Righteous Lies (Book 1: Dancing Moon Ranch Series)

by Patricia Watters

  ***

  On the morning that Jack's mother was to return, Sam was supposed to pick her up at the airport so Jack could finish some roof work on one of the outbuildings, but Susan had another emotional outburst, so Sam stayed at their house with her, while Jack made the airport run. Ricky was turned over to Flo to watch, but since Flo was busy getting the bedroom suite ready for Jack's mother, Grace offered to look after the toddler in her bedroom.

  Other than feeling like she was pregnant with a twenty-pound child who was the size of a large watermelon, Grace felt good. All signs of premature labor had passed, and when Jack took her to her weekly exam the previous day, Dorrie announced that everything was back on track. Everything with her pregnancy was on track, that is. Her personal life was troubling, at best.

  Four days after that short sweet kiss she couldn't set it aside. She'd done nothing to encourage it. But all the while Jack was talking about wanting her to live in his house she'd felt like wrapping her arms around him and kissing him. Maybe he'd sensed it. It came to her that she wanted a certain level of intimacy with Jack, beyond the intimacy of having him hold her hand at the hospital. She couldn’t imagine Marc with her then. To get around the awkwardness he would have said something silly, which would have made it more awkward. But Jack was a serious man. For him, it was all about what was best for her and his unborn son. Then there were those moments when he got an appealing little smile, which made her wonder if he'd always been so serious. And sad. There was definitely a sadness about him. Like a clown after the circus was over and there was nothing more to laugh about. She wanted to give Jack something to laugh about but didn't know how, because she didn't know why he was sad, and she couldn't ask.

  ...there's a lot you don't know, things that happened...

  Ricky stirred beside her in bed. She'd been letting him flip the pages of a picture book when he fell asleep. "Hi, sleepyhead," she said, when he opened his big black eyes and looked up at her. He smiled. And Grace felt her heart melt. That same smile Jack got at odd times. "Shall we go find Mei Ling and see how she is?" she asked.

  Ricky sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Mei Ling have kitties?"

  "Not yet, sweetie. But she'll be having them soon. They'll be very tiny, and we won't be able to play with them for a little while, but they'll be fun to watch."

  Ricky put his hand on Grace's belly. "Baby brudder here?" he asked.

  "No, baby brother's in your mommy's tummy," Grace replied, suppressing the urge to tell Ricky that the baby in his mother's tummy might ultimately be his cousin instead of his brother. Susan planted the seed, and now, all Grace could think of was adopting Marc's baby. It was possible. Susan showed every sign of preparing to give him up at birth. And Grace was prepared to take him, although she wasn't sure how she'd handle two newborns. She could ask her mother to come for a couple of weeks, but she'd hear no end to what a mistake she'd made, and now she was having the baby of a cowboy, and if she'd gone to college like they'd wanted instead of getting pregnant by a dead man, none of this would have happened...

  Ricky slid off the bed and went over to pet Mei Ling, who had returned to her cat bed on the floor beside the bed. She'd been restless all day, snooping around, crawling under the bed, going into the bathroom, scratching the door to the closet to get in, then going into her bed and round and round in circles before settling down, only to repeat the whole pattern of behavior. And Grace knew she was getting ready to have her kittens.

  Nesting it was called. She'd read about how females of all species, including humans, had an instinct to prepare a place to give birth. For house cats it was finding a dark, quiet corner, away from activity. For women, it was cleaning the house. They'd laughed about it at birthing class, hearing stories of women, nine months and counting, mopping and vacuuming and going at their housework like a ball of fire.

  For the next hour, she kept Ricky in her bedroom. He was a quiet toddler, seeming happy arranging the little plastic animals he'd dumped out of a small bucket that Flo had given her. But it wasn't long before Ricky stopped what he was doing and looked up. His face look pale, as if all the blood had drained from it, and his eyelids drooped. He also placed his hands to his face, as if holding up his head. Grace patted the bed. "Come sit next to me, sweetie. I'll read to you."

