Her Faux Fiancé

by Alexia Adams

  The room was too small for any decent pacing, so he sat next to Analise. Her hand shook in her lap, and he took it in his. “Listen, Analise. I don’t think you realize how complicated this situation is for you now, here.”

  “I’m a single mom. I think even in Akureyri they can grasp that concept.”

  “To every person out there,” he nodded toward the back of the house, “and by now probably half the population of Manitoba, you are carrying my baby. If I deny it, it will blacken your name forever. Every time you or your child came here, they would talk about how you had an affair with another man while engaged to me.”

  “What if I don’t want to come back here?”

  Erik searched her eyes. “I don’t think that’s true. I think the longer you’re here, the more you understand this is the place you’re meant to be. What’s waiting for you back in Paris, Analise? A tiny apartment, a congested city? What kind of place is that to raise a child? Here, you have fresh air and space. And your baby will be loved by an entire community.”

  “But only if I marry you.”

  “Marrying me will certainly help. You might not have noticed, I’m quite popular.” He tried to smile, but she looked too worried to respond to his tease.

  “But you don’t have plans to stay. Do you suggest we marry and then you go off to London or Toronto and I stay here?” Her aqua eyes swam in unshed tears. Was she upset about the baby or the prospect of him leaving? His heart pounded, and his mouth went dry.

  “I’ve been thinking about returning here myself.” Since wandering around the fair with her yesterday, he’d been contemplating how enjoyable a quiet life in the country could be, with Analise. It may not provide the same challenge of working in a world-class city, but even rural people needed good legal counsel. She didn’t look convinced, however, so he continued. “While I’ve enjoyed my time in Europe, working eighteen-hour days six or seven days a week isn’t really living. Being back here has reminded me that a simpler life has its merits, as well. I’ve proved I can make it with the big boys. Now I want to prove I can be a good man—a good husband … and father.”

  “You can’t mean this, Erik. I appreciate what you’re saying; however, I need to decide what’s best for my baby. I’m not sure a marriage of convenience is it.”

  The slamming of the back screen door warned them they were no longer alone. He stood, ready to shield Analise from whomever had entered. She seemed to be one person away from a complete breakdown.

  “Knock, knock,” his mother’s slurred voice rang out.

  He drew in a deep breath before answering. “We’re in here, Mom.” Although, he needn’t have bothered, as she was already standing in the doorway.

  “Are you okay, dears? Your announcement was quite the surprise. I wish you would have told me first rather than let me hear it from Corinna Perkins.” The censure in her voice was negated as she held on to the doorframe for support.

  “Sorry, we were hoping to keep it quiet until after Gran and Gramps’ anniversary party next week. We didn’t want to overshadow their celebration.” Good, the news sounded like it was old to him, rather than the ten minutes he’d had to adjust to the monumental shift in his relationship, real or pretend, with Analise.

  “Are you kidding? They’re over the moon. They’re so excited that another little Sigurdson is going to join the family.”

  Erik caught sight of Analise swallowing. She seemed about to say something, possibly to correct his mother as to the child’s last name.

  “There are hundreds of Sigurdsons outside already,” he interjected before Analise could say anything.

  “Yes, but you’ve always been a favorite grandson. I know they’re hoping you’ll come back here permanently and take over the farm. Now that you have a baby on the way, it would be a perfect time to come home for good.”

  “Mom, this is something Analise and I have to decide for ourselves. I’m going to take her back to Gunnar’s house so she can rest. Please tell Gran and Gramps I’m sorry to leave. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

  “Really? Do you have to go? There’s so much to sort out. Of course, you’ll have to get married before the baby comes. When are you due, Analise? Oh, wouldn’t it be amazing if it’s on Karen’s birthday?”

  One glance at Analise told him she’d had enough. Her hand was over her mouth, her eyes darting to the door and back. If this whole thing wasn’t going to explode in his face, he had to get her away from his mother.

  “Mom, remember what I said about giving us some space. If I’m not back in time to set up the music for dancing, ask Brent to do it. He’s handy with a computer.”

