Blinded by agony, she crossed to her desk and felt along the edge. When she reached the chair, she fell onto the seat and dropped her head on her arms.
Zach. His reaction had been justified…and unbearable. If she’d ever cherished the faintest spark of hope that somehow he might want their baby, want her, this afternoon had killed it.
We have to get married Obligation. Responsibility.
He couldn’t have made his feelings any clearer. He would take care of her and the baby because his sense of honor demanded he do so. His family and his church and society would expect that gesture.
But he didn’t want the commitment. Didn’t want the baby—or her. Maybe especially her.
We have to get married. When he’d actually said the words, she’d almost agreed, out of her own need. But she’d seen his face. Zach couldn’t hide the fact that he’d never planned for marriage, for children.
“No.” She said it aloud, sitting up straight again, determined to get back on her feet. “No chance in hell. Get over the idea that there’s a white knight waiting to rescue you. That’s not the way life works, Shelley. You’re a grown-up. Start acting like one.”
ZACH SKIPPED the family lunch on Sunday. He couldn’t face his mother with Shelley and the baby on his conscience.
He had a hard time facing himself in the mirror. So he opted not to shave, not to go out, not to get dressed beyond the gym shorts and T-shirt he slept in.
But he sat down at his desk about ten o’clock to call a lawyer. “Hi, Claire. How are you?”
“Wonderful, Zach. What about you?”
He was going to have to learn to lie better. “Not too bad. How’s your summer?”
“Slower than usual. Dex worries about my driving so much now. I’m staying home more and working on some notes for a book. Tell me about the Falcons’ season. Are you winning?”
“Going great. If we win the next two games, we’ll be in the playoffs in August.”
“Thanks to expert coaching.”
“Yeah, sure.” He picked up a paper clip, balanced it on the end of his thumb. “Listen, I wanted to ask you a semiprofessional question.”
“Shoot.”
He managed a chuckle. “Take a cop’s advice—be real careful who you say that to these days.”
She laughed. “Yessir. Now, what’s your question?”
“In your experience, what are the chances of a single dad getting custody of his child?” That sounded like a casual question, didn’t it?
“Better than a couple of years ago, when Dex went after custody of Allyson. But not really good, if the mother resists. Visitation is usually the most viable option. Is someone going through a messy divorce?”
“No—this couple hasn’t been married.” He pulled the paper clip into a straight wire.
“Boy, did the percentages just drop. You’d have to have some strong arguments before a judge would consider a custody petition. Even then, I’d be pessimistic. Visitation rights for unwed fathers are more common these days, though.”
“That’s what I thought.” Zach concentrated on coiling the wire around the barrel of a pencil.
“Are you okay? Is everything all right down there?”
Once he would have confided in Claire. But today he couldn’t. “Sure, Counselor.” He tossed the ruined paper clip into the trash. “Everything’s right as rain. Fill me in on this book of yours.”
Zach listened, asked the right questions and promised to treat her to lunch the next time she came to Denver. Hanging up, he went into the kitchen confident that he’d handled the consultation pretty well. He’d given Claire no reason to think he was the dad involved.
And she’d given him no reason to hope that he could use the court system to get more than occasional access to his baby.
He paused in the act of pouring coffee. Now that he knew there was a baby out there with his genes…what? What did he think? How did he feel?
Irritated, he decided while vacuuming the living room. Given that he and Shelley had used birth control, he thought the universe had played a dirty trick in letting this happen.
Resentful, when he pictured the lifestyle he’d built being destroyed. He liked living alone, dammit. He liked his house neat and his time free for what he chose to do. He did not want to be tied to nap schedules and the demands of hungry kids. He’d lost his childhood to those pressures. Why give up more years?
“So don’t.” The answer seemed to come from Darius as they both stretched out on the couch in the afternoon sunshine. “Shelley’s taken the responsibility. She doesn’t want you in the picture. Play by her rules. Forget the baby even exists.”
