The dial tone buzzed in Brenda’s ear. She replaced the receiver, then stared at it for a long moment.
“I miss you, Richard,” she said, then drew a deep, wobbly breath that held the echo of tears. “I didn’t even tell him about Winston Churchill.”
Richard sat on the edge of the bed in his hotel room, his hand still on the telephone.
He didn’t want to break the connection he had to Brenda, he realized, not releasing the receiver. He felt as though he’d been gone forever and was never going to get back to Ventura. To Brenda. And their daughter, who was nestled within Brenda’s delicate body.
The nightly telephone calls just weren’t cutting it, weren’t enough. He wanted to see Brenda, give her a hug, reassure himself that she was all right. He wanted to place his hand on her stomach, her Porky Piggy stomach according to her, and bond through the palm of his hand with his baby girl.
Richard sighed, forced himself to pull his hand from the telephone, then stretched out on the bed, lacing his fingers beneath his head.
He wanted to go home. He didn’t care if that sounded like a pouting kid who had been sent to camp. He wanted to go home…to Brenda.
He also wanted to marry Brenda Henderson, he thought dryly, to buy a house they’d make into a home, become a family…mom, dad and daughter.
But that wasn’t going to happen, because Brenda would never agree to marry him, because they weren’t in love with each other.
“Ah, hell,” Richard said aloud, frowning as he stared up at the ceiling. “Everything is so damn complicated.”
Why couldn’t Brenda see that what they had together was special, that being best friends was important and meant a great deal, was more than some people ever had together?
So, okay, they weren’t dewy-eyed, romantically in love with each other, but, hey, what they did have was rich and real and counted for something. They’d be a united front, a devoted set of parents to their daughter, and raise her in a home that was filled with sunshine and laughter.
Richard chuckled and shook his head.
A home that was a cluttered group of rooms that would include an empty refrigerator because Brenda couldn’t find the notes she’d written to herself reminding her to pick her stuff up off the floor, then go for groceries.
Yeah, well, so what? He could be in charge of shopping for their food and he could afford to hire a service to keep the place in order. He could even live with country-western music as long as a few Strauss waltzes were played now and again.
Damn, why was Brenda being so difficult, so…so female, with her tough stand on being part of a fairy-tale love story?
Now that he really thought about it, how did a person even know when they were romantically in love? What ingredients had to be in the mix for that kind of love to take place? Did Brenda know? Did he? He didn’t have a clue as to the answer to that one.
He was surrounded by MacAllister couples who were deeply in love with each other. What did they have together that he and Brenda didn’t have as loving best friends? What would it take for Brenda and him to be best friends who were in love? He had no idea.
All he was certain of tonight, in this empty, sterile hotel room, was that he missed Brenda Henderson, wanted to see her smile and her sparkling dark eyes.
For the first time in all the years he’d been traveling with this damnable job, he was lonely.
He wanted to go home.
With another deep sigh, Richard swung his feet to the floor, tugged off his shoes, then headed for the shower, dreading another long night of tossing and turning…and yearning.
Brenda was extremely busy during the following three weeks as people scrambled to take one last trip out of the city before summer ended and school started. The telephones rang almost constantly at Wishing Well Travel Agency, and Brenda and her staff of three hardly had time to sip a hot cup of coffee or catch up on each other’s news.
Brenda arrived home each evening so exhausted she had to tell herself to put one foot in front of the other as she entered her apartment. She ate dinner, took a soothing bubble bath and crawled into bed to await Richard’s nightly call.
When it became obvious to Richard that he had wakened her from an early sleep three nights in a row, he lost control.
“Damn it, Bren,” he said, “it’s not even nine o’clock and you’re so tired again you were sound asleep. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that you’re working too hard at the travel agency. This has got to stop. Are you listening to me, Brenda?”
Brenda yawned. “Mmm. I hear you, Richard. Things will calm down at the agency in a couple of weeks after Labor Day. It’s always like this in August.”
