The Baby Gift

by Bethany Campbell

  She put her arms around his neck and clung to him tightly. “I told my father that we still cared for each other.”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” Josh said and nuzzled her hair.

  “He must know that this is bound to happen. I’ve hinted as much. This time I won’t let my family monopolize me. You and Nealie and the baby come first.”

  “Likewise,” he said against her throat. “I want to have you and hold you from this day forward.”

  “In two weeks,” she said, “we’ll find out if our family of three becomes a family of four.”

  “In two weeks,” he said, “I’ll be able to make love to you again.”

  They held each other and smiled at the irony of such a wedding day.

  He kissed her again, a lingering, hungry kiss.

  “It’s going to be a long two weeks,” he said.

  AT LEO’S, Harve was almost finished reinforcing a weak strut in the wall of the newest greenhouse. His hands were sure, and he worked efficiently, but his mind was on other matters.

  He knew Josh and Briana had gone off together again. Inga said they were going to do some shopping for Nealie. Harve didn’t care. The more he saw Briana with Josh, the more he realized his infatuation with her was futile.

  And infatuation was all it was, he knew. He’d been entranced by her looks and her spirit, true—but most of all by her unattainability. She was like the princess atop the glass hill, and only one man could ride to the top of that hill and claim her. Every time Harve had tried to ascend, he slipped back to ordinary earth, where he belonged.

  And if Harve was completely honest, he had to admit that part of his attraction to Briana was that she was Leo’s daughter. He admired Leo. He came close to idolizing him, and he saw Briana as a way of becoming permanently allied with Leo.

  But he had been sitting alone most nights in his second-hand mobile home, thinking and thinking. Why couldn’t he ask Leo about a partnership that didn’t involve marriage? This wasn’t the Middle Ages. A man didn’t have to marry into a business arrangement.

  Harve hadn’t mentioned his idea to Inga because Inga was acting strangely. She had suddenly stopped encouraging Harve to court Briana. Perhaps she, too, had finally realized it was a fool’s quest.

  Instead, she was focusing her powers of persuasion on Larry and Glenda. Glenda had apparently confided some problem to Inga, and there was nothing Inga loved more than helping people solve their problems. Harve loved her, but he was grateful her attentions were aimed at somebody else for a change.

  He tested the reinforced strut and found it secure. He put away his tools, slipped into his jacket, went out and put the toolbox in the back of his truck.

  He headed for Briana’s house on foot because it gave him time to think. There were things he wanted to put into words, and he needed to get them right.

  When he reached the back porch, he mounted the steps and kicked off his overshoes, setting them on the mat beside Penny’s. He knocked on the back door and waited.

  He took a deep breath. Penny was probably upstairs in the office. It would take her a minute to get to the door. He could feel his heart beating as hard as if he had drunk fourteen cups of coffee.

  The door swung open, and he saw Penny’s face, her cap of fiery curls. Surprise flickered in her eyes. “Hi. Did you come for the mail order forms? They’re all small—no heavy stuff. I can fill them myself.”

  “I didn’t come for the forms,” he said. He resisted the desire to shuffle his feet.

  She shrugged. “As long as you’re here, want to come in for a cup of coffee? I was just about to pour myself a cup.”

  Harve shook his head. Coffee was the last thing he needed. This woman seemed to drink quarts of the stuff, more than anybody he knew—except for himself. “Could I just talk to you a minute?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she said. She made a gesture for him to enter. He stepped inside and stood in the middle of the familiar kitchen. “Take off your jacket,” she invited. “Sit.”

  He didn’t sit and he didn’t take off his jacket. He stuck his hands into his pockets because he didn’t know what else to do with them. He said, “I’ve got two things to say to you.”

  “Yes?” She cocked her head, waiting.

  “You made me a mighty kind offer about your father’s fishing equipment. I’d be honored to take it, and I thank you.”

  She smiled. “That’s great. I know he’d want it to go to somebody who’d appreciate it. Consider it yours.”

  “That’s the first thing I’ve got to say,” he muttered.

  She looked at him questioningly.

  “The second thing—” He stopped, gathered his courage, then plunged on. “The second thing is you invited me to supper at your house to meet your sister.”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “Actually, I mentioned that without asking her, and it turns out she’s, uh, well, she’s interested in the new civics teacher, Mr. Rudner, and he’s asked her out, so—” She stopped, clearly flustered.

  “I never wanted to meet your sister anyhow,” Harve said. “But I’d like to have supper. With you. Only I’d take you out. Over to Springfield. To the new steak house.”

