Staking His Claim

by Karen Templeton

  "It's a long story."

  "I reckon I got time," he said, removing his hands from behind his head to link them over his protruding belly.

  So she explained, about losing the partnership, about the clinic's closing, about the baby…about Cal being the father. "And that's not general knowledge just yet, so—"

  One hand shot up. "Say no more, I completely understand."

  "Anyway. Since I'm here until at least after the baby's born, I need something to do. And since this is the only thing I know how to do…" She spread her hands.

  Sherman scratched the side of his nose, then frowned at her. "I don't know…this here's pretty much a one-man—person, excuse me—operation."

  "And I know Dr. Logan's been after you to cut back ever since your heart attack last year." She leaned forward. "If I was here, you could go visit Brenda Sue. Where is she? Spokane?"

  "Portland, now. She moved a couple years back."

  "How is she, by the way?"

  "Oh, she's doing okay. I'll be sure and tell her you asked about her." He swiveled slowly from side to side in his chair, studying her. "So how come you didn't get that partnership?"

  "Because…" Funny the difference a month makes. It almost didn't hurt to talk about it now. "Because I have this little problem with being more concerned about helping people who really need it than baby-sitting wealthy, whiny clients who bring half their problems on themselves."

  A half smile touched his lips. "You think you'd really like it here?"

  "For a few months, I could like anything."

  He gave her an assessing look, then stood up. "Let me think on it, okay?"

  Not what she'd hoped to hear, but she supposed she'd be just as cautious if somebody tried to horn in on her practice. "Sounds fair to me," she said, standing, too, as he came around his desk to see her out. But when she went to ask him about her father, the words disintegrated in her mouth. What exactly did she think he could do, if she didn't even know her father's name?

  "What is it?" Sherman asked.

  "Nothing. I mean, I was going to ask for your help with something—"

  "So ask. If I can't help, I'll tell you."

  "It's about my father," she said on a rush of air, watching Sherman's reaction. But there wasn't one, other than a cautious, "Oh?"

  "Yeah. See, I've never known who he was. Or much cared before this, to be honest. But for some reason, now that I'm pregnant, I've got this bee in my bonnet about finding him. Although I have absolutely nothing to go on. Not even his name. But I guess I thought…I don't know, maybe because you were around at the time, you might have some connections or leads or…shoot, I'd settle for hunches at this point. Anything to at least find his trail."

  "I see." Sherman shoved his hands in his pockets. "I assume you asked your mother?"

  "I didn't graduate at the top of my law school class for nothing," she said, smiling. "But Mama said she can't tell me who he is."

  The man took a deep breath, then said, "Dawn, you're what? Twenty-seven, twenty-eight…"

  "Twenty-nine. Same age as Brenda Sue. And to answer the question you're about to ask me, because after all the kids I've seen whose fathers abandoned them, I guess I just want to know…why?"

  His gaze in hers was steady. Too steady. "You're right, honey. I can't help you. I wish I could."

  Adrenaline spurted through her. "Oh, my God," she said softly. "You do know who he is, don't you?"

  "Dawn…let it go. And that's all I'm gonna say on the subject—"

  "If a woman came to you for help finding her kids' father so she could get child support, would you refuse to tell her where he was if you knew? Even if he'd asked you not to?"

  "Oh, for the love of Mike," he let out on a frustrated breath.

  "Of course not! That would be unethical, if nothing else. But you're comparin' apples to oranges—"

  "Not if you knowingly aided my father in avoiding his financial obligations!"

  "And what in tarnation makes you think I did that? Or that he did, for that matter?"

  She jerked. "What did you say?"

  "I'm saying, you got child support. Or rather, Ivy did for you. Your father never shirked his financial responsibility to you, as far as I know. And the only reason I'm sayin' even that much is because I can tell you're gonna drive me up a tree about this otherwise. I remember what my wife was like when she was pregnant, and that's something you don't ever fully recuperate from. Now for God's sake, gal, please do me and everybody else a favor and move on. Seems to me you got more important things to worry about," he said, nodding toward her stomach.

