The Baby Bet: His Secret Son (The Baby Bet #5)

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  “Oh, yeah? Is he planning to return to Ventura at some point?”

  “He doesn’t know. I don’t know. Uncle Robert asked him to stay so they could get better acquainted, but…I think Uncle Robert will be calling a family meeting when he’s stronger, and he’ll explain the whole situation regarding Sally Malone, Andrew and what happened all those years ago. He feels the family has a right to know the facts of the situation.”

  “Uncle Robert doesn’t have to do that,” Jack said. “It’s really none of our business.”

  “Yes, well, Uncle Robert wants to do it, so…Anyway, it’s very complicated and confusing, and…Andrew is a tad overwhelmed by everything right now. I am, too, as a matter of fact.”

  “You don’t have to answer this, Kara, but I’ll ask the question. Are you in love with Andrew Malone?”

  Sudden tears filled Kara’s eyes and she pressed her free hand to her forehead.

  “I don’t know!” she said, nearly wailing. “How is a person supposed to figure out such a momentous thing? Huh? Answer me that. I don’t have a button to push somewhere on my person that will say yes or no. Forget it. I don’t even want to know how I feel about Andrew. I don’t. It’s hopeless and…Oh-h-h, I’m going nuts.”

  “We’re back to uh-oh,” Jack said, chuckling. “You’ve got heart trouble, little sister, in spades.”

  “I most certainly do not.” Kara paused and frowned. “Do I?”

  “You’ll figure it out in time. Gotta go hit the shower. I’ll talk to you later. Remember to be on guard about the junk in the newspaper.”

  “Yes, I will and I appreciate your calling to warn me that the jerk actually printed that stuff.”

  “One other thing, Kara.”

  “Yes?”

  “While you’re here in Ventura attempting to untangle the mess in your mind, remember that Andrew is up in Santa Maria doing the same thing. Interesting thought, don’t you think? As I said, time will tell. Bye.”

  “Goodbye, Jack,” Kara said quietly.

  She replaced the receiver, glanced at the clock, then threw back the blankets on the bed as she realized she was going to be late arriving at the office if she didn’t hurry.

  As she crossed the room, she hesitated, then stopped to pick up the pillow she’d thrown to the floor. She hugged it to her breasts and drew a wobbly breath.

  “Time will tell?” she said aloud. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. But at this moment, this tick in time, all I know is, I miss Andrew Malone so very very much.”

  Chapter 13

  He missed Kara MacAllister, Andrew thought, very much.

  He tossed the pen he was holding onto the papers on the desk and sank back in the leather chair, squeezing the bridge of his nose to try to relieve some of the pain of the headache that had plagued him the majority of the day.

  He leaned his head back, stared at the ceiling and sighed.

  It seemed like an eternity, he thought wearily, since he’d stood next to the bed in Kara’s apartment and watched her sleep, when in actuality it had been just before dawn that morning.

  He’d checked out of his hotel, driven to Santa Maria and stopped off at his apartment long enough to collect his mail and the newspapers from the manager, change his clothes and get something to eat.

  A quick flip through the newspapers had made him cringe. He saw that the story of his appearance at the MacAllister reunion party and the subsequent events had been published in Santa Maria.

  And, he supposed, the tacky tabloid with the picture of him and Kara leaving the hospital was probably out there on the stands in this city, too. Damn.

  Andrew rotated his head back and forth, then stopped as the motion increased the throbbing in his temples.

  He’d kept on the move all day, meeting with his top foreman, Harry, and visiting each of the sites of the Malone Construction Company projects to be brought up-to-date on their progress.

  He’d finally come back to the office to start plowing through the mountain of paperwork his secretary had left on his desk.

  Oh, yeah, he thought dryly, he’d kept as busy as he possibly could, but that hadn’t been enough to prevent the image of Kara from continually flashing before his mental vision.

  He could see her so clearly at times that he felt he could reach out and pull her into his arms, kiss her, taste her, savor her flowery aroma.

  “You’re losing it, Malone,” he said aloud.

  He moved forward again, planting his hands on the desk and gazing off into space.