Closing his eyes, Zach decided he might just take that advice. If he was going to be selfish, why not do the job right?
TWO WEEKS LATER, the Falcons made the playoffs. By the time Zach got to the field for the first game of the series, Jimmy had started the team on their warm-up.
“Sorry, man.” Zach dropped the bag of bats and balls with a clunk. “Didn’t even hear the alarm.”
“No problem. They’re halfway through their run around the field.” Jimmy glanced at him once, then a second time, lifting his black shades for emphasis. “You look rotten.”
“Had a late night.”
“More than one, I’d say.”
“Okay, a few late nights. And I changed shifts. Always throws me.”
“That’s what I like about you, Harmon.” Jimmy clapped him on the shoulder as the first Falcon ran toward the dugout. “You have a talent for burning the candle at both ends without going up in smoke.”
The players mobbed them and saved Zach the problem of a reply. “Hey, Coach!” “Let’s go, Coach!” “Where ya’ been?” “You’re late!”
“Yeah, I blew it, guys. Sorry. But I’m ready now. Are you?”
He sent them onto the diamond to field his hits, though every contact of ball with bat magnified the invisible sledgehammer pounding on his head. When the umpire signaled to give the other players their practice time, the Falcons gathered in the dugout for his final words of inspiration.
Zach had never felt less inspiring. But he knew what to say. “This is just a game, guys. Goal number one—have fun. Goal number two—work to improve your personal best. Goal number three—win the game. Got it?”
They shouted the team chant in unison. “Soar, Falcons, soar!”
Just as his first batter stepped up to the plate, a voice came from the fence beside the dugout. “Uncle Zach! Uncle Zach!”
He summoned a grin and turned. “Hi, Ally Cat! Glad you could make it.”
“Can I watch there with you?”
“Sorry…” He glanced toward the field as the ump called strike one. “Only team members in here for now. Get yourself a place high on the bleachers.” By major force of will, he did not scan the crowd for whoever had brought Allyson to the game.
Whoever? Yeah, right.
His team groaned as a second strike was called. “I gotta go, Ally Cat. Later, okay?”
“Sure. Good luck.”
Zach turned back to the field in time to see his first batter strike out. “That’s okay, Kenny. You’ll get ’em next time.”
The second batter doubled. Then Cinda stepped up. Zach watched with half his brain, hoping for a good hit to put them on the board. With the other half, he wondered if Shelley had come.
Fourteen days had passed since that afternoon at Shelley’s house. As Jimmy noticed, Zach had spent the time doing what he did best—living free, staying out late, getting up early for the day shift. After the first week, he’d kept his drinking to a minimum, because he couldn’t work with a hangover. And the cab fares were eating him alive.
He’d dated six—no, seven—different women. A redhead, three blondes, three brunettes. None of them danced, but they liked the jazz at the Indigo, or the movie he suggested, or the experimental-theater productions. They were easy to be with, laughed at his jokes and signaled an interest in doing more with him than just laughin
g.
Somehow, though, he couldn’t make himself accept their invitations. And he hadn’t called any of them a second time.
He’d called Shelley’s number instead, only to get the answering machine. Leaving a message about today’s game, he hadn’t really expected to get a call back. And he’d been right.
Which only proved that she was every bit as stubborn as he thought.
He brought his mind back to the ball game. Cinda took a mighty swing, but the second baseman was ready. She made first before the throw, and the other runner made third. One more hit, and they’d have a run on the board.
“Eye on the ball, Tim. Make him pitch to you!”
Short, stocky Tim planted his feet and cocked his bat. The pitcher stretched. Strike one.
Tim adjusted the batting helmet and set his stance again.
The crack of the bat surprised Zach. He watched with his mouth open as the ball sailed over the second baseman’s head. Cinda rounded third and headed home. Two runs, guaranteed. The Falcon bench went crazy.
Tim’s big hit proved to be a good-luck omen. The Falcons won six runs to two. Their next playoff game this afternoon was against an easier team and Zach felt pretty good about the chances of a championship.