  Her cheeks got pinker, but her face softened. She smiled. She had a kind of crooked smile, unique and fetching. “Why, Harve, you’re asking me out? On a date?”

  “That’s it,” he said, taking his hands from his pockets and crossing his arms. “I’m asking you out. On a date.”

  Her smile faded. “Is this because you’re on the rebound from Briana? Because if it is, I’d rather not get into something like this.”

  “It’s because of you, not Briana,” he said, his determination growing. “I’ve dreamed about you three nights in a row. I took it as a sign.”

  She blinked and put one hand on her hip. “You dreamed about me? What did you dream?”

  He uncrossed his arms and put his hands on her shoulders. He took a step closer to her. It was as if he was controlled by a force far more powerful than he was. “I dreamed this,” he said. Then to his astonishment, he bent and kissed her on the mouth.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  JOSH AND BRIANA got to Illyria just in time to pick Nealie up from school. They would not tell her about the wedding—not yet. She was too young to keep a secret. They would decide when the time was right for everyone to know.

  As her husband and daughter bantered about school, Briana put her hand gently on her abdomen. What she’d told Josh was true. She didn’t feel pregnant—but it was too soon for such feelings. And she was married. It did not seem possible. It was like some strange dream.

  She was jerked back to reality when Josh asked Nealie, “What’s that spot on your sweater?”

  Nealie said, “Oh, I had a nosebleed. I got bumped in the hall.”

  A chill swept through Briana, and her hand tightened protectively over her midsection.

  “Did you go to the nurse’s office?” Josh asked, voice taut. “Did they put ice on it?”

  “Yes,” Nealie said, as if the subject was boring. “It was just a little nosebleed. It stopped fast. I got a drop on my sweater, that’s all.”

  “You’re sure?” Josh asked.

  “I’m just glad I didn’t get it on my picture. I drew another picture for you. I’ll give it to you when we get home. It’s in my backpack.”

  Just a little nosebleed, Briana thought. Just a little one. Nothing to panic over. But for the rest of the trip, nothing felt dreamlike.

  At home, Nealie ran upstairs to change clothes. Her limp seemed more pronounced. Josh watched as she closed her bedroom door. “I want that kid well,” he said, his face hard with emotion.

  “We both do,” Briana said softly. She touched his shoulder. He turned, put his arms around her, bent and kissed her lips.

  The office door opened upstairs, and Penny’s voice called, “Briana? I needed to ask you about this customer who wants—” She stopped when she saw Briana in Josh’s embrace.

  Briana lo
oked at Penny but kept her hands locked around Josh’s neck and didn’t move away from him. She was tired of hiding her feelings about Josh. It was time to let people know.

  “Yes?” Briana said.

  “Oops.” Penny eased toward the office. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay,” Josh said. He stepped away from Briana reluctantly.

  It was just as well he did. Nealie came bursting out of her door in blue jeans and a yellow sweatshirt. As she dashed down the steps, Penny slipped inside the office.

  “Here’s my picture,” cried Nealie, waving a piece of paper. “It’s for you, Daddy. So when you go away, you can look at it and think of me.”

  She ran to him and thrust it at him. “See? It’s a shamrock. We’re studying Ireland, because St. Patrick’s Day is coming. Ireland is forty different shades of green. I used all the green crayons in my box.”

  “That’s nice work, Nealie,” Josh said, studying it. “Good composition. Nice color. Let’s put it on the refrigerator so we can look at it.”

  Nealie looked hesitant. “But it’s for you to take when you go.”

  “I’ll carry it everywhere,” Josh promised her. “I’ll never be without it, and I’ll bring it back home to you.”

  “Promise?” Nealie asked.

  “I swear it,” Josh said, raising his hand solemnly.

  Nealie threw herself at him. He set the picture aside and swept her into his arms. Warmth stole through Briana’s veins. Josh loved the child so much, and the love was deep and mutual.

  “It’s a beautiful picture, Nealie,” she said. “A very nice present. For now I’ll put it by the picture of George Washington’s cherry tree.”

  Nealie looked up at Briana. “George Washington couldn’t always be home, either. He had to go during the war and be a hero. Daddy’s a hero, isn’t he? I think so.”

  Josh looked dubious, but Briana said, “Yes. I think so, too.”

  Nealie’s expression went moody. “The trouble with heroes is that they have to keep going away. Can’t a person stay home and be heroic?”

  Josh and Briana glanced at each other and then away. He set Nealie on her feet and knelt before her, his hands on her shoulders. “There are all kinds of ways to be heroic,” Josh told Nealie. “Your mother is. And she stays home.”

  Nealie pushed her glasses up her nose. She looked soberly at