AFRICAN AMERICAN URBAN FICTION: BWWM ROMANCE: Billionaire Baby Daddy (Billionaire Secret Baby Pregnancy Romance) (Multicultural & Interracial Romance Short Stories)

by Carmella Jones

  John saw the argument coming so he decided to collect more wood for the fire and disappeared without a word, though he silently wished the young woman luck arguing with the spoiled rich kid. Miriam watched John leave, then turned her gaze back to Kade, who was staring at her.

  “Don't I get dinner?” Kade asked, heat in his voice, as he knew what her answer was likely to be.

  “It is right there in the pot. The dishes are in the sideboard of the wagon. There is water in the bag hanging above it. You are a grown man; I figured you would like to get your own food for once.”

  Kade glared at Miriam, but saw the stubbornness settle in her posture. She was not going to get him his dinner. Well, he thought, he wasn’t hungry anyway, and he could be just as resolved as she could. He lowered himself off the log and laid his head on it to look up at the growing night and the distant stars. How dare she treat him this way? The more he thought about it, the angrier he grew. Suddenly, he sat up, and growled across the campsite.

  “Get me my dinner, woman!”

  Miriam heard the anger in his voice, and if they were still in the studio she would have caved. However, out here, with only John, and she was fairly certain the old man was already up to his ears with Kade’s ineptitude with even the simplest tasks, she knew he would not aid Kade. There was no one else to hear them fight, and no one for Kade to throw a successful tantrum with to get his way. So Miriam simply ignored Kade and took another bite of her own dinner, making a show of enjoying it. She smiled as she took a bite, and another, and then a long drink of water. She glanced up from her plate to see Kade standing with his hands on his hips. She swore she could see smoke coming from his ears and nostrils, but she refused to back down. When Kade marched over to her and stood over her, she raised her eyebrows at him.

  “See? Your legs work just fine. Now they can carry you the ten steps to the wagon so you can get your dinner.”

  Kade quickly leaned down to grab Miriam by the shoulders, and Miriam instinctively leaned away. A look Kade had never seen flashed across her face. Kade immediately pulled his hands back and, standing upright, folded his hands behind his back. Seeing Miriam suddenly pale and unable to make eye contact scared Kade. He had never hurt her, and never would, but he saw her react in fear. Suddenly, Kade felt anger at himself. He was so upset that she would not help him that he had been about to pick her up. He felt like he had wanted to shake some sense into her, but now all he felt was shame and anger directed at himself. While Miriam struggled to regain her composure, a single tear escaping and sliding down her cheek, Kade forced himself to turn away.

  Quietly, he found a plate and fork, and he helped himself to the dinner Miriam had prepared. He retook his seat on the log opposite Miriam in sullen silence. When John returned an hour later, his arms full of wood for the fire, he found Kade asleep, leaning against a log, and Miriam already asleep in the wagon. John fed the fire, and then went into his tent for a moment. He came out with a single rough blanket, which he draped over Kade’s body before he helped himself to dinner and then retired for the night as well.

  ***

  The following day, Miriam asked John to drive over the steep incline of the next pass. She was experienced with horses and buggies, but not with rough trails and inclines. She was so nervous about it, when they started up the incline, she asked to be let off the wagon. Instead, she climbed into the saddle of one of the spare horses, and followed from behind. With every spray of loose rocks that caused the wagon horses to slip, or caused the wagon wheels to loose traction, Miriam held her breath and bit her lip.

  Kade, meanwhile, sat next to John completely oblivious to Miriam’s discomfort. The young couple had made up in the middle of the night, after Kade woke up with knots in his back and legs, and feeling every twig and pebble that he had fallen asleep on. He had climbed into the wagon and curled up beside Miriam, who woke up instantly and in a sleepy daze smiled at Kade.

  “I am sorry, "she said simply, and kissed him.

  “Me too,” Kade whispered in reply, and kissing her back, the two got lost in each other’s embrace.

  The morning had been full of flirting and quick kisses as Miriam and John did the bulk of the packing. Kade did attempt to help, but ended up throwing his hands up in frustration when he realized everything he did, Miriam or John went behind to redo and fix. His good mood turned sour as he again felt frustration with himself, and he turned sullen as they all headed toward the pass.

  His mood had not improved, so he and John sat in silence as John navigated the horses and wagon up the steep trail. Kade went over in his head again and again the things he had done that morning. He was trying to be helpful. Yet he seemed to make more work. He suddenly realized he was at a huge disadvantage out there. He knew nothing beyond his painting. He could not start a fire. He could not make a meal. And as that morning proved, he could not do even the most menial of tasks. He was a complete burden on John and Miriam. With that realization, Kade felt a sudden depression settle on him.

  Once the three travelers reached the top of the pass, John stopped the wagon to let the horses rest for the even more dangerous trek down the other side. Kade gazed upon the view from the top of the pass and was inspired to pull out his sketchbook. As he climbed into the back of the wagon to retrieve his pencils and book, Miriam rode up.

