Who's the Daddy

by Judy Christenberry

  “Of course I eat, but you never even admitted you had family in the area, much less offered to introduce me.” There was an antagonism in his voice.

  “Look, I don’t remember what I did…or why. I’m just trying to figure out what happened. I thought I’d start with you. If you don’t want to talk to me, then say so.” She could match his reluctance any day, she assured herself. Especially if she didn’t think about him.

  “Of course I want to talk to you. I want to know what happened as much as you do. And whether the baby is mine.”

  The doubt in his voice was like a blow. “You sounded a lot surer of that fact yesterday.”

  “That’s before I realized I was one of a crowd.”

  Even as anger filled her, it was tempered by understanding. “It came as a shock to me, too.” When he said nothing else, she asked, “Did I ever mention anyone else?”

  “No. Like I said, I thought you had recently moved here. That you knew no one.”

  This discussion was going nowhere. She returned to her original question. “Will you come to dinner? I need to ask you a lot of questions.” She didn’t intend to plead, but she recognized a hint of persuasiveness in her voice.

  “Tell me when.”

  “Tonight?”

  “I can’t. I’ve already made an appointment with prospective clients.”

  He could’ve sounded a little unhappy that he couldn’t come right away. “Tomorrow night?”

  Letting out a gusty sigh, he agreed. “What time?”

  “Seven o’clock. And would you mind not sounding so put upon? I have no intention of torturing you!” she snapped, any patience she might normally have had having disintegrated between her headache and her heartache.

  “It’s too late. You already have.” He hung up without waiting for a response.

  “Oh yeah?” she yelled into the dead phone. “Well, just wait until tomorrow night!”

  How dare that man act as if she’d intentionally hurt him? She was suffering just as much as him.

  Recalling her bout with morning sickness, she decided she was suffering more. She strode to the closet and her wonderful new wardrobe. He thought he’d been tortured before? She’d make sure the torture continued.

  “Caroline?” Mrs. Lamb called softly, rapping on the door before opening it. “Oh!” she exclaimed as Caroline appeared at the closet door.

  “Hi. Did you need something?”

  “I have a luncheon tray for you,” the housekeeper explained, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

  “I could’ve come downstairs,” Caroline assured her.

  “You’re always so thoughtful, child, but you need your rest. What are you doing out of bed?”

  “Trying to decide which outfit is my most killer one.”

  “Killer?” Mrs. Lamb’s face was a perfect picture of puzzlement.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not plotting a murder. I don’t think. I’m wanting to, uh, look my best. By the way, my dinner guest is coming tomorrow night. Is that okay?”

  “Sure is. Do I know him?”

  “His name is Max Daniels.” Caroline studied the housekeeper’s expression, but she saw no sign of recognition. “You’ve never heard of him?”

  “No. Should I have?”

  “He’s one of the three… Has anyone told you I’m pregnant?”

  Mrs. Lamb almost dropped the tray and Caroline rushed forward to support her.

  “Oh, my stars. Are you serious? I can’t believe it. Isn’t that wonderful? You and Chelsea will have babies almost the same age. I—who’s the father?”

  Mrs. Lamb’s abrupt question showed her sudden awareness of Caroline’s situation. With a self-conscious shrug, Caroline said, “I don’t know. The amnesia.”

  “Well, surely he’ll come forward. I mean, a man should be responsible for his actions.”

  “That’s the problem,” Caroline replied. “Three men have claimed responsibility for—for my baby.”

  “Three? Oh, my stars! Caroline!”

  Taking the shaking tray from the housekeeper’s hands, Caroline set it on the lamp table. “Lambie, I need help.”

  “Why, I’ll do whatever I—I don’t see how—I mean, what are you going to do?”

  “I need to find out what was going on in my life two months ago.”

  As if her knees had collapsed, Mrs. Lamb sank onto the bed. “Oh, my stars.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Two months ago? A little over two months ago, you had a fight with your father.”

  “A fight? What about?”

