Baby In A Basket

by Helen R. Myers

  “Yeah, I do.”

  He did? She could only stare. This wasn’t anyone she’d met in the Gulf-West box. As Mitch climbed out of the idling sedan, Jenny sat too shocked to say more.

  The stranger was middle-aged, and of average height and build—except for a bulging belly that suggested he was either six months pregnant or had an affection for beer or sweets. He tried to hide it by wearing his plaid cotton shirt untucked, but the boxy cut and the defined squares of the pink-and-green shirt over white pants only made matters worse. Wild eyebrows over hawklike eyes gave him a slightly satanic look, and his face was pale, flushed and bulb-shiny from his knobby chin to his balding head.

  Where on earth had Mitch met a man like this? Jenny hoped he wouldn’t close the car door, so she could hear enough to explain. But not only did Mitch shut the door, after shaking the man’s hand, he led him several feet away from the car, to stand underneath the shade of the maple tree.

  The man spoke fast and gestured back toward the country club, then pulled a handkerchief from a back pocket and dabbed at his face and the top of his head. Mitch’s expression began to grow grimmer as the man began to speak faster. Whatever the man was complaining about, it didn’t seem to impress Mitch, and he placed his hands on his hips, adding a look that she’d seen when he was about to dig his heels in over something.

  Suddenly the man shook his head adamantly and reached into his other back pocket and brought out a folded manila envelope. He handed it over to Mitch, who didn’t look happy at all to be receiving it. Expecting him to open it, Jenny witnessed yet another response as he crushed it in his hand.

  What on earth...

  Mitch snapped at the man, poked him in the chest with his index finger, and walked away from him. Behind him the older man shrugged and hurried away.

  Jenny stared as Mitch climbed back into the car. She gnawed a bit at her lower lip when he threw the envelope onto the dashboard and secured his seat belt.

  “Fasten yours,” he said without looking at her.

  “What happened? Who was that?” she asked instead.

  “We’re leaving, Jen. Fasten your belt, or do you not care if I get a ticket?”

  He hadn’t exactly been rude, but there was a sharp edge to his voice that told her it would be a mistake to make a flippant reply right now. Deciding to say nothing at all, she shifted over to her side of the car and did as he commanded.

  After several seconds he sighed. “I’m sorry. It was wrong to snap at you.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He shook his head. “No. But I suppose you have a right to know.” Backing out of the space, he directed the car toward the north exit. “That was the private detective I’d hired to look for Savannah.”

  Jenny quietly studied his sharp profile. Gone was the confident, positive man who’d only minutes ago played and won an inspired tennis match. Gone was the tender man who’d held her and touched her as if she were precious to him. Even with the help of the sinking sun that cast an amber, softening hue to everything around them, she couldn’t help notice the muscle working in his right cheek.

  She wanted to ask what had happened, but thought she might ease him into that by focusing on the man’s unexpected presence. “How did he know you would be here today?”

  “I left a message on my machine just in case he called. He decided to save himself a drive to New Hope and came out here to find me.”

  “He certainly seemed anxious to talk to you.”

  “Yeah,” Mitch muttered with disgust. “Anxious to tell me that he was quitting and to present me with his brill.”

  The guy hadn’t looked like a quitter to her. She might not think much of his sense of style, but his eyes and chin had suggested a tenacious personality. “I’m sorry to hear that, but surely he gave you a good reason.”

  “I don’t know how good it was. He got spooked.”

  Of all the things she expected him to say, it wasn’t that. “My goodness...when? Where? How?”

  “By getting too close to succeeding, I guess.”

  “He found her!”

  “He thinks he must have because he says someone appeared at his motel in California and warned him off.”

  “What do you mean, warned him off? Warned as in threatened his life?” Jenny didn’t intend for the last word to crack in her throat, but she supposed her nerves were getting a bit frayed, too.

  “He thinks so.”

  “But he doesn’t know for sure?”

  “He was told to stop sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, unless he wanted to spend a considerable amount of time and money on plastic surgery. I would say that qualifies as a threat.”

