“We’ll muddle through somehow, Meghan,” Henry told her, letting her know that no one was indispensable. “You look like hell. Every time I see you I’m afraid you’ll drop dead at my feet,” he said unmercifully. “Enjoy yourself, Meghan. I’ll miss you. Even anemic and exhausted, you’re one of the best attorneys, not to mention people, I know.”
“All right Henry. Thank you,” she said with mixed emotions. She hated leaving her partners in a bind, but she was mentally, emotionally, and physically drained … and her precious secret would be showing soon. Besides, maybe if she had some time alone and some rest, she could sort out her feelings about Michael.
“Henry, if I don’t see you, Merry Christmas.” She smiled at him fondly and let herself out of his office.
That night Meghan sat alone in her darkened apartment, the phone settled in her lap and clutched tightly in both hands. It was her last night in town, her last chance to talk to Michael, the time to tell him about the baby.
It hadn’t been an easy decision to make, but her love for Michael and her guilt had won out over her shame and selfishness. She would tell him about the baby. Either way, she’d never be able to have Michael himself. They just weren’t ever meant to be. She at least could try her best to do what was right in regard to visitation and …
“Oh. Michael. I wish that you could know how much I love you, how much I wish things were different,” she cried, her lungs tight, every beat of her heart causing an excruciating pain. But he couldn’t, and they weren’t, and she owed him the truth.
Michael was a good, honest man. A man of strong character, he would be hurt and outraged beyond belief if he ever discovered the truth from anyone but her. Because she loved him, she was willing to allow him to hate her. She’d tell him about their baby.
Her sobs abating, she prepared herself to sound calm and endure an inferno as she dialed the phone.
“Everything is all set. All you need to do is bring your money and sign your name,” she told him after the routine “How are you’s.” Then she cheerfully added, “However … the Dobson brothers have decided they would like to put out a Fortieth Anniversary issue late this summer. They said we could go ahead with the deal, and you could move in anytime, but they would like complete control and ownership until after the anniversary issue.” She paused briefly. “Knowing how you feel about those two, I said I couldn’t see any problem, but that I’d have to check with you first to make sure. However,” she added again hastily, “I went ahead and drew up the final papers with that stipulation included. I’m too busy to rewrite them, so don’t disappoint me and suddenly turn greedy,” she teased.
“I would have been disappointed in you if you had thought I wouldn’t okay it,” he said. Actually, it was wonderful, he thought. With everything tied up in the west and with light getting-to-know-the-ropes duties at Dobson, he’d have plenty of time to spend with Meghan.
These last two weeks had been frustrating and miserable for him. He thought about her constantly. He relived every moment he’d spent with her, remembering every word she had said and the way she had laughed. He pictured her tossing that mane of hair over her shoulders and their last night together.
She still harbored a secret she couldn’t bring herself to tell him, but he knew she would trust him in time. She was warm, intelligent, witty, and exceptionally beautiful, and he loved her. He needed and wanted her in his life. He planned to find a way to make her trust and love and need him in return. He had to find a way. He was falling hard and he knew it, and, while the last two weeks had been frustrating and miserable, he had never been happier or more optimistic in his life.
He asked about work and she told him of two cases coming to court earlier than predicted, her heavy work load, and how she was so exhausted, she practically crawled off to bed every night. She said she’d been going into the office early and staying late, just to get everything done before the holidays. As she was planning to visit her family in Boston, she didn’t want a ton of work hanging over her head the whole time.
“I probably won’t be able to get back until after the first of the year. This little problem shouldn’t take too much time, but as long as I’m here, I’ll finish up a few other things. Then I won’t need to come back to Texas until the end of the summer,” he explained, obviously expecting her to be in New York when he got back.
Now was the time. She couldn’t put off telling him her secret any longer.
“Michael,” she started tentatively, then drew a long breath and released it. “Michael, I …” She sighed deeply again, unable to get enough air. “I have something I need to tell you … something important.” She paused, again gulping for air.