  Ricky climbed on the bed and cuddled against her and placed his arm over her belly, and she wondered if he instinctively wanted to be close to the child who could make him well. It was a troubling thought, the child inside her being the difference between life and death for the child pressing against her, and who seemed especially warm. She put her hand to Ricky's forehead. Definitely warm. Ricky raised those big black eyes to meet her gaze and smiled his sweet little smile. Jack's sweet smile. Again she was reminded of the child growing inside her. A child she hoped would look like this engaging little boy.

  Reaching for the alphabet picture book with animals from A to Z, she held it up where Ricky could turn the pages. But when he raised his hand, it faltered, so she did it for him...

  ***

  It was early afternoon by the time Jack returned from the airport with his mother. Grace left Ricky asleep on her bed and went into the living room to meet Maureen Hansen. After Jack made introductions, to Grace's surprise, Jack's mother gave her a hug.

  "I know all about the mix-up," Maureen said, "but the baby you're carrying is my grandchild, so you're family now, just as Susan's baby will be. I am concerned about Susan though. She's having trouble accepting things, so I decided to come home early and help look after Ricky. He can be a handful when he's well." She sat on the couch and patted the cushion.

  Grace sat beside her. "I suppose he can be," she said, though she hadn't seen that side of Ricky. After playing with his plastic toys he'd been content sitting beside her in bed while she turned the pages of the book, until he fell asleep.

  "Son, I could use a glass of wine," Maureen said to Jack. "And get some juice for Grace." She patted Grace's hand. "Then you and I are going to get acquainted."

  In an instant, Grace felt more at home with Jack's mother than she'd ever felt with Marc's family. Marc's highly educated parents had never adjusted to their son marrying a woman who's goal in life was to be a wife and mother and have a house with a back yard, and six kids and a few cats. Marc had been fine with that. They'd bought the house and Mei Ling, so having Marc's child would have been a partial fulfillment of her dream. But she wasn't having Marc's child. She was having Jack's, and he wanted to build a house so she'd be close.

  That is, so his son would be close...

  After Jack brought the wine and juice and left, Maureen said to Grace, "How is Ricky?"

  "He seems fine," Grace replied, "but it was only the second time I've been around him. I don't know much about his illness other than it's a rare blood disorder and he needs a bone marrow transplant. Did they know from birth he was sick?"

  Maureen nodded. "He was very pale, and when he was circumcised, instead of deep red blood it was pink. The pediatrician had blood tests run, which showed he has Schwartz-Traub anemia, a disorder that doesn't allow his body to produce white blood cells without help."

  "What kind of help?" Grace asked.

  "Prednisone. He takes it every day. It stimulates his bone marrow to produce white blood cells. But if a blood draw shows he's not producing, or producing them too slowly, he has to have a transfusion, which has side effects—headache, fever, hives and other allergic reactions—so they're given only when steroids aren't working. Jack said Ricky had a transfusion recently."

  Grace nodded. "You mentioned fever. Ricky felt warm today, and he kept putting his hands to his face, like his head was heavy."

  "He does that when he has a headache," Maureen said. "Usually a sign he needs another transfusion."

  "Then he'll need steroids and transfusions all his life?" Grace asked, trying to get a handle on Ricky's illness. In the waiting room at the clinic he'd been a faceless child with a disorder. Now, he was very real, and very pre
cious. A child within her power save. But only at the risk of her own child. If she were to make the flight, and her nerves kicked in, which was certain to happen, her water could break and the baby could come thirty-thousand feet above ground.

  Maureen nodded. "Kids with Schwartz-Traub rarely make it to their teens without a bone marrow or stem cell transplant, which is the only cure. But the clock's ticking for Ricky. After age five he'll be too big for a cord-blood transplant because there isn't enough blood in the umbilical cord of a newborn to produce enough stem cells to fight the illness."

  It wasn't until then that Grace realized the clock was ticking for Ricky. The thought was troubling. "Jack said our baby might be a match," she said, although she hadn't intended to bring it up. But after seeing how sick Ricky was, and knowing time was running out, she wasn't so sure it was not an option any longer.

