“Magazines and newspapers are very different. Just as your career dreams are very different from my career dreams, Tad.”
“I’ll concede that.” Tad followed close on her heels. “But fate has taken a turn we didn’t anticipate and can’t change.” Tad cupped her shoulders and turned her to face him. “And until you do find another job at a magazine, why not work here with me?”
Her skin warming to his touch, Abby sighed.
“It could take months to find another position on par with what you had at Trend,” he went on.
“I know that!” The fact she’d been fired still rankled.
“You’re going to need to be busy in the meantime. You’re going to need to be someplace good for the baby. And I want you nearby so I can take care of you and the baby both.”
It didn’t take a genius to see where this was heading. Abby crossed her arms and stepped back, away from him. “You’re talking about continuing our marriage?” she said, angling her chin at him.
He studied her with a fiery determination that set her pulse to racing. “Yes.”
Despair swept her. “Tad...” As utterly romantic, as optimistic, as Tad’s proposal was, she did not want to prolong the agony of defeat, and she had already conceded defeat in her marriage to Tad. He, however, had other ideas.
“Our baby deserves to be born legitimately, to two parents who love him. Our baby deserves the very best start we can give him.” Tad drew her into his arms and held her against him. “I know this is unexpected—” he soothed.
Tears burned Abby’s eyes. “You’ve got that right!”
“—but it’s not that far off course, either,” Tad said gently. “You already know I love you and you love me.”
That Abby could not dispute. It was what came after the love that worried her. How many times had she seen her parents fall madly and passionately in love, marry, only to divorce mere months later?
Abby flattened her hands on Tad’s chest and pushed away from him. “It takes a lot more than a whopping jolt of love at first sight to make a marriage work, Tad.” She paced in the opposite direction.
“But love is the basis on which all good marriages are built,” Tad reminded her. Again he crossed to her and took her in his arms. He threaded his hand through her hair. “I told you in Paris that I wanted you to share everything with me, including my dreams.”
Abby recalled that night. It had been oh, so romantic. She’d been enthralled. The problem was his proposal wasn’t practical.
“Having a baby is one of my dreams. And yours,” Tad stated persuasively.
“But not now,” Abby protested in heartfelt agony. “Not when everything is so messed up.” Not when she didn’t even have a job!
“It doesn’t have to be messed up.” Tad gently kneaded the tense muscles in her back. “Stay here with me. Help me fix up this house and breathe new life into the newspaper. Wait out the birth of our baby with me by your side.”
Abby reluctantly admitted she did not want to go through pregnancy alone. Plus, Tad was the father. He deserved to participate in the event as much as she did. And aside from the fact they wanted very different things out of life—he a chance to revive a small-town newspaper and a home in the mountains of North Carolina, she a career as a magazine editor in a big city—they did get along very well. Any child would be lucky to have him for a father.
“You understand I can‘t—won’t—give up looking for work in my field in the meantime?” Abby said bluntly, wanting no more misunderstandings between them on this score.
Tad nodded.
“Because after the baby is born,” Abby continued, “I intend to go right back to work.” Work was the sustaining force in her life. It had seen her through a lot of good times and bad. It was the one thing in her life she had always known she could count on. Yes, getting fired was a setback, but it hadn’t been her fault, and with time she knew she would bounce back stronger than ever.
“What about after the baby is born? Are you proposing we split up?”
“From a practical standpoint, we’ll probably have to, if we get jobs in different states. But that doesn’t mean we couldn’t both participate actively in our child’s life. Commute. Have him or her spend time with both of us. I’d be more than amenable to working things out on that score. I’d just want to know...I’d want you to promise me that when that time comes—”
“If it comes,” Tad interrupted.
“—that we’ll part gracefully and both do whatever it takes to work things out on a practical level.”
Tad’s kneading hands stilled. “All right,” he said eventually, “as long as you’re here with me in Blossom when the baby is born and agree to share every moment of our baby’s development and birth with me, then I promise I’ll be supportive of your efforts to get back into the magazine business, no matter what that entails. But in return,” he said in a low intense voice, “you have to do a favor for me.”
