Texas Baby

by Kathleen O’Brien

CHAPTER NINE

  THE OLDE MISSION WOODS development, where Chase’s cousin, Alexander, now worked as a salesman, had no olde mission, no woods and not much development, either.

  Chase slid his truck into one of the parking spaces and surveyed the area irritably. Wouldn’t you just know Alexander would end up working at a place like this? Selling smoke and mirrors to the unsuspecting masses.

  For the moment, Olde Mission Woods was just a barren stretch of land a few miles northwest of San Antonio. The owners had put up a two-story concrete-block box, slapped some adobe siding on it, added arched windows, a bell tower and a turquoise sign that said Sales Center.

  Instant Olde Mission.

  That and three windswept models of medium sized ranch homes were the only buildings in sight, although the brochure boasted an architectural rendering of a shady green neighborhood bustling with mommies and kids on bicycles and expensive SUVs in the driveways.

  “What a joke,” he said. “Olde? Maybe about two weeks. Mission? Only if your mission is making money. Woods?”

  He gestured toward the dozen or so spindly oaks propped up by orange guy wire. In about fifty years, they might provide the kind of shade pictured in the brochure, but for now they looked like toothpicks with curly green plastic heads.

  Josie smiled. “It’s not so bad. It’ll look better when it matures. The houses seem reasonably priced and kind of cute. Lots of people would think that owning a home here—or anywhere—was a little slice of heaven.”

  Her tone wasn’t critical, and yet he felt like a jerk. Or worse, a snob. She was right, of course—this was a dream come true for a lot of people. The parking lot was overflowing. Potential buyers swarmed in and out of the model homes, smiling eagerly at the salesmen.

  “Okay. Maybe I’m just being nasty because I don’t much care for Alexander.” And he definitely didn’t like the idea that his slick cousin might be the father of Josie’s baby. “So. Are you ready?”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  She didn’t sound sure. She fidgeted with her yellow blouse, which was a little too big. He knew she’d bought it because it was on sale, not because she particularly liked it. He’d watched her at the store, checking the price tag over and over, as if trying to convince herself that it was the sensible decision.

  She hadn’t been willing to let him buy her anything, of course. Not even a fresh pair of socks. He’d never met a woman more prickly about her independence.

  Even the prospect of facing Flim here today hadn’t budged her.

  Chase hadn’t pushed. Two days ago, he had won the victory of the insulin pump, and for now that was enough. Besides, he was secretly glad that she didn’t obsess about getting new clothes. He wanted to believe it meant she was over Flim, that she wasn’t dreaming of rekindling the affair, that looking pretty for her lost lover no longer mattered.

  But he wasn’t sure. Without spending any money, she’d still taken special pains with her appearance. Marchant had removed her stitches yesterday, and she’d seemed delighted to graduate to an inconspicuous tan bandage. This morning, she’d carefully applied powder to the fading bruises around her eye, and brought out a lipstick and blush he hadn’t even realized she owned.

  She looked terrific, actually—and he gave himself some of the credit for that. This little respite, in which she’d eaten well, rested well, taken her iron pills, and been tended by some of the best medical men in the business, had worked miracles. He wouldn’t have recognized her as the haggard woman who crashed into his front yard ten days ago.

  “You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.” He fought the urge to touch her cheek and try to coax a smile onto those serious lips. “I can take a picture with my cell, and we can see if you recognize him.”

  “No. I want to do it. That’s why we’re here.” She adjusted her blouse one more time and squared her shoulders. “I’m not going to chicken out now.”

  Actually, it wasn’t the whole reason they were here, though she didn’t know that. He could have hired an investigator to get a current, full-face shot of Alexander and e-mail it to the ranch. But he’d wanted to see Alexander’s reaction to Josie, and hers to him. He wanted to know what kind of emotion lingered between the two of them.

  Even more, he had wanted to get Josie out of the house. He’d wanted to get her in the sun, give her a change of scenery. She’d taken to working with Imogene all day, vacuuming and cooking and arranging flowers. It was as if she felt she needed to earn her keep, which was absurd. He wanted her to relax, and enjoy herself for a change.

