"Corrie?"
"Shh. Don't let Michelle know it's me.”
He turned about in the doorway. "What's the matter?”
"Nothing really, I mean, well—"
"Spit it out. What's wrong?"
"I'm in jail.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"I don't get it. Why did she call you?" Michelle scrambled, throwing on her clothes.
Kirk tucked his shirt into his slacks. "She doesn't think you'll understand.”
She waved a shoe at him. "And you will?"
"I'm not her mother.”
"Neither am I." Michelle slipped on her other shoe.
"But you are her parental figure.”
"I still don't get why she called you. She barely knows you." Michelle slung her purse over her shoulder and hurried down the stairs.
"I'll drive." Kirk was only a few steps behind her.
She whirled around. "I can drive.”
Putting his palms up in a self-defense gesture, he took a step back. There was a time to stand your ground and time to back off. And judging from the look on Michelle's face, he'd be safer backing off. "Fine. You can drive.”
He circled around to the passenger side, while Michelle slid into her seat and started the engine. "What else did she say?”
"Very little." Kirk snapped the seat belt in place. "Some kid named Billy—"
"Webb?"
"She didn't say. Only that he brought a bottle and was too plastered to drive. They were just figuring who was going to take Billy home when the cops turned up and hauled them all off to the station.”
"God, I hate this." Michelle's grip strangled the steering wheel. "Why were they drinking in the middle of a Sunday afternoon, in the middle of an empty field, in the middle of winter?"
"A party is a party. Especially when you're young. Surely you must remember what it was like, that frustrating age between childhood and adulthood? You don't really need mama's apron strings, but the law says you do."
"I didn't go drinking in fields when I was in high school. Mom always said if you need drugs or alcohol to have a good time, you're in the wrong place with the wrong people. I believed her."
By the time they parked in front of the police station, Michelle had worked herself into a good old-fashioned snit. She was in full overprotective Siszilla mode.
"I'm here for Corrine Bradford." Michelle stood at the front counter.
"Bradford," the officer repeated. "Here we are. Drag racing and underage drinking."
Michelle's face, already etched with worry, went suddenly pale.
His hand on hers, Kirk gave an encouraging squeeze.
"The owner of the land isn't pressing charges for trespassing. And Miss Bradford doesn't appear to have been one of the teens drinking.”
Michelle brought a hand to her stomach and nodded.
"If you'll take a seat over there, someone will bring Miss Bradford right out." The officer waved toward a row of wooden benches across the room.
With his hand at the small of her back, Kirk walked beside a still pale Michelle. "Are you feeling okay?"
"I've been better." She took a seat.
Corrie hadn't mentioned the drag racing on the phone. Of course, the conversation was pretty short. But this would explain why the kid didn't want her sister to know.
Staring blankly at the double doors near the front desk, Michelle mumbled,
"Corrie's all I have.”
"This is just part of growing up in a small town." At least he hoped so. Having grown up in suburban San Francisco, there hadn't been an abundance of empty fields to tempt restless teens.
"I don't know." Her hand fell to her stomach again.
Before he could offer to find her a glass of water or something to settle her nerves, a bruiser of a cop stepped up in front of them with a downcast Corrie at his side.
"I'm so sorry, sis.”
"As well you should be, young lady." Michelle stood up. "I thought we were past this. You promised me..."
In a split second, Michelle's eyes flew open wide. Shock and surprise covered her face. Sticking her arm out to push Corrie away, Michelle barfed all over the floor and the burly officer’s shiny shoes.
***
"I didn't mean to upset her so badly. But I have to admit, getting sick to her stomach sure took the pressure off me." Corrie dipped a tea bag in a mug of hot water.
"Don't think you're off the hook." Kirk leaned against the counter. "Once she gets over her embarrassment of throwing up on the policeman, she's going to want some answers from you."
Corrie blew out a deep sigh. "I know. But I wasn't in the races. Just watching.”
"And you weren't drinking, just watching your friends drink?"
She shrugged a shoulder and set the soaked tea bag aside.
"Corrie." He couldn't believe he of all people was about to lecture a teenager about caution. "How would you feel right now if, instead of the police taking you to the station for illegal drag racing, the police had to take you to the morgue to identify the burned body of a friend who lost control of his car at ninety miles an hour?"
"That's morbid." She stirred a teaspoon of sugar into the cup.
"That's life. Shit happens. But we don't have to increase the odds of it happening to us by being reckless."
"I told you, I wasn't in the car."
He shot her his best do-I-look-stupid glare.
Her shoulders slumped. All her bravado gone. "My life is so boring. I just wanted a little fun.”
"You have plenty of years ahead of you to have fun. Don't try to hurry it along so hard.”
Holding the cup of tea, Corrie looked up at him. "She's going to kill me, isn't she?”
"Tell her how you feel. You might be surprised. I'm betting she'll understand more than you think.”
"If you're wrong. I want them to play Chris Rice's ‘Cartoon Song’ at my funeral." Without waiting for his response, she turned on her heel and marched into enemy territory armed only with a cup of tea for a peace offering.
He really did like that kid.
