Unnatural Calamities

by Summer Devon

  Bea’s stunning beauty moved Janey, the same reaction she’d had to some works of art. She could only imagine what a person sexually attracted to women would feel. Overwhelmed.

  “Pleased to meet you. Um. Thanks for giving Rachel a ride home,” Janey mumbled, fairly certain she didn’t sound convincing.

  “It was no problem,” said Bea, though her cool tone and arched brow suggested otherwise.

  After Bea left, Janey sank back in the chair with a loud breath of relief. She picked up the coffee and eyed Toph over the rim of the mug. “Why did you divorce her?”

  “She slept with Jack, the man running her modeling agency.”

  “Jack? Is that the same Jack you mentioned a while ago? And she mentioned?”

  “Yes. We’re still friends.”

  She shuddered. “Good gosh, it all sounds so-so inbred.”

  He laughed. “Hey, you’d bring in new blood.”

  “You make me sound like some kind of sacrifice. Or no, some kind of breeding stock.” That was depressing enough, but her next thought was almost worse.

  “Tell me,” she asked then hesitated. “Do you still love her? I mean she’s so beautiful and she seems as if she still cares for you. In a way.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

  She shrugged. “No reason.”

  “Are you jealous?”

  “She’s so gorgeous. It’s hard not be envious.”

  “No, actually I-I meant about me.” His crooked smile pushed up his right cheek. Toph actually seemed abashed. Nice to know he could manage it.

  She tilted her head back. “I know what you meant.”

  Yes, indeedy, that niggling itch might be a shadow of jealousy. But he hadn’t answered her question so she wasn’t about to answer his.

  “So?” she persisted. “Do you still love her?”

  “I don’t know if I ever did love her,” he said after a minute. “She’s not a bad person underneath the scheming, but we were way too young. And just like her, I was determined to be successful.”

  He shook his head as if clearing his ears of annoying water. “I enjoyed sleeping with her. And she is definitely easy on the eyes. When she became pregnant, I didn’t hesitate a second about marrying her. Even after she admitted she’d done it on purpose to, ah, trap me.”

  “You never hesitate,” she said.

  “Yes,” he said, sadly. “I know.”

  His eyes narrowed, giving his usually calm face a serious expression. “Was last night a mistake, Janey?”

  She blushed now. “What do you mean, a mistake?”

  “Did I push too hard to stay? Are you even more convinced after last night that I’d try to own you?”

  Her pulse fluttered. He did understand her concerns.

  “Toph, I don’t know what I think.” She thought of their night together and couldn’t help leering. Since she was continuing her honesty policy, she added, “Except I really enjoyed last night. Really. A lot.”

  He returned her smirk, with interest.

  And of course at that moment, Cynthia came into the room.

  “Where’s Mother?” she asked. “Why are you looking at each other like that?”

  Toph stood. “Ms. Carmody just told me a joke.” He spoke too smoothly.

  Not a good sign that he lied so fluently. A chalk mark went into Janey’s mental debit column.

  “What is it? Tell me, Dad,” Cynthia insisted. The tall, dark-haired girl grabbed his hand, the limpid blue eyes pleading. Toph was right—no question where she got those stunning looks.

  “Sorry, doll. It’s the kind of thing adults tell each other and hope kids never hear. Hey, Cynth. Your mother asked me to give you a ride and I said I’d be thrilled. Come on, let me take you out and feed you properly for once, and then haul you off to the horses.” Toph put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders.

  At the front door he said, “Thank you, Ms. Carmody. For everything.” He gave Janey the biggest shit-eating grin she’d ever seen. Cynthia opened the door and wandered outside.

  Rachel came out of her room hunting for Cynthia. She squeaked indignation that her friend would take off without saying goodbye and, bellowing, raced outside.

  Toph paused at the front door for a moment longer. The autumn breeze that flowed in around Janey’s bare feet had a bite to it. His dark eyes held hers, those damn searchlight eyes of his. “I’m going to stop by in an hour or so, okay? Not for long. I promise.”

  “Yeah.” Janey nodded. “Okay.”

