by J. C. Wilder
Three weeks…Jace…no condom…
Not only did I sneak into your bedroom and jump on you like some animal in heat—
And to think, less than an hour ago her biggest worry was about dying.
“I think ya need an eye exam, Dr. Campbell.” Sissy rubbed her damp palms on her jeans. “I just can’t be pregnant. I’ve been on the pill since…well, forever.”
“Ms. Kolchek, as I’ve explained—”
“I want another test,” she snapped. The doctor looked barely old enough to be out after dark let alone practice medicine. “Is there another doctor, an older one, here today?”
To her surprise he smiled. “If I had a dollar for every time someone hinted I was too young to be a doctor, well, I wouldn’t be working here.”
Her cheeks heated.
“I can assure you I’m old enough to practice medicine, and I have a mountain of school loans to prove it.” His smile became serious. “During the exam I noticed your cervix is bluish purple, which is a good indication of pregnancy. The test only confirmed my findings. Oral contraceptives aren’t one hundred percent effective and missed doses—”
“I ain’t missed one, I swear it.”
“There are other instances in which oral contraceptives can be compromised.” He glanced down at her medical file. “According to your chart, you were here in late May for bronchitis at which time you received a prescription for an antibiotic, correct?”
Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.
“Did you read the instructions that came with your prescription? Specifically the part about using a secondary form of birth control while taking the medication?”
Her stomach dropped.
“The use of an antibiotic decreases the effectiveness of your birth control pills.” He removed his glasses, which only served to make him look even younger. “I’d say there are a great many Haven residents who were conceived in the same way so your mistake isn’t uncommon.”
“That doesn’t help,” she whispered.
I don’t think either one of us is in the position to be a parent right now.
Jace’s words echoed through her mind, and she winced. Obviously he was wrong about that as she was knocked up. Three weeks pregnant. She had a bun in the oven. With child. Preggers. Knocked up.
Holy crap.
Covering her face with her hands, Sissy shuddered. What was she going to do? They’d spent one night together, and she hadn’t heard from him since. She’d seen him at the Grille last weekend and other than reminding him what he walked away from, she’d been too angry to speak to him. His attitude of indifference had only added fuel to the fire.
Jace was her friend, and the only man she’d ever loved. On the strength of their long friendship, she’d thought he could love her too.
Boy, was she an idiot or what? While the earth moved for her, it was obvious that he saw it differently. To him it was a one-night stand and just about as meaningful. Now that he’d bagged her, he then moved on to greener pastures. She shouldn’t be surprised as that was his style. Why did she expect it would be any different with her?
“Sissy? Ms. Kolchek? Are you okay?”
The doctor’s gentle voice broke through her burgeoning hysteria. She dropped her hands and met his gaze dead on. “I’m fine.”
“Good. Am I correct in assuming this is an unplanned pregnancy?”
Her lips felt numb so she nodded.
“I’m going to send you home with a packet of information, and I want you to read through all of it. It covers the services that are available to you here at the clinic and, just to let you know, we do not perform abortions here—”
“That won’t be necessary.” Sissy laid her hands protectively over her soon-to-be-baby belly. “I won’t… I can’t… That’s not an option.”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “You’ll need prenatal vitamins…” His words were soon lost in the growing white noise in her head.
What did she know about raising a child? Her own mother abandoned her only weeks after her seventeenth birthday. If she had to describe her early years in one word it would be chaos. At thirteen they’d moved to Haven, and this was the first place she’d lived for more than six months at a stretch. She’d just begun to feel comfortable here when one day she came home from school to find Paula was gone. She’d left a couple hundred dollars and a rambling note about pursuing her dreams.
Paula Kolchek’s legacy of screwing anything in tight blue jeans was the only enduring thing she’d left for her daughter. It seemed like everyone in Haven knew of Paula’s trashy reputation and her penchant for wealthy, married men.