Abby’s heart skipped a beat as she lifted her gaze to his. At that moment she felt she could drown in his sexy blue eyes. “That favor being...?” she asked on a halting breath.
“I don’t want anyone in Blossom to know our marriage is being held together only by the baby,” Tad warned her. “People talk, especially when the subjects involved give them something to talk about.” Compassion gilded the handsome features of his face. “I wouldn’t want anything hurtful coming back to haunt our child later on.”
“Like the fact his parents were about to divorce and had to stay married,” Abby guessed. She recalled the gossip she’d endured as a kid about her own parents and their oft-changing love lives. There was no getting around it. It had hurt.
“Right.” Tad kissed the inside of her wrist. “Let’s just let it be known we eloped in Memphis after spending the weekend in Paris. We’ll tell people the truth—that we’re both delighted to be having a baby, and for the moment, anyway, you’re going to be helping me out with the newspaper, with the intention of one day going back to magazine work.”
Abby couldn’t fault Tad’s thinking; it seemed he had covered everything. “That sounds fair.”
“Good.” The set of his broad shoulders relaxed.
“In return for my cooperation, however, I’d like to ask yours.”
His expression sparked with masculine interest. “On what?”
“The sleeping arrangements.”
Tad’s dimpled grin broadened and his eyes twinkled sexily. “As I recall, we never seemed to get much sleep.”
“Exactly my point,” Abby said, flushing, reminding herself it was the unbridled passion flowing between them that was responsible for all their miscommunication and had gotten them into this mess. They needed to be a lot more circumspect in the future, and there was no way they could do that if they were making love to each other like there was no tomorrow. “I don’t think we should be sharing a bed. We should be talking instead. Besides,” she hurried on, aware how ridiculous she sounded, but not about to back down now that she’d laid out the rules, “I’m pregnant. I need my sleep.”
He lifted a dissenting brow. “You also need to be loved.”
Abby pushed the memories of their ardent lovemaking from her mind. It was rushing headlong into bed with Tad that had gotten her into this situation in the first place. She swallowed and tried not to think about his lips on her skin. “Things are complicated enough as it is without bringing sex back into the mix, Tad,” she told him sternly.
He studied her, but the passionate argument, the insistence on having his own way in this that she expected, never came.
“You want us to concentrate on getting to know each other, instead,” he guessed, stepping back and mulling over the idea.
Abby nodded and folded her arms. She didn’t know why—the day was quite warm—but she suddenly felt chilled. And oddly bereft. “I think it’d be a good idea, since we’re going to be rearing a child together, don’t you?”
His expression impassive, Tad continued studying he
r. Finally he let out a long slow breath and allowed, “I have to admit there’s a lot I want to learn about you.”
“Same here.”
“And a lot more you should know about me,” he concluded just as the phone rang. With a last backward look at her, he went to answer it. He listened intently, then frowned, promising, “I’ll be right there.”
“Trouble?” Abby asked as soon as he hung up.
Tad nodded. “It’s my aunt Sadie.”
“Is Aunt Sadie one of the reasons you moved back?” Abby asked as, minutes later, they climbed back into Tad’s Jeep.
“She’s my only living relative, and—”
“She’s ill?”
“Not exactly.”
Abby waited as Tad started the engine and pulled the Jeep away from the curb. “What do you mean, not exactly?”
“That was one of her neighbors who called. Said she’s been worried about Aunt Sadie ever since she retired last year. That she’d been acting a little strange.”
Abby frowned. This did not sound good. “You think she’s getting senile?”
Tad shook his head. “She’s always been sharp as a tack.”
Abby heard the reservation in his voice and knew there was some sort of problem, even if he wasn’t coming right out and telling her so.
As they turned onto the next street, loud music filtered out to greet them. Wordlessly Tad pulled up in front of a small tidy brick house with tons of gingerbread trim.
In tandem they turned their gazes in the direction of the commotion. Abby blinked and did a double take. “Oh, my heavens,” she said.