Allyson caught up with him in the middle of the postgame celebration. “Congratulations, Uncle Zach! You won!”
He picked her up and twirled her around. “We did, didn’t we? Did you enjoy the game?”
“Oh, yeah! I want to play baseball. Do you think I could?”
“Don’t see why not, Ally Cat. You’re a—”
He stopped as a woman rounded the corner of the bleachers. Shelley?
“I’m what? What, Uncle Zach?”
“A born athlete. That’s what you are.” No, not Shelley. This was an older woman—a little heavier than Shelley, and definitely not pregnant. Short white hair feathered around a face in which he recognized Shelley’s dark eyes and pointed chin.
Hanging on to his hand, Allyson dragged him toward the woman. “I’m gonna play baseball, Grandmom. Can we go get a ball and a bat so I can start practicing?”
A warm smile met that request. “I think we probably have your mom’s bat and ball at my house. Her glove, too.”
“Cool!” Letting go of Zach, Allyson went to the bottom of the bleachers and started up, using the benches as stair steps.
“Careful, Allyson.” The smile faded as Shelley’s mother looked at Zach. “I’m Dorothy Owens. Allyson’s grandmother.”
“Zach Harmon, Ms. Owens.” He shook her hand. “Glad to meet you.”
“I’ve heard a lot about ‘Uncle Zach.’” Her cool gaze sized him up, but he couldn’t read her opinion. “Congratulations on your win.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you two came to watch. I thought Allyson might still be in California.”
“They got in yesterday and picked up your message,” she told him. “I asked if I could bring Allyson—I enjoy a good game. You’ve got some strong players.”
He struggled for the right thing to say. He couldn’t exactly ask about Shelley. “The team’s going for pizza—would you and Allyson like to come?”
“We’d better not, thanks.”
Allyson suddenly popped up from nowhere. “Grandmom, let’s go with them. It’s lunchtime and I’m hungry.”
Dorothy Owens shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Please? Please, please, please?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, I could bring Allyson home afterward. In fact, she could stay through the second game and be home for dinner. What do you think?”
“Grandmom, please?”
Shelley’s mother glanced at Zach, then nodded. “I guess that would be all right with your mom. But you have to promise not to wander off anywhere while Zach is busy with the game.”
“I promise.”
“A friend of mine is here.” Zach kept his voice easy, though he felt like crowing. “He’ll keep an eye on her.”
“Great. I’ll let Shelley know you’ll be bringing Allyson home late this afternoon.”
“Count on it.” He watched Dorothy Owens walk away, realizing that for the first time in two weeks he could genuinely smile.
“You look about a thousand percent better.” Jimmy came up beside him. “You really wanted this win.”
“I haven’t won yet” Zach loaded bats and balls into the bag. Then he grinned at Jimmy. “But at least I’m back in the game!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“YOU DID WHAT?” Shelley shifted the phone to her other ear and prayed she’d misunderstood her mother.
“I let Allyson stay at the game. Zach Harmon said he would bring her home late this afternoon.”
“Mother!” Shelley covered her eyes with one shaking hand.
“I assumed that would be okay. Allyson talks about him all the time. I thought he was a friend of her stepmother’s.” She paused. “And yours. He’s certainly a personable, good-looking young man.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Am I wrong?” Dorothy Owens’s voice took on an edge of concern. “I’m still close to the ballpark. Should I go back to get her?”
“No…oh, no.” She pulled her scattered thoughts together. “Zach will make sure Allyson’s fine. He’s a great guy.”
“Hmm.” Her mother let a few seconds go by. “And how do you react when the guy’s not so great?”
Shelley laughed without humor. “Those are the ones I date.”
Shortly after five, the Trans Am rumbled into the driveway. With dread fluttering in her throat, Shelley opened the front door. “Thanks for bringing her home, Zach.” She eased Allyson back against her. “I know she enjoyed her afternoon.”