  But she didn’t look relaxed. She stared through the windshield toward the sales center, her hands braided in her lap.

  They’d confirmed that Alexander was working this afternoon. A one-hour drive was too far for a wild-goose chase. He might be in one of the model homes, shepherding a customer, but he might be just on the other side of that carved fake-mission door.

  “If he does turn out to be…Flim, I wonder what he’ll do when he sees me?” She glanced at Chase. “Especially when he sees me standing next to the real Chase Clayton?”

  “Well…” He smiled. “Have you ever seen when Popeye gets surprised, and his eyes bulge out of their sockets? He lifts off the ground, and his hat shoots off his head?”

  “You think so?” She chuckled. “I don’t know. When we were together, Flim was considerably smoother than that.”

  He grinned, ridiculously pleased with himself for being able to make her laugh. “Of course he was smooth. He’d have to be, or no one would believe he was me.”

  She groaned. “Luckily, he didn’t have to pretend to be humble.” She took a deep breath, then pushed open the truck door. “All right, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s get the Father Hunt started.”

  The sales center was packed. According to the newspaper advertisement blown up and displayed on an easel by the door, this was the final day of the preconstruction sale prices.

  He started to make a joke about that, but he realized that, under his arm, her shoulders trembled slightly.

  He looked down at her face, which had grown almost as pale as it had been when he first saw her. Alexander was nowhere in sight, so that wasn’t it. It was obviously just the fear of seeing him.

  She was dreading this more than he’d realized.

  He wished he knew exactly why. Was it because seeing Flim would hurt too badly? Or was it because so much was riding on Flim’s willingness to accept financial responsibility for this child?

  If it was just about the money, she could relax. If Alexander turned out to be the father, Chase would see to it that he did the right thing, even if it meant choking every damn dollar out of the bastard, one penny at a time.

  “Do you see him?” She was walking gingerly, as if she were balancing an egg on the crown of her head.

  “Not yet.” Several salesmen wearing forest-green blazers with name tags glided around, each of them with a customer in tow. But no Alexander. Chase hadn’t seen his cousin in years, but he would recognize that ambitious, ingratiating face anywhere.

  It was so like his own and yet, he hoped, so different.

  He guided Josie over to the architectural model that dominated the center of the large room. It was quite elaborate, with small fake trees and people, and even a couple of dogs. Maybe it would distract her.

  “Look,” he said calmly. “The development is going to be even bigger than the picture in the brochure.”

  She nodded, though he wasn’t sure she heard him. She gripped the edge of the table with both hands, and he noticed that her knuckles were white.

  “Hello, there. I’m Patty. I’d be glad to answer any questions you might have.” A young woman in one of the green blazers stood beside Josie. “Would you like to tour one of the models?”

  Josie looked up blankly, as if she weren’t sure how to handle this departure from their script.

  Chase put his arm around Josie, smiling at the woman. “Thanks, but we’re waiting for Alexander Cl
ayton. You don’t happen to know where he is, do you?”

  She tapped her pen against her lips. “Let’s see. He was with a customer a little while ago. I think they may have gone to one of the—”

  She broke off, her eyes brightening. “Oh, there he is. He’s coming in the door right now.”

  Chase felt Josie stiffen. He tightened his arm around her shoulders. “I’m here,” he said, though he wasn’t sure that would help.

  They watched the entryway in silence. For a minute, all they could see of Alexander was his arm. He was holding the door open with one hand, while he stood on the sidewalk, no doubt giving a last-minute pep talk to his customers.

  Buy today, or else…

  Finally, he waved them off and moved into the building, his face still beaming from all that energetic salesmanship. He scanned the room with his bright blue eyes, trying to pick out the most likely buyers.

  Chase felt irrationally ticked off, just watching him. He looked handsome as hell, full of life and confidence. Several women in the room smiled at him as he moved through the crowd.