  “Oh, all right.” His mother left, and he heard a long sigh behind him.

  He turned to Analise, who looked like she’d rather melt into the sofa. As she stood, he wrapped his arms. She snuggled against his chest, and he tightened his arms around her. If there weren’t 200 people outside, he would have held her like this for the rest of the night. But if he didn’t appear soon, they’d all troop in, and that was the last thing Analise needed. “Did you only bring your camera bag or do you have a handbag somewhere as well?”

  “Just my camera bag. Do you think I should say good-bye to your grandparents? I don’t want to be rude.”

  Erik put a hand on Analise’s face before bestowing a gentle kiss on her lips.

  “They won’t think you’re rude. If we go out back again, you’ll be inundated by people asking you questions about the baby and when it’s due. Do you really want to face that?”

  A shudder coursed through her. “No. As long as your grandparents don’t mind, I think I need to lie down at home in the quiet.”

  He steered Analise out the front, intending to make her comfortable in his car while he retrieved her camera. Unfortunately, whoever had organized the parking hadn’t thought about anyone other than the last to arrive wanting to leave. As he tried to figure out how he was going to get his car out from behind the twenty-five others parked in front of it, Brent appeared from around the corner of the house.

  “Tracy figured you’d want to leave. Here’s Analise’s bag.” His cousin surveyed the haphazard parking arrangement and pulled his keys from his pocket. “Take my car,” he offered, tossing them to Erik. “I must say, your little surprise announcement has set the whole party abuzz. Uncle Arni is already taking bets on gender and due date. Got any insider information I can use to improve my odds?”

  “Not yet. Thanks for the loan of the car—I’ll be back soon.”

  “No hurry. We’ll be here for hours yet. I hope you feel better soon, Analise. When Tracy was expecting our first, she threw up on the hour every hour for the first five months.”

  “Mon Dieu,” Analise groaned. She looked like she might be sick again any moment.

  He took the heavy bag from Brent and placed it on his own shoulder. He was surprised Analise could carry it around as though it were a piece of paper. She was definitely stronger than she looked. He’d have to remember that. Looking down at her now, however, pale and a little disoriented, he knew she needed his strength. “Let’s get you to bed.”

  “Ha, ha! That’s what got you in this mess in the first place,” Brent replied with a laugh. He was still chuckling when he disappeared around the corner.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” Analise said as he pulled Brent’s car onto the road. “What is my grandfather going to say? We have to tell him the truth.”

  As soon as they were out of sight of the house, he pulled over. This conversation required his full concentration.

  “We do. We’ll tell him that you’re pregnant.”

  “I mean the truth about the fake engagement.”

  He took a deep breath, trying to get his swirling emotions to sit still for a second while he reasoned with her. “Analise, I meant what I said back at the house. I believe we should get married.” She opened her mouth to protest, and he put a finger on her lips. “At least consider it. We can talk more tomorrow after you’ve ha
d time to think. My solution will save your reputation and stop the gossip. And if our engagement becomes real, why bother your grandfather with the timing now?”

  God, that had to be the worst proposal ever—marry me and people won’t talk about you behind your back.

  “I guess you’re right.” She didn’t look convinced.

  He resisted the urge to press his case. If she ran away again …

  After turning the key in the ignition, he automatically glanced into the rearview mirror. Two empty car seats—littered with chip fragments, an assortment of Cheerios and Fruit Loops, and one incredibly squashed juice box—stared back at him.

  He closed his eyes for a second, recording the moment realization hit, then put the car in gear, and drove. When he stopped Brent’s car in front of the Thordarson home, Gunnar stepped out of the house and stood on the porch, surprised to see them so soon.

  “Everything all right? I didn’t expect you back till after midnight.”

  “Analise isn’t feeling well. She needs quiet and rest,” Erik replied as he opened the passenger door and helped her out.

  Gunnar looked his granddaughter up and down. “I thought she didn’t look too good when she left. I hope it’s not some disease you caught taking pictures of those starving babies in Africa.”