Sissy learned the hard way that no one had a longer memory than a woman scorned. Because she bore a strong resemblance to her mother, they’d tarred her with the same brush. She’d barely been kissed and kids were calling her a slut and adults were whispering behind her back.
When puberty hit, the boys in school sat up and took notice.
Literally, over the summer heading into her sophomore year, she went from a B to a D-cup at barely seventeen years old. At first she’d been embarrassed by the sudden attention. Upper classmen were asking her out, leaving notes in her locker or bringing her little gifts like candy or a mix tape. For a girl longing for somewhere to fit in, the attention was a heady experience.
Then she realized they were only looking for an easy screw in the backseat of their car.
Talk about humiliating. Here she’d thought the boys actually liked her and instead they were laughing behind her back. When she refused to date any of them it was already too late. The damage had been done.
A scorned male had the second longest memory of any living creature.
That’s when the stories began. A handful of her most ardent pursuers decided that if they couldn’t have her, they’d simply lie about it. Once a girl had that kind of reputation it was almost impossible to shed. At twenty-seven years old, Sissy knew no decent man wanted anything to do with her.
So when she and Jace gave into temptation, she’d thought it would be different with him. Only it wasn’t. He was no different than the boys looking for a quickie in the backseat. Well, there was a difference, a major one.
None of them had ever broken her heart.
She flattened her palm over her lower belly. And now she was pregnant. Other than Paula, and who knew where she was, Sissy had no other family. She didn’t have anyone to pick up the slack for her—
Stop it!
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself back into the present. She had no idea what the doctor was talking about but damn it, she’d fake it for now. If there was one thing at which she excelled it was hiding her pain.
Twenty minutes later she was in Bitsy’s car with a plastic bag filled with prenatal vitamins and a pile of pamphlets.
“I’m going to assume the test came back positive?” Bitsy gave her an assessing glance.
“How’d ya guess?” Sissy let her head fall back against the vinyl seat.
“Congratulations, Mama.”
Mama. Oh, jeez. She wasn’t ready for this.
“So, who’s the father?” When Sissy didn’t answer, she continued. “I can keep a secret.”
Bitsy barely had the words out when Sissy laughed. “Like hell. In Haven we have three reliable methods of spreadin’ news—telephone, telegraph and tell Bitsy.”
“Vicious lies,” Bitsy said without heat. Reaching into her breast pocket, she pulled out a cigarette from the pack she kept there. “Long as I’ve known you there’s only been one boy you ever looked at more than once.”
Sissy leaned over and snatched the unlit cigarette from her boss’s mouth then tossed it out the window. “Ya can’t smoke in here. It ain’t good for the baby.”
“Oh, for crying out loud.” Bitsy slapped her hand on the steering wheel. “The danged kid is the size of an aspirin so it’s not like he’d know the difference.”
Sissy gave her an evil glare.
“Barely pregnant
and you’re already a pain in the ass,” she muttered.
“And doncha forget it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned into the seat.
“So, what’s the deal with you and that Diver boy? Are you dating? Is it serious?”
“That’s a good question.” One she didn’t have an answer to.
“This wasn’t some one-night quickie, was it? You know what I told you about that boy—”
“I know, Bitsy. He’s a player, I get it.” Wearily, she closed her eyes. Jace did love the ladies, and no one knew that better than she.
“When are you going see him again?”
Numb, all she could do was shrug. She still fought the idea that Jace was no different than the guys who tried to cop a feel at work. It wasn’t like he was known for being monogamous. For all she knew he had gone straight from her bed and into another’s. Her throat tightened. She might not have much, but she still had some pride. There was no way in hell she’d go chasing after him like some desperate female.
“Well, never you mind.” Bitsy patted her on the arm. “Frank Diver raised those boys right. Jace will take good care of you and the baby—”
Sissy shook her head. “I don’t want him to feel he has to do anythin’.”