  "And maybe that's why I'm doing this. Because I don't feel right starting a new life before I've plugged up the holes in my own."

  "You know," Sherman said with a bemused expression, "where'd folks get this notion that life is supposed to be neat and tidy with all the holes plugged up, as you put it? Life's full of holes, honey. Always has been. Far as I can tell, you can either let yourself fall in 'em or learn how to avoid 'em. But which d'you think is gonna get you where you're goin' faster?"

  "Mr. Mosely—you're talking to somebody who can't stand to leave a crossword puzzle unfinished."

  He chuckled. "Okay, okay…I get your point." Then his mouth quirked into something that might have been a smile. "You this tenacious on behalf of your clients?"

  "You better believe it."

  After another few seconds of that inscrutable gaze, he opened the door.

  She lifted one eyebrow.

  He let out a huge sigh. "Okay, fine. You're hired. But don't even think about wearing some ridiculous miniskirt like they do on those TV law shows."

  * * *

  By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, pretty much everybody in town not only knew Dawn was pregnant, but that Cal was the daddy. Understandably enough, most people greeted this news with some surprise. An initial reaction, Cal noticed, which subsequently turned into either delight or tight-lipped disapproval, especially when faced with Dawn's smiling response to the inevitable question—did this mean she and Cal were getting married?—that, no, they weren't, but thanks for asking.

  Then she had to go and hang her shingle beside Sherman Mosely's. That really got the tongues to wagging. Not that Haven's child-bearing women hadn't been going out to work for a good three decades, but he still heard the occasional "Well, I know times have changed, but…"

  And did she give a damn what anybody thought? Hell, no. Just look at her, sitting over there on Ryan's sofa talking to Jenna Stanton, her hands going a mile a minute like always, not six inches away from that not-so-little belly sticking out underneath her fuzzy gray sweater. Propping a shoulder against one side of the opened pocket doors between Ryan's living and dining rooms, Cal took a pull from the can of beer in his hand, unable to stop staring at Dawn and not much caring what anybody thought about that.

  Hank came up beside him, popping the tab on his own beer, doing a little staring himself at the classy, down-to-earth blonde who'd saved his hide. "Looks like those two sure hit it off."

  "Mmm."

  In a cloud of giggles, Hank's daughter, Blair, and Maddie's oldest two burst out of the kitchen, rattling the china and glass-ware on the already set dining table as they pounded across the old floorboards, past the two men and on up the stairs to the second floor. A second later Maddie yelled from behind the closed kitchen door for Ryan to please come take the baby before Maddie tripped and broke her neck.

  "Haven't seen much of you lately," Hank said to Cal.

  "Been busy. Figured I may as well get some repairs done around the farm while the good weather holds." Cal looked over. "What's doing with your place? You hear anything more from that developer?"

  "You don't really want to talk about that, do you?"

  "No. But it sure beats some other things I really don't want to talk about."

  Grinning, Hank leaned against the opposite side of the doorway. "Actually, he made me a partnership offer, but I need to have someone look it ove
r, make sure I'm not getting the short end of the stick." He took a slug of his beer, his black hair gleaming softly in the light angling through the sheer living room curtains. "Thought maybe I'd run it by Dawn, see what she thinks. Or is Sherman back yet?"

  "No, Dawn says she's holding the fort until the end of January."

  "So…you do see her from time to time?"

  Yes, he saw her. Not as much as he might like, although probably more than Dawn would prefer. But after what she'd said on Halloween, all that stuff about needing versus wanting, he'd felt like he'd been tossed back in that damn calculus class his senior year of high school, where he didn't even understand enough to know what questions to ask. Smart enough to make it into the class to begin with, too dumb to figure out what the hell was going on.

  "We're having a baby together, Hank," he said at last. "So we have to talk on occasion. And you might want to think about stepping back from this topic of conversation, okay?"

  Hank chuckled softly. "She ever find out anything else about her father?"

  Cal decided he liked it better when he and his brothers didn't have much to do with each other. "No. She's asked everybody in town who was around then, nobody knows anything. Or aren't telling." He took a sip of his beer. "I think she's given it up as a lost cause."

