable, uncomplicated guy she could have more children with. She and Safe Guy could spend the rest of their days raising their family among Consumer Reports–endorsed products in their picket-fenced, asbestos-and lead-free home that was landscaped with noninvasive, allergen-free plants, while they protected their children from perils like sugary breakfast cereal, dog breeds weighing more than seven pounds and team sports.

  Yeah. That sounded like a great life. She couldn’t wait to get started on that. Then she’d never have to suffer the heart-racing dangers of Yeager again.

  “Did you forget something?” he asked when she made no move to join him.

  Yeah. Her sense of self-preservation. But that was way too big to pack in an overnight bag.

  “No, I think I’m ready.”

  Overstatement of the century.

  He tilted his head toward the opening in the trees, so she forced her feet to move forward until she came to a halt beside him. Up close, he looked a little less sinister and a lot more seductive, so she decided—oh, all right—she could go through with having sex with him if she had to. She didn’t want to waste a perfectly good ovulation, after all. At least, she hoped it was perfect.

  Yeager eyed her thoughtfully for a few seconds and Hannah was torn between wishing she knew what he was thinking and hoping she never found out.

  All he said, though, was, “It’s this way.” Then he preceded her down the path.

  Oh, joy. More hiking.

  The trees swallowed them up again, but Hannah didn’t mind so much this time. With the sun down, the night was growing cooler and a gentle breeze rocked the leaves in the trees. Soft bursts of light erupted here and there, and it took her a moment to realize they were fireflies. She’d never seen even one, let alone the dozens that suddenly surrounded them, and she couldn’t help the laughter that rippled from inside her.

  “What’s so funny?” Yeager asked, glancing over his shoulder.

  “Fireflies,” she said. “I’ve never seen them in person.”

  He stopped abruptly, turning to look at her. “You’re joking.”

  She halted, too, since his big body blocked the path. “No, I’m not. I told you—I’ve never been out of New York.”

  “There are fireflies in New York,” he said.

  “Not in the neighborhoods where I’ve lived.”

  “You’ve never been outside the City of New York?” he asked incredulously. “I thought you meant the state.”

  She shook her head. “No, I meant the five boroughs.”

  He studied her in silence for a moment, but his face was in shadow again, so she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Finally he said, “What, one of the families you lived with couldn’t even take you to Jones Beach for the day?”

  In response Hannah only shrugged. Of course none of the families she’d lived with took her to Jones Beach. For most of them, she’d just been a way to add some money to their bank accounts. And for the few who had genuinely cared for the children they took in, all the money they received went to feed and clothe those children. There had never been anything left for luxuries like day trips.

  “But you’ve seen the ocean, right?” Yeager asked. “Surely you hit Coney Island or Rockaway Beach at some point when you were a teenager.”

  “I didn’t, actually,” she confessed. “My friends and I preferred prowling Manhattan whenever we had a little free time. And, truth be told, on those rare occasions I found myself with a little extra money to do stuff, I spent it on fabric instead.”

  He said nothing for another moment. “You’ve never seen the ocean?”

  “No. I haven’t. Or, if I did before I lost my mom, I don’t remember it.”

  “How is that possible?”

  Again she shrugged. Even as an adult freed from the confines of the foster care system, Hannah had never felt the need or desire to explore beyond the city. She just wasn’t one to stray outside her comfort zone, even for small adventures. She liked knowing where she was and how to navigate her surroundings. The thought of taking a day trip someplace had just never appealed to her.

  Yet here she was, hundreds of miles away from home—and for more than just a day—and she didn’t feel unsettled at all. She hadn’t even been nervous about boarding a plane or leaving New York. On the contrary, she’d been excited before they’d left, and she’d had a lot of fun today. Enough to make her think she should have tried something like this a long time ago.

  But it was only because Yeager was with her, she told herself. He was familiar enough to her to offset the strangeness of this trip. She couldn’t do this all the time, especially not alone. And, hey, she didn’t want to do this all the time. Once she was settled back in New York, she’d return to being her usual complacent self again. She was sure of it.

  Another sound suddenly joined the rustle of leaves overhead, drawing her attention away from her thoughts and back to the night surrounding them. Because even though this was her first time in the Great Outdoors, she recognized the sound. A waterfall. The shower Yeager had promised her was a waterfall. She’d assumed they were finished with adventures for the day—well, except for th
e greatest adventure of all that was still looming—yet here he was, presenting her with another. His life really was one exploit after another.

  They exited the trees onto the banks of the river they’d navigated earlier, though here, it wasn’t wide and rough with rapids. Here, it was narrow and flowed like silk. The waterfall was only about eight feet high, spilling into the river with a gentle percussion that sent ripples gliding outward. The sun had well and truly set by now, and the moon hung overhead like a bright silver dollar, surrounded by hundreds of glittering stars. Hannah had never seen the moon so bright and had never seen more than a few stars in the sky above her. She made her way carefully toward where Yeager had stopped on the edge of a rock, but she was so busy staring at the sky, she nearly walked right past him and into the river. He stopped her with a gentle hand to her shoulder, turning her until she faced him.

  “Easy there, Sacagawea,” he said. “The trail you’re about to blaze could be your last.”

  She laughed, still looking at the sky. “I can’t help it. It’s so beautiful here.”

  “It’s just your run-of-the-mill woods, Hannah.”

  Now she looked at Yeager. “It’s not run-of-the-mill for me.”

  As she toed off her sneakers, she thought about how she must seem like an absolute freak to him. Her world was so tiny in comparison to his, her life experience virtually nonexistent. He lived for risk and danger, two things she wanted no part of. They couldn’t be more different or less suited to each other. But that was good, right? It meant there was no chance of any messy emotional stuff getting in the way of their, ah, enterprise.

  For a moment they only gazed at each other in silence. Well, except for the chirping of the crickets and the whisper of the wind and the shuffle of the waterfall. And, okay, the beating of Hannah’s heart, which seemed to be loudest of all.

  Yeager, however, seemed not to notice any of it, because he reached behind him and grabbed a handful of his T-shirt, pulling it over his head. “Come on,” he said. “Last one in’s a rotten egg.”