“What’s on your mind, Ted? Why the subject of who’s having how many babies? And why are you so bummed-out? Are you and Hannah having problems?”
“No, we’re doing fine,” he said quietly.
“You sure seem happy together. At times, I actually forget that you’re not the father of her baby. You hover over her, tell her to put up her feet, talk about the baby clothes you two bought, the whole nine yards. Don’t slug me, but I think you’re in love with Hannah. I also believe you consider that baby yours.”
Ted looked out the side window for several long seconds, then shifted his gaze to Ryan.
“You’re right,” he said. “I am in love with Hannah. I didn’t intend to be, but I am. And the baby? Hell, it’s mine. I didn’t have anything to do with its conception, but it’s mine and Hannah’s.”
“So what’s the problem here?” Ryan said. “Marry the woman and give the kid your name from day one. Hannah’s ex-husband relinquished his claim on that baby, so go for it, man.”
“It’s not that simple, Ryan.”
“It sure sounds simple to me. Unless…” Ryan’s
voice trailed off.
“Unless what?”
“Hannah doesn’t love you. No, that’s nuts. The whole family has seen you two together. She’s in love with you. That’s a given. Has she told you she loves you?”
“No.”
“Well, be patient. You know she’s been badly hurt in the past, and her idea was to never trust her judgment about a man again. You’re the real goods, Ted. I bet she realizes that but is wary, afraid to say it out loud. Is that why you’re bummed? Because Hannah hasn’t said she’s in love with you?”
“No. Let’s change the subject.”
“But—”
“This discussion is over and out, MacAllister.”
“Well, hell.”
Early the next afternoon, Hannah said goodbye to one of her piano students, then began to close the door.
“Hold it,” Ted called from down the hall.
He sprinted to her door, stopped, then stepped into the living room. Hannah closed and locked the door behind him. As she turned to look at him, their eyes met and neither moved, nor spoke.
He was in love with this woman, Ted thought.
He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, sharing, caring, protecting her.
He wanted to make love to her at night and know she’d be next to him each morning.
He wanted to be a father to her child, the baby she carried within her that he loved as his own.
He wanted to ask her now, right now, to be his wife until death parted them.
Oh, how very much he wanted in regard to Hannah Johnson.
But none of it was his to have.
“So,” he said, managing to smile, “how’s life?”
Hannah blinked, bringing herself from the hazy place she’d floated to while being held immobile by Ted’s mesmerizing blue eyes.
How’s life? her mind echoed.
“How’s life?” she said aloud, none too quietly. “As in, ‘What’s cookin’, toots?’ You announce that you love me, tell me not to think, which is like ordering a person not to breathe, then breeze in here as cocky as you please and say, ‘How’s life?’ You have a lot of nerve, Ted Sharpe.”
Ted nodded. “Got it. You’re not in a daffodils-and-daisies mood.”
“Not even close.” She moved around him and crossed the room to lower herself onto the sofa in a not-very-graceful maneuver. “If I get any bigger,” she muttered, “I’ll need a crane to get up from here.”
Now what? Ted wondered, turning slowly to look at her. He didn’t know what to do or say, how to handle this. Damn, if only he hadn’t told Hannah that he loved her. She was right; everything had been perfect until he’d blown it by opening his big mouth.
No, correct that. It wasn’t perfect.
Perfect would be to hear Hannah declare her love for him, then accept his proposal of marriage.
Perfect would be raising the baby, then creating an-other one together in a few years.
Perfect wasn’t going to happen.
Hannah smoothed her dress over her protruding stomach, averting her eyes from Ted’s.
She had to quit screaming like a shrew, she told herself. It wasn’t Ted’s fault that his telling her he loved her had terrified her at the very same time that it filled her with the greatest joy she’d ever known.
It wasn’t Ted’s fault she was a befuddled, confused basket case.
