Another Man's Baby

by Kay Stockham

  Marilyn dabbed at her eyes and alternately patted Darcy or else gushed over the baby still in the doctor’s care. Her daughter continued to cry as she was briskly wiped of fluid and wrapped in warmed blankets, then Dr. Clyde gave Darcy her daughter. “Support her head, yes, like that.”

  She was so light. So tiny. Her baby girl had blond hair like hers, long enough to curl at the ends, and her eyes were a dark, dark blue.

  Tears trickled down Darcy’s cheeks, but she smiled and laughed all the same. Ten tiny fingers and a button nose. Rosebud mouth. Definitely worth the pain.

  Marilyn pulled her camera from her purse and snapped a shot of them gazing into each other’s eyes. Another of Rosetta sitting beside her on the bed. One of each of them holding the baby, lots of her and her daughter together.

  One of the nurses took the baby for its bath at the far end of the room, and Rosetta and Marilyn followed to watch, camera in hand, while Darcy stayed in the bed and tried to recover her composure while the linens were changed. She was a mom.

  Dr. Clyde entered the room looking frazzled. “Darcy, Mr. Tulane is outside and quite insistent. He’d like to come in.”

  Ignoring the questioning, concerned stares of the women across the room, she shook her head firmly back and forth. Sad and tired and happy all at once. “Would you tell him we’re fine and that—Tell him Spike is a girl.”

  “Darcy, are you sure?” Rosetta asked. “He’s been out there for hours, dear. Waiting to talk to you.”

  Darcy shook her head, not about to be dissuaded. Her daughter’s birth was a new start. A new life. I won’t be her. “I’m sure.”

  DARCY FROWNED at Rosetta. Using winter colds and the baby’s near-term birth and risk of respiratory problems as an excuse, Darcy had managed to avoid visitors after being released from the hospital. Most especially Garret, much to his grandmother’s upset. “I don’t want to see him.”

  “He’s been by every day since you came home.”

  Yes, he had. With gifts, no less. A pumpkin seat to put the baby in, a car-seat-stroller combo, a bassinet. Then there was the gigantic pink giraffe, enough baby toys for four families, including a rocking horse with a curly mane. There were gifts for her, too. A set of silk pajamas in brown—to match her eyes, the note read. A new CD she’d mentioned in passing. Flowers, lots of flowers. Sunflowers and daisies—in March. And the last and boldest gift of all—business cards with her name on them, listing Nick’s gym as her place of employment.

  Once upon a time her entire life had fit in the storage compartments of her VW Beetle, allowing her to pick up and leave when and how she needed. Did stuff equal roots? “I haven’t changed my mind.”

  The older woman frowned and went back to what she was doing, piling a third box full of donations from the residents of The Village.

  “Rosetta, can’t you understand why I find Garret’s sudden turnaround questionable?”

  “Of course I do. But you haven’t seen him, Darcy. You don’t know how haggard he looks. He’s not sleeping, not eating much if at all. A man doesn’t behave that way over a woman he doesn’t love. He and Joss are no longer together.”

  “That has nothing to do with me.”

  “Oh, Darcy. How long are you going to punish him for being a caring man?”

  She snuggled the baby closer, unable to respond.

  “Garret loved Jocelyn in his own way, but I knew they weren’t right together. They were too comfortable, like friends, which is what they’ve turned out to be. When you came along and I saw the way he looked at you, I knew. The way he loves you—”

  “He doesn’t love me.”

  “No? I disagree. How many men would’ve given up on you already? Do you know how many people go through their lives searching for that kind of love and never find it?” She left the toy-filled boxes and garbage bags by the door and moved to sit on the couch beside her. “Think of your mother. She’s searching for it man by man and here you are throwing the real thing away. I think you’re afraid to love him.”

  “Rosetta, please.”

  “I think,” Garret’s grandmother continued determinedly, “that after watching your mother make so many mistakes and having made one yourself with the baby’s father, you’re afraid to love. You think it won’t last.”

  “It usually doesn’t.”

  “Is that why you haven’t named the baby yet?”

  “Deciding on a name isn’t easy.”