“Oookay… I hear you but that’s his baby too so half the burden is his—”
“My child will never be a burden,” she bit out. That’s all Paula had seen her own daughter as, a burden. Giving birth was the price she’d paid for having sinned with a married man.
“I’m on your side, Sissy.” Bitsy had the let’s-not-set-off-the-crazy-person tone in her voice. “All I’m saying is that it’s one thing to be strong and independent, but it’s another to let your pride cause your downfall.”
What are ya, stupid or something?
Paula’s familiar refrain echoed through her head. She’d invoked it whenever Sissy couldn’t measure up to her ever-changing standards. Her mama had only one goal in life and that was to land a rich husband. Consequently she went from man to man, always looking for The One who could make her dreams come true. Some lasted a few months while others not even that long. Sooner or later, they all walked away, leaving them worse off than before.
So here she was, ten and a half years later, pregnant and alone, just like her mama.
Chapter Three
Frank Diver was dead.
Those four words tumbled around in her mind like clothing in a washer. It took every ounce of courage Sissy could muster to drive over to the Crimson Sun, Jace’s childhood home. She’d spent many happy hours here on the ranch, and Frank figured largely in some of her best memories. With each step all she could think of was his family and how devastated they must be.
After leaving the clinic, Bitsy had hauled her to the grocery store before heading home. They were carrying in the bags when she received the call. Her friend, Kara Whittier, was so upset it took a few moments to decipher her words. She’d grown up across the road from the ranch and Frank, or Pops as he liked to be called, had been a second father to the Whittier children.
The Sun was the first place where Sissy could remember feeling safe as a child. Whenever things got too crazy, she’d sneak over to the ranch because there was always something to do or someone to talk to. She didn’t even mind mucking out the stalls when Pops or one of the boys was around. All summer long the Sun played host to a variety of impromptu events like barbeques and campouts. In the fall they hosted a rodeo to raise money to support their rescued horses.
Frank was well known and much respected in the horse world. His hard work had earned the Sun a solid reputation for training and rehabilitating horses that others had long since given up on. At any time of the day or night they could receive a call to pick up an animal anywhere in the state. Some were simply too far gone and had to be put down immediately. Those that could be rehabilitated worked with trainers to determine if and when they could be adopted into new homes.
As for the others, the animals that were older or too severely traumatized, would spend their days in peace on the vast acreage of the ranch. Pops used to say that fat, lazy and loved was the best way to leave this world.
A tear slipped down Sissy’s cheek, and she wiped it away. No one could’ve ever called Frank fat nor lazy though he was well loved. Haven was a decent sized town with small-town values. When someone passed away it was expected that close friends and family would come together for a proper send-off including an old-fashioned wake. Seeing that Pops had never met a stranger the sheer number of potential visitors was staggering. At best, they would have maybe forty-eight hours to get everything ready, too much for a grieving family to handle.
That’s where she came in.
When it came to handling community events, Sissy was the go-to girl. She oversaw the catering and special events for the Grille. Every fourth Friday from March to October she was in charge of Downtown Days, a big community event that drew in as many as thirty thousand people. If she could handle that, she could certainly take care of the arrangements.
Besides, it was the least she could for the family who’d embraced her so completely.
She only hoped that when she saw Jace she didn’t do something foolish like knock him upside the head with something…like her car.
A wave of heat sucked the air from her lungs when she stepped through the back door into the mudroom. A row of pegs held outerwear of every shape and size imaginable with rubber boots, cowboy boots and every other style of boot lined up neatly underneath.
Ryan and Cowboy sat at the kitchen table. Neither one seemed to know she was there, and her heart ached when she saw the raw pain etched on their faces. The house was still, too still, as if the structure held its breath waiting for the next traumatic event.
“Are ya’ll tryin’ to roast yourselves or are ya turnin’ the kitchen into an oven? Keep this up the devil might decide hell moved has moved to Haven, Ohio.”