It wasn’t Ted’s fault that she’d thought and thought, even though she’d tried so hard not to, had gotten in touch with herself and discovered…
Oh, dear heaven, discovered that she loved Theodore Sharpe with every breath in her blimp-size body.
“I’m…I’m sorry I yelled,” she said, then slowly raised her eyes to look at him.
“Don’t apologize. You had every right to holler.” He went to the opposite end of the sofa and slouched onto the cushion.
Was this it? Hannah thought. Was this where Ted said he wanted to marry her? It was the natural order of things—I love you and want you to be my wife.
But what about the baby? Ted seemed enchanted with the idea of the baby. He’d made it clear that he wished to be involved in every aspect of her pregnancy, and all the preparations necessary for the baby’s arrival.
Loving her meant loving the baby, too, and she knew, just somehow knew, that Ted realized that.
She knew what Ted was thinking and feeling? She,
of the lousy track record, was presuming, assuming, deciding that this man was honest and real? She was out of her tiny mind.
And she loved Ted so very much.
Oh, what a mess. And, oh, mercy, what was she going to do and say if the next words out of Ted’s mouth were a proposal of marriage?
“Well,” Ted said, then sighed.
Get ready, Hannah, she told herself. Gear up. This was it.
“Well,” he said again, “hell.”
Hannah’s eyes widened. “Hell? Oh.” Was she disappointed? Relieved? Why didn’t she know? Hell?
Ted shifted to face her, a frown on his face. “Hannah, do you love me?”
“Yes,” she heard herself say.
That was great, just dandy, she fumed. He’d caught her off guard and she’d answered the question honestly, by reflex, as calmly as though he’d asked her if she wanted another slice of pizza. This situation was going from bad to worse, very quickly.
“I see,” he said. “You love me.”
Hallelujah! his mind sang. Hannah loved him! Hannah Johnson, his beautiful Ms. Doodle, was in love with him.
That was fantastic.
No, that was not good, not good at all.
She loved him and she knew he loved her. The next thing on the agenda should be to discuss getting married. But he couldn’t marry Hannah; she deserved more than he was. She deserved a husband who was a whole man.
“Look,” he said, “we love each other and we both love that baby. You do know how I feel about the baby, don’t you?”
Hannah nodded, her gaze riveted on his face.
“We…um…have a nice routine worked out,” he went on. “My duty shifts don’t cause a problem with your giving piano lessons, because I have my own apartment where I can sleep at odd hours. We cook together, spend the evening together, sleep together, there, here, wherever the mood strikes. It seems to me that our loving each other…”
Damn it, he thought, he hated this. He couldn’t leave her, not yet. He had to see her safely through the birth of the baby. Then he’d go, give her the opportunity to find a man who could give her everything she deserved to have. But what he really wanted was to marry her!
“Yes?” Hannah said, leaning slightly toward him. “Our loving each other…what?”
“Shouldn’t change anything,” he said, feeling a knot tighten in his gut. He shrugged. “We’ll just keep on keeping on… exactly as we’re doing.”
“Oh, well…�
� Hannah waved one hand in the air. “Sure. You bet. That sounds just fine, Ted.”
Yes, it was the best plan, she told herself. Now she didn’t have to worry if loving Ted was another of her mistakes in judgment. It wasn’t as though she was going to marry the man, for Pete’s sake. If she was wrong about him, it would be much easier to deal with under the structure of their relationship as it now stood.
It was really a splendid idea, no doubt about it.
Then why did she feel as though her heart were splintering into a million pieces?
Chapter Ten
Thanksgiving, Ted thought, standing in front of the bathroom mirror to adjust his tie. It hardly seemed possible that the holiday season was already here.
Ted left the bathroom, then looked at his watch.
There was plenty of time before he and Hannah were due at the senior MacAllisters home for the traditional gathering of the clan for the Thanksgiving feast. This year, the event would also include celebrating Teddy’s first birthday.
Thanksgiving, Ted mentally repeated as he wandered aimlessly around the living room.