  “It isn’t. But Garret mentioned your penchant for trying out names, and after all this time, I can’t help but wonder if you’re afraid to name the baby because it’ll eliminate the distance you’re keeping between you and your daughter.”

  “That’s a horrible thing to say!”

  “Am I wrong? You claim to want roots and a family, but when the perfect opportunity comes along in Garret and the baby, you back away. If you name your daughter, you’ll feel a mother’s emotions, a mother’s love, and you’re afraid it’ll make you face all the things you still haven’t faced about your mother.”

  “I know exactly who my mother is.”

  “Yes, you do know. But have you accepted it?”

  How could anyone fully accept their mother’s not wanting them? Wouldn’t everyone want that attitude to change? Want a miracle to happen? Reality bites, Darcy. When are you ever going to break those stupid rose-colored glasses?

  “You’ve been taught what not to do, Darcy. Motherhood makes you vulnerable in ways you’ve never imagined, but it also makes you strong. It binds your hearts and there’s nothing like it, but you have to be open and want to experience it, to feel it. Are you going to let your mother rob you of loving your daughter? Rob you of a man worthy of your love and who loves you?”

  Little by little Rosetta’s words sank in. Was she letting that happen? She didn’t intend to, but was she? She could lie to Rosetta until she was blue in the face, but she couldn’t lie to herself. She was letting her fear of messing up overshadow her love, her feelings. Naming the baby…and loving Garret.

  “What if I screw it all up?”

  Rosetta smiled. “You’ll make mistakes. You’ll all make mistakes. If you let yourself love and forgive, it’ll work out exactly as it’s supposed to.”

  She stared down at her baby’s sweet little face, the knot in her stomach growing.

  “If you stop running from your past and the fear your mother instilled in you, if you face it, Darcy, you’ll see the love you feel for Garret and your daughter is returned. But to receive it, you must first believe in it yourself.”

  Darcy buried her nose into her daughter’s blankets, breathed in her baby smell. “Nana used to say something similar to that.”

  Rosetta nodded. “Because it’s true, dear.”

  “Why did Garret move out of the house?”

  “Why do you think? He wanted a place for you and the baby to come home to when you’re ready.”

  “His job?”

  “He’s been frustrated working for Harry and was more than ready to quit. And when taking such a fresh step in life, why not go all the way? I’ve heard the office space above the gallery is coming along nicely. He and Toby will make a wonderful team.”

  “How do I know it’s real? Two weeks ago Garret couldn’t decide if he wanted me or not—”

  “He knew, Darcy. But he had other responsibilities that needed to be taken care of before he could commit to you. He didn’t know how to end things with Joss. He isn’t a mean person, he didn’t want to hurt her. Oh, Darcy, think. You knew where his heart was leading him. It’s quite obvious he isn’t the type of man to be with you if he didn’t care for you, but now that he’s free, you won’t give him the time of day. Do you really think that’s a coincidence?”

  She could blame her hormones, her fears of becoming a mother, for her behavior. But the truth was she ached from missing Garret, wanted him in her life. Loved him. The way he smiled, the silly songs he sang. What was she doing?

  A knock sounded at the door. “Rosetta?”
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  “That’s Toby’s mother. She’s come to pick up the donations for Jocelyn while the boys work on the office.”

  Rosetta’s words weighed on her mind. While Rosetta answered the door, Darcy carried the baby back down the hall to her bedroom. She laid the baby in the bassinet, then moved toward her dresser where the doll sat propped against the mirror. She stared down into Miss Potts’s face a long time, memories sliding over her. She’d treasured Miss Potts for so long, but why? Why keep her when she represented everything that was bad in her life? A bad childhood, lack of emotional commitment from her mother.

  Ready for a fresh start like Rosetta said, Darcy hurried down the hall to the only box left by the door and put the doll inside. Out with the past, in with the future. She wouldn’t let her fear override the gifts she’d been given. The life she had to lead if only she were brave enough.

