by Sharon Sala
And this morning, for the second time in a week, she’d overslept. Add to that the worn-out, run-down feeling that had dogged her every step for the past few days, and you had a woman who was not in a receptive frame of mind for the deliveryman or the package that he carried to her door.
“Now what?” Toni muttered as she raced to answer the abrupt knocking on her front door.
“Miss Antonette Hatfield?”
She sighed, then slumped against the doorframe at the sight of the uniformed man bearing a small, but suspicious-looking package.
Her fourteen-year-old nephew Harry, who was her brother Arnie’s son, and who lived in Nashville, had taken it upon himself to give the names of every member of his family to a computer company in the hopes of winning some fly-by-night video prize. Harry was already in trouble with his father and two of his uncles because of the stunt. And while Toni had heard of this only through the family grapevine, she wondered if she was about to become victim number three. If this was a free-for-ten-days-or-send-it-back-with-no-charge deal, she was not going to be happy knowing that she was now on some con artist’s mailing list, and Harry would probably be grounded for life.
“Miss Hatfield? You are Antonette Hatfield, aren’t you?”
She peered over his clipboard to the package in his hand, but couldn’t see anything other than a bunch of upside-down labels and codes that she wouldn’t have been able to understand had she seen them upright.
“Yes, I'm Toni Hatfield.”
“Package for you,” he said, and handed her the clipboard. “Sign here, please.”
She did as he asked, and watched the dust in the driveway settle long after he was gone, realizing as she closed the door how suspicious she’d become since nearly losing her life. Emmit Rice may have missed his target when he’d failed in taking her hostage, but he’d taken something precious just the same when he had died. She no longer assumed that she was safe, and trust wasn’t just a word, but a thing to be treasured.
“So, Harry. What wonderful prize have I just won, and how much is it going to cost me to claim it?”
The small smile she’d been wearing as she tore into the wrapping died on her lips with the card that fell on the floor at her feet. Once again, the shock of seeing that broad, dark slash of handwriting bearing her name seemed a mockery in the face of his absence.
“What now?” she muttered, and then stared at the obvious. “An answering machine? What on earth can he be thinking...?”
The card said it all.
Dear Toni,
Just to make sure you are still all right, I tried several times to call you. You kept missing my calls and I realized how isolated you are out there. The instructions for hooking this up are simple. Take care and maybe we will make a connection another time. My address and phone number are enclosed.
Lane
“He tried to call?” She let out a shout of anger, but no one heard. “What, pray tell, could he possibly have to say to me that he hasn’t already said?”
She glared down at the answering machine, still packaged inside its box, then headed for the kitchen, muttering beneath her breath with every step that she took.
“I don’t need to be checked up on, and if I’d wanted one of these...these...things, I would have bought it myself. My God! The nerve of the man! He’s worse than Justin. Next thing I know, he'll be sending me a pager so that he can keep track of my whereabouts!”
She scribbled a scathing retort that she chose not to reread, afraid that if she did, she might relent and be nicer to him than he had a right to expect, then stuck it to the outside of the box. Paper flew and string knotted as she wrapped and taped and cursed all manner of men for their hard heads and small minds.
“When he left, he gave up any right he might have had to worry about me,” she said, walking to the bathroom where she washed her face and yanked a brush and then a comb through her hair. “And why would I want to call him? What on earth would I possibly say?” She snorted and ignored the furious glaze of tears shimmering across her eyes. “Maybe he’s expecting a 'next time you're in the neighborhood come on by' invitation. I suppose he’s ready to have a little more fun.“
Although it was nearly suppertime, and the cows would be coming down the lane anytime now to be fed, Toni hauled herself and her “gift” out to her pickup, thankful that her vehicle was now in good repair, and tore down the driveway in a flurry of drying leaves and red dust. If she hurried, she would just about make it to the post office before it closed for the day.
* * *
Having had one hellish day at work had done nothing for Lane’s peace of mind. Traffic was snarled, the weather was hot and he’d had dreams last night that he couldn’t forget. They had ranged from the first moment he’d opened his eyes and found himself face-to-face with a dark-eyed angry woman to seeing her unconscious in Emmit Rice’s arms. During what was supposed to have been a good night of rest, his emotions had run the gamut to the point of exhaustion. He’d gotten up tired, gone to work mad and was now coming home to a lonely, solitary apartment.
But, he reminded himself, it was what he wanted, and then reworded that message within his own mind. No, he didn’t necessarily want it, but it was what he had to do, for her sake as well as his own.
When he saw the Tennessee postmark on the package in his apartment mailbox, he realized that the response he’d been hoping to get wasn’t coming. This one was as unorthodox as the woman who’d sent it. Not only did he get his answering machine back, but the note that came with it set him back on his heels.
I kept the table you sent because you broke mine. After all, fair is fair. But frankly, Mr. Monday, I believe that we've traded about all there is to trade between us. Like lives, a roll in the sack, etc. You get the picture.