He and Hannah had watched the parades on television that morning. No, that wasn’t quite accurate. Hannah had watched the parades, while he’d watched Hannah watching the parades. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her, nor curb his smile. She’d been like an enchanted little girl, her dark eyes sparkling, her continual “Oh, look, Ted, look” an absolute delight.
She was something, all right, his beautiful Ms. Doodle, and he loved her more with every passing day.
Ted’s glance fell on the telephone and he replayed in his mind the conversation he’d had earlier with his parents. Thanksgiving greetings had been exchanged, along with the usual chitchat about his job, their leisure activities and the weather.
He had not said one word to his folks about the existence of Hannah Johnson in his life.
What was the point?
Why tell them he was in love for the first time?
Why tell them that Hannah had stolen his heart and there was no way possible he could ever get it back?
Why tell them that a baby, a miracle, was to be born with the coming of the New Year, a baby that in his heart, mind and soul was his?
What was the point, when he knew that after Hannah gave birth, he would be moving to another apartment, away from the building, out of her life?
Why explain that, because he loved her so deeply, he had to leave?
“Oh, man,” Ted said aloud, dragging his hands down his face. Too restless to sit down, he went into the spare bedroom to stand in front of the worktable.
The dollhouse was just about finished. He had a few more touches of paint and stain to apply, then he’d assemble it and place the furniture in the rooms.
He enjoyed the project, but the closer he came to completing it, the more he wondered why he bothered to spend countless hours laboring over it. It would sit there gathering dust between rare visits from one or more of the MacAllister little girls.
Ted picked up one of the pieces—the framework and the front door of the house. He’d carved an intricate pattern on the door, then stained it dark and glossy.
He opened and shut the door several times, nodding in satisfaction that it moved smoothly back and forth.
A dollhouse, he mused, putting the piece back on the table. A doll home? No, it was a house, because there were no people. There would be walls, rooms, a roof and furniture, but as yet there wasn’t a toy family to take up residence, to make it a home.
He had to decide if he’d make the figures, or buy them. He also had to decide when he would add the family, thus changing the house to a home.
A family. A mother, father and two babies. Two. Not one child, but two.
Ted closed his eyes for a moment, shook his head, then opened his eyes again and left the room.
He sat down on the sofa, leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling.
For years, he thought, he’d buried and ignored the truth of his inability to father a child. Now? The harsh reality was with him every day, tormenting him, haunting him, forcing him to accept his inadequacy and the ultimate price he was to pay for it.
He was going to lose Hannah and the baby.
One night when he’d been unable to sleep, he’d gently rested one hand on Hannah’s stomach as she slept peacefully beside him. He’d savored each precious time he’d felt the baby move.
He’d fantasized about telling Hannah the truth, mentally supplied her with a smile, a shrug and the words, “Oh, well, no problem, Ted. We’ll have one baby and Daisy the cat. You can’t give me another child? Don’t stress. It’s no big deal.”
He had jerked his hand away from Hannah’s body, from the baby, and left the bed, trying to escape from the pain of knowing it was a problem, it was a big deal.
But there was nowhere to run or hide from the crushing truth, from reality.
Thanksgiving, he thought, with Christmas close behind, then the New Year, the birth of the baby, then…
Nothing.
Just emptiness.
Loneliness, cold and dark.
Ted shifted forward to rest his elbows on his knees, sinking his head into his hands.
“Ah, Hannah,” he said, his voice raspy with emotion, “I love you so damn much.”
He was jolted from his misery by the sound of the piano being played at full volume. He jerked his head up and listened.
“‘Yankee Doodle,’” he said, recognizing the song. He looked at his watch. “Yes, ma’am, Ms. Doodle, I read you loud and clear, very loud. It’s time to get going.
He grabbed his sport coat from the back of a chair and left the apartment, anticipating the moment when Hannah would open the door and greet him with a smile on her face and love shining in her incredible, big dark eyes.