  “But why would Savannah do that?”

  “Hey. I’ve just heard about this myself. I haven’t had a chance to take it in, let alone analyze it!”

  Jenny ignored the curt edge that had returned to his voice. This was too incredible a situation to worry about getting her feelings singed. “Your private investigator said more than what you’re telling me, McCord. I saw him carrying on at Indy 500 speed!”

  “Yeah, he said more,” Mitch replied, practically growling the words. “He described the guy as a big moose who looked as if he meant what he’d said. Okay? Happy now?”

  Intrigued was more like it. And furious. “What on earth is Savannah up to?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

  They were on 635 again and about to turn north onto Central Expressway. As Mitch concentrated on passing a slower car, Jenny studied the gold fire in his amber eyes. It had nothing to do with the sunset.

  “You can’t be serious?”

  “Never more so.”

  Jenny took a deep breath, striving to keep the exasperation out of her voice. The crazy man just didn’t get it. “It would seem you have your answer, McCord. The lady—and I use the term loosely—appears to know exactly why that detective was looking for her, and she’s letting you know that not only is she definitely Mary’s mother, but she also doesn’t want her back! Why can’t you accept that and let things be?”

  “Because it’s not good enough. She owes me answers ... an apology. Mary’s birth certificate!”

  “You can go to court and get that.”

  “I told you before, I’m not going to let the gossipmongers turn Mary’s life story into a three-ring circus. She’ll have enough to cope with when she gets old enough to go to school and some kid repeats what Mommy or Daddy were talking about around the dinner table.”

  Jenny reached over and laid a hand on his arm. “By then she’ll be full of confidence from the love you’ve enveloped her in, Mitch. And maybe you’re blowing this out of proportion. New Hope is growing and changing all the time. By then there may be far more scandalous things going on in town. Why, have you noticed Faith Harper at the Baby Boutique is pregnant? I didn’t know she was seeing anyone!”

  “My mind’s made up, Jen.”

  His answer hurt. Maybe he had a right to do whatever he felt best for his child, but she spent almost as much time with the baby as he did. What’s more, hadn’t he asked her to return to his house a short time ago? That didn’t mean she’d agreed to sleep with him, but they both knew something deeper was developing between them. Didn’t that give her some right to an opinion, too?

  She couldn’t ask, suddenly afraid of what his answer might be. As a result, the rest of the drive back to New Hope felt like a trip to a funeral, not a victory celebration or a romantic prelude.

  When Mitch pulled into his driveway and killed the engine, Jenny glanced into the back seat. “She’s asleep. I’ll carry her up to bed, so you can get her things.”

  Mitch nodded. Without a word, he collected his bag, the baby’s tote and Jenny’s purse. Jenny didn’t stop to see if he followed, but went straight up to put the baby into the crib Mitch had set up in his former office. Mary roused slightly as Jenny set her down on the cool Mother Goose sheets, and Jenny stayed and hummed a lullaby that she re
membered her mother singing to her when she was a child.

  Mary’s Cupid’s bow mouth curved into the sweetest of smiles, although her eyes remained closed. Jenny took in her dusky-blond lashes curling over pink cherubic cheeks and felt her heartstrings being tied into complicated knots.

  What a little darling. Jenny wanted desperately to be the one to teach her to say “Da-da,” to help her until she could take her first steps alone on those adorable dimple-kneed legs, to teach her nursery rhymes and lullabies that someday she could teach her baby. Why couldn’t Mitch see that he was risking all that?

  Blinking back a sudden wetness in her eyes, Jenny tenderly kissed the baby’s wispy curls and tiptoed out of the room. The hallway was quiet. She had hoped that maybe Mitch had followed her up, but she could hear him moving around downstairs. With a mirthless smile, she went to find him.