  Malone, he thought. He was Andrew Malone. Andrew MacAllister Malone. Andrew Malone MacAllister. Andrew MacAllister. Hell.

  Where did he start? he wondered. Where in the maze in his mind did he find a single thread to unravel the mess he had to deal with?

  Should he zero in on his feelings for Kara? What they really meant?

  Or maybe he needed to concentrate on whether he wished to pursue a relationship with Robert MacAllister—his father. Father. The man who had called him “son” in that hospital room.

  But if he did go back to Ventura to get to know Robert, that meant he would inherit all the MacAllisters, the whole seemingly endless bunch of them. He’d be a son, a brother, an uncle, a cousin. What would they expect of him, ask of him? He wouldn’t have a clue how to perform in all those roles, what to do, say, how to act. He’d be smothered by their emotional demands, crushed, unable to breathe.

  Andrew took a deep breath and let it out slowly, shaking his aching head.

  No, the place to begin, he thought, narrowing his eyes, was with dear Aunt Clara. He now knew the truth of what had happened between his mother and Robert MacAllister that long-ago summer. Clara had destroyed lives and loves, and it was time for her to admit to what she had done, to pay the piper, to stop the endless flow of lies. Even as a teenager Clara had been evil, self-centered and vindictive, and she hadn’t changed one iota since.

  Andrew’s head snapped up as he heard the outer door of the office open. A moment later Harry appeared in his doorway.

  “What are you doing here?” Andrew said, leaning back in the chair again. He glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly nine o’clock, Harry.”

  “I was driving past on my way to the store to buy some ice cream for my wife, and I saw that the lights were on,” Harry said. “I spotted your vehicle and decided to see if you’d come across a problem that I might have caused while you were away.” He smiled. “Hey, I was making decisions like I knew what I was doing. No telling where all the chips might fall.”

  “You did a helluva fine job,” Andrew said, “and I appreciate it very much. There will definitely be a bonus in your next paycheck.”

  “I won’t argue with that,” Harry said. “Thank you. It’s unbelievable how much stuff you have to buy to get ready for a baby.”

  Andrew frowned. “Your wife is going to have a baby? I didn’t know that.”

  Harry shrugged, then leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. “I didn’t mention it, Andrew. You’ve never seemed to be…well, interested in any of your crew’s personal lives. Know what I mean? Hey, I’m not complaining. You’re the only man I’d want to work for in this town, that’s for sure, but…” He shrugged again.

  “I guess…I guess I don’t ask about anyone’s life beyond the construction site, do I?” Andrew said, frowning deeply. “That’s really cold, uncaring. I’m sorry, Harry. Will this be your first child?”

  “Yep. We know it’s a boy and he’s due in two months. My wife is hungry all the time. Man, does she eat. She got a craving for ice cream tonight, so here I am running out to get it. She’s convinced that she’s fat and ugly, but…well, I gotta tell you, Andrew, I think she’s so beautiful. I just wish that…No, forget it.”

  “Come sit down,” Andrew said, motioning toward a chair. “You wish what?”

  “I can only stay a minute.” Harry walked forward, then slouched into one of the chairs opposite Andrew’s desk. “My wife will start to worry if I’m gone too long. I’ve read
the newspapers, Andrew. You’ve got enough on your mind without hearing my woes.”

  “No, go ahead. I’m listening.”

  “Well, it’s just that I wake up at night sometimes in a cold sweat, scared out of my mind. I mean, hell, I don’t know squat about being a father. What if I do a crummy job of it, mess up my kid’s psyche or whatever? How am I going to know what to do, what my son needs from me?”

  “I think…yes, I think you just love him,” Andrew said. “Be there for him, no matter what. Always take the time to hear what he has to say, understand how he feels about things. You’re a fine man, Harry. If you teach your son the values you have, he’ll turn out A-OK. But the bottom line is, just love him unconditionally, no measuring stick, no score card.”

  “I already do,” Harry said, smiling. “When I put my hand on my wife’s stomach and feel him moving in there, my heart nearly bursts. It’s awesome, Andrew. Totally unbelievable.”