  What else could she say? That she wasn’t going to be home for a couple of days? Tempting, actually.

  In her suddenly silent living room, Janey flopped down on the couch. A nagging sensation tugged at her. Despite her freedom she remained a prisoner of some sort. First she’d been Zack’s hostage, now she’d been sucked into a maelstrom she didn’t plan.

  Too restless to sit still, she jumped to her feet and scooped up a couple of mugs from the card table they used as a coffee table, and carried them into the kitchen. She still had control in that part of her life. But as she hauled out the salad that Lindy had dropped off, she jerked to a halt, struck by another, new sinking feeling.

  Her catering business.

  That particular baby had to be all her own. She couldn’t take his money now that she might be involved in his life. She couldn’t turn into nothing more than another one of a crowd, one of Toph’s people. Only problem was, if she didn’t take his money, there wouldn’t be a business. God, she wished she could have a glass of wine.

  She’d bake something with chocolate instead.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Janey’d just shoved a batch of brownies into the oven when Toph showed up less than an hour later. He’d changed his clothes. Even in jeans, he was too well-pressed. It would never occur to her to iron a flannel shirt. But apparently her body didn’t mind that he looked like he’d stepped brand new from the pages of a catalog. Once upon a time a glossy-clean, unruffled appearance left her cold. Not anymore.

  He grinned and winked at her. She shoved her hands into her back pockets, flustered at being caught goggling at him with the kid-at-the-candy-store-window look again.

  “Hmmm. Smells wonderful in here. Like chocolate.”

  “Brownies.” She dropped her gaze from his face and now noticed that he held a small, brown paper bag. She pointed. “What’s that?”

  He leaned forward and brushed her ponytail back to kiss her neck. “A pregnancy test,” he whispered in her ear. “You still need one?”

  And here she’d been trying to pretend life was normal. The man was relentless. “You are something,” she muttered.

  He thrust the sack into her hands. She looked at him for a long minute then headed down the hall. Toph followed her, and at the bathroom door stopped her.

  “Please. Wait a second. Listen.” His dark eyes held a somber light. “I want to spend time with you no matter what. All right?” Then he quickly added, “I mean, ‘all right’ do you believe me. I’m not asking you for an answer.”

  “Got it.” And she firmly closed the door behind her. She needed to be alone for this one.

  It was positive, of course.

  She hauled up her Santa Cruz Fighting Slugs sweatshirt and stared at her still reasonably flat belly. Oh my God. There was a baby inside there. A future person.

  She could feel Toph waiting outside the door, pacing like a lion at feeding time, waiting for the answer. Could she climb out the window and escape from them all? Come back and fetch Rachel when they were asleep? She’d still have the baby inside her. His baby.

  She stared down at the plastic object in her hand. Two blue lines that meant that her life was undone and redone to someone else’s specifications—a selfish, demanding, completely manipulative person’s demands. Ha. And there was also a baby on top of that.

  She cut short her own unjust thoughts. Whatever else he might be, Toph was not selfish. A night in bed with him had taught her that, in some ways, he was the
least selfish male she’d ever encountered.

  She tapped the little plastic stick against the faucet. Maybe that was the problem. She didn’t know what he expected of her in return. Oh no. God. Maybe she was the self-centered one.

  His voice startled her.

  “I know the answer. I can tell by your silence. It’s yes, isn’t it. You’d be barging out here at once if it was no. I don’t know if you’re crying or laughing.”

  “Neither.”

  “Janey. I know you’re scared.”

  He spoke low, almost whispered, so Rachel wouldn’t hear the conversation. That soothing, deep voice speaking those words brought back the night they’d spent handcuffed together. She reminded herself of how his self-possessed manner saved her sanity.

  But she found herself retorting, “And you’re not scared?”

  Silence, as if he was actually considering her question. “Not really. I think it’s fine. But perhaps you believe you’re trapped by the baby. And by me, too, because I’m convinced we should get married.”

  She was tired of dealing with a know-it-all. “How do you know anything about what I feel?”

