“There’s a high probability, in my opinion. The details match—birth date, adoption agency and so forth.” Renée swallowed hard. “It’s painful to remember those days. I hadn’t considered how much this would bring up after thirty-five years.”
“You said it was the right decision,” Erica reminded her. “But I suppose it’s always difficult.” Look at how much trouble she was running into with her own situation.
“I was seventeen. My parents were angry with me and in denial about the baby, and I couldn’t have raised him on my own.” Renée sounded as if she was trying to justify her actions.
“Of course not.” Much as Erica disliked prying, her friend needed to get all this off her chest. “What about the father? Didn’t he try to help you?”
“He couldn’t.”
“He was married?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that.” Renée blinked hard. “He… I wish—” She broke off.
Erica leaned forward and patted her hand. “You don’t have to talk about this.”
“Yes, I do.” She cleared her throat. “If you don’t mind.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Vick was two years older than me. Cute and sexy, zooming around in his souped-up car. He’d been in trouble with the law a few times, but nothing serious. He was my parents’ worst nightmare, which made him irresistible.” A ghost of a smile crossed the woman’s face. “Until I met him at a party, I’d always been a Goody Two-shoes.”
“He sounds like a rebel.” Erica imagined Lock turning out that way if he hadn’t found such a loving foster family. “Didn’t he stand by you?”
“When I told him about the baby, he was confused. He needed time to think, he said. A few days later, Vick crashed into a light pole while street racing.” Tears shimmered against Renée’s lashes.
“How awful!”
“While he was in a coma, I visited him every day. When my parents found out I was pregnant, they threatened to send me away, but I defied them for once. Then one day Vick opened his eyes. He couldn’t talk yet, but he squeezed my hand. I was so happy, so excited. The next day after school, I rushed to the hospital.” Tears slid down her cheeks.
“What happened?”
“He was gone. A blood clot, the doctor said. I’d been counting on us building a life together. But just like that, it was over.”
Moving to the couch, Erica slipped an arm around the woman. “How terrible.”
“I was sure he’d come around and marry me....” Renée pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “I was numb with grief. I just turned the baby over to the couple the agency recommended. All these years, I’ve wondered how my little boy turned out. Well, he’s not a little boy anymore.”
“I wonder why he’s trying to reach you.” Perhaps the man needed information about his heredity.
“When I signed up on the website, it seemed harmless.” Renée blew her nose. “The past few days, I’ve been reading birth mothers’ blogs. Some of the experiences are wonderful, but other adoptees have unrealistic expectations or unresolved anger. Several women were harassed and one was physically attacked.”
“That is frightening.” Erica didn’t like to dwell on such a thought. “You never had other children?”
Her hostess answered calmly. “A few years later, I was lucky enough to marry Hubert. We agreed to stop using birth control for a while, but when nothing happened, we decided not to pursue medical treatments or adoption. Hubert was older than me and fixed in his ways, so maybe it was for the best. I suspect our marriage was happier with just the two of us.”
“Good for you. Frankly, I…” Erica hesitated. She’d been about to confess that she didn’t want children, either, but that might lead to revealing her pregnancy. And she wasn’t ready to share that.
“Oh! I promised you a tea set.” Renée sprang from the couch.
“What do you mean?”
“The one with the butterflies.”
Erica recalled their conversation at the antiques store. “I’d forgotten about that. There’s no need.”
“It’s right over here.” From a sideboard, the woman removed a pale green teapot and placed it lovingly in Erica’s hands. “It’s perfect for you.”
Hand-painted butterflies flew along the surface, their jewel-like wings brilliant. Erica caught her breath. “How lovely!”
“I couldn’t resist these darling cups, but they’re wrong for my flower theme.” She set four small cups and saucers on an end table. Each displayed a different type of butterfly, every one luminous.
“They’re too beautiful. I can’t accept this.” But how could she resist? The painted images were full of life and hope, like a row of bassinets in the hospital nursery.
“I bought them at a crafts fair from the artist himself, on a trip Hubert and I took to Northern California.” Renée sat down, her expression eager. “It’s such a pleasure to see how much you like them.”
“I do!” And then, to Erica’s utter dismay, she burst into tears.
Chapter Eleven
“Oh, my dear! I didn’t mean to upset you.” Renée rushed over, accidentally knocking the end table and setting the china chattering. Both women grabbed the cups and teapot to steady them. “There, there,” the older woman said. “I’m so sorry. I’ve dragged you into my problems without a thought for how they might affect you.”
“It’s not your fault.” Erica couldn’t keep her secret any longer. “I’m pregnant. That’s why I’m so emotional.”
With the china rescued, Renée sank down again. “This wasn’t planned, was it?”
She shook her head. “I’m going to place the baby for adoption.”
Understanding dawned on her friend’s face. “And I’ve gone poking at your wounds by telling you my problems.”
“No, you’ve just helped me think it through. I’m sure it’s the right thing to do. But the father has this crazy notion about keeping the baby.” Bits and pieces rushed out, how she’d met the man by chance and made love in a moment of weakness. “Today he saw a cute baby and suddenly decided he’s daddy material. He hasn’t got a clue what’s ahead. And you know what else that means? I’d see my baby around. At the store, at the park, who knows where. It would be torture.”