  “A miracle,” Andrew said, nodding.

  “Yeah.”

  “I held a baby while I was in Ventura,” Andrew said quietly. “Man, he was small. I’d never even been close to a tiny baby before, let alone hold one, feed one. He was so helpless, so vulnerable, and there I was tending to his needs. Me. I felt about ten feet tall.

  “I also knew that I was ready to go to the mat for him, would never stand by and allow anything to happen to him or let anyone harm him. Hell, he wasn’t even my kid, so I can imagine how you must be feeling. I’m really happy for you, Harry.”

  “I’m happy for me, too.” Harry laughed. “When I’m not scared spitless. You ought to get married and have a couple of kids, Andrew. Hell, you’re a natural. I read the newspapers and I now know that you grew up without a dad, but you’ve got a better handle on what it takes to be a father than I do.” He got to his feet. “I’m outta here, but think about what I said. You’re overdue to take the big step, get married, be a daddy. Then you can go out at nine o’clock at night and buy ice cream. See you tomorrow, boss.”

  “Yeah. See you, Harry.”

  Silence settled over the room and with it came vivid images in Andrew’s mind.

  There she was. Kara, laughing in delight as he handed her a bowl of ice cream, which she rested on her huge protruding stomach.

  There she was. Kara, pregnant with his child, the miracle they had created together while making exquisitely beautiful love in the darkness of night.

  There she was. Kara, now holding that baby to suckle at her breast as he sat next to them, savoring the sight of his wife and child. The baby—he could see the baby, and he looked just like the little guy he’d held in the nursery at the hospital, and yes, he was wearing the minuscule baseball uniform.

  There she was. Kara. The woman he loved with every breath in his body.

  “Oh, hell.” Andrew lunged to his feet with such force that he tipped over the leather chair, causing it to crash against the wall. “What?”

  He stood still, hardly breathing, his heart thundering, the rapid beat echoing in his ears.

  And then it came—the all-consuming warmth. It moved through him, touching his heart, mind, his very soul, filling him to overflowing with the wonder of it.

  He was in love for the first time in his life. He was in love with Kara MacAllister. And—

  “Yes!” Andrew shouted, punching one fist high in the air.

  This was what had been happening between him and Kara. This was the reason for the foreign emotions he’d felt toward Kara. This was love and, by damn, it was wonderful.

  He needed to talk to Kara, to see her, hold her, kiss her. He would go back to Ventura just as soon as he could make arrangements for Harry to take over the ongoing projects again.

  He’d sit Kara down, declare his love for her, then ask her if she would do him the honor of becoming his wife, his partner for life. She cared deeply for him, he knew she did, and he could only hope and pray that she would realize she loved him just as he did her.

  They would have it all—the house, the yard with trees, the kids, the dog.

  They’d be a family. A real family. A mother and, oh, yes, a father, who would love their children with their whole hearts. Hot damn, this was so fantastic. It was—

  A chill coursed through Andrew with such intensity it caused him to take a sharp painful breath.

  It was hopeless, he thought. A pipe dream. A fantasy that would never come true.

  Feeling as though the last ounce of his energy had been suddenly drained from his body, he barely managed to set the fallen chair back into place, then sink onto it. He leaned back his head and closed his eyes, weary to the bone.

  No matter how Kara might feel about him, she would never agree to marry him. She would not make a commitment to forever. She had made that perfectly clear during their heated exchange on the subject. No, she’d never be his wife, the mother of his children.

  And himself? Why was he now able to embrace the idea of loving forever, of taking vows to stay by Kara’s side until death parted them?

  Somewhere in the maze of his mind, things had shifted, become clear, and now he could see it. Love had not broken his mother’s heart. Love had not shattered her dreams. Love had not crushed her hopes and plans. It had been an outside force. It had been Clara.

  His mother had chosen well when she gave of her heart and her innocence, for Robert MacAllister was a fine man, who had loved Sally Malone in return.

  Sally and Robert would have had it all, if Clara hadn’t intervened with her diabolical lies. And he, Andrew Malone, would have been Andrew MacAllister. He would have had a father, a man who called him “son” from the day he was born.