Chapter Three
“Let me guess—Aunt Sadie,” Abby murmured as the two of them approached the spry-looking woman in full flapper regalia, doing the Charleston on her front porch while her basset hound lay prone beside her, watching.
“One and the same,” Tad confirmed with a grin.
“Come on up and join me!” Aunt Sadie beckoned them with a wave, then went back to kicking up her heels and crossing her hands over her knees.
Before Abby could guess Tad’s intent, he had taken her by the hand and swirled her around to face him. The next thing she knew they were both kicking up their heels to the lively beat of the music for which the dance had been named. While Sadie threw back her head and laughed, the three of them danced round and round in the warm May air, till finally the music on the old Victrola stopped.
“Whew!” Sadie put a hand to her perspiring forehead, adjusting the vivid blue band that encircled her head, and peeked out beneath the thick silvery bangs of her wedge-cut hair. Sadie turned sparkling eyes on them. “That’ll get the old blood pumping!”
“And then some,” Tad concurred, laughing.
Taking Abby’s hand, he led her to a seat on one of the white wicker chairs on the front porch. She sank into the cushions gratefully while Sadie moved to a table to pour three glasses of icy lemonade.
Tad reached down to pet Buster, then also took a seat. “Did you forget your doctor’s appointment this afternoon?” Tad asked his aunt.
“No, not at all,” Sadie said breathlessly, as she settled opposite him on the porch swing. “I just had more important things to do.”
Abby wondered what could’ve been more important than an appointment with Doc Harlan, the town’s only physician.
“Dancing,” Tad guessed, no expression readily identifiable on his face, though Abby sensed inwardly he was a little piqued about the blown-off appointment.
“Cheering up Buster,” Sadie corrected. She pointed to her bassett hound, who was still lying on the porch, his head resting between his paws. “He’s been very depressed,” Sadie continued.
Tad looked at Buster, then turned back to Sadie. “How can you tell?”
Sadie sighed, exasperated. “That face!”
Tad laughed and shook his head. “Aunt Sadie, Buster always has that mournful look.”
“True, but usually he doesn’t just lie there like that all day long, and that’s all he does these days,” Sadie complained, fanning herself.
“Have you taken him to the vet?” Tad put his lemonade aside, then hunkered down in front of Buster and scratched him behind the ears.
“Yes.” Sadie sniffed indignantly. “They can’t find a thing.”
“Then maybe he’s just tired,” Tad suggested, straightening. “He probably hasn’t been sleeping much, either, if you’re not sleeping nights.”
Sadie sighed and scraped her teeth across her lower lip. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Which is why, as you recall, you have an appointment with Doc Harlan—” Tad consulted his watch “—twenty minutes ago.”
Abby noted Sadie looked less than eager. “I think I should let someone else go,” Sadie said. “Someone who’s really sick.”
“Oh, no.” Tad strode toward his aunt. “You’re not getting out of it that easily. So c’mon.” He held out a hand and assisted his aunt out of the swing. “Let’s go.”
“Oh, all right, just let me freshen up,” Sadie grumbled. She slipped into the house.
Abby turned to Tad. “You’re taking her to her appointment?”
Tad nodded. He looked at Abby, his eyes filled with concern. “It’s the only way to make sure she’ll show up.”
Sadie sailed through the door. Abby was amused to see that Sadie was still in her flapper outfit. “Now you listen to me, Tad McFarlane,” Sadie scolded as she led the way down the steps to Tad’s Jeep. “This is the very last doctor’s appointment I am letting you make on my behalf. There is absolutely no way I am going to let you or anyone else turn me into a hypochondriac just because I retired from teaching last year.”
Tad held the door for his aunt. “Aunt Sadie, no one is calling you a hypochondriac,” he said wearily.
“Might as well.” Sadie snorted, incensed, as she accepted Tad’s help getting up in the Jeep. “Insomnia! Whoever heard of going to the doctor for that?”
AS IT TURNED OUT, Tad was disappointed to hear, there wasn’t a whole lot Doc Harlan could do for Sadie.