“Everything you say to me is important,” he said intimately. “By the way, have I told you yet how crazy I am about you?”
Meghan’s response was silence. Her nerve was gone. His words had destroyed her good intentions and at the same time had torn her heart into a million tortured pieces.
“Meghan? Are you there?” a worried Michael broke in.
“Yes.”
“I’m listening. What was it you wanted to tell me?” he asked, his voice still conveying his concern.
“I …” She couldn’t do it. “I left your file with Henry. So if you get back to town before I do and want to wrap things up, he can help you.”
“Okay. Was that all?” he questioned, sensing there was more she wanted to say.
“Yes … no … I miss you, Michael,” fell from her mouth before she could stop it.
“Oh, Meghan, darlin’. I miss you too. More than I can say,” he almost purred with happiness. “I’d give anything to be there with you, to hold you again.” He paused thoughtfully, then added, “Look, I’m going to try and hustle things along here. Maybe I can get back before you leave town for the holidays.”
“No, Michael,” she said in a rush, “I mean, go ahead and finish it all up. Spend the holidays with your own family and … well, there’s no sense in having to go back right away if you can take care of it all now while you’re there,” she said, hoping she sounded logical.
“I guess,” Michael conceded reluctantly. “But I’m dying to be with you again.”
“I know,” she said softly, empathizing with him.
A week later Meghan was in New Bedford at her Aunt Kate’s, where she planned to stay until after she had the baby. The lovely old woman had welcomed her with open arms, congratulating her on her pregnancy, and told her how wonderful it was that Meghan was going to pass on the Shay red hair.
Aunt Kate was Meghan’s father’s aunt and nearly eighty—but most of the time it was hard to tell. She was definitely a pixy, a sweet, kind soul who rode a bicycle everywhere she went and dyed her once “Shay red hair” red, which managed to turn it a peculiar shade of orange.
In Meghan’s desolate frame of mind, Aunt Kate was a true godsend. She made Meghan feel welcome and loved, and best of all, she made her laugh.
“Meghan, dear, where are you?” Kate greeted from the kitchen door. It was late afternoon on the day before Christmas Eve.
Meghan had lain down for a short nap that had extended to two hours. Groggy, she called out to her aunt.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Kate exclaimed as she bustled into the room. “I’ve just received the most terrible news. Freddy Preston fell on his front stoop and broke his hip a week ago, and I simply must go. You’ll be fine here alone, won’t you? I mean, we do have a little time before your baby comes, don’t we?” she asked anxiously.
“Yes. Of course. Plenty of time. Four more months, but …”
“Well, it shouldn’t take me that long to get Freddy back on his hip,” interrupted Aunt Kate. “He’s such a marvelous dancer. This is such a shame, but he really is one of my favorites, and I feel I ought to be with him. You understand, don’t you, dear?”
“Certainly, but Aunt Kate, who is Freddy?” Meghan asked, not understanding it all.
“Freddy Preston is one of my most favorite beaux. We�
��ve been courting for years,” the older woman explained, a dreamy expression on her face.
“Oh? How many?” Meghan asked, as she bit into her cheeks to keep from grinning.
“Well, let me see,” the orange-haired lady pondered. “I met Freddy just after my birthday that year … yes, it was the year I turned fifty-six. How many years is that?” she asked, as she raised her fingers and began to count rapidly.
“Quite a few.” Meghan chuckled. “He believes in long courtships, doesn’t he?”
“Not Freddy,” Kate replied with disgust. “He’s constantly after me to marry him.”
“He is? Don’t you love him?” she asked, enjoying the conversation.
“I do love him, but I also love my other beaux. It’s just that after Stewart died, bless his soul, I found that certain pleasures in life are more enjoyable and far more exciting if you change partners occasionally. The spice of life, you know.”