  He no longer had just cause to fear love, to be afraid to run the risk of loving, to hide behind his protective wall so that no woman could claim his heart.

  He was free. Free of the past. Free of the haunting ghosts. Free to love Kara just as deeply as his mother had loved his father.

  But Kara MacAllister would never allow herself to return his love in kind.

  Andrew leaned forward, propped his elbows on the desk and dropped his face into his hands.

  The silence in the room seemed to press on him with a crushing weight, taunting him with its hollow emptiness and bleak message of his future. It was a nearly palpable force, taking on an identity.

  And its name was loneliness.

  Time lost meaning. Finally Andrew raised his head and got to his feet. As he came around the desk, he stopped and looked at the chair where Harry had sat.

  He had never before in his life had a conversation with another man like the one he’d had tonight with Harry. They’d talked, really shared, bared their souls, confessed their fears. During that brief interlude he had felt connected to Harry as though he was…yes, his brother.

  It had been a brief glimpse of what it would be like to be part of a family comprised of people who cared about one another, who stopped what they were doing to hear what was troubling one of their own. An enticing sample of what it might be like to belong to the clan of MacAllisters.

  And it had warmed him, filled him, to the very depths of his being.

  Oh, yes, Kara had been very right when she’d said that family love was far different from that of the love between a man and a woman.

  The MacAllisters, at least those who might accept him as one of them, beckoned like a welcoming beacon on a dreary foggy night, calling to him, showing him the path so that he could come home.

  But the part of him that loved Kara was raw and painful, cutting him to the quick with the truth of its hopelessness.

  “Oh, God,” Andrew said, fatigue ringing in his voice as he dragged both hands down his face.

  He turned and walked slowly from the office, switching off the light at the doorway, his steps heavy with the weight of his despair.

  The next morning Andrew telephoned Clara, breathing a sigh of relief when he got her answering machine. He left a message that he had returned from Ventura and wished to see her at his apartment that n
ight at eight o’clock.

  “It’s important, Clara,” he said. “Be there.”

  Andrew slammed the receiver back into place, then stared at it with narrowed eyes, a muscle jumping in his tightly clenched jaw.

  “It’s truth time, Auntie dearest,” he said. “There’s nowhere for you to hide from what you did. You were the one who made the mistake of not remembering that Sally Malone mattered.”

  That evening Kara sat in a rocking chair in the family room in Margaret and Robert MacAllister’s home. Robert had been released from the hospital that morning and, despite Margaret’s arguments against it, had insisted that a family meeting be held that night.

  He had rested the entire day as a compromise to his wife, and the MacAllisters were now gathered to hear what Robert had to say regarding Sally and Andrew Malone.

  Kara had volunteered to watch the children, since she already knew the story of what had taken place between Sally and her uncle Robert so many years before.

  She reached down and stroked the dark silky hair of six-month-old Ryan Sharpe, who was sitting near her feet, happily chewing on a rattle.

  The newly adopted Korean baby was seemingly adjusting to his new home and family with ease, and Kara was pleased for Hannah and Ted. Ryan’s big sister, Patty, was, at four years old, in her mothering mode and was very protective of her new little brother.

  “Aunt Kara?”

  Kara looked up to see Matt and Noel, Andrea and John’s oldest set of twins, standing before her.

  “Yes?” she said, smiling at the inseparable pair.

  “We were thinking,” Matt said, “that since you don’t have a baby, you could borrow our twins. Jeff and Kate are only two, and they still have to wear diapers at bedtime, but they’re not so bad.”

  “They scream a lot, though,” Noel said, frowning. “My daddy said they’re having a case of the terrible twos, but I think that goes away when they have their birthday and they’re three.” She paused. “Maybe you’d better wait until they have their birthday. They really holler loud when they pitch a fit about stuff.”

  Kara laughed in delight. “What a generous offer you two are making. You certainly are grown up at seven years old. But I think you’re right. Why don’t we wait until Jeff and Kate are three, then I’ll decide if I’d like to borrow them for a while.”