Guilt pressed down on him. For the first time in his career, he hated his job.
Pushing away from the counter, he followed Corrie into the other room. Wet towel on her forehead, Michelle still looked much too pale. Now would most definitely not be the time to tell her about her impending unemployment. He could probably stall for a few days.
Not that losing your job on Wednesday was any better than losing it on Monday. But maybe between now and then he could come up with a miracle.
***
In her next lifetime Michelle was going to come back as a cat. Then she could sleep in on Monday mornings. Or maybe a sloth. Didn't they spend their entire lives loafing in trees? In warm countries?
Opening one eye, then the other, she spied the nearby alarm clock. She should have been up thirty minutes ago. Yesterday must have taken a heavier toll on her than she'd thought, because right now she felt as though she'd been run over by a Mack truck. Or two.
Corrie poked her head in the door. "Brittany is picking me up early. We've got a Spanish club meeting before first period."
Michelle sat up to answer and her stomach did a somersault.
"Hey." Corrie rushed into the room. "You okay?"
Head between her knees, Michelle nodded and mumbled, "Remind me next year not to blow off the flu shot.”
"Aw, sis." Corrie felt Michelle's forehead. "You don't feel warm. Maybe it's only something you ate. I'll make you a quick cup of chamomile. That'll make you feel better.”
"You'll be late for your meeting."
"It takes two minutes to nuke tea. The Spanish club can wait a lousy two minutes." And she was out the door.
If Michelle didn't feel so crummy, she would laugh. Worried all weekend about Corrie, and now it's Corrie mothering Michelle. Maybe she did need to let go. At least a little.
Rising to her feet, she took in a deep calming breath and waited. The tide rolling back and forth in her stoma
ch seemed to have settled. If the world was on her side, whatever had her tossing her cookies yesterday, and waking up queasy today, would hurry up and run its course. Her job was already on the line. This would not be a good time to call in sick.
"Here you go." Corrie handed her sister the cup. "You look better already."
"Thanks." Taking the tea, she waved her sister off. "Get going. You don't want to be late."
"Don't push yourself. If you don't feel good, stay home."
"Yes, Mother.”
Corrie rolled her eyes and darted out the door.
Starting today Michelle was going to give that butterfly a little more room to spread her wings. It only took one sip of the warm brew to send Michelle racing into the bathroom. What little was left in her stomach made its way back up. "Damn it. This is no time to get sick.”
The only thing worse than morning breath was vomit breath. She let go of the toilet and opened the cabinet under the sink in search of mouthwash. Soap, Q-tips, baby oil, tampons, shampoo. Where the hell was the mouthwash? Panty shields, nail polish remover, cotton balls, another box of tampons. How many boxes of tampons did a girl need?
Like a flagpole in a lightning storm, reality smacked her back on her ass. Holy shit.
***
If there was anything more uncomfortable than sitting alone in a ten-by-ten room, wearing nothing but a flimsy robe, knowing you were soon going to be flat on your back with your feet up in stirrups, Michelle didn't know what it was.
So far the only thing that had worked in her favor today was Mrs. Gillimore canceling her eleven o'clock appointment with Dr. Simms. Not that Michelle didn't believe the home pregnancy test she took in the drugstore bathroom, but somehow nothing was truly official until it had your gynecologist’s seal of approval.
"Well this is a surprise." Dr. Janet Simms closed the door behind her.
A short, stout woman, she reminded Michelle of Mrs. Klaus without the red suit.
"I certainly didn't expect to see you back this soon after the honeymoon.”
She was also probably the only woman in town who hadn't heard about Michelle's solo honeymoon. Though she was going to be the first to find out the honeymoon wasn't all that solo after all.
"You're right. The test is positive. You are definitely pregnant.”
For the first time in her life Michelle truly understood the old cliché about not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
"I'll want to schedule you for a sonogram right away."
Part of her happily ever after plan had included children.
"That will help us determine your due date more accurately."
Someday.
"I'm sure I don't have to tell you the importance of a good diet."
But not today.
"You can pick up a prescription for some prenatal vitamins from the front desk."
And not without a father.
"So. Shall we take a look?”
Dr. Simms might as well have been talking in Greek. After twenty minutes, Michelle had a plastic bag filled with everything the new mother needs to know, and absolutely no memory of a single word the woman had uttered after "You are definitely pregnant."
"Here's your prescription." The clerk handed Michelle a piece of paper. "It's very important you take the vitamins every day, as Dr. Simms explained.”
Michelle nodded and smiled. At least she thought she smiled. From the surprised look on the woman's face, she might have sneered.
"Your co-pay will be twenty-five dollars.”
Co-pay. Insurance. Good grief. If she lost her job, she'd lose her insurance. How much did it cost to have a baby without insurance?
Have a baby. Wow. A baby. Her hand fell to her stomach, and a huge grin took over her face until she thought her cheeks would crack. "I'm having a baby.”
The nurse on the other side smiled politely. "Yes, you are.”
Suddenly overjoyed, Michelle spun around and repeated to the woman approaching the nurse to pay. "I'm having a ba..."
