Shameless

by Joan Johnston

  But maybe that hadn’t been it at all. Maybe she was feeling bad because there was something she should have told him a long time before now. Something she sure as hell should have told him before they’d made love.

  He turned on Angus, furious because he didn’t want to believe it was true. But he couldn’t think of any reason why Angus would lie to him about such a thing. “How could you possibly know all this?”

  “Matt confided in me. Pippa’s pregnancy is one of the reasons they left Australia. She was being treated like a pariah because she was carrying a married man’s child.”

  Devon opened his mouth to say that if Pippa was pregnant he would have noticed the signs, since he wasn’t blind, but closed it before any sound escaped. He remembered that Pippa had been nauseated a few mornings when she’d first come to stay with him. And he’d been surprised when they made love in the barn that her belly wasn’t as flat as he’d expected it to be. He’d thought with an inward smile that the roundness he felt was the result of Pippa’s eating so many of the oatmeal cookies she’d baked for him, because he’d told her they were his favorite.

  Now he realized that the nausea had been morning sickness. And her belly had grown larger since she’d come to stay with him because a child—another man’s child—was growing inside her.

  “I’m sorry, son.”

  “I’m not your son!” Devon snapped, rising and heading for the door. All his life he’d wished his father would call him son. But not like this.

  “Devon! Stop. Wait!”

  Devon turned in the doorway and saw that Angus had risen from his chair and had a hand outstretched as though to offer succor. “I didn’t need to hear your confession, old man. And I sure as hell don’t need your help.”

  He’d turned to leave again when Angus called out, “Don’t be a fool!”

  Devon whirled on his father and snarled, “It’s too goddamn late for that!”

  Chapter 24

  PIPPA HAD SLEPT late, because she’d spent several hours of the previous night sobbing with her face held against a pillow, so Devon wouldn’t hear her. She’d felt sick with shame because she couldn’t find the courage—even after she’d made love with Devon—to tell him about the baby.

  She’d been on the verge of confessing the truth last night. But then Devon had made it clear what he thought about a man—he’d meant his biological father—who had sex with another man’s wife. He’d continued—using Brian’s wife as an example—with what he thought of a woman who would cheat on her husband, refusing to concede that there could be any set of circumstances deserving of forgiveness.

  Pippa hadn’t known Tim was married, but when all was said and done, he’d been someone else’s husband. What would that make her in Devon’s eyes? Especially since, not unlike his mother, she was carrying that married man’s child?

  She’d spent a sleepless night, determined to come clean in the morning and admit that she was pregnant, only to find a note from Devon on the kitchen counter telling her that he’d gone to see his father and expected to be back for lunch. She’d felt more relieved than disappointed that he’d left her behind.

  She was feeding Wulf a late breakfast when she heard a knock on the door. She frowned, wondering who in the world it could be. It made no sense to answer the knock. There was no one she knew, including her father and Devon’s brothers, whom she wanted to talk to, and besides, she wasn’t dressed to meet company. Her eyes were gritty, her mascara smeared, her hair a mess, and she was naked under the long-sleeved white T-shirt she’d worn to bed along with a pair of Devon’s long john bottoms.

  Wulf’s attention remained completely focused on the door. He growled, and his neck hairs hackled. Pippa realized that whoever was standing on the other side of that door, it wasn’t someone Devon knew well, or Wulf wouldn’t be acting so predatory. Which was when she realized that she was all alone and completely defenseless—and if Devon had followed previous habit, the door wasn’t even locked!

  She was reaching for the phone to call 911—not that anyone could get here in time to save her—when a female voice called out, “Is anybody home?”

  Wulf immediately sat on his haunches, looked up at her, and whined.

  Pippa was confused by the wolf’s behavior, which suggested that he’d changed his mind, that whoever was out there was friend rather than foe. In any case, knowing it was a woman, Pippa no longer felt physically threatened. She crossed to the curtained window and looked out to see if she recognized whoever it was.