  Chase looked at Josie. She shook her head numbly.

  “No,” she said, frowning. “No.”

  “He’s not the one?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “Of course I’m sure. Do you think I wouldn’t recognize the man I—”

  “Chase?” Alexander’s prowl for well-heeled customers had brought him close enough to recognize his cousin. “Chase, is that you?”

  He moved toward them, his trim body dapper in his blazer, his clear, broad brow furrowed with surprise. He was clearly shocked to see Chase here. And a little defiant, too, perhaps—daring Chase to bring up their uncomfortable past. Chase could see him trying to decide whether to extend a hand, just in case it was rejected.

  Then, at the last minute, Alexander noticed Josie. Chase caught the quick dart of his cousin’s eyes down to her breasts, the rapid-fire appraisal of her body. She was too thin, but she had curves in all the right places, and Alexander no doubt liked what he saw.

  So the bastard hadn’t changed. He was still a hound dog, interested in only one thing. Make that two things. Sex and money. He was still hungry for more of each. And if he could take them from Chase, all the better.

  Surprise, defiance, greed, envy…Chase saw all that in the two seconds it took Alexander to reach them. He knew his cousin well, and had always found him easy to read.

  But the one thing he’d expected to see wasn’t anywhere in sight.

  He didn’t see guilt.

  Nope. The Father Hunt didn’t end here.

  JOSIE HAD NEVER BEEN to San Antonio before, so when they finished the perfunctory tour of Alexander’s model homes, Chase decided to take her to dinner at Riverwalk.

  It was just the thing, Chase said, to clear away any unpleasant taste left by the tacky Olde Mission Woods—or by Alexander himself.

  He was right. It was lovely. The retail-restaurant wonderland built along the banks of the San Antonio River was a magical spot at night, filled with light and color, with the scents of fabulous food and the lilting guitars of street performers.

  They ate wonderful Mexican cuisine under a blue umbrella and watched the people strolling along the curved paths, holding hands and laughing, sometimes spontaneously breaking into song. Platform boats floated down the river, stirring up the reflected lights, until the whole river seemed a swirling cauldron of color.

  “Oh, my heavens,” she said when she finished the last bite of her taco salad. She leaned back and put both hands against her stomach. “I think I’m going to pop.”

  “Me, too.” He leaned forward. “But no queasiness?”

  She shook her head. The morning sickness seemed to have passed. “I’m feeling great.”

  “Good. Come on, then. Let’s walk it off.”

  She looked longingly at the winding trails, bursting with greenery and flowers. Then she looked at her watch. “You don’t think we should be getting back? I know you have to be up early tomorrow for that meeting and the auction.”

  “Hang tomorrow,” he said. “I can sleep through the meeting if I have to. The night is gorgeous, and the company is great. I feel as if I’m finally getting to know the real Josie. No, ma’am. I’m not giving up a minute of tonight.”

  She knew he wasn’t just being polite. Somehow, after getting through the meeting with Alexander, she’d felt a surge of well-being and confidence, and it had made her feel like herself again.

  All this contentment didn’t make any sense, really. Nothing had been resolved. Alexander had been eliminated, but they’d just have to resume the hunt tomorrow—and who knew where it might lead them?

  For now, though, she’d cleared the hurdle. And somehow, that seemed to give her the freedom to let go and relax.

  This kind of camaraderie wouldn’t have seemed possible, back when she first arrived, hurt and embarrassed and frightened. But little by little, mostly because of Chase’s easy nature, they’d become…well, almost friends.

  Sometimes, after Imogene had gone to bed, Josie and Chase sat out on the back porch at night, listening to the owls call and the wind rustling in the trees. Sometimes, they talked over the problem of finding Flim, Chase asking questions and Josie trying to remember something, anything, that would lead to an identification. But sometimes, bored with Flim, they’d wander off to other topics, problems on the ranch, a horse he was thinking of buying, or something she was reading for school.