“Yeah, well, you haven’t always been pregnant in August,” he said gruffly. “Being totally exhausted night after night can’t be good for you and the baby. Does Kara know you’re pushing yourself like this?”
“I haven’t spoken with Kara. I’m scheduled to see her next week. Quit yelling at me, Richard. I have responsibilities that go along with my career, just as you do. I’m not jumping on your case because you’re working seven days a week, am I? No, I am not.”
“I’m not the one who’s going to have a baby,” he said, none too quietly. “What about your responsibilities to Flash?”
Brenda narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you dare insinuate that I’m not taking proper care of our child, Richard MacAllister. I don’t see you here pouring me glasses of milk. I’m doing this all alone and I’m not neglecting my health or the baby’s. So just…just stop nagging me.”
Richard sighed. “You’re right. I’m not there with you, and I should be. I’m sorry I hollered at you, Bren. I feel as if I’m on another planet instead of being only a couple of states away from you.” He paused. “You are drinking your milk, aren’t you?”
“Aaak,” Brenda yelled. “You’re driving me crazy.”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Richard said quickly. “We’ll change the subject before you make plans to murder me. Want to hear some Texas trivia?”
“Sure,” Brenda said, then yawned again.
“Okay, this one is right on the mark, considering the volume of some of this conversation we’re having. Ready? The longest one-syllable word in the English language is screeched. How’s that?”
“Not bad,” Brenda said, nodding. “I just happen to have one in the language area myself. Dreamt is the only English word that ends in the letters mt.”
“Really? I dreamt about you last night, Bren,” Richard said quietly.
“You did?” she said, her voice hushed. “What was the dream about?”
“It was kind of a mishmash…you know how dreams can be, but the gist of it was that we were dancing…waltzing, I think, to Strauss in a big, crowded ballroom. You were wearing a long, flowing dress, and I had on a tux. Then suddenly we were dancing in a field of flowers.”
“Ohhh,” Brenda said, “how romantic. Waltzing in a field of flowers. Ohhh.”
“That’s romantic?” Richard said, frowning.
“I swear, Richard, I don’t think you’d recognize romance if it bit you on the nose. What else happened in the dream?”
“It got nuts after that,” he said. “We were dancing, then…blam…we were holding babies. A whole bunch of babies, trying to juggle them in our arms because there were so many of them. Weird.”
“It’s symbolic,” Brenda said. “We’ll be juggling our careers and leisure time with caring for our baby. That’s a rather daunting, even overwhelming, thought.”
“But not in the dream, Bren. We were laughing, having a wonderful time with the babies. It was fun. Then my alarm went off and woke me up. But the fact remains that we were thoroughly enjoying the dancing and the arrival of the munchkins.”
“Oh. Well, that’s comforting,” she said. “Are you sure we were waltzing? Maybe we were doing the Texas two-step in time to country-western music.”
“It was my dream, Brenda. It was a Strauss waltz. Don’t try to change the script.”
“Don�
�t get grumpy again,” Brenda said. “I think it’s very sweet that you dreamt about me and Flash. That there was a whole slew of babies in your dream is probably due to our baby being such a major player in our lives, necessitating all kinds of adjustments on our parts.”
“Since when did you become an expert on deciphering the meaning of dreams?”
“I’m just winging it here,” Brenda said.
“Well, you’re making sense,” Richard said. “Things will be easier for both of us when I get home. Then you won’t be alone and I won’t feel so…so left out of what is happening.”
“But you’ll leave again in a few days…a week at the most, Richard. You always do.”
“We’ll see. I’m going to hang up so you can go back to sleep. Maybe I’ll dream about you again tonight.”
“That would be nice,” Brenda said softly.
“Or maybe you’ll dream about me.”
“Yes, maybe I will,” she said. “That would be nice, too.”
“Good night, Brenda.”
“Good night, Richard. Have…have sweet dreams.”
Three nights later Brenda dashed into her apartment and grabbed up the receiver to the ringing telephone.
“’Lo,” she said, gasping for breath.