  She dropped the curtain immediately and pressed a fisted hand against her heart. She didn’t know the woman, but she recognized her—because she saw many of the same features in her own mirror every morning.

  Pippa forgot that she was wearing pajamas, that her hair was a mess, that her eyes were smeared with mascara. She ran to the door and jerked it open, her heart jackhammering in her chest.

  She said nothing, just stared her fill, absorbing every detail of the woman she believed was her mother. The woman on the front porch was wearing a crisply pressed white shirt open at the throat and covered by a fringed black suede jacket, a black belt with a delicate silver buckle, ironed jeans, and black ostrich cowboy boots. Her hair was as blond as Pippa’s, but it was shorter and swung freely just below her jaw. A few bangs fell onto her forehead, leaving her finely arched brows visible over dove-gray eyes the exact same shade as Pippa’s.

  “Pippa?” The woman attempted a smile, but her mouth wobbled and she stopped trying.

  “Mum?” Pippa whispered.

  The woman nodded as her eyes filled with tears. One slid down her cheek, and still she didn’t move. At last, she cleared her throat and said, “May I come in?”

  Pippa stepped back and pulled the door farther open. And then remembered Wulf. “Just a minute, I need to—” But Wulf was sitting in the same place she’d left him, observing the two of them with a cocked head. Pippa realized Wulf must have heard something of her voice in her mother’s, which was why he’d stopped bristling. And he must have sensed—or smelled—the biological connection between her and her mother, because he allowed Jennifer Hart to enter the house without moving a muscle to stop her.

  “Is that a wolf?” her mother asked, freezing just inside the door.

  “He won’t hurt you,” Pippa assured her. “Come here, Wulf,” she said, calling the wolf to her side, “and meet my mother.”

  Pippa waited and watched as Jennifer Hart took the few steps to put her close enough to reach out a tentative hand. Wulf sniffed and then licked her fingers.

  Her mother gave a nervous laugh as she retrieved her hand. “For a moment there, it looked like he was deciding whether or not I’d make a tasty dinner.”

  Pippa smiled. “I don’t know why Wulf accepted me as a friend. I’m just grateful he did.”

  Wulf crossed to the buffalo robe on the floor in front of the fireplace and curled up with his tail over his nose.

  Pippa was suddenly self-conscious about her appearance and shoved both hands through her hair in an attempt to get out some of the tangles. “I’m a mess. I overslept this morning,” she said by way of explanation.

  “I should have called ahead, but…” Her mother smiled—doing a better job of it this time—and said, “I was afraid you would tell me not to come.”

  Pippa wondered what she would have done if she’d been given a choice about this meeting. She supposed the fact that she’d opened the door when she’d recognized her mother answered that question. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “Your father called me yesterday.”

  Pippa stiffened. “And asked you to come talk some sense into me?”

  Ignoring the agitation in Pippa’s voice, her mother said, “I’ve been traveling all morning. I could really use a cup of coffee.”

  “How about a cup of tea instead?” Pippa suggested. She still hadn’t figured out how to use Devon’s automatic coffeemaker.

  “Tea would be fine.” Her mother followed her into
the kitchen, dropping the sleek black purse that had been hanging by a strap from her shoulder onto the breakfast bar.

  Pippa stopped what she was doing and turned to fill her eyes with the sight of the woman who’d borne her. “I know I’m staring,” she said, “but I never even knew until very recently that you were alive. It’s hard to believe you’re real.”

  Her mother smiled, and this time her gray eyes were filled with warmth. “I’m afraid I’m doing the same thing. I thought you’d died at birth. I had no idea you existed until yesterday.”

  “I’ve known about you for a whole month. I just…” The reasons she hadn’t contacted her mother were all tied up with her being pregnant. She wondered if her father had revealed the truth to her mother. If he had, it hadn’t kept her mum from coming to see her. And if he hadn’t, she wasn’t yet ready to admit how flawed a daughter she’d turned out to be.