  "You do realize you're staring at her, don't you?"

  "You rather I stare at Jenna?"

  "Smart-ass. So why don't you just go join the conversation instead of mooning over the woman from halfway across the room?"

  "I'm not mooning. I'm…giving her space."

  "That what you're callin' it?"

  Hooking his thumb in his belt loop, Cal lowered his beer and glared at his brother. "Look, hotshot…it generally works better to let the fish come to the bait instead of clobbering 'em over the head."

  "Oh, I don't know. Clobbering seems to work okay for bears."

  Cal snorted.

  "Besides," Hank continued, "what're you planning on using for bait?"

  "That's the part I haven't quite figured out yet."

  After some more thoughtful beer guzzling, Hank said, "You really serious about her? Or is this just some possessive thing? Because she's having your baby?"

  "You know, I have asked myself that."

  "And?"

  "And I think…hell, Hank," he said on a sigh. "All I know is, I see her sitting there with my baby growin' inside her and I want them both so badly I think I'm gonna lose my mind. And I know that's not enough, not for either one of us. I mean, she came right out and asked me the same thing. Could I tell her why I needed her? And I couldn't answer her. Not in any way that'd make sense to her. I mean, I know I do. I just don't know why. And what's even worse is that I can't offer her anything she can't do for herself. Yet in a bizarre way, it's her not needing me that turns me on so much."

  "Because of the challenge, you mean?"

  "No. Because…because I know if she ever does come to me, it'll be because she wants me, not because she needs me. That make any sense?"

  "Yeah," Hank said in a way that made Cal glance over, then follow his line of sight to Jenna. "It sure does."

  Cal pushed away from the door to inspect the set table. "But doesn't that mean we're working at cross-purposes?" He fingered one of his mother's silver forks, relishing the feel of the heavy metal in his hand. "Man…I am not used to thinking this hard. Especially about stuff I don't understand worth spit to begin with."

  "And here I thought you were the ladies' man."

  He thought again of that calc class. "Yeah, well, it's like starting all over. New game, new rules, and nothing I've learned prior to this point is even remotely useful. Dawn no more resembles those other women than—" he held up the fork, angling it in the sunlight "—than real silver does stainless steel. Stainless might be shinier and easier to take care of, but silver's got substance." Setting the fork back down, he added, "And a glow that seems to come from inside, you know what I mean?"

  The back of Cal's neck prickled; he turned and met Dawn's gaze, tamping down a sigh when he saw that damned ambivalence in her eyes. That same look that told him if he went up to her right now and kissed her, she'd ignite like dry kindling. Only to burn out just as fast.

  "If I were you," Hank said in a low voice beside him, "I'd tell Dawn all that stuff about comparing her to silver. If nothing else, you'd probably stun her long enough to move in for the kill."

  "You really think so?"

  "Sure. Only thing is," he said, moving out of the line of fire, "you better move fast before she starts laughing her head off."

  "And for the last time, Maddie…" Seated next to Dawn at the dinner table, Jenna leaned over to address her soon-to-be sister-in-law. "…no bridal shower! I don't have room in that dinky kitchen—"

  "Hey!" Hank said across the table from her.

  "—for half the stuff I've already got! And don't get your boxers in a wad, big stuff," Jenna said to him, laughing.

  "Yeah," Cal put in with a wink at Dawn that sent heat creeping up her neck, "it's not like she was calling anything else of yours dinky!"

  No less than a half dozen people shrieked, "Cal!", but you could hardly hear it over all the laughter.

  Hard to believe it had only been a year since she'd last sat at this table, how much all their lives had changed since then. Dawn had been engaged to one man and was now carrying the child of another. There'd been a found daughter, an engagement and two weddings in the group, including—she glanced across the table at the elderly man plopping mashed potatoes on his wife's plate—Maddie's octogenarian great-uncle-by-marriage, Ned, to Mildred Rafferty, the woman he'd loved for more than fifty years. Last year there'd been bitterness and apprehension and doubt; now there was unbridled domestic bliss as far as the eye could see.

  It was enough to make a girl barf.