  She listened to his calm, even breathing just outside the door and could practically hear him pondering what to say. Tiptoeing around the crazy pregnant lady.

  After at least a minute’s silence, he answered. “I should have said I’m guessing. Here’s what I’m doing. I’m putting myself in your place. You’re thirty, never married. That must mean you’re used to living life in your way, not as a team. Right?”

  She nodded then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Yeah.”

  “You’re worried about the life a baby will pull you into if you marry a man like me. The suburbs. A Volvo station wagon.”

  “SUV,” she corrected, smiling.

  She heard the answering smile in his voice. “Right, of course. A hybrid. I saw Rachel’s poster about energy consumption.”

  He was an observant man, all right.

  He went on. “Anyway, I do know something about you. You thumb your nose at West Farmbrook.”

  “I don’t thumb at anything. West Farmbrook thumbed its nose at me. Or actually Rachel and Penny.”

  “And you thumbed right back. Wearing pajamas to the S.W.A.M. practice.”

  “Uh. You saw that?”

  “I remember thinking, I want to know that woman better. No wait. Forget I said that. See, now I’m putting myself in your place again. And I figure I should convince you to marry me using cold, hard logic. Okay. Two words, Janey. Health insurance. You’re about to need a lot of it. Marry me and I can give it to you.”

  “No fair. You’re trying to buy me.”

  He chuckled softly. “Yes, it’s sad, isn’t it, when you consider some women sell themselves for diamonds.”

  “Ha, but your tactic won’t work. I have health insurance. My temp agency gives it to me.” That was the only reason to sign on with them full time. They had excellent coverage.

  “No, you don’t. Didn’t Mickey tell you? You didn’t get the paperwork in on time to qualify for their plan.”

  “What? I gave it to them two months before the quarterly cutoff.”

  “Then they screwed you.”

  She groaned. But at the moment the darn health insurance and the flipping temp agency were far removed from her reality. There was only one screwing that she could think about. Or actually, its results.

  “Toph. Listen. This is nonsense. You’re doing your salesman number on me and all I can think is ‘Oh my good gosh, I’m going to have a baby’.”

  There was a very long silence.

  “May I come in?” he asked.

  “Door’s unlocked.” She rested the back of her head on the tub’s edge.

  He stood in the doorway, and for once his face registered surprise as he stared at her, sprawled in the bathtub.

  “I almost remember,” she said. “Can you show me? I think I ought to do anything I can to remember how this started.” She patted her belly. “I want to do a crime scene reenactment.”

  He closed the bathroom door, walked over to her, and tilted his head, examining her.

  “Your tub is longer and has taller sides.”

  He knelt on the fluffy white bath rug and gently lifted her arm. Holding her wrist loosely in his large hand, he pressed it toward the wall. “And the handicap bar was about this high.”

  She closed her eyes, trying to poke her imagination into work recovering her lost memory, but the warm skin encircling hers did not feel anything like the hard cuffs. In fact, his touch seemed to have its usual effect. She forgot to concentrate on nudging her memory.

  “Yeah. You were handcuffed about there.”

  Toph let go of her. He wedged off his shoes and carefully stepped into the tub. She watched him hitch his trousers and lie down next to her. “This is a much bigger tub,” he remarked. “It’s almost long enough for my legs.”

  He touched her other wrist, a light stroke with a finger. “We were attached here.” He put his wrist down to hers and then twisted around so that they lay side by side, facing each other. “No,” he said. “This isn’t it. I was more on my back. And you were shoved hard against the side, poor Janey.”

  “Peanuts,” Janey muttered.

  “Yes. That was dinner. Stale peanuts Zack probably got from a vending machine. Two packets apiece, but you gave me one of yours.” He shifted around. “This is how I held you.”

  She moaned. “I remember—at least enough.”

  “Ah, Janey. So do I.” His husky voice cracked.

  The memory had aroused him. Men.

  Oh, but as he reached for her, touched her, she remembered it all. Every blessed second. And thought she might swoon with lust.