  Instead she said, “You must have been pretty shocked when my dad told you I was alive.”

  “Yes. I was,” she admitted. “I wasn’t going to come. I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.” She shrugged, looking chagrined. “In the end, I couldn’t stop myself.”

  Pippa stood motionless as this stranger—who was her mother—reached out and brushed her bangs away from her forehead. Pippa’s whole body was quivering with excitement and fear and joy and a dozen other emotions that were tumbling over one another as her mother touched her for the first time. When she held out her arms, Pippa walked right into them.

  Pippa hugged her mother as tightly as she was being hugged in return. She heard her mother sob once, and felt like sobbing herself, but her throat was so constricted no sound could escape. She felt the caress of her mother’s hand on her hair, and leaned back to look down at her, which was when she realized she was several inches taller.

  “You’re so short!” Pippa said with a laugh.

  “You’re so tall!” her mother replied with a grin. “Your father comes from a family of towering men.”

  Pippa grimaced at the mention of her father. “Is he coming here, too?”

  Her mother sobered and shook her head. “He doesn’t know I’m here. Besides, I told him I don’t want to see him.” Her thumb gently brushed Pippa’s cheek, and her eyes roamed over Pippa’s face as though she still couldn’t quite believe she wasn’t dreaming. “I need a little more time first to get used to having a daughter.”

  “Does that mean you have a son?” Pippa asked.

  “The senator and I never had any children.”

  Instead of remarking on the fact that her mother had apparently been married to an American politician, Pippa focused on the other question that came to mind. “You didn’t want children?”

  “I never got pregnant again after you were born.”

  Pippa wondered if that meant her mother wasn’t able to have children, or that she’d taken precautions to be sure she wouldn’t get pregnant again, but she didn’t want to spoil this first meeting by asking that sort of question.

  “I would like a chance to get to know you better. I’d love for you to come stay with me at my family’s ranch in Texas.”

  Pippa was stunned by the offer. And relieved. And confused, because she should be jumping at it, yet found herself hesitating. It didn’t take much soul-searching to realize that, as much as she wanted to spend time getting to know her mother, she wanted to stay with Devon more.

  Now what? Especially since she had no idea how Devon was going to react when he discovered she was pregnant—and that she’d been keeping her plight a secret from him since the day they’d met. Pippa felt sick to her stomach—and not because she was pregnant. She wondered if it was already too late, if she’d already ruined any chance she’d had of a life with Devon by lying from the start.

  Now her mother had offered to have her come to Texas so they could get to know each other. Would Devon understand why she wanted to go if she walked out of his life right now? How she needed to spend time with her mother? Surely he would, since he’d admitted last night how curious he was about his own biological father.

  Or would he simply think she was running from him, unwilling to face his judgment when he finally learned—as he must eventually—that she was carrying Tim’s child?

  Pippa took a step back from her mother and said, “I should make us that tea.”

  Her mother leaned back against the kitchen counter and watched as Pippa plugged in the electric teapot Devon had bought as a surprise for her earlier in the week. Which reminded her that he might be returning at any moment.

  “Would you mind watching the teapot while I get dressed? Devon’s supposed to be back in a little while, and I don’t want him to find me still wearing my pajamas.”

  “Sure.”

  Pippa could feel her mother’s eyes on her all the way to Devon’s bedroom. She felt almost guilty shutting the door. It wasn’t as though she wasn’t coming right back out again in a couple of minutes. She just needed some time alone to adjust to the fact that her mother was standing in the next room.

  Pippa wished she knew whether her father had revealed her pregnancy to her mother. Would her mum still be willing to have Pippa come and live with her if she knew everything? Or was that why she’d come—to rescue her pregnant daughter?

  Pippa had never felt so torn and confused. She wanted to spend more time with her newfound mother, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to go all the way to Texas to do it. Especially when it meant leaving Devon behind. But what if Devon wanted nothing to do with her when he learned the truth?