Unless you have something more to say to me than what’s already been said, I don’t see the need for further communication. You came and went through my life like the flood that went down Chaney Creek.
We owe each other exactly nothing, which under the circumstances, is probably for the best. I do not need a man who does not need me.
What totally irked Lane was the fact that she’d referred to him as “Mr. Monday,” and the way that she’d signed the note.
Sincerely. She’d signed the damned letter, Sincerely, Toni Hatfield.
He was all but shouting as he dropped the answering machine into a trash can and tossed the note in after it, then pivoted and picked it up again, rereading the last two sentences, trying to make sense out of the ambiguous remark.
“What the hell does she mean...under the circumstances...probably for the best...do not need a man who does not need me? I never said she needed a man. Hellfire! All I did was send her a damned answering machine!”
And then all the anger in him died. He had just answered his own questions. “Under the circumstances” was simple. He was here. She was there. Whatever happened to her from now on was none of his business, and he’d made that point perfectly clear by leaving her. After all, it had been “just for fun” between them. It was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it?
As for the “doesn’t need a man who didn’t need her,” she was right. What possible good could he do her? He’d shown her what he needed and wanted by walking out on her after the first time they had made love without so much as a goodbye. And he’d let her go the second time with more of the same. What Toni needed was a man who was able to stand by her, not an emotional cripple like him.
“Ah, God, lady,” he said softly as he folded her letter and put it in a drawer. “I didn’t mean to...”
He couldn’t even finish his own sentence, because Lane himself didn’t know what he’d meant. All he knew was that his days and nights were being haunted by two women. One that he’d killed, the other that he’d left behind.
That night, for the first time in more than five years, he shut himself in his apartment with a fifth of whiskey and drank himself into oblivion, because facing what he had done was an impossi
ble, unbearable task.
The same night, many miles and mountains away, Toni felt pain and knew that it was not all her own. And when morning came, bringing a bright, new day, she could not find it anywhere within herself to care.
That came later, on the morning that she’d overslept for the umpteenth time in as many weeks and then rolled out of bed just in time to throw up. Only after the calm in her belly had resumed did it occur to her to wonder why she’d been sick. And when realization dawned, so did Toni Hatfield’s hope for salvation. She’d lost her man, but if she was right, she would be having his child.
* * *
“No, Justin, I don’t need company just to drive into Knoxville,” she argued, and wished for the hundredth time that she hadn’t bothered to tell him that she was going. She shifted the phone to her other ear as she gauged the time against driving distance. If she hurried, she would just about make her appointment, and the last thing she needed was her eldest brother at her side when she found out for sure that she was about to become an unwed mother.
“Look, I've made the drive a jillion times before and you never cared. What’s the big deal now?”
Justin sighed heavily. “I didn’t mean to imply that you needed help, sis. I was just remembering...” He stopped suddenly. “Never mind. If you want to, you can call before you leave Knoxville. That way, you'll simply be safeguarding yourself. Understand?”
Toni relented. He was right. And she was being too touchy only because she didn’t want or need anyone’s advice about what she’d learn.
“I'm the one who should be saying I'm sorry,” she said. “I appreciate knowing someone is around who cares whether I live or die. It may as well be you. I'll call you before I leave Knoxville. I promise.”
Every breath that Toni took as she drove toward Knoxville was a prayer that what she suspected would be so. And although she could have bought a pregnancy test kit in Chaney, it would not have been wise to do so. The inevitable would be revealed in time. For now, keeping the secret to herself seemed the best possible option.
She didn’t even mind as much as she usually did when the doctor’s nurse asked her to disrobe for her examination. What was a little embarrassment compared to what she could gain?
* * *
“Well, Mrs. Hatfield, I believe congratulations are in order. You are going to be a mother,” Dr. Cross told her a scant fifteen minutes later.
“Miss.” Toni corrected him absently.
Her heart was too full to care that his face had reddened slightly.
“I'm sorry,” he said, and glanced at her chart, noting her age and that this would be her first. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
Toni smiled. “Don’t be sorry,” she said, and clasped her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking. “This baby is nothing less than an answer to a prayer.”
He smiled. “Is the father going to be in the baby’s life at all?” he asked.
The smile froze on her face. “Not likely,” she said shortly. “But I have seven brothers. If I need a male role model, I have more than enough.”
He laughed. “I'm a member of a rather large family myself. I think I know what you mean. A little can go a long way, right?”
“Right,” Toni echoed, and tried not to think of Lane Monday. Not now. He didn’t belong in this joy, because he hadn’t wanted to belong in her life.
“At first I'll need to see you only on a monthly basis. The closer you come to term, the closer your checkups will be. My nurse will give you a handful of literature. Read it all. Ask me questions next month. If you have any problems, and I do mean any, call me, day or night. Got that?”
She nodded.
“I don’t know what you do for a living, but I want you to get plenty of rest, eat right and give up any strenuous activities. Exercise is good. Overdoing it is not.”