Looking up, Allyson nodded. “Except the Falcons lost. Can I play on Zach’s team next year?”
“That’s…hard to say right now, baby.”
“But it would be fun.”
Shelley held on to her patience—barely. The man on the porch didn’t say a word to help. “Next summer is a long way away, Allyson.”
“But, Mommy—”
Zach broke in. “Shelley, can we talk outside a minute?”
That was not the help she wanted. “I don’t—”
“Please.”
Finally, she looked directly at him, seeing in his tired eyes a reserve she could blame only on herself. Whatever he had to say, she should at least listen.
And then he would go away. Wouldn’t he? “Of course. Allyson, there’s a snack on the kitchen counter. I’ll be right here.”
“Okay. Thanks, Uncle Zach. I had lots of fun at the ball game.”
“You’re welcome, Ally Cat. Be good.”
Shelley stepped out and closed the door behind her, keeping her back against it. “I’m sorry you got knocked out of the playoffs.”
He shrugged. “Kids need to learn to lose as well as win.” Hands in his pockets, he leaned sideways on the column in the corner of the porch, diagonally as far away from her as possible.
He didn’t say anything for so long, she got nervous. “Zach—”
“Shelley—” he started at the same time.
“Go ahead,” they said together, and then fell silent, staring out over the lawn in opposite directions.
Zach cleared his throat. “What I wanted to say is plain and simple. I’m asking you again—will you marry me?”
At least he had the wording right this time. But nothing else had changed. “No, Zach.”
“Why not?”
Shelley dragged in a deep breath. She would get out of this. She would make him leave her alone. “Did your parents love each other?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
“Why would you settle for anything less?”
“Shelley—”
She’d taken the afternoon to work out her reasoning, in case he forced a scene like this. “How successful could a marriage be, based on coercion?”
His mouth tightened, but he didn’t answer.
“A bad marriage is bad f
or the child, not just the parents.” No one could argue with that, not even Zach. “Sacrificing yourself won’t do me or the baby any good. And vice versa.”
He stood still for a long time, staring down at his shoes. Shelley watched the sun move over him, pulling glints of gold out of his hair, bringing a shine to his skin. She missed his grin and the laugh in those blue eyes, the kind, easy-going man she’d known in March.
“Well.” Zach drew a deep breath. “You’ve got everything covered. I guess all I have to do is exit, stage left.” Pushing off the column, he jolted down the steps to the walk.
“Thanks for trying.” She said it softly. If he didn’t hear, that would be even easier.
But he turned to face her, his hands still deep in the pockets of his shorts. “My pleasure. Be seeing you.”
Weren’t social conventions wonderful? “Of course. Take care.”
She waited outside while he started the car and backed down the driveway. Neither of them waved as he passed the front of the house—she couldn’t even be sure he saw her.
“Done.” Shelley said the word aloud, for emphasis.
Trying to feel relieved, she opened the front door and stepped into the house, glancing at the mirror on the wall.
So if everything had gone just the way she wanted… why did she have mascara-streaked tears running over her cheeks?
WHEN IT CAME to escaping the Harmon family’s watchful eye, cutting loose was as easy as melting ice cream in August. Mention the word library and nobody at home. asked any more questions.
After her brother, Grant, dropped her off at the front door, Carol walked inside, straight past all the shelves, down the stairs and out the lower-level entrance. In the parking lot, Jen had pulled her new Mazda up to the curb. Ten seconds later, they were headed downtown. Freedom!
“Whew!” Jen blew out a plume of smoke. “Feels good, huh?”
In the back seat, Faith lit her own cigarette. “Extremely good,” she agreed, passing the lighter and the pack to Carol.
Wishing she liked the taste better, Carol put a cigarette between her lips, clicked the flame to life and breathed in. An acid fog filled her mouth and lungs, but she managed not to cough. She blew out as soon as possible and handed the lighter back. “Thanks.”
Expecting the Best (Harlequin Superromance) Page 8