  Old ghosts. Mitch shut the refrigerator door on the beer he wanted so badly he could feel its cool bite in his belly. But he would be flying again tomorrow, and he religiously lived up to the airline’s rule about alcohol. Which meant he would have to take on Jenny cold turkey. Why did he know this was going to feel as if cutting off his own hand might be a simpler thing?

  “I think she may stay asleep until your normal waking time in the morning,” Jenny said, coming into the kitchen. She went straight for the tote and began unpacking it.

  “I can do that later.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “But you must be beat, too.”

  That stilled her movements. “Do you want me to leave?”

  He hesitated...almost too long. As she reached for her purse, he lurched forward and stayed her hand. “No!” Touching her made it easier to find words for things he’d never expressed, let alone felt. “No. But...I don’t know how to do this.”

  “What?”

  Her voice was thin, almost fearful. Her eyes held similar emotions, but she kept her chin high. He hated seeing the uncertainty, especially when it was too easy to remember what those eyes looked like when he touched her. But he had always been able to make women want him.

  “Do what?” she whispered with more strength.

  “Tell you how I feel.”

  “I thought that’s what you were doing while reading me the junior riot act on the way home.”

  “No. I was reacting and acting, and you know it. Surface stuff, when what you wanted... You’re relentless, Jen. You insist I feel every pore, every cell, if I’m going to be around you.”

  “Is that so bad?”

  “How do I make you understand that I... I can’t do something, be somebody, just because you want that?”

  “It’s not about what I want. You’ve kept me at arm’s length for years, McCord, so don’t you dare tell me this is about me. Whatever you’re dealing with, it’s between you and you. And the way I see it, I think you’re fed up with the old way of playing the game. You do want to stop kidding yourself, to stop thinking that it doesn’t matter if you grow old alone. You are concerned about letting opportunity slip through your fingers, but you don’t do enough about it because risk doesn’t come with guarantees.”

  “Because I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She dropped her head back and uttered a single, deliberate “Ha!” at the ceiling. “You’ve been hurting me for as long as I’ve had this stupid weakness for you. So what else is new? You know what? It’s probably time I smartened up.”

  She did snatch up her purse then. Mitch thought she was impressively agile to get as close to the door as she did before he tugged her back by the strap of her purse. It went flying as he swung her around to face him.

  Since the world made more sense when they weren’t speaking, he kissed her, swept her into his arms and continued kissing her as he carried her to the living room. It was a miracle he didn’t break both their necks, since he moved by instinct and memory alone. Finally, he settled on the couch and held her on his lap.

  “Damn you, Mitch. Let me go.”

  “Have you noticed that it’s only when you get unsure of things, or feel vulnerable, that you stop calling, me McCord?”

  “Yes. And since you have, too, would you please let me go and not take advantage?”

  She was shaking, and she didn’t want to look at him. Mitch felt an abundance of relief as well as tenderness. Cupping the back of her neck, he coaxed her to submit, to relax against his shoulder. “Sorry, but I can’t. I need those weaknesses. They give me the courage to ignore my own.”

  “You’re not making any sense. I think you must be suffering heatstroke from your tennis match.”

  He made a sound deep in his chest. “The match. Feels like that was a week ago. Or as if it happened to someone else.”

  “Same here.” She tried to free herself again. “I should get home.”

  “Sit with me a minute, Jen. Let’s just finish the day together, feel the sun going down behind us.” If they could do that, maybe they could talk about Savannah, Mary, and the future without going combustible.

  She didn’t agree, but she did stop struggling to get off his lap. When he realized what that meant, he planted a kiss on her forehead.

  The glow of amber light poured through the windows behind him and filled the room, warmed it, despite the air-conditioning. Mitch watched it turn a painting of West Texas on the opposite wall into a scene where he could almost taste dust on his tongue and feel grit against his shirt collar and neck. He had flown over that land countless times. Years ago, when he’d done his first solo for his single-engine license, he’d landed out there and felt an odd kinship with the aridity and barrenness. In a way it had been as if he’d been meeting himself.

  How could you admire something and still not like it much? he wondered. He wanted to explain that to Jenny, but the words...