“Since my father’s death, I rent out my farmland, but I still raise cattle,” Toni said. “From time to time, I do lift heavy things. Bales of hay, sacks of feed...that sort of stuff.”
He frowned. “I don’t recommend you push yourself so hard anymore.”
She shrugged. “So I'll hire help.”
“Good girl,” he said. “Ask my nurse to make your next appointment, and I'll see you next month. Okay?”
Toni stood, and then impulsively hugged him just because she could.
“Thank you, Doctor,” she said, and grinned when he blushed again.
“Don’t thank me,” he said. “I'm just the bearer of the news. Thank the man who made you this happy.”
That, my dear doctor, is impossible. We've burned more than bridges between us.
“Then that would have to be God for answering my prayer.”
The doctor grinned. “You're not going to try and convince me that this was an immaculate conception or anything like that?” he teased.
“Hardly,” Toni responded. I would say it was closer to a careful deception. “See you next month,” she said, trying not to let her elation show as she left.
But it was impossible to ignore her joy. It had lasted all the way home, and she was halfway through her evening meal when the phone rang and she remembered that she hadn’t called Justin to tell him she was leaving Knoxville.
Certain of the caller’s identity, she answered on the second ring and was apologizing before she’d given him a chance to speak.
“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry,” she said, her voice light and full of laughter, waiting to hear her brother’s disgusted remark.
Lane forgot what he’d been about to say. He hadn’t expected to hear such happiness from her. He closed his eyes, picturing the expression on her face and trying not to think of who had put such joy in her voice.
“No, Toni, I'm the one who’s sorry,” he said softly. “I overstepped so damned many boundaries with you that it makes me sick. Forgive me, lady. Then maybe I can forgive myself.”
Toni froze, and before she could think, before she could react to the shock of hearing his voice, he hung up the phone.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered, feeling behind her for a seat before she fell to the floor instead. “Lane? Lane, is that you?”
There was nothing but a dull buzz and an empty silence, and she heard it clear through to her soul. She hung up the phone, then buried her face in her hands. Fate had to be laughing up its sleeve at this coincidence.
On the day that she’d learned she was pregnant, the father of the child called and expressed regret for everything that had passed between them. If she had needed a sign to let her know she’d made the right decision to keep her news to herself, then she’d just gotten it. In big, loud, clear tones and compliments of the telephone.
Chapter 13
A new peace settled within Toni’s heart. It came with the acceptance of what life had given her, and from knowing that she had the will to endure whatever negative response she might suffer. The happiness she felt for the forthcoming child far outweighed whatever else might occur.
Her family saw her change and she knew they did not understand. They only knew that the angry, semireclusive woman that she’d been was gone, and for that they seemed grateful. Toni realized that they would never have imagined, not even in their wildest dreams, that independent, do-it-myself Toni was going to become a mother. Or that she had done so under the grayest of circumstances. Deliberate deception was not something they would have ever associated with straightforward Antonette.
As for herself, Toni didn’t care or worry about anything except her health and the welfare of the baby that she carried inside of her. She let the hot, lazy days of summer pass her by with little fuss, and she did what she needed to do without pushing the limits of her endurance.
Hiring a semiretired widower named Abel Morris to help her with the heavy work had been a stroke of genius. He was so thankful for the chance to be busy again, he nearly begged her for chores.
It was a time of passage that was doomed to an all-too-brief sojourn in her life. Inevitably, her family wo
uld have to be told, preferably before they saw for themselves the changes that her body was already undergoing. But for now, she waited, and cherished the life that was growing within her, and tried not to care that the man who was responsible for it all was unaware of what he’d done.
* * *
All fall Toni had put off the inevitable. The telling of her blessed event was going to produce a family uproar and she knew it. She’d practiced her speech so many times in so many different ways that it had gotten to be her own private joke.
Once, Justin had even teased her by commenting on the fact that in her old age and solitary state, she had started talking to herself, and recommended that she get a house cat rather than the barnful of half-wild felines that roamed the hay rafters. She had laughed in his face. A cat? The joke was almost too good to keep to herself, but she’d done it just the same.
But in her fifth month, and on the latest trip to her obstetrician, she’d done something that she couldn’t hide with loose clothing and jackets. She bought a baby bed, and then a high chair and a stroller. Before she knew it, the bed of her pickup was fully loaded with cardboard boxes and packing crates, all marked “Some Assembly Required.”
Not only was she going to need expert help, but someone was going to have to help her unload.
* * *
“Maybe I should just call everyone and ask them to bring a screwdriver and come over,” Toni muttered, arguing with herself as she exited the highway from Knoxville onto the county road leading to Chaney. “Sort of let them figure it all out for themselves.”
She glanced over her shoulder, peering through the window to make sure that her load was still safely intact behind her. “Or, maybe I could just show up in their front yards for a sisterly visit and let each brother draw his own conclusions as to what I'm hauling.”
Then she groaned and shifted uncomfortably on the seat, reminding herself that she was being silly. Something this monumental could not be told in such a cavalier fashion.