  “I don’t know. But the next morning, you called a taxi, and you left.”

  “A taxi? I don’t have a car?”

  “Of course you have a car. A Mercedes. Your father insisted, saying they were the safest. He buys you a new one every year.”

  She kept her feelings about her father’s domination to herself. “Then why a taxi?”

  “I don’t know. You had a bag packed and you hugged me, saying not to worry, you were going on a vacation.”

  “Did I tell you where I was going?”

  “No. You left a note for your father, but it didn’t tell him anything, ‘cause he questioned me.”

  She had some questions for her father the next time she saw him, too. “Did I call you after I left? And how long was I gone?”

  “You called once and told me you were having a good time. And you left a message for your father.”

  “What message?”

  Mrs. Lamb screwed up her face, as if trying to remember, and finally said, “You said you were proving him wrong.”

  Caroline stared at her. “That’s it? Nothing for my mother?”

  With a surprised look on her face, Mrs. Lamb said, “Why, no. You don’t—I mean, you love your mother, of course, but Mrs. Adkins is so busy…” She trailed off and looked away.

  “I see. And when I came back? Did I ever say where I’d been or what I’d done?”

  “No. But you seemed sad. Once I found you crying, and that’s unusual for you. Why, as a little girl, you’d fall and hurt yourself, but you’d never cry. Unlike Chelsea. Chelsea learned to shed tears whenever she wanted something. Tears just drive your father up the wall.”

  Caroline could believe that. But she wanted more information about herself, not her father or her sister. “Did I explain why I was crying?”

  “No.”

  “Did I receive any strange phone calls? Or letters?” But she remembered Max asking for her telephone number. He wouldn’t have called her.

  “No.”

  “Did I date anyone after I came back?”

  “You would go to social events with Adrian and Prescott. You did that before you left, too.”

  “Social events?”

  “You know, to the Save the Whales dinner and dance, the opera, the symphony opening night. There was a real nice picture in the paper yesterday of you and Adrian.”

  “Why?” Caroline demanded, suddenly afraid she might have announced her engagement.

  “You were dancing at the opera ball.”

  Caroline sat down beside Mrs. Lamb, feeling a little weak herself. And her head was beginning to ache. Again.

  “You’d better eat some lunch, child. You don’t look too well. And you’ve got a baby to think about now.”

  Caroline smiled faintly. It was too easy to forget that she was carrying a child inside her, since she couldn’t remember the event that had brought it about. But Mrs. Lamb was right. She needed to eat.

  “Let’s take the tray back downstairs. I’ve had enough eating in bed to last me awhile.”

  And she needed to calm down again before she faced her father. He had some explaining to do.

  SHE DIDN’T GET TO ASK her father any questions that night. Long before he’d returned from the office, she’d gone to bed, exhausted. Her mother had gotten home around four, but her vagueness made Caroline wonder if she even remembered that her daughter had come home from the hospital that day.
r />   Even so, Caroline tried to question her at the dinner table that evening.

  “Uh, Mother?”

  “Yes, dear?” Amelia replied distractedly, examining the salad she was eating.

  “Do you know why I argued with my father?”

  “Did you? I have no idea, dear. You argue with him frequently, even though I tell you you shouldn’t.” She took a bite of salad and chewed it consideringly. “I don’t think Mrs. Lamb is using a dietetic dressing, even though I asked her to.”

  “Please think, Mother. It’s important.”

  “I know it is. I gained two pounds last month, and I’m sure it’s the salad dressing.”

  “No, I mean arguing with—with my father.” She had no idea what she normally called him.

  Amelia looked at her blankly. “About what? Was he difficult when he picked you up?”

  “No, not today,” Caroline said, hoping her patience could withstand more conversation with her mother. “Mrs. Lamb said that I had a fight with him a little over two months ago, and then I left.”

  “Did you? Where did you go?”

  Caroline sighed. “I don’t know. Didn’t you notice I was gone?”