  He ran his hand from her hair to her hip. “You’re a pretty woman, Jenny Stevens...and the first real female friend I’ve ever had.”

  “Coward. I’m your best friend, McCord.”

  “True, and a little scary,” he murmured with a sigh.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it our secret, in case you blow it eventually. At least that will assure you of one less thing you’ll be haunted by.”

  As she spoke, her breath tickled his neck. He shifted to touch his cheek to hers. “I don’t want to blow it. Losing you...”

  “You can’t if you stop trying to push me away.”

  “So much for subtle hints.”

  “I prefer being direct. You and I can’t afford—” as he caressed her again, she sucked in a quick, little breath “—misunderstandings at this stage.”

  Probably. But if he had to be direct, he preferred to choose in what sequence they discussed the topics. Right now all he wanted was to have her mouth again, and he claimed it with the accuracy of one who’d been practicing in his fantasies for a long time.

  He liked having her this way, curled against him, trusting. Able to feel almost every inch of each other. Each touch, the subtlest caress, elicited wave after warm wave of intoxicating pleasure. He could only imagine what sweet insanity they could bring to each other if they did become lovers.

  “Ah, Jen...Jenny. What’s going to happen to us?”

  “That’s your problem, you’re trying to have an answer for everything,” she said, leaning back to meet his pensive gaze. “You think every day, month, year needs to be planned out, and when you realize that’s impossible, you panic. What’s wrong with a little spontaneity?”

  “In theory, nothing. But the last time I put theory into practice, Mary was conceived,” he reminded her drolly.

  “You see?” She sat up like a spring toy. “You can’t even avoid talking about Savannah. How do you expect me to?”

  He sighed. “I suppose I can’t.”

  “Why do you suppose she doesn’t want to be found?”

  “I don’t know. Savannah has traveled in some unusual circles, but to send a thug out to discourage any contact with her...”

  “Call me crazy,
but are you sure she’s not involved with some underworld figure?”

  “I’m not sure about anything, except that I have to find out what’s going on so that it doesn’t end up hurting Mary now or later. But you were right before—at least this does indicate she’s Mary’s mother.”

  “And that you’re her father,” Jenny added with a smile.

  “Yeah.” The word barely made it past the lump in his throat. He had been trying to remain calm about that, especially considering his earlier attitude toward the idea of fatherhood; however, his relief and euphoria told him just how hard he’d been protecting himself the past week. His doubt had quickly turned into a fear that this could be some cruel hoax and that Mary might not be his. What a humbling and heady discovery to learn that was behind him.

  “Have you looked inside the envelope that detective gave you?”

  Mitch shook his head. “Not yet. This is a shock coming on the heels of a full day. I wanted some time to get used to what it all meant...and to deal with the possibility of having to lose you.”

  “I told you, you can’t do that unless you’re doing the pushing. I’m here because I want to be, McCord.”

  Here came the hard part. He took her hand and studied the slender fingers with their short, impeccable nails. He stroked his fingers over her knuckles. “But when I asked you for help with the baby, I promised that it was temporary. Jen, you’re an entrepreneur with schedules and responsibility. I have no right to use the chemistry that’s between us to coerce you into jeopardizing all that you’ve worked for.”

  Jenny tugged her hand free from his, only to frame his face, leaning close so that they were almost nose to nose. “Now hear this, McCord. It was your decision to come to me. It was mine to help you. If you no longer want my help, all you have to do is tell me. If I don’t feel I can give Mary all she needs, plus continue with my business commitments, I’m not going to play martyr. I’ll tell you.”

  “But then there’s the personal angle in all this.”

  Her dark eyes lighting with humor, Jenny lowered herself onto his chest. “That’s what really has you nervous. You’re afraid that my helping you obligates you somehow. Exactly which of my senses do you believe to be defective? No, I’m fully aware I’m in a situation with a man who is allergic to the word relationship. ..and horror of horrors, he’s also my next-door neighbor. But guess what? It happened.”