  From her saddle, she called out, "Is this not the most incredible view? Both in front of us and even behind us!”

  Kade had not taken in the view from behind them, so he pushed aside the flap at the back of the wagon and looked out. Sure enough. He could see the pass they had crossed the day before, and beyond that, he could see Denver, and then the plains spreading out before the mountain range. He felt as though he were an eagle flying high over the Earth, and the sensation suddenly caused him to be overcome with emotion. He realized he was just a speck on a huge planet, and he needed to leave his mark. He looked down at his sketchbook and looked at Miriam.

  As the two met gazes, they seemed to read each other’s minds.

  Kade would make his mark with the paintings he did of all the incredible places they traveled to. However, he would also make his mark by learning to be more self-sufficient so he could better complement the hard work his wife did to make sure they were successful in their travels. Miriam at the same time realized she would make her mark by being more understanding of her husband’s current limitations, but she could help him learn to become a better and more independent man, and by sharing his interests and talents with him.

  Miriam rode her horse closer to the wagon and hopped inside with Kade. As the two looked over the way they had come, they held hands and leaned into each other, knowing that the way before them was going to be so much better because of the other.

  A Bride’s Calling

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  Victoria Bramwell ran her hand across her slightly swollen belly as she walked across the street in busy downtown Charleston. The war still raged on, but seemed far away in that moment. Areas of Charleston still carried on as though only the rest of the world had gone mad, contributing to the surreal feeling in her gut that something was very wrong. Her thoughts went to her unborn baby. James did not know yet; she had not sent the letter telling him the wonderful news. She hesitated, the letter in her other hand, because she did not want to tell him and maybe cause him to worry even more. She noted the tone of fear and near desperation in his last two letters. She knew from his letters that the North was making it hard for the Confederate soldiers, and yet the South refused to be cowed. More and more men left Charleston every day to fill in the ranks, to take up the call of States’ freedom.

  Victoria smiled to herself as she remembered James’ very passionate display during dinner the day b
efore he joined. One of his distant cousins, Thomas, had snuck into town the day before and had dropped in on Bramwell Estate to ask for help with his cause. Thomas Bramwell was on the other side of the fight, or was supposed to be, but rather than openly fighting for the North, he had joined a secret movement in an effort to help get as many slaves as possible to freedom. The Bramwells were a large family scattered from New York to Philadelphia and down to Charleston, so it was rough on the family as different members took their sides. Still, when a family member showed up on the doorstep, they were welcomed in. So Thomas was.

  What struck Victoria most about the man was how different he was from James, not just in ideals, but also in person. James was fair and blond, of medium build, and of gentle tone. He had just finished his time abroad, having spent several years in England to attend one of their universities. He was well versed in politics and legalities, and as a hopeful for local or state politicics, he felt very strongly about the individual rights of each person and also each individual state’s rights to make decisions as best fit its own people.

  Meanwhile, Thomas was dark skinned, with black hair, and tall with a booming voice and echoing laugh. He had not chosen to follow a more scholarly path. He was content to someday fill his father’s shoes in a factory up North. He was rather brash and demanding, and his view was that slavery was the single most driving point of the division of the country, and the best way he could help was to see its demise by helping people find freedom in the North or beyond the borders of the South to the West. Politics did not matter to him, seeming like wasteful talk in light of the human factor at stake.

  As the two debated passionately over dinner that evening several months before, Victoria and her in-laws had eaten in silence. Thomas had attempted to draw the others into the conversation, but no one took the bait. Then, as dinner had wrapped up, James made his decision to join the Confederate Army, to the complete dismay of Victoria and the disdain of his cousin.

  Now, it seemed like a distant memory as Victoria made her way to the post office where she hoped to post her letter to James. As she walked up to the front of the building, she saw the postman step out and tack a page to the bulletin board where the casualties were listed. As he turned back to go inside, he saw Victoria and grew pale. Seeing his reaction, the unease in Victoria’s belly grew. She glanced at the old man as she stood before the pages pinned on the board. The other two pages were from the day before; she had already read them, so she moved on to the new page.

  Her heart sank and her knees grew week as she realized she was staring at the name of her husband, right at the top of the alphabetical list, classified as a casualty. The postman stepped up to her and took her elbow to lead her into the building, but she stopped him as she peered at the paper. After James’ classification as a casualty were the letters “DT.” She looked at the postman. "What do those letters mean?”

  The old man looked up and down the street, “You better come inside, Mrs. Bramwell. Come. Come. I have a sturdy chair you can sit in, and I can make you some tea before you head back.”

  Victoria was confused and shocked, and she wanted to just sit down and cry and scream, but the energy to do those things seemed too much. She allowed herself to be led into the building. Once she was settled, the forgotten letter now crumpled with no place to go, she dug out her handkerchief and wiped the wet tears off her face. She sat there, numb, as the old man placed a cup of tea in front of her.