“Brenda? This is Jillian MacAllister.”
“Hi, Jillian,” Brenda said. “How are you? And Forrest? And the triplets?”
“We’re all dandy. Listen, you’re on my list for the MacAllister-family calling tree. Jennifer is in labor at Mercy Hospital even as we speak.”
“Oh, what exciting news, Jillian,” Brenda said. “And how lovely it is to know that I’m on the MacAllister-calling tree list.”
“Well, you’re like a member of the clan, Bren. Anyway, some of us are going to the hospital, and others are staying home with the kiddies. I’m here on triple-bubble-bath-and-bed duty, but Forrest left already for the hospital. He said that Jack was coming unglued when he called. If Jack faints in the delivery room, he’ll never live it down.”
“That’s for sure,” Brenda said, laughing. “Poor Jack. I hope he hangs in there. Jillian, just think, Jennifer and Jack’s son is going to be born on this very night.”
“Ah, I see that you’re a believer in the Baby Bet. Jack said they are having a boy, so it’s a boy.”
And this, Brenda thought, splaying one hand on her tummy, is a girl, because Richard said so.
“I’m going to go to the hospital right now, Jillian,” she said. “Thanks so much for calling me.”
“My thoughts and prayers will be at that hospital,” Jillian said, “even if I can’t be there in person. ’Bye, Bren.”
“’Bye.”
Brenda hung up the receiver, grabbed her purse and hurried to the door. She rushed forward as soon as she flung it open and proceeded to slam into an immovable object, causing her to yelp in surprise. She looked up, and her eyes widened.
“Richard!” she said. “Richard?”
“In the flesh,” he said, smiling as he wrapped his arms around her. “Ah, man, it’s great to see you, Bren.”
Brenda nestled her head on Richard’s chest, savoring the solid warmth of him, inhaling his familiar aroma, drinking in the feel of his strong arms encircling her as she wrapped her arms around his back.
“I’m glad to see you, too,” she said, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?”
“I wasn’t positive that I could finish up in Dallas,” he said, “but I did, and I’m here, and where were you going in such an all-fired hurry?”
“Oh! To the hospital. Jennifer is in labor. Jillian just telephoned me, because I’m on the MacAllister family calling tree. Isn’t that special? I was so touched.
“Forrest said that Jack is falling apart. Forrest will probably get a bet going as to whether or not Jack will pass out in the delivery room.
“Do you think your brother will be able to stay on his feet long enough to see his son born? It is a boy, you know, because Jack said it’s a boy, just like you said that we’re having a girl and—”
Richard kissed her.
He kissed Brenda because he was so very glad to see her at long last and because he was so relieved that he was actually home.
He kissed her because she looked like a delicate summer flower in her pretty dress and because her dark eyes were sparkling like rare diamonds with the excitement of the pending birth of Jennifer and Jack’s son.
He kissed her because she was carrying his daughter, and that fact still caused him to be filled with awe at the very thought.
He kissed her because she was Brenda, and he’d missed her very, very much.
He ended the kiss with a reluctance that was rather unsettling, then saw a matching emotion of confusion on Brenda’s face.
“You’re home,” Brenda said breathlessly. Well, duh, that was a less-than-brilliant thing to say, she thought, but it was a wonder she could even speak at all after that kiss. That wonderful, breath-stealing, passionate kiss that she’d returned with total abandon. Oh, mercy, what was happening here? “Richard?”
“I’m…I’m just glad to be back,” he said, his voice slightly gritty. “I didn’t plan to kiss you like that, but I…I did. So, sue me, or slug me, or—” Richard stopped speaking and his eyes widened as he stared at Brenda, who was still nestled to him. “Oh, Bren, I can feel our baby pressing against me. Your stomach is…”
“Porky Piggy,” she said, laughing. “See? I told you I was getting fat fast.”
Richard gripped her shoulders and eased her away from him, his gaze shifting to Brenda’s stomach, which was covered by the blousy top of her dress. He raised one hand, then hesitated and looked directly into her eyes.