  “Hmm. Two months ago? I think that’s when I went to that spa in Arizona.” She laid down her fork and rang the dinner bell that rested on the table by her plate.

  Mrs. Lamb opened the door that led to the kitchen. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Mrs. Lamb, didn’t I go to that spa at the end of June?” Amelia asked.

  “Was that when I left, while Mother was at the spa?” Caroline added, hoping to clarify matters.

  “That’s right. Your mother left the day before you did.”

  “Where did Caroline go, Mrs. Lamb? She wants to know.”

  The housekeeper looked at Caroline and then her mother. “I don’t know, ma’am. She didn’t say.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Lamb,” Caroline said, dismissing the woman before her mother remembered the salad dressing.

  A call to her sister didn’t produce any better results.

  “I have no time to keep up with your social schedule, Caroline. You disappeared just after I announced my pregnancy. I assumed you had left in a fit of jealousy. But I had no idea you’d go so far as to get pregnant yourself. Couldn’t you let me be first in something?”

  Having determined that her sister knew nothing about those lost two weeks, Caroline quickly smoothed her feathers and hung up the phone. Mrs. Lamb confirmed that her father had called and would be working late, which seemed to be a common occurrence.

  No wonder no one knew anything. They barely saw each other. All of them together in her hospital room must have been their version of a family reunion. And not a very happy one.

  Caroline crawled into bed and rested on the pillow, hoping its softness would soothe her head.

  Tomorrow.

  Tomorrow she would confront her father. Tomorrow she would ask more questions, find out about those elusive two weeks.

  Tomorrow, she would see Max again.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE FIRST DRESS had to be replaced when she discovered it was too tight.

  Fortunately, she made another discovery—an emerald green silk dress, with a V neckline that dipped dangerously low. The flowing skirt ended right at the knees and fluttered every time she moved. If he was a leg man, she’d definitely get his attention.

  Max Daniels may have thought she’d tortured him before, but he hadn’t seen anything yet.

  After perfecting her makeup, she ran downstairs and poked her head through the kitchen door. “Everything okay?”

  Mrs. Lamb, working at the huge sink, smiled distractedly. “Oh, yes.”

  “Thanks. I’ll get the doorbell when it rings.”

  She didn’t have long to wait.

  Speeding to the front door, she threw it open, a welcoming smile on her face. It faltered when she discovered not one handsome man, but three, on the doorstep.

  And none of them looked happy.

  “Uh, come in,” she muttered, stepping back.

  Max glowered at her as he crossed the threshold, and the other two looked uneasy.

  “Are you here to see my father?” she asked Adrian and Prescott.

  Before either of them could answer, she heard footsteps behind her, and her father’s voice answered.

  “They’re here as our guests for dinner, of course, just as Mr. Daniels is.”

  She turned to face him. “Max and I are dining on the patio.”

  Her father hadn’t bothered with her since he brought her home from the hospital, but he smiled now as if they were perfectly in tune. “I know that was your plan, Caro, but I told Mrs. Lamb you’d changed your mind. I thought we’d all dine together.”

  Several responses ran through Caroline’s head, the foremost of which was to kick her father in the shins and grab Max’s hand and run. Definitely too immature. And if she challenged his decision and insisted on being served on the patio, it would cause Mrs. Lamb a great deal of trouble. And her father would probably just move his guests to the patio, also.

  Leaving her no choice but to grin and bear it.

  “I see. My apologies, Max. I’m afraid my plans have gone awry.” At least she wanted Max to know she hadn’t included her other—whatever they were—in the invitation.

  “No problem,” he murmured, but he was glaring at Adrian and Prescott, not even looking at her.

  Determined to draw his attention, she slipped her hand into his. When he looked down at her, she leaned against him ever so slightly. “I’m glad you came.”

  His indrawn breath as his gaze fell to her neckline gave her some satisfaction. She grinned when his eyes met hers. At least he wasn’t ignoring her now.