Renée tilted her head sympathetically. “Of course it would. Because your heart is torn in two.”
That wasn’t what she’d meant. “I’m not in love with him.”
“But you’re in love with your baby,” her friend said, as if stating a fact.
“No! She or he isn’t…” Isn’t real to me. But that implied Erica might change her mind as the pregnancy progressed, and she knew she wouldn’t. “The baby belongs with people who’re eager for a child. Who’ll turn their lives and their home upside down to be good parents.”
A picture formed of her beautiful, orderly apartment, her refuge. The table and delicate glassware. The lovingly recovered upholstery. The… What was an image of the crib from the antiques store doing in her thoughts? It’s the kind of heirloom that gets handed down from generation to generation.…
Hot tears streaked her face. How embarrassing. It wasn’t as if she’d lost the man she loved the way Renée had. Erica wasn’t losing anything.
Was she?
“I suppose I am torn,” she admitted reluctantly.
“At least you have a choice, one way or the other,” Renée told her. “You’re not seventeen, and even if you don’t love this man, he’s willing to stand by his child. Don’t be too hasty. You’re making a decision now that will affect the rest of your life.”
Reaching for the teapot, Erica idly traced one of the painted butterflies with her finger. She remembered Lock’s blazing intensity when he’d told her that becoming a father was the most amazing thing i
n his life. Would it be so terrible to take a chance on raising a child with him?
It meant assuming a lifelong burden based on trust—trust in a man she barely knew. A man who could vanish in an instant. Erica refused to be the poor woman left alone to struggle. She knew her own mind a lot better than she knew Lock.
“A part of me may be tempted,” she conceded. “But I wasn’t cut out for motherhood. Not every woman is.”
Renée showed no inclination to argue. “I’m glad you aren’t making a snap decision. Now what are you going to do about the father?”
“He’s coming over to my apartment tomorrow.” By then, Erica had to figure out a way to change his mind. “He’s very strong willed.”
“Men tend to be like that,” Renée said with a trace of irony.
“Him in particular.” Strength was one of the qualities Erica most valued in Lock. Sometimes. “I’m afraid that by the time he realizes he’s made a mistake, it’ll be too late. He’ll feel committed and refuse to back down. The poor kid shouldn’t have to grow up in that kind of environment.”
“Give him a chance to learn more about fatherhood in advance. Babysitting would be a start,” her friend advised. “That might help him figure out whether he’s ready.”
“I wouldn’t trust him alone with a baby,” Erica declared. “He might hold it upside down while he diapers it. Oh, I don’t mean that, but he is inexperienced.”
“What about you?” Renée asked. “Have you spent much time around small children?”
“My mother made me babysit her sisters’ kids. I wouldn’t have minded occasionally, but it was practically every weekend.” Erica still felt angry about it. Although she’d been allowed to attend important high school functions, she’d missed the chance to hang out with classmates, to share long conversations and sleepovers. She’d had a hard time establishing friendships ever since. “If anyone knows how to warm a bottle or burp a baby, it’s me.”
“You should teach him.” Renée got to her feet and indicated the tea set. “Let me pack these for you.”
Erica no longer had the heart to refuse the gift. The butterflies seemed to have been painted especially for her. “This is much too generous. I’ll pay you for them.”
“Nonsense. Take the tea set and quit beefing about it!”
Erica laughed. “Since you put it that way.”
“I’ll be right back.” Renée scooted into the bedroom and returned with a cardboard box and bubble wrap. They both set to work. “I have an idea! Why don’t you and this fellow babysit Dr. Tartikoff’s twins? That would be a trial by fire.”
“Bailey might enjoy having a night out.” Erica had heard Owen say his wife didn’t like leaving the babies with a stranger, no matter how highly recommended. “I could suggest it. But I’d have to explain why, which means telling Dr. T about my pregnancy.”
“How long do you expect to keep it a secret from an obstetrician?” Renée tucked a cup into the box.
“Good point.” Erica wrapped the teapot carefully. “Okay, I’ll suggest it to the baby’s father. If he’s willing and Dr. T doesn’t agree, I’m sure we can find another parent who’ll accept free babysitting.”
“Dr. Rayburn and Dr. Forrest have triplets. That would be an even bigger challenge.”
Erica filed away that possibility, but she didn’t know the hospital administrator and his wife very well. “Thanks. You’ve been a big help.”
“So have you,” Renée told her. “I still don’t know what I’m going to do about my son, but talking to you was a relief.”
Only after Erica had loaded the china into her trunk and was driving home did she realize that, despite her reservations, she looked forward to tomorrow night. Being around Lock might be fun. So would babysitting together. And once he came to his senses and agreed he wasn’t cut out for single fatherhood, she hoped they could be friends.
Friends with benefits. She’d like that.
LOCK HADN’T MEANT to spend an hour on the internet researching recipes for dinner, but he was glad he had, he mused as he selected a package of ground turkey in the supermarket meat section. What was it about Erica that made him want to take care of her? He felt a powerful instinct to make sure she ate properly and stayed safe, and not only due to the pregnancy. Perhaps it was because she seemed brittle, angry and hurt from old injuries, just like he was.