  Back in the bedroom she sat on the edge of the bed and stared into her daughter’s beautiful face. “Gram’s right,” she whispered, using the name Rosetta insisted the baby would use. “It’s time to stop running. Time to start believing and being the person I want to be. The mommy you need me to be, not my mother’s daughter. I won’t get it right all the time, but…I’ll do my best.” She smoothed her fingertips over her daughter’s downy head. “So, before I go and tell Garret how much I love him and want him, what do you think about Elizabeth? You could go by Elizabeth or Beth, Eliza or Lizzie. Liz. You’d have a lot of options and,” she added, “it’s Gram’s middle name and she’s the best great-grandma you could ever possibly have. Do you like it?”

  “I love it.”

  Darcy gasped and turned to see Garret in the doorway, looking just as haggard as Rosetta said he did, the doll in his hand. She got to her feet, her trembling legs barely able to hold her. He wore jeans and a pullover, both loose and hanging on him.

  He lifted the doll. “Why are you getting rid of this?”

  “Because she’s part of the past and I want to concentrate on the future…with you,” she whispered. “If you still want me.”

  Raw hope crossed his face. “Sweetheart, I’ve always wanted you. That hasn’t been the problem. You love me?”

  She nodded shakily.

  “No, you’ve got to say it. I need to hear it. Do you love me?”

  “Yes.”

  Some of the tension in his face eased. “Dream about waking up beside me for the next fifty years?”

  “Yes.”

  He took a step closer, his eyes fierce. “Making love to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you believe I want you—only you—because I love you and…Spike?”

  He said that with a grin, a heart-stopping, love-filled smile that stole the breath right out of her lungs. Garret had given up every constant in his life—his girlfriend, his job—for her. All for her and her baby girl. He’d put them first. He’d put them first. It was romantic in the movies, but it was more romantic when it really happened. More special. More…amazing.

  “Darcy?” Garret opened his arms and she flew across the room, slammed into him but knew he’d catch her, hold her. Love her. Because she finally understood what she hadn’t been able to before meeting Garret.

  “I love you, Darcy.” He buried his nose in her neck and inhaled. “Ahh, I’ve missed the way you smell. The way you feel. Not being able to see you has been killing me.”

  She swallowed, unable to believe she’d come so close to losing everything she’d ever wanted. “I know. I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered, drawing back to trail her fingertips over his mouth. “I see it now.”

  “See what?”

  Smiling through her tears, she leaned forward and kissed him, slow and deep, not breaking contact until they both breathed heavily. “I see that Nana’s always right.”

  EPILOGUE

  DARCY HAD NEVER GIVEN much thought to being a June bride, but she and Garret were married the second Saturday in June, five months to the day from when Garret rescued her. Rosetta was her matron of honor, Toby Garret’s best man. She and Elizabeth wore white—just to give the gossips more to talk about—at her husband’s insistence.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Garret murmured later that evening, his arms sliding around her waist and turning her so that she snuggled against him. “Darcy, you okay, sweetheart?”

  “I’m better than okay. I’m happy. Blessed. It’s amazing.” And even though her mother hadn’t come to the ceremony, she was still okay, happy and blessed. Her love for Garret and Lizzie, for Garret’s family, made it okay. Because she felt like her family had all been there. Garret’s brothers and sister had flown in for the ceremony, his many aunts and uncles, cousins. So many cousins! It would take years to learn all their names.

  Garret’s fingers speared into her loose hair and he lifted her head so his mouth could close over hers.

  “Mmm.” He tasted of champagne and buttercream icing, desire and hard, hot man. His tongue coaxed her, eased her into a deeper, more possessive caress.

  She fingered the buttons on his tuxedo shirt and then began unbuttoning them, hungry, needy, wanting her husband the way she’d never wanted anyone. His hands slipped out of her hair, pulled down the zipper in the back of her dress, but she didn’t notice him tugging on the thin, spaghetti straps until the cool air made her shiver. She lowered her hands, one at a time, and let the white silk drop to the floor, aided by his hands. Garret shook. She could feel him trembling, and it touched a place deep, deep inside, burrowed into her heart, her soul. Love could hurt, took an extraordinary amount of trust, but when it was right, it was so, so right.