  “No, although a baby is to blame,” Erik clarified as he put his arm around her waist. “Analise is expecting.”

  Analise stiffened but didn’t say anything.

  “Congratulations, sweet.” Gunnar made an attempt to sound genuinely pleased, but it didn’t make it to his blue eyes, which were filled with worry.

  “Thanks, Afi. It’s been a bit of a shock to me. I still haven’t quite got my head around it. Do you mind if we don’t talk about the baby just now?”

  “Not at all. Come inside. I’ll make you some peppermint and ginger tea. Your amma swore it was the only thing that helped with nausea.”

  Analise removed Erik’s hand from her waist and, after giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek, said, “Go back to the party. I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

  She joined her grandfather on the porch and waved to Erik as he climbed back into the car. He drove halfway back to the farm, then stopped again on the deserted gravel road. Shutting off the engine, he let the stillness envelope him. In five minutes, he’d be back at the party, slapped on the back and congratulated or called a dog for getting his fiancée pregnant before the wedding. He’d have to look chagrined, feign remorse, and take it all with a smile on his face.

  In reality, he wanted to get stinking drunk and punch something. He didn’t know which was worse: knowing the baby wasn’t his, or the complication that the pregnancy would bring to his future.

  But it was his responsibility. If he didn’t fix this, he’d never be able to face any of his family again—wouldn’t be able to look himself in the mirror. He’d caused this mess by convincing Analise to pretend to be his fiancée. Now he had to make it right.

  Chapter 11

  “How are you feeling this morning, sweet?”

  Analise sat in her grandmother’s rocking chair and cradled a mug of peppermint and ginger tea. A soft breeze swayed the crop of grain in the neighbor’s field. Three birds rode a thermal updraft, soaring without effort. They were too far away to tell what kind they were, but she admired their worry-free existence.

  “Much better, thanks, Afi. A good night’s sleep has worked wonders. I’ve even managed to keep my breakfast in today. Well, at least so far,” she added with a grimace, as a flicker of nausea reared its ugly head. She took a quick sip of her tea, hoping to hold off the need to hurl.

  “Erik called while you were in the shower. Said he’d be over about ten.”

  “Oh, okay.” She took a long drink of her tea, hiding her face from her observant grandfather. Erik had been all concern and solicitude yesterday, but now that he’d had the night to think about their situation, she wasn’t sure if he’d continue to insist that they marry. Maybe he was going to tell her that their pretense was over. A wave of despair washed through her. As much as she’d tried to pretend she didn’t care for him, it wasn’t true. But could she marry him knowing he was just offering as a way to get them out of the sticky mess he’d created? What if she fell for him even more and when the time came to split she was left as broken as her mother had been?

  “Analise?”

  She turned to face her grandfather. He almost never called her by her given name, unless she was in trouble—which, technically, she was.

  “Yes, Afi?”

  “You don’t have to marry Erik. There will be no shame, and I won’t think any less of you if you decide to raise this child on your own. I’ll support you in any way possible, and you know you’ll always have a home here.”

  She put her hand over her grandfather’s, which rested on the arm of his rocking chair. “Thank you.” This is what she needed: love without an agenda.

  “I don’t want you to end up like your mother,” he said, his voice raw with emotion.

  The usual guilt sliced through her. For years, she’d carried the burden of feeling responsible for her mother’s death; she’d even stopped celebrating her birthday. She and her mother had argued the morning she turned fifteen. Analise had wanted to take the train into Paris with her friends and do some shopping. Her mother had wanted her to come home and spend the afternoon and evening with her. Her father, as usual, was somewhere else and hadn’t even called to wish her a happy day.

  After school, she’d delayed, going over to a friend’s house for a few hours before returning home. When she’d eventually opened the door to their home, a luxury, stone-walled house in Versailles, it had seemed eerily quiet. A wonky cake sat on the dining-room table, baked and decorated by her mother. Analise had recognized the lopsided writing—how much had her mother had to drink beforehand?