“I always thought practice makes perfect,” Meghan said, thinking her aunt meant dancing and bridge partners. “But I suppose it could get dull after a while.”
“Oh, sex is never boring, dear.” Her aunt gave her an amazed look. “But there is good sex, much better sex, and truly exciting sex. I just …”
“You mean …” Meghan interrupted, astonished.
Her aunt gave her an indulgent smile and a sassy wink. “I may be old, dear, but I’m not dead, and love keeps my spirit young.”
Meghan couldn’t argue with that. She only wished she could say the same about her love. Instead she was lonely, miserable, and feeling very old.
Sitting alone over her congealing TV dinner on Christmas Eve, Meghan called Lucy at her parents’ home using the pretext of wanting to wish them all a Merry Christmas. In actuality, she merely wanted to hear some friendly voices.
“He’s still calling your apartment,” Lucy informed her. Lucy had been to Meghan’s apartment to check on the mail and to listen for any important phone messages. Mrs. Belinski had agreed to come in once a week to dust and to water the plants. Meghan, knowing a gem when she saw one, and not wanting to lose her, had insisted on paying Mrs. Belinski full wages until she returned home with the baby.
“Couldn’t you call him? Maybe try to explain things? He sounds so desperate to talk to you, but he’s being very patient. I believe he thinks you’re terribly busy at work. He just asks ‘Would you please call me when you get a couple of seconds?’ Meghan, he’s breaking my heart,” Lucy told her, obviously sympathizing with Michael.
“Lucy, what can I do? This is painful for me, too, you know. And it won’t hurt him as bad or for as long as the truth would,” she tried to explain, knowing she was wrong.
“I suppose not,” Lucy conceded. “I feel awful for him, though. For both of you, actually.” She asked about Meghan’s health and how well she was eating, and, of course, about Aunt Kate’s latest antics. Then she added, “Guess what Mrs. Belinski is doing?”
“What?”
“She’s putting up your wallpaper! She says she feels ‘di guilt’ taking your money and doing nothing for it, so she’s fixing up the nursery. She went out and brought the cutest material for curtains, and she’s nearly finished papering one wall already.”
“What a nice lady. I’ll think of something nice to do for her in return,” Meghan said, feeling awful that people were being so nice to her, and all she seemed able to do was to cause them pain.
“I think she’s enjoying it,” Lucy was saying. “‘Di,’ little ducks are so sweet,” she mimicked the Polish woman’s accent.
Lucy prattled on about her parents and Jeff’s excitement, but Meghan was only half listening. Her mind wandered to thoughts of Texas and Michael, who was innocently sitting there, trusting that she’d call him, assuming that they had a future together, ignorant of the fact that he’d fathered a child.
By the time she had wished Lucy and her family a Merry Christmas and finally ended the conversation, Meghan was so filled with regret that she was nauseous. Quickly, before the feeling could hide itself in her fear again, she scrambled about in her purse for Michael’s phone number.
When an unfamiliar male answered his phone in Dallas, she felt herself falter briefly before finally asking for Michael. From the sounds in the background, she guessed he was having a party, not a great time to tell someone he was about to become a father—especially under the circumstances—but it was now or never.
“May I ask who is calling, please?” the man asked politely.
“Meghan Shay,” she replied.
The man laughed. “Thank God! I guess Christmas can go on as scheduled now. He’s been impossible to live with lately. This call will cheer him up, thank you very much,” he said merrily. “By the way, I’m his brother, Kevin, and I’m dying to meet you. It takes a lot to get my brother steamed up about anything, much less a woman who doesn’t return his calls. I tend to fall in love on an average of about twice a week, but this is a first for ol’ Mike, and I don’t mind telling you, I’ve been enjoying it tremendously. Hold on now. Don’t hang up. He’ll want to take this on another line so it’ll be a couple of seconds,” he said in one breath before Meghan could get a word in edgewise.