  "There's a good chance your child could be a match," Maureen said. She covered Grace's hand with hers. "It's a tough call because you could fly to New Jersey for nothing while jeopardizing Jack's son. And yours," she added, almost as an afterthought. Which made Grace curious. Even with his mother, it was all about Jack's son.

  "I feel bad," Grace said. "I'm terrified of flying, and after the complications these past couple of weeks... I guess Jack told you about my early labor pains?"

  Maureen nodded. "He said you're planning on natural childbirth. He's worried about that."

  Grace rolled her eyes. "Women have been doing it since Adam and Eve, and civilization has survived. But, I know how worried Jack is, so I might consent to having him at the birthing center, and Jack can still deliver the baby. Did he tell you about that?"

  Again, Maureen nodded. "I guess it's somewhat therapeutic, being actively involved like he is, even going to your classes. This baby is very important to him."

  "You said therapeutic?" Grace said, backing up some. "In what way?"

  "Jack didn't tell you about what happened three years ago?"

  "No. At least I don't think he did," Grace said. "Why? What happened?"

  "I'd better let him tell you when he's ready," Maureen said. "He probably has his reason for not saying anything. But he'll have to tell you eventually, since he plans on moving you to the ranch right away. Are you alright with that?"

  "No," Grace said. "I have no intention of moving here. I love my house and I have friends nearby. If Jack built me a house, he still wouldn't be around at night, and I want someone to talk to after the baby's in bed. I'm not used to sleeping alone. I liked being married."

  "Nana?" Ricky wandered into the room while grinding a knuckle into his eye.

  "Hi sweetheart," Maureen said, opening her arms for the toddler to crawl onto her lap. He slumped against her, and she covered his forehead with her hand. "He's warm," she said. "Time for his Prednisone. I'll take him back and see how Susan is. We'll talk later."

  "Do you mind if I go too?" Grace asked. "The last time I saw Susan she was angry and upset, and I want to try to smooth things over."

  "Sure, come along."

  When they got to Sam and Susan's house, Sam and Jack were in the living room talking in hushed tones, and the door to the hallway was closed. "I'm glad you're here, Mom," Sam said, giving his mother a hug. "Susan's pretty unstable right now, saying things that are... troubling."

  "Troubling! Hell," Jack said. "She's talking about getting rid of the baby. She needs to be hospitalized where she can be watched."

  "Mom and I can watch her," Sam said. "The doctor gave her an antipsychotic drug. He said it wouldn't hurt the baby."

  "Maybe the drug won't hurt him," Jack said, "but your wife might."

  "Stop it, Jack!" Maureen cut in. "This situation with Susan is entirely different. Susan's facing losing Ricky. It's not an issue with the baby."

  Grace looked from Maureen, whose face clearly told Jack to drop the subject, to Jack, whose jaws were clenched, as if struggling not to say his peace.

  What situation was entirely different? And what was the issue with the baby?

  In an effort to defuse the situation, Grace said, "Would it be alright if I looked in on Susan? Maybe sat with her for a few minutes?"

  "Not a good idea," Sam said. "She's pretty upset that the baby you're carrying—"

  "Hold it right there," Jack cut in. "The baby Grace is carrying is my son, so I have some say in this. If Grace is afraid of flying I don't want her to go. It's as simple as that."

  "That's easy for you to say," Sam snapped. "You're not about to lose a son!"

  Jack said nothing, just stood staring at Sam, eyes intense, muscles in his jaw flexing.

  Then Sam reached out and squeezed Jack's arm, and said, "I'm sorry, that just came out. You have to do what's best for your son."

  Jack released his breath, and said, "That's exactly what I intend to do. Come on," he said to Grace. "I'll walk you back to the lodge." He took Grace's arm and turned her toward the door.

  As Grace walked with Jack, she didn't dare probe for answers about the puzzling exchange between him and Sam because she knew intuitively that Jack had shut the door to further questions. But at some point, she intended to get some answers.

  CHAPTER 6

  When Grace and Jack stepped out of Sam's house, Jack took Grace's elbow to support her as he walked with her down steps covered in slush, and said, "I picked up a book at the airport today. We'll stop by my house and get it."