  She enjoyed those quiet nights. Almost too much. He was interesting and witty, but comfortably down-to-earth. No airs, no vanity, no subtle reminders that he was a Clayton, and she was just his uninvited guest.

  But she didn’t need reminders. How could she forget? For twenty-five thousand acres all around them, the owls they listened to, and the trees they perched in, belonged to him.

  Tonight, though, out here on neutral ground, all that fell away. Tonight they were just two people having dinner. Equal partners in a quest to find the truth.

  She could still remember the warmth of his protective arm, resting against her shoulders, as she turned to face Alexander. She could still hear the bracing strength of his voice, assuring her that he was there, that she wasn’t alone.

  In that moment, something had changed. The mousy Cinderella had dropped away, and Josie had been reborn.

  They’d sat over dinner for almost three hours, and the conversation had flowed as easily as the river beside them. It was strangely exciting, and she felt that she could keep talking all night.

  He stood, and held out his hand. “Come.”

  “Okay,” she said, pushing her chair back. “But I hope you don’t regret it, especially if you end up buying some nasty nag at the auction because you were too groggy to think straight.”

  “I promise you.” He took her hand. “I won’t regret it.”

  They walked slowly, taking in the beauty of the place. Shining bridges looped and braided the pedestrian walkways on both sides of the water. The cafés glowed green and yellow and red and blue, and white fairy lights draped from one awning to the next, as if magical spiders had woven enchanted webs of stars.

  He had let go of her hand, but on the narrow pedestrian walk they strolled so close together their shoulders often touched.

  “You seem to be in a mighty good mood,” she observed when he tossed a twenty-dollar bill into the open guitar case of a street performer.

  “I am. I have to admit I’m glad Alexander didn’t turn out to be the guy we’re looking for.”

  “Why?”

  Yesterday, she wouldn’t have dared to ask that question. She would have assumed that he didn’t want the baby’s father to be part of his family because he didn’t want to be tied permanently to her in any way.

  Tonight she knew better. They might be from different tax brackets, but she wasn’t exactly a pariah, and he wasn’t a superficial snob.

  “Why? Because he’s a weasel.”

>   She laughed. “I think it’s pretty much guaranteed that whoever pretended to be you is a weasel, don’t you? At best.”

  “I guess. But Alexander is a particularly annoying weasel.” He glanced at her. “You aren’t disappointed, are you? Believe me, he would make a terrible father.”

  “No. Not disappointed, exactly.”

  “Then what?”

  She tried to pinpoint how she felt. “Maybe it’s just that Alexander would have been a known quantity. He’s not an escapee from a lunatic asylum, or the Boston Strangler. And his motive for impersonating you would be relatively benign. A lifelong envy of his glamorous cousin, Chase, who’s always had all the luck.”

  He grimaced. “Doesn’t sound very benign to me. Still sounds criminal—and cruel.”

  “Well, it’s not nearly as creepy as some total stranger deciding to steal your name, your life, your childhood memories. Right down to Yipster, the world’s nicest dog.”

  He seemed to be taking it in. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I guess you’re right. But I honestly don’t think you have to worry about Flim turning out to be the Boston Strangler.”

  “Why not?”

  He smiled. “I think your instincts would have warned you to stay away. I just can’t see you falling for someone who was truly evil.”

  “You may have more confidence in me than I have in myself,” she said. She paused to watch one of the crowded platform boats go by. “But I hope you’re right.”

  The boat seemed to be filled with couples, some older, some still in their teens. Arms entwined, heads tilted together, they snuggled and stared at the stars.

  It was that kind of night. Balmy, beautiful, heavy with the scent of flowers.

  Even the walkway where they stood was full of paired-off lovers. One young family had also stopped to watch the boat. The man wore a soft fabric baby carrier that held his infant up against his chest. His wife leaned her head against his shoulder, her hand cupping the baby’s tiny head.

  The love around the three of them was so powerful it practically glowed like one of the Riverwalk spotlights. They seemed wrapped in a magic circle of joy—and Josie was sure they weren’t even aware of anyone else around them.