  “There. Drink that. It will do you right good.”

  Victoria smiled weakly in thanks. As she lifted the tea, she said, "Please, do you know what those initials stand for?”

  The postman sat opposite Victoria. He leaned close and said in a whisper, "Yes, ma’am, I do. 'D' is for a deserter, and 'T' is for a traitor. I am sorry, Mrs. Bramwell, but your husband was killed for being a deserter, and therefore is also a traitor.”

  As the words sank in, Victoria did not realize she had dropped both the teacup and the crumpled letter as blackness engulfed her.

  ***

  The following day, Victoria’s mother-in-law, Grace Bramwell, propped the pillows behind Victoria after the family physician recommended she remain in bed for a few days to allow the shock wear off and to protect the life of the baby. Grace was truly like a second mother to Victoria. When Victoria had returned to American with James, she expected to be looked down on. After all, not only was she British, but also she was not from a well-to-do family. In fact, she had only met James because she worked as a governess to a wealthy family, and she had literally run into him on one of the outings to the library that she was so fond of taking her charges on. However, when she and James arrived at the family home in Charleston, Grace had taken her in as though she were one of the family, and made every effort to make her feel at home.

  As Grace wiped Victoria’s brow, Victoria could see the grief in the dear woman’s face. She reached out and took her hand, "I am sorry...so sorry...”

  A single tear rolled down Grace’s cheek, but she gave no other sign of emotion. "I just cannot believe it. Surely there was some mistake. Wars can be so confusing, you know. There is no way James was a traitor, and not a deserter either!”

  Suddenly overcome, Grace gave in to her grief and the two women held each other and cried for several moments, until there was a knock at the bedroom door. Grace hastily dried her eyes and sat up regaining her composure.

  “Yes?”

  One of the maids stuck her head in. "Madam, there is an officer here to speak to you.”

  Grace looked alarmed. “I see. I will be down in a moment.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” replied the maid before closing the door behind her. Grace stood up. "Get some rest, my dear, and think of nothing except my sweet grandchild you are cooking in there.”

  Victoria nodded, still too grief-stricken to even attempt a smile, and watched Grace leave the room. She dozed off for a bit, but woke with a start when Grace rushed into her room.

  “Get up! Get up!” Grace said in a loud whisper, "James must have done something terrible. There are soldiers here to collect you for questioning.”

  Victoria sat up and sprang out of bed, rushing to the wardrobe to put on a dress. Grace saw the dress and put it back into the wardrobe. “No. Victoria, you don’t understand. They think you are involved in some sort of conspiracy. You have to leave, but you mustn’t be recognizable. Jane is coming down with one of her dresses. You must get dressed and leave out the servants’ entrance right away.”

  Victoria started trembling, not understanding completely the trouble her mother-in-law thought she was in, but she knew soldiers in the house, when it was not for a formal event, were not a good thing. She silently turned to her mirror and started putting up her hair. “Won’t they think something is wrong if I don’t go down?”

  Grace shook her head. "No. I told them you were not at home. I asked them if they would like to come back later, but they insisted they wait for your return. So I have Charles and Fiona serving them tea and a light lunch in the front parlor. You only have as long as it takes them to eat. I am certain they will ask to search the house.” She wrung her hands nervously and a light sweat broke out on her forehead. “Oh, I wish I knew what this was all about.”

  Grace went to the door and peaked out just as Jane walked in with one of her maid’s dresses, complete with apron and bonnet. The Bramwell house had slaves on their plantation property, but in the Charleston house, they opted for white servants, so it would not be out of place that Victoria be seen in a servant’s clothing, provided she was not recognized. As Victoria got dressed, she looked at Grace. "Where do I go?”

  Grace heard the fear and trepidation in the young woman’s voice, and her heart broke. The poor dear: pregnant, husband dead, and now accused of being part of something sinister. As a mother, Grace barely knew how to grasp it herself, but to look at her son’s young bride, so far away from her own family and all that she had known, this had to be most unsettling, terrifying even.

>   Grace moved away from the door and took Victoria’s hands in her own as Jane helped tie the apron and placed the bonnet to cover Victoria’s thick, curly, blond hair.

  “Victoria, Jane will accompany you to the edge of town. She knows where to go. You will stay there, out of sight, until Mr. Bramwell and I come up with a solution to this mess. Maybe he has some contacts he can discuss this with so we can clear James, you, and our family. Though,”Grace paused as a thought crossed her mind, "if he cannot, our family is ruined. Our name will be complete and utter mud. You...you don’t worry about that, my dear. We will do what we can, and we will send for you as soon as we can.” Grace kissed the younger woman on the cheek, and then she pulled the brim of the bonnet down low to shield Victoria’s bright blue eyes. “Now go!”

  Victoria grabbed her Bible and her small bag with a change of under garments, some small trinkets from her past, and a necklace that James had given her, and with a teary glance at Grace, she followed Jane silently to the back stairwell, into the kitchen, and out the servants’ door.