And she did, along with the addition of her laughter, which made Ted’s smile grow even bigger.
“You got my message,” she said, stepping back so he could enter. “I wondered if playing ‘Yankee Doodle’ would accomplish the job of bringing you over here.”
“It certainly did.” He encircled her with his arms and drew her as close to him as the baby allowed. “You look beautiful, Ms. Doodle.”
“Thank you. I thought burnt orange was an appropriate shade to wear for Thanksgiving. It’s an autumn color.”
“Mmm,” he said, then captured her lips with his.
Hannah welcomed the kiss, parting her lips so Ted’s tongue could slip between to seek and find her tongue, stroking it in a sensuous duel.
She filled her senses with his aroma of woodsy after-shave, soap and man, savored the feel of his powerful body, and the taste of his mouth molded so perfectly to hers. She could hear the rapid tempo of her heart echoing in her ears.
Ted reluctantly raised his head and had to draw a deep breath before he could speak.
“Ready for some turkey and all the trimmings?” he said finally.
Hannah nodded. “I’m really hungry. I’ll probably make a piggy of myself.” She paused. “Ted, we still have a few minutes before we have to go. I’d like to talk to you. All right?”
“Sure.” He released her, then grasped one of her hands. “Come with me to the sofa, my dear.”
Hannah laughed. “No, I’ll sit in the straight chair so we don’t have to use up an extra ten minutes prying me out of those puffy cushions.”
“Oh, okay,” he said, chuckling.
He sat down on the sofa and Hannah settled onto the chair. Daisy jumped up next to Ted.
“Hey, big stuff,” he said, scratching her under the chin. Daisy purred and closed her eyes. “You make it up here in a single bound now.” He patted her on the head, then looked at Hannah. “You have the floor, Ms. Doodle. You can have the ceiling and walls, too, if you want them.”
Hannah smiled, then became serious.
“Ted,” she said, meeting his gaze, “my gran and I had traditions on Thanksgiving. We watched the parades on television, then cooked di
nner together. Before we ate, we would talk about what we were thankful for. Gran said it wasn’t just a day for parades and lots of fancy food, it was a time to stop, take inventory and give thanks for our blessings.”
Ted nodded. “That’s nice. It sounds exactly like something your gran would say.”
“Well, I did that today, stopped and took inventory. I want you to know…” She took a steadying breath and lifted her chin. “I want you to know that I not only love you, but I believe in you, trust you and have no shadows of doubt about whether or not you really are who you present yourself to be.”
A chill swept through Ted and a painful knot twisted in his gut.
“For the first time in my life,” she went on, “I’ve chosen well. I haven’t made a mistake about the man I love, the one who holds my heart in his hands for safekeeping. For that, I’m very grateful and felt that today, Thanksgiving, was an appropriate time to tell you.”
Oh, dear Lord, Ted thought, what had he done? Hannah’s words were beautiful, a precious gift to be treasured. She’d moved past her fears and was now prepared to go forward with her life.
She loved him. Believed in him. Trusted him.
And she was making a terrible mistake.
He had a dark secret that he had knowingly kept from her. And because of that, he was going to hurt her, just as the men in her past had done, the ones she’d chosen to love and trust.
He couldn’t bear the thought of Hannah’s disillusionment because of him. She’d feel betrayed yet again, because of him. She’d blame herself, restore power to her fears, and resurrect her ghosts, because of him.
Oh, God. He had to tell her the truth about himself now, right now, Ted declared to himself. He had to tell her that he couldn’t give her a baby, and because he loved her so very much, he had to leave her so she could find a man to love who could give her more children. He was lying to her with his silence.
But what if…The thought came to Ted suddenly. Could it be possible that Hannah would still love him, agree to marry him and spend the rest of her life with him if she knew the truth? Would the child she now carried be enough to fulfill her maternal needs, her nurturing nature?
The Father of Her Child (The Baby Bet #3) Page 12