That Michael had been talking about her to his family only darkened the gloom closing in on her. She steeled herself and wondered what she was going to say while she waited for Michael to answer.
When he finally did, he was breathless and obviously excited. “Oh, Lord, Meghan, talk to me,” he exclaimed without preamble. “I just want to hear your voice … wait a minute, darlin’ … Dammit, Kevin, hang up!” he ordered. There was a fraternal laugh and a click on the line.
“Sounds like I called at a bad time,” Meghan noted for lack of something better to say.
“There’s no such thing as a bad time for one of your calls,” he said, his voice still agitated. “Are you all right? I’ve been worried sick.”
Now or never, now or never, now or never, she told herself over and over again. “Don’t be,” she finally said, her voice harsh from the strain. “Don’t worry about me, don’t be crazy about me, don’t do anything but be quiet and listen to me.”
“Meghan,” he started, confused and still concerned.
“Listen, Michael. I have to tell you this now or I never will. Just be quiet for a minute and let me say it. Please,” she pleaded, her tone desperate.
“Sure, darlin’,” he said softly, fear and tension evident in his voice. He had a feeling she was about to say good-bye.
There was silence between them as Meghan forced herself to breathe in and out. She suddenly had an overwhelming craving for a cigarette, and she’d never smoked in her life.
Slowly, she started. “I know it’s a coward’s way of doing this, I should tell you face to face … and I couldn’t have picked a worse time to do it, but I … well, it’s not going to be easy to say, and I have the courage now so …” She trailed off, realizing she wasn’t making much sense.
Taking yet another deep breath, she started over, “Michael, I want to tell you something …”
“I’m listening,” he confirmed, as he recognized the words from their last conversation. This must be what she had meant to tell him then, he decided, still waiting for the gut punch.
“One day, very soon, I’m going to have your child,” she stated bravely, but dying a thousand deaths.
Michael laughed in relief, then replied in a seductive drawl, “That’s the way I like to hear you thinking, darlin’; I’m rather fond of the idea myself and can’t wait to get started. Tell me,” he started to ask, feeling restored and very amused, “would you like to get married first or just jump right into this?”
“Dammit, Michael. Listen to me,” Meghan shouted over the line, exasperated beyond belief at having to tell him a second time. “I’m going to have your baby … soon … I’m already pregnant.”
Silence.
“Michael?” Meghan called softly, hesitantly.
“Where are you?” he asked calmly
.
“Why do you want to know?” she returned suspiciously.
“Because we can’t get married over the phone,” he explained.
“We can’t get married, period,” she stated firmly.
“Think again,” he instructed, even more firmly.
“Michael,” she said, falling back into her attorney’s voice, “I refuse to marry you. When I get back to New York, after the baby is born, I promise I’ll call you. You can see the baby whenever you want. When it’s older, you can even take it to Texas … for a visit, if you want to. I … I’m sorry I did this to you,” she said, her professional tone cracking around the edges. “Although I’m not sorry about the baby. I’ve wanted this baby forever,” she finished, but added to herself, I want it even more now, because it’s yours, Michael.
“Meghan,” a still oddly relaxed Michael started to say.
“No,” Meghan cut him off. “I can’t discuss this anymore, Michael,” she said, the tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’ll call you in a few months, and we’ll talk it over then … I’m so sorry.”
The line went dead.
In the time it took Michael to hang up the phone, he’d already acknowledged that even though he was somewhat stunned by the news, he was deliriously happy. He was in love with Meghan, and she was pregnant with his child. What could be better? They could be married, he answered silently.
Michael didn’t even try to delude himself about the problems he was facing. Meghan was going to resist marriage on some stupid principle or another unless he could convince her otherwise. Lord, he could have kicked himself for not telling her he loved her before leaving New York. But he’d opted for a courtship to give Meghan time to come around. If he’d told her, she’d know he wanted to marry her for herself and not just because of the infant. Now he’d have to cover twice the territory in half the time.
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