  The cook, who was normally bustling about the kitchen, was nowhere to be found. Analise had wandered around the lower floor—usually there was music playing or the television was on as Sigrid hated absolute quiet, said it gave her too much time to think. When even the garden was empty, Analise had eventually gone up to her mother’s room, thinking perhaps she was taking a nap or had passed out.

  Sure enough, Sigrid was lying on her bed, eyes closed. As Analise was about to shut the bedroom door and go back downstairs to get herself some dinner, something caught her eye. She was never sure what it was—a flash of sunlight on the overturned bottle of vodka on the floor or the awkward angle of her mother’s legs? Whatever it was, it had made her turn back. And when she’d walked fully into the room, her eyes had become fixed on the empty bottle of pills on the bedside table, a single tablet in her mother’s open palm.

  The scream lodged in her throat never made it out. Grasping her mother’s hand, she’d found it was already cold. If only she’d come home on time. If only she hadn’t fought with her mother. If only she’d realized how sad and lonely her mother was.

  If only had haunted Analise for years.

  The creak of her grandfather’s chair brought her back to the present. Her hand rested on her stomach as if protecting the little life that grew there. “I won’t, Afi. I know my strengths and weaknesses. And I promise if I ever feel the desperation my mother must have felt to do what she did, I’ll seek help. I know what it’s like to be the one left behind. I wouldn’t do that to my baby or you.”

  “I just wanted you to know you have options, sweet,” he said after clearing his throat. “There’s something not right about your relationship with Erik. I don’t know what it is, and I guess it’s not my place to pry … ”

  “You’re not prying. I know you want the best for me. Erik and I … well, we have a lot of issues to resolve. We jumped into this engagement without thinking it through. I love him, but I’m not sure I can live the life he wants. And I guess now my pregnancy complicates rather than clarifies the situation. But I’m a big girl, Afi. I’ve looked after myself for ten years. And if it comes to it, I’l
l look after my child by myself as well.”

  “That’s my girl. But I don’t think you’ll have to. Here comes your man now.”

  After bumping up the drive, the BMW convertible pulled up in front of the house. The top was up, so she had to wait until Erik stepped out of the vehicle to see his face. His somber expression turned into a smile. Analise wasn’t sure, though, if the smile was for her or her grandfather’s benefit.

  “Well, I reckon you two have a lot to talk about, and you don’t need an old man around. I’m going to go down to the stables and check on things. I hear Ian MacEwan might have to get rid of some of his horses. Think I might take on a few more and get back into the riding-lesson business.” Afi pushed himself to his feet and, after nodding at Erik, strode toward the barns, whistling. Analise stared after her grandfather, pleased to see a spark of life back in him.

  Erik leaned against the porch rail and scrutinized her.

  “You look better today,” he pronounced. His gaze lingered for a moment on her lips before lowering to her stomach. When his eyes returned to hers there was a warmth in them that surprised her. Could he really be happy about the baby?

  “I didn’t know I looked so terrible yesterday.”

  “Not terrible, just ill. How are you feeling?”

  “Better, thanks. How did the party go?” It was the stilted conversation of two people avoiding what they really needed to discuss.

  “It wasn’t the same without you.”

  “So, I guess we should talk about the baby.” She didn’t know what to say. It had all seemed so clear in the night. Leave Akureyri, have her baby in France, get on with her life as best she could. Erik had gotten her into this engagement mess, he could get her out. Yet, somehow, with his tall form standing in front of her, the heat of his gaze on her, she was having trouble remembering why she should follow this course.

  “The general consensus at the party yesterday was that we should get married right away. In fact, my grandmother suggested we have the wedding next weekend at their anniversary party. Everyone is already invited, the venue is booked and catered. All we’d have to do is get you a dress. One of my aunts has already started on a cake.” At least he had the sense to stare at his shoes at the last statement. If he’d been looking at her, she’d have sliced him with her laser-sharp gaze.