  Garret dropped his head to her neck, scoring her skin with his teeth just hard enough to send goose bumps over her entire body, make her nipples pucker. He chuckled huskily when he felt her response. “Still sensitive there, huh? Let’s see where else.”

  It was a game they’d played a lot since declaring their feelings. Every time he bared more of her, his head lowered, his lips, teeth and tongue alternatively kissing, nipping or sucking at her until it was all she could do to remain on her feet. His hands roamed over her full breasts and around to the clasp of her strapless bra. Down to push her panties away until the only things she wore were her spiky, sparkly heels and lace-topped, thigh-high stockings.

  “I think we’ll leave those on.” Her husband’s green eyes were heated, filled with love and desire, all for her. Pulling at his shirt, he held her gaze as he removed it. “I know what to expect, Darcy.” A small smile formed on his mouth. He nodded toward the bed and she followed his stare, searching until she spotted the bottle of gel Garret had purchased to ensure her comfort. They’d waited to make love, pleasuring each other in different ways while they grew even closer and made things official, giving her body plenty of time to heal from giving birth.

  Smiling ruefully, she reached for his belt and unfastened the catch, the snap of his pants. Garret took care of the zipper, and she slid her palms around his waist beneath the band, smiling when she heard him release a husky groan the moment her body touched his full length. She kissed his chest, sidled closer still, and relished the hiss he released when his arousal pressed against her stomach.

  “You make me crazy.” Garret’s palms slid over her back, cupped her rump and squeezed. He kissed her, hard and fast and with dizzying thoroughness. By the time Garret raised his head, she stood dazed, knees weak and wobbly, while he shucked his pants and underwear and gently pushed her backward until she sat on the edge of the king-size bed.

  Kneeling on the floor in front of her with an appreciative leer, Garret arranged her just so, her legs on either side of him. Holding her gaze, his hands roamed. Her shoulders, the valley between her breasts. Her thighs. Back up again. Changing course, his fingers plucked at her nipples and rolled, drawing a sharp gasp from her because of the corresponding spear of desire that shot from her chest to her womb.

  Garret leaned forward and fastened his lips over hers, leaving her awash with need. His stomach pressed against
her warmth, and he slid an arm around her hips to pull her into closer contact, rubbing, teasing. Darcy squeezed her knees tight against his ribs to hold on to the sensation.

  He trailed his lips lower, across the curve of her belly, lower, watching her with his passion-darkened gaze. Her heart pounded out of control, each breath harder to catch than the last because of the way he looked at her, unwavering as he pressed kiss after kiss lower over her stomach. Her belly button. Her thighs. She waited, never realizing how sensual it was to—

  She gasped when he kissed her there, moaned because he stroked and laved, and pleasure overtook her until she couldn’t think at all. Her hips lifted into the strokes, her lips parted to take in more air, and slowly, so slowly, her body began to tighten. Garret’s excitement was tangible as he watched her responding to him, and she embraced the moment. Another stroke, two. Slow, decadent drags of his tongue in just the right spot that sent her skyward with a broken cry.

  Time passed, she wasn’t sure if it was seconds or minutes, but she slowly became aware of Garret’s words of praise as he kissed his way back up her body.

  “Beautiful. So beautiful.”

  She was vaguely aware of Garret moving onto the bed, using the bottle of lubricant generously to better ease his way. She caught her breath at the feel of him, the ridge of him inside her, a bit more, then tightness.

  His breath rushed out of his chest. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, eyes closed due to the sensations bombarding her. He felt so good. So right. Like two halves of a whole. Tears stung, and she blinked rapidly.

  “Darcy—Sweetheart.”

  “Don’t stop.”

  “I don’t want to hur—”

  “You’re not. I’m just…happy.” She managed a watery smile. “I’m happy,” she repeated with a laugh. “I never thought I’d have this. You. I love you.”

  She caught her breath when she saw the sheen of tears in his eyes before he closed them, felt the trembling inside him that revealed so much. He took her mouth in a powerful kiss, his hips moving in rocking motions, back and forth, until she slowly eased him all the way inside. They both groaned at the pressure, the sensation of him buried deep for the first time.