  “Let’s all go to the sun room and have a drink while Mrs. Lamb finishes preparing dinner,” James suggested, acting the genial host.

  In the sun room, Amelia was sitting in a pool of light from a nearby lamp, industriously stitching.

  “Good evening, Mother,” Caroline said, wondering if she should offer her a kiss on the cheek. She concluded it probably wasn’t a habit. This family, her family, seemed as disconnected as any she’d ever seen.

  “Good evening, dear. How are you?”

  It gave Caroline a warm feeling to know that her mother hadn’t forgotten her physical problems, at least. Perhaps she was wrong to think her family was uninvolved.

  “Much better. My headache is almost gone.”

  “You had a headache? That’s unusual, Caroline. You should ask Mrs. Lamb for some aspirin.”

  So much for the warm fuzzies.

  “Caroline is still suffering from her concussion, Amelia,” James explained.

  “Oh, yes. You were in the hospital. Nasty places, hospitals.”

  James seemed to suddenly realize everyone but Amelia was still standing. “Please, be seated. I’ll serve drinks. Adrian, Prescott, your usual?”

  Caroline resented her father’s effort to make it clear that the other two were frequent guests. She turned to Max even as she tugged at his hand to lead him to the sofa where her mother sat. “What will you have, Max?”

  “What are you having?” he asked.

  “My usual,” she assured him with a grin, “a club soda.”

  Her mother continued her stitching, but the men in the room stared at her as if she’d just revealed a national secret. “What’s wrong?”

  “How did you know what you usually have?” James demanded, taking several steps toward her.

  Realization of what she’d said set in, and she shook her head slowly. “I…I don’t know.”

  Her father slapped his palm down on the bar. “Damn it, Caroline, why can’t you remember the important things?”

  “You think I’m doing it on purpose?” she retorted, irritated by his words. She was just as frustrated as her father at her inability to recall her life.

  “Really, James, your behavior is inappropriate,” Amelia said, still calmly stitching.

&nbs
p; “Sorry.”

  “Is a club soda what I usually have?” Caroline asked in the silence that followed.

  “Yes,” Prescott said, speaking for the first time. “You always say alcohol gives you a headache.”

  Even Max nodded in agreement. “And I’ll have the same.”

  “Mr. Daniels, are you sure you want a club soda? The rest of us are having Scotch,” James said.

  Max withdrew his hand from Caroline’s and rose to walk over to the bar. “A club soda is fine.” He picked up the two her father poured and brought them back to Caroline.

  “Maybe I’ll have a club soda, too,” Prescott suddenly said, smiling at Caroline.

  She couldn’t resist sharing a smile with Max. Poor Prescott was so predictable. And Max’s smile was heavenly. Just as she was searching for a reason to take his hand again, the doorbell rang.

  “Who could that be?” she asked, looking at her father.

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  “I would imagine it’s your sister,” Amelia stated as she continued to stitch. “She doesn’t feel like cooking and they haven’t found a housekeeper yet.”

  “How can they afford a housekeeper?” James snapped. “Roddy isn’t the most successful stockbroker I’ve ever seen.”

  “I told them you would pay for her,” Amelia said.

  Caroline had to hand it to her mother. In her placid way, she had more effectively matched James than anyone Caroline had ever seen. Her father was gaping like a landed trout.

  Chelsea and her husband entered the sun room, pausing at the entrance. “Hello, everybody.”

  When greetings were offered, Roddy moved forward but Chelsea grabbed his arm to hold him back. “Well? Aren’t you going to say something?”

  “What would you like to drink?” James asked, turning back to the bar.

  “Not that, Daddy!” Chelsea said, pouting. “I’m wearing a maternity dress, my first.”

  “It’s lovely,” Caroline murmured, hoping her low-key compliment would satisfy her sister.

  “Thank you. When you need maternity clothes, Caro, you’ll have to ask me where to shop. I found some of the best places.” Chelsea’s superior air, while annoying, at least signaled she’d found a way to compensate for Caroline’s pregnancy.