He glanced at his shopping list. Next item: stuffing mix. The recipe called for combining it with ground meat, oregano and a cup of water, dividing the mixture up in a muffin tin, spooning on salsa and baking the mini meat loaves for half an hour at 350 degrees. Topped with cheese and served with corn and a salad, they ought to be tasty, as well as nourishing.
Suncrest Market was busy near dinnertime on a Saturday, its aisles jammed with families, single folks like him and couples. Lock steered his cart around a display of cake mixes and halted in surprise when he recognized the girl ahead of him as Kelli DiDonato. She was staring up adoringly into the face of an unshaved young man with scraggly blond hair. One arm looped around her waist, he reached past her to pluck a box of brownie mix off the shelf.
Lock had seen the fellow before, smoking with Kelli after school, and heard her call him Randy. He’d assumed the youth was in high school, but his T-shirt bore the name of a nearby community college. Did this guy have any idea that the girl was only eleven? Or didn’t he care?
Ducking his head to avoid notice, Lock moved to the next aisle. He took out his phone and dialed Phil’s number.
Upon learning of the situation, the mechanic said gruffly, “I’ll find out if my mother knows what Kelli’s doing. Meanwhile, I’m on my way. Call you back.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her.” Lock had nearly finished shopping, anyway. And luckily, this aisle held the stuffing mix.
After dropping it in his cart, he peered into the baking section. Empty. Concerned, he prowled through the store until he spotted the pair in the freezer section. Kelli giggled at something her companion said and snuggled closer. Randy smirked. If that were Lock’s daughter, he’d grab her away fast.
“Are you deliberately ignoring me?”
Startled by the female voice, Lock swiveled. Erica stood watching him with wry amusement. “Oh, hi,” he said, trying to figure out how to explain the situation.
“You walked right past me. You aren’t on duty, are you?” She shifted her cart to make room for another shopper.
“Well, I wasn’t, but I am now.” He gave a nod toward the pair he’d been observing. “See them? Don’t stare. That girl is my client’s niece and she’s only eleven. I’m on watch until her uncle gets here.”
“That guy’s way too old for her.” Erica kept her voice low and averted her gaze. If Kelli glanced their way, she’d see nothing more than two people chatting. Not that the girl seemed aware that anyone else existed, in the store or possibly in the universe. “I don’t suppose you can tell me what’s going on with her.”
“It’s confidential…” Glancing into her cart, Lock noted milk, bread and margarine. “Out of the basics?”
“I figured you might need some of these for cooking,” she said. “Should I leave you alone? I’ll understand if you’re late.”
“Actually, talking to you makes me less conspicuous,” Lock explained. “Not that I don’t enjoy the company.”
“Sorry I forgot my trench coat and fedora.”
“Let’s just pretend we’re civilians,” he said drily, and stole another glance at his target. To Lock’s dismay, Randy and Kelli were kissing, her arms winding around his neck as she pressed against him.
An elderly man shot them an irritated frown. “Get a room,” he muttered.
Kelli burst out laughing. After selecting a carton of ice cream from the freezer case, she and Randy sauntered toward the front of the store w
ith their purchases.
Lock indicated the contents of his cart. “Would you mind taking care of this?”
“Not at all. Now, go!” Erica said.
From a nearby shelf, he grabbed a bottle of vinaigrette dressing as an excuse in case he had to stand in line, and strode off. On the way, he skirted mounded displays of fruit, barely halting in time to avoid running into his targets. The couple had paused by a stand of cut flowers to indulge in another passionate kiss.
Through the large front window, Lock searched in vain for Phil’s truck. Instead, he noticed a motor home double-parked behind his car. Rotten timing if he had to follow these two.
As Kelli and Randy lingered, Lock made a quick assessment of his options. Running out and shouting “Move!” would make him about as inconspicuous as a Tyrannosaurus rex in a Starbucks. Besides, he saw Erica’s car in the clear.
And she’d wasted no time in hauling their combined stuff to a check stand, where she’d started unloading the items. Lock slipped into place beside her. “Change of plans.” He directed her gaze toward the RV. “I’m blocked. Okay if we take your car?”
“Sure. I’m not leaving that kid unprotected.”
The younger couple was using a self-serve counter. Anxious to keep up with them, Lock hurried things along by bagging the groceries. “Used to do this in high school,” he told the clerk.
“You’re good at it,” she said. “If you ever need a job, let us know.”
“Thanks.”
By the time they trailed their quarry outside, a large tow truck was backing toward the RV. That explained why the driver hadn’t removed it.
Stopping at a dented compact car, Kelli set their small grocery bag in the trunk. Randy kept putting his hands all over her. “She’s eleven?” Erica muttered. “He ought to be arrested.”
“He might be.” Lock’s phone rang. “Yes?”
“She told Mom she was spending the night with a girlfriend.” Judging by the background noise, Phil was on the road.
“I’m in the parking lot at Suncrest.”
SH Medical 07 - The Detective's Accidental Baby Page 11