Both men turned to look at her. Both of them seemed confused as if she’d woken them from a deep sleep. She dumped her oversized bag on the table then turned on the overhead fans. It was hotter than hell outside but a draft would help somewhat.
“Can ya’ll believe I overslept this mornin’? And damned if Bitsy didn’t haul her lazy carcass on over to my place to bawl me out.” Taking two large glasses from the cupboard, she set about filling them with ice and water. “Damned near didn’t recognize her without the bar strapped to her waist. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her legs I almost forget she had ’em.”
Setting a glass before Ryan, she gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before putting the second drink in front of Cowboy.
“Ya’ll need to make it a point to never, ever wake up lookin’ at that scowl of hers. Damn near scared me into next month.” Shaking her head, she turned and headed for the sink. “I’m gonna need some expensive therapy to recover from that sight.”
“Sis.” Ry’s voice was little more than a low rumble.
Holding several dirty coffee mugs she’d just pulled out of the sink, her hands began to shake. She was afraid to turn around because she might fall apart and that would only make the situation worse. She set the cups on the counter and continued emptying the sink. “Whatcha need, hon?”
“Thank you for coming.”
“That’s what friends do, Ry.” Her voice trembled, and her knees felt weak. Clearing her throat, she leaned over to grab the coffee pot. “I do not know how in the hell ya’ll drink this stuff. It’s thicker’n oil outta my car…”
Sissy didn’t know how long she prattled on but she kept up a steady stream of nonsense as she washed dishes and wiped down the counters and appliances. It wasn’t until she heard the front door that she let the words die away.
Hearing the sound of high heels on the polished hardwood floor, she smiled. There was only one person crazy enough to wear heels and walk on a gravel driveway, and that was Kara.
Dressed in a pink silk sheath with a single strand of pinkish ivory pearls around her
slim throat, Kara looked like she’d come from a meeting with the Ladies Society. From the precise arrangement of her shining blonde hair to the tips of her strappy pink Stuart Weitzman sandals, the former beauty queen never seemed to sweat. Next to her, Sissy felt like a fat cow. If she didn’t know Kara to be a warm, funny and loyal friend, she’d hate her.
Giving them a few moments alone, she busied herself with ferreting out the baking pans. It wasn’t until she was on her hands and knees with her head deep in one of the bottom cabinets that Kara spoke to her.
“I swear, Sissy, if your butt gets any bigger it’ll need its own zip code.”
Oh, no she didn’t…
Spying the muffin pans behind a big soup pot, she snatched them up then slapped them on the counter with a noisy clatter. From her position on the floor, Sissy gave the former Miss Universe finalist a pointed glance.
“Well, smell yew, Nancy Drew,” she sneered. “If ya’d quit shovin’ your finger down your throat after every meal then maybe your ass wouldn’t look like a ten-year-old boy's.”
One corner of Kara’s perfectly glossed lips quirked. “That may be but at least I don’t have to buy pants at Rent-A-Tent.”
“Well, duh.” Sissy rolled her eyes. “Everybody knows ex-beauty queens buy their stripper…I mean, pageant clothes in the Barbie aisle at Walmart.”
“Oh, hell no,” one of the guys muttered.
“At least I can fit into them.” Kara held out her hand to Sissy. “The inventory at the Bernie’s Big and Wide, don’t you think? That is where those shorts came from, correct?”
Taking her hand, Sissy got up then checked out her friend’s French manicure. Kara’s soft, pale skin was as smooth as a baby’s left butt cheek. This was not the hand of someone familiar with manual labor.
“Those ain’t them cheap Pop-Off nails, are they?” Her brow rose. “Good, ’cause if I find plastic fingernails in my food I’d have to kick your ass.” She dumped the muffin pans into the sink of clean dishwater. “Now get on over here and wash these pans for me, Beauty Queen.”
Kara peered into the sink as if she’d never seen anything like it. “Wash them? By hand?”