  Janey and Toph were reenacting the heck out of the scene, but not doing a very good job of staying faithful to the specifics. He lay on top of her, yes, but he stroked up her rib cage with both hands, and she used both of hers to explore him too. She had yanked the towels off the towel bars next to the tub to play the role of the orange and green quilt.

  “Janey? The timer went off so I took the brownies out of the oven.” Rachel’s voice was just outside the bathroom. “You all right?”

  “Fine,” Janey replied, breathless but as cheerily as she could manage. She cast a frantic look at Toph, but he only smiled.

  Rachel didn’t walk away from the bathroom door. “I thought I heard Mr. Dunham come back. Is he around?”

  “Oh. Well. Yeah.”

  Rachel’s footsteps receded. Toph pulled himself away from Janey and grimaced as he hauled himself together. Or rather hauled his trousers together. They hadn’t managed to get all the way to the actual crime, but were likely a minute or two away.

  In less than a minute, Rachel was back. “The apartment is too darned small,” Janey whispered.

  “Janey? So, where’s Mr. Dunham?”

  He’d pulled himself out of the tub with one fluid movement, Toph the swimmer, and sat on the edge. He offered Janey a hand to pull her up. She sat without his help.

  “Oh. Yeah. Um. He’s in here.”

  Rachel opened the door without knocking.

  They should have gotten away with it. They would have too. Janey didn’t open her mouth because she was sure Toph could carry it off.

  He didn’t disappoint her.

  “Janey is trying to remember the night we were hostages,” Toph explained calmly. “Or rather, what had happened the hour before she was knocked out. I was helping her reconstruct events.”

  Rachel merely gave an interested nod, her curls bobbing.

  “Yeah. From all what Janey says, it sounds weirder than heck losing something like a chunk of your life an…”

  Her voice trailed away. She gaped at the sink.

  A six-inch-long white plastic stick lay on the edge of the sink. It had two small blue bars.

  Rachel pointed at the test as if it were a live rattlesnake. “Omigod! This is a pregnancy test! Janey! Is this yours?”


  “Rachel, how in the world do you know about pregnancy tests? You’re too young—”

  “Omigod! It’s positive. Was it Zack? Did he do this to you? That horrible, horrible bastard. Oh Janey! Omigod!” Rachel burst into tears.

  So of course they had to tell her the truth. Or a version of it that left out the handcuffs and other sordid details.

  Rachel wasn’t morally dismayed. Merely grossed out.

  “Gross! Yuck! But you guys are so old.”

  Toph had a sudden coughing fit. Janey turned even more bright red.

  Rachel sat on the closed toilet, pulled an ankle onto her knee and jiggled her foot. The silver chain on her ankle tinkled frantically. “Does Cynthia know?”

  “No. No one does other than you.”

  “You getting married or something?”

  Toph said, “We’re discussing that.”

  Rachel’s foot stopped bouncing. She smiled. “Well, it’s okay with me. I mean you’re okay, Mr. Dunham. And you’re really rich, which Janey and I could definitely use.”

  Janey was appalled. “Rachel!”

  “Just trying to be honest. Wow. This would be like Cynthia and I were sisters, or something. Hey, that reminds me, Janey.” Rachel hesitated. “While you were in the hospital, Mr. Dunham and I talked, and I ended up telling Cynthia the truth, by the way. About Penny.”

  Janey flinched. She wished Rachel could bring herself to call Penny “mom”.

  Rachel continued, “So when’s the wedding?”

  “We haven’t decided what to do yet.” Janey shot a sidelong glance at Toph. “But you should know that I am going to have the baby.”

  Rachel turned toward her. Her soft hazel eyes looked suddenly adult. She often swooped between child and adult in a way that scared and exhilarated Janey. “Janey. Please, listen to me. You should get married. I mean it.” She spoke in a measured tone.

  “Why would it— Oh. Honey, I know—” Janey pressed her lips together when she remembered Rachel’s own background.

  “Yeah, and it’s bad news. I really, really mean it. It’s okay if you want to get divorced later. But it should have a real mom and a real dad to start out with. Married, I mean.”