“I don’t want to put you on sleeping pills if we can avoid it,” Doc told Sadie. “I’d rather you increase your activity during the days and cut out all naps no matter how drowsy you get. See if that doesn’t get you back on a normal sleep pattern. Meantime you can try some of these.”
He gave her a list of things to do that included, among other things, sleeping in a dark quiet room and drinking a glass of warm milk before she retired. “You might also buy some eye shades down at the pharmacy,” Doc said. “They don’t work for everyone, but they might work for you.”
While Abby walked down to the pharmacy with Sadie to get them, Tad stayed behind to talk to Doc. “She really is okay?” he asked anxiously.
Doc nodded and gave Tad a comforting smile. “Fit as a fiddle as far as I can tell.” Doc made a final notation on Sadie’s chart, then handed it to his receptionist /nurse for filing. “It may be she just has something on her mind.”
That much Tad had guessed, too. “Any idea what?” If it wasn’t an illness or the possibility of one keeping Sadie awake nights, then what was?
Doc shook his head. He looked equally baffled. “You’re a lot closer to her—you’ll need to figure out what. But my guess is your aunt probably just needs to stay busier during the day. I gather she hasn’t been all that active since she returned from her last cruise in February.”
“That’s true.” Tad shook hands with the gray-haired physician. “Thanks, Doc.”
“Anytime.” Doc winked. “Take care of your new bride now, you hear?”
If she’ll let me. Thus far, Abby had one foot—no, make that half her body—out the door.
He went to join Sadie and Abby, who were just leaving the pharmacy. Together, they climbed back into the Jeep.
“I want the two of you to stay for dinner,” Sadie told them firmly. “Abby and I have a lot to catch up on.”
When they returned to Sadie’s, Buster was still lying on the
porch. His expression remained mournful and his tail barely lifted as he followed them inside.
“Poor thing,” Sadie murmured compassionately. “I don’t think he likes me being home all day.”
Buster didn’t? Or Sadie? “So this blue mood of Buster’s has just happened since you retired,” Tad said as Sadie led the way into the homey confines of her peach-colored kitchen.
Sadie brought out a mesh bag of baking potatoes and carried them to the sink. She thought about Tad’s question as she rummaged around for aprons for herself and Abby. “Actually it didn’t start right away. At first he was happy to have me home.”
“When did he begin acting so listless?” Tad asked as Abby began scrubbing the three potatoes Sadie had picked out.
Sadie returned to the refrigerator and pulled out an armful of salad fixings. “It didn’t happen overnight. It was more of a gradual thing, since last...oh, March.”
Tad watched her bring out several pots and a large cast-iron skillet. “Is it possible he’s picking up on your mood?”
Sadie paused, caught off guard. Her glance lifted to Tad’s. “You think he knows I’ve been a little blue?”
Tad shrugged and exchanged concerned looks with Abby over Sadie’s head. “Well, Buster’s been with you nigh on twelve years now, Aunt Sadie,” he said gently. “He has to know you better than practically anyone. If he thinks you’re unhappy...” Tad bent his knees and scrunched down so they were at eye level. “Are you unhappy?”
Sadie straightened her slender shoulders and folded her arms. Her chin took on a militant tilt. “Well, as much as I absolutely loathe to admit it, yes, I am.”
Abby looked sympathetic, too. She wrapped an arm around Sadie’s shoulders and said, “Your retirement not all it was cracked up to be?”
Sadie nodded miserably. Moving away from both Tad and Abby, she threw up both hands and said in exasperation and disappointment, “It bothers me to admit it, but I’m no good at this!” She shook her head. “All those years I saved and scrimped, only to find out I got tired of traveling after just three overseas trips, and I’m no good at hobbies. And now that I’m home again the days are too long and I’m lonely here, rambling around this house on my own. I’ve tried volunteer work, but with everyone in these parts looking after their own, there’s not a lot to do. The bottom line is, I no longer feel useful. And that makes me feel crabby and just plain bored and I hate feeling this way!” she stated vehemently.
Make Room for Baby Page 3