  "I hope it's a book on how to knit heels," Grace replied, as they crossed the driveway to Jack's house. "Incidentally, I knitted a match for the other sock. No heel, but I'll keep trying until I get it right since I plan to have lots of kids and I expect them all to be born with heels." To relieve Jack's mind that he was not the object of her husband search, she added, "Just for the record, the man who father's my kids will not object to cats in the house." Although she'd just assured Jack she was not looking for him to father her offspring, the idea of snuggling up to him in bed seemed to be invading her mind of late, whether it was so he could father her brood, or give her the pleasure in bed she missed.

  ...women get broody about that time...

  A speaker made the comment at one of the birthing classes, which brought howls of laughter from men who were going through periods of broodiness with their pregnant wives. Which also explained Grace's own desire to get intimate with the father of her child. Especially with the father of her child, since she'd been deprived of the natural means of creating their baby with Jack. But her untimely hedonistic desires would pass when the baby arrived and she'd be into a daily routine of washing baby clothes and changing umpteen diapers and getting up in the middle of the night to feed a large, hungry, squalling baby with dark hair and dark eyes. She looked at Jack's firm profile and wondered if their son really would look like him. She'd like that...

  "And talking about cats," Jack said, as they climbed the steps to his porch, "I read that pregnant women shouldn't clean litter boxes so I'll do it for now. Another reason to move you into my house."

  Grace looked at Jack with a start. Was his comment a subtle hint that he might be a candidate for father of her brood? "Then you don't mind cats in the house?" she asked, testing.

  "Maybe not," Jack said. "We'll take it one step at a time." His expression was thoughtful. As in... One cat, one baby... Another cat, another baby... She and Jack doing it the right way, first thing in the morning, last time at night, until their family was complete...

  Jack tipped his head toward hers as they walked across the porch to the front door. "You smell good," he said. "Real good." His arm tightened on her elbow.

  "It's baby lotion. I've been rubbing it on my... umm... skin," Grace replied. "And thanks for holding onto me. I can barely see my feet to walk up stairs anymore."

  "Sorry about that," Jack said. When he reached around her to open the door, his chest pressed against her back, and his breath wafted against the side of her face.

  "About what?" Grace asked, losing her train of thought. The feel of Jack's large frame, wrapp
ed around her like a mantle of warmth, was very distracting.

  "The size of my son," Jack said. "You're a small woman to be having a baby his size. I want you to have him in the hospital."

  "Please don't start that again," Grace said, eyeing the dismal surroundings, rearranging the furniture in her mind. It could be cozy and comfortable if things were picked up and the table cleared and the dishes washed, a place where she could stay, at least until the baby came, and maybe for a couple of months afterward. She didn't feel as connected to her home as before...

  "Your hips aren't very wide," Jack said. "It could be a difficult birth."

  "He'll get through," Grace mused, while contemplating the random dishes and mismatched coffee mugs on a shelf beside the sink. She eyed Jack, who looked truly concerned. "If you're that worried, I might consider having him at the birthing center. But it's expensive," she added, while feeling an urge to round up a bucket and mop and disinfectant and start cleaning Jack's house and make it a home...

  Nesting! It was simply nesting. She'd get over it when the baby was born...

  "Is that why you're having him at home, to save a few bucks?" Jack asked, taking her attention away from a copper tub with a confusion of magazines and dirty socks and one old, slipper lined in fleece. The tub would look nice with an arrangement of silk flowers in it...

  "It's considerably more than a few bucks," she mused, turning her attention to the mantle over the fireplace. An old clock sat off at one end, covered in dust and nearly obscured by a stack of mail, dirty mugs, and more old magazines...

  "Cost is no problem," Jack said. "If it's about money it's settled. You'll have him at the birthing center at Portland General. I'll call and set things up."

  That caught Grace's attention. "No!" she said. "I've been going to the birthing center since I learned I was pregnant and I'm willing to have the baby there, but not at the hospital." She looked at Jack, who was going through his usual chain of reactions when she confronted him, and waited for him to come around.