  From across the table, Cal caught her eye, his raised brows silently asking, What's wrong?

  A shiver of awareness, of longing, raced up Dawn's spine. She shook her head and forced a smile. Nothing.

  He frowned, clearly not believing her.

  She should have found his constant scrutiny unnerving at best, irritating at worst. Should have…but didn't. Instead, as always, she found his calm, steady gaze reassuring.

  And she felt like dirt.

  Dawn shoveled in a bite of yams, mentally smacking herself. This was Thanksgiving, for crying out loud! She had tons to be grateful for! She wasn't engaged to Andrew anymore! She loved her new job! She was going to have a baby, and the pregnancy was progressing normally! Her baby's father wasn't a creep or a nerd or a jerk!

  The sweet potatoes stuck in her throat as hot tears burned in her eyes. She blinked them back and kept chewing, jumping slightly when she felt Jenna's touch on her arm.

  "You okay?"

  Smiling, Dawn forced herself to meet the blonde's concerned smile. "Sorry, just spaced out for a second."

  Jenna's pale blue eyes lit up with amusement. "Tell me about it. After three years of it being just Blair and me, hanging around this clan for too long would send anybody scurrying for cover." She laughed. "Spacing out becomes a matter of survival. It's funny, though—" a bite of turkey disappeared into her lightly lipsticked mouth "—I lived my entire life in a major city, but I never really knew what it felt like to be part of something until I moved here."

  Dawn thought about that for a second or so, then said, "Do you miss it, though? The solitude?"

  Hank's fiancée took a sip of her drink, then shrugged. "Sometimes. It takes some getting used to, having so many people give a damn about you when you're used to being ignored in the name of 'not wanting to interfere.'"

  "Oh, Lord," Dawn said. "Around here, interfering is a way of life—"

  "…and I'm telling you, woman, you were seein' things!" Ned's raised voice, directed at his wife, caught Dawn's attention. "Kid can't be more'n twelve years old—"

  "And I'm telling you, old man, I saw him with my own eyes, trying to get into Hootch's truck!
In broad daylight, no less!"

  Dawn and Cal exchanged a brief glance before he asked, "Who was, Mildred?"

  "The Burke boy," the old woman said. "What's his name, Elias?"

  "Elijah," Dawn said on a sigh.

  "Elijah, that's right. Well. I'd just come out of Luralene's yesterday after I got my hair done, so it'd look nice for today, y'know, and old slowpoke here—" she jabbed Ned in the arm with her bony elbow "—wasn't done in the hardware store yet, so I decided to do a little window shopping. Not that there's much to see, but still. Anyway, I'd just gotten to the end of the block, which was pretty much deserted, when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked across the street just in time to see the boy getting ready to open the door to Hootch's truck, so I hollered out, Hey, boy, what're you doing—" everyone at the table flinched at her demonstration "—and he took off without even botherin' to look around. After he'd gone, I walked over to see Hootch'd left his keys in the ignition. Man doesn't have the good sense God gave a gnat—"

  "How did you know it was Elijah?" Dawn asked.

  "Mildred and I drove out there a couple of times in the spring," Maddie put in as she wiped yams off the baby's face.

  "Just to check how Jacob was doing, take them a pie or something. But Elijah's daddy was so…so…"

  "Ungrateful's the word you're lookin' for," Mildred said, shoving her glasses back up onto the bridge of her nose. "Told us to go away and not bother him again. Said he didn't need anybody's charity."

  More than one person stifled a smile as Uncle Ned—who, until Maddie made it her mission to recivilize her uncle-in-law, had been the most irascible, unsociable old coot in the county—obliviously shoveled in another bite of turkey and gravy.

  "That sounds familiar," Dawn said, then went on to explain about Elijah's shoplifting attempts, Jacob's less-than-enthusiastic reaction when she'd brought him home, how she hadn't seen or heard from the boy since.

  "If you ask me," Mildred said, "that man's got no more business being somebody's father than…than the man in the moon."

  "Anybody ready for pie?" Ivy said, standing and collecting Mildred's and Ned's plates. "I know you boys have games you want to watch, so we may as well get a move on."