"Yes." Beth Williams nodded. "I heard.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
For the fourth time this morning Kirk found an excuse to walk casually past Michelle's desk. Twice as many times he'd reached for his cell phone. For all the good it would do. He didn't have her number programmed. And why should he? She was an employee. A passing liaison. Shit.
"Pam?”
The busy redhead perked up. "Yes, Mr. McEntire?"
"Where is Michelle?"
"She had an appointment." The woman's face was unreadable.
"Is it her sister?"
Pam shook her head, her expression still blank. "She didn't say. Can I help you with something?”
"No. I just thought it might be Corrie."
Pam shook her head again.
"She's a good kid under all the attitude."
This time Pam smiled. "Michelle's done right by her.”
"Mm." With his usual departing nod, he escaped to his office. Everything was getting out of hand. He wasn't supposed to be concerned about the jobs he had to cut. Especially not about any one person in particular. And worrying about their extended family was beyond absurd.
So why was he turned inside out with worry? He didn't do worry. Ever.
Twelve thirty. Ten thirty in California. He stabbed at the familiar numbers.
"Griffin here.”
"What's Rover eaten now?"
"Two calls on one assignment? We must be living right."
"Funny." Kirk glanced toward his door, as if he could will Michelle to materialize.
"Nothing.”
"Excuse me?"
"Your question. What's Rover eaten now? Nothing. We bought him a tug-of-war rope and one of those massive bones that's almost as big as he is. Apparently they taste better than my shoes."
"I'm glad. And Deb. How's she doing?"
Dave paused before slowly responding, "She's fine. Is something up?"
"No. This job is just...different from all the others."
"How is that?"
"I've gotten to know the people."
"The people?"
Kirk picked up a pencil. "One in particular. And her sister.”
"I see.”
"The sister, Corrie, she's at that feel-all-grown-up-but-not-legal-yet stage of life, and it's giving Michelle some hard times."
"Michelle?"
"The employee." Kirk rolled the pencil between his fingers.
"How old's the sister?"
"Seventeen."
"And you like her?" There was sincere confusion in Dave's voice.
"She's a good kid. A bit of attitude at time. But, yeah. I like her."
"I see.”
"I got the word Saturday. Michelle's entire department is on the hit list.”
Dave let out a sharp whistle. "Ouch.”
"I worked the numbers most of last night. It makes sense to keep one person on in the department during the transition. That'll buy us at least a month or two."
"Us?" Dave repeated.
"Her. But that's all I can offer. Honestly, I'm not sure after all is said and done if even I can salvage this place.”
"Okay, who are you, and what have you done with Kirk McEntire?"
"I'm serious." The pencil snapped.
"So am I. Lloyd Kirkland McEntire does not doubt his business skills. And he definitely doesn't do women with children. Or kid sisters. You do swinging singles, easy liaisons. Hell, you've even done law students who strip for tuition."
"She's not like that. She's a nice person."
"I see.”
"Stop saying that!"
"Sorry, buddy. But I'm delighted to inform you that you, Lloyd Kirkland McEntire Jr., have bought the bill of goods." Dave didn't even try to hide his mirth. "Lock, stock, and little sister."
***
Michelle's gaze dropped to Beth's stomach. Without a coat, Beth's thin frame made it easy to spot the baby bump. "You're pregnant?"
On the verge of tears, Beth offered a feeble nod
.
Good Lord. How long had Beth and Steven been together? Michelle's mind scrambled back in time calculating how long had it been since she and Steven had been intimate. The wedding would have been a month ago. There were so many details coming together the month before a wedding. Corrie had homecoming the month before that. Start of school was always time-consuming. Corrie was home a lot in the summer. Dear Lord, she couldn't remember. No wonder he had turned to someone else. "How far along?”
"I'm due May 25th.”
Beth was almost four months pregnant. Good God, Michelle had been either blinder than a bat or dumber than a post. Or both. How the hell did she not notice something had changed between the two people closest to her for at least three months before the wedding? Taking a step back, she laid a hand to her queasy stomach. "Congratulations, but I have to go.”
"Wait." Beth took hold of Michelle's arm. "I have to know. How far along are you?"
Michelle's gaze dropped to Beth's hand. She wasn't prepared to deal with any of this. Not here. Not now. "I'm sorry. I have to go.”
She left Beth standing in the doctor's office. Her thoughts teetered from dumbfounded revelation of how blind was she really, to so much for the 99 percent effective birth control rate, to the bubbling excitement of having a baby, to Now what? Pausing frequently on a baby.
In the end, fate, or habit, answered What now? She found herself parked at the Tribune.
This would be good. Work would keep her busy, distracted. Give her some time to adjust. To think. Or not think.
And to see Kirk. Panic washed over her. What was she going to say to him? Slowing her pace, she reconsidered going to work. Perhaps a full day off would be better? No. She'd faced Kirk every day for over two weeks ignoring the white elephant in the room. She could certainly work a little longer ignoring the pink or blue one.
***
Bought the bill of goods. Yes, Michelle was nice. Yes, he liked her sister. Yes, he cared if they became destitute. But he had not fallen into the tender trap.
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