  Pippa’s stomach had been cramping a little ever since she’d woken up, and it had gotten worse after her mother appeared at the door. She’d thought it was simply the stress of knowing she was finally going to tell Devon the truth, followed by the excitement of meeting her mother for the first time. But when she pulled off her long johns and saw several spots of bright red blood, she realized it was something a lot more serious—and potentially devastating.

  For a moment she couldn’t catch her breath. She tried not to panic. If there had ever been any doubt that she wanted this baby, she knew the truth in that moment. Because all she could think about was getting to a hospital where they could find out what was wrong and save her baby.

  Pippa dressed hurriedly, grateful that her mum had shown up at the door, because without her mother’s arrival she might have been in dire straits. She would have had no way to get to a hospital except to call for someone to come get her, which might have delayed her getting help until it was too late.

  When she flew out of the bedroom a few minutes later, she was dressed in what she’d been wearing lately to conceal her pregnancy—a T-shirt covered by one of Devon’s wool shirts over half-zipped jeans and her new cowboy boots.

  She walked straight to the teapot and unplugged it, then turned to her mother and said, “Can you drive me to the hospital?”

  “Of course! What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”

  Well, that answers that question, Pippa thought, relieved that her mother both knew the truth about her pregnancy and had apparently accepted it. “Yes. I’m spotting. Please, can we go now?”

  Pippa was grabbing her jacket when her mother said, “Do you want to call your father?”

  “No.” She was too afraid he wouldn’t be saddened by this loss. He might think it was a blessing in disguise. He might even say such a thing out loud. She would hate him forever if he did.

  “What about Devon?” her mother asked.

  Pippa froze. Did she want to call him? And tell him what? That she might be losing a baby he knew nothing about? “No,” she said, moving toward the door.

  “Will he be worried if he comes back and finds you gone?” her mother persisted.

  He would likely think she’d gone for a walk, at least for a while. When she didn’t return he would worry. He might start making phone calls—maybe even to her father. Heaven knew what her father might reveal in such a conversation. She wanted to be the one to tell Devon she was pregnant.
She shuddered to think how he would feel if he got the news secondhand.

  “I’ll leave a note,” she said.

  It was easier to announce that she would leave a note than to decide what to write. What should she say?

  I’m spotting and I might lose my baby—oh, did I mention I’m pregnant?—but my long-lost mother showed up this morning—perfect timing—so she’s taking me to the hospital.

  Pippa giggled at the absurdity of such a note and realized she was on the edge of hysteria.

  A moment later her mother was by her side, her arm around her waist holding her close. “Take a deep breath.”

  “I don’t have time—”

  “A deep breath,” her mother insisted.

  Pippa took a quick breath and huffed it out. “Satisfied?”

  “Another,” her mother said. “Deeper. Slower.”

  Pippa followed her instructions and realized her thundering heart was no longer galloping quite so fast. She looked into her mother’s eyes and said, “I’m scared, Mum. I’m scared I’m going to lose my baby.”

  Her mother’s arms folded around her like angel’s wings and she whispered, “Whatever happens, sweetheart, I’ll be there with you.”

  Pippa found the words comforting beyond measure. She didn’t understand why she was so glad to have this stranger who’d given birth to her by her side when she was keeping her father—who’d loved her all her life—at a distance.

  Her mother took the pen from Pippa’s trembling hand and wrote on the top sheet of the notepad: Gone to the hospital.

  She dropped the pen, stuck the blue sticky note in the center of the breakfast bar, and said, “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 25

  DEVON FUMED ALL the way home. It was bad enough that his father had been lying to him all his life. It hurt even worse to discover that Pippa hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him something pretty damned important about herself. Good Lord. A baby! He was having trouble separating his anger over her deception from his feelings for Pippa, especially now that he knew having her in his life meant raising another man’s child.