“Is it all right if I— What I mean is, I’d really like to— But if you don’t want me to…”
Brenda took Richard’s hand and placed it on the gently rounded slope of her tummy, her hand covering his.
“Richard,” she said, smiling at him warmly, “this is your…our daughter.”
“Hey, Flash,” he said, “how’s it going in there? This is me, your father, your daddy. I’m home, baby girl.”
But for how long? Brenda thought, a shiver coursing through her. The very image in her mind of Richard once again packing his suitcase and leaving her all alone was so depressing, so bleak and empty. She didn’t want him to leave her, not again.
Why? she asked herself in the next instant. So he’d be available to kiss the socks off her at every turn? She didn’t want to sue him or slug him, she wanted him to kiss her again and again and again.
Oh, this was insane. And this train of thought was going to stop…right now. This was Richard, her best friend, who just happened to be the father of the baby she was carrying.
The kiss they’d just shared didn’t mean anything in the overall picture. Richard had just gotten carried away by the moment, by the joy of being home, by the awe and wonder of his child. He hadn’t kissed her, he’d reacted to their situation, the circumstances surrounding it. And she’d responded to that kiss for the same reasons.
There. She’d figured it all out. Thank goodness. Everything was fine, under control, hunky-dory. Except for the fact that she was standing in the open doorway to her apartment with Richard MacAllister’s hand splayed on her stomach, for Pete’s sake.
“Are you coming to the hospital with me to wait for the arrival of your new nephew?” Brenda said, removing Richard’s hand from her stomach.
“What?” Richard shook his head slightly. “Oh, yes, you bet. I wouldn’t miss it. But are you certain you should go? You’ve no doubt had another long, hard day at the travel agency.”
“I’m fine,” Brenda said. “Let’s hit the road. I just hope that everyone is so busy concentrating on Jennifer and Jack that they don’t take a long look at me in this dress. A practiced eye, which the MacAllisters have, would see in a second that I’m pregnant. We’ve been so busy at work that no one has noticed yet. I’m just no
t ready for your family to know about this baby, Richard.”
Well, he was more than ready, Richard thought, as Brenda closed the apartment door. He wanted to tell the entire MacAllister clan—hell, he wanted to announce to the world—that he was going to be a father, that he and Brenda were going to have a baby.
Richard encircled Brenda’s shoulders with one arm as they started down the hallway.
And even more, he thought, he wanted to marry Brenda Henderson. Living next door to her wasn’t going to cut it for him. No, sir. He wanted to be part of his child’s life every moment that it was humanly possible.
Somehow—but how?—he had to convince Brenda that they didn’t have to be in love with each other in order to be husband and wife, that being best friends was enough, was an honest and steady foundation on which to base their future, and one that would allow them to raise their child together.
As Richard drove toward the hospital he glanced over at Brenda.
“Trivia,” he said, redirecting his attention to the traffic. “The dragonfly has a lifespan of twenty-four hours.”
“Really?” Brenda said. “That’s rather sad, isn’t it?” She laughed. “Don’t tell me things like that, Richard. My pregnant hormones will probably cause me to weep for a week about the poor little dragonflies.”
“Well, it makes a person think,” Richard said, sliding a quick look at her. “We humans are blessed with years and years of living, and we owe it to ourselves to reach out and grab hold of whatever happiness is in front of us. It may not be picture perfect, the way we fantasized or daydreamed about, but, by golly, some is better than none.”
“I wonder what Jennifer and Jack are going to name their son,” Brenda said.
Richard’s shoulders slumped and he frowned.
So much for being profound and meaningful. He’d struck out big-time with that one, that was for damn sure.
But he now had a mission, a purpose, a goal. He was a MacAllister, and MacAllisters fought the good fight and won. He would marry Brenda Henderson. She’d see the light, come to view things as he did, realize that while, no, they weren’t in love with each other, they did love and respect each other.
Baby: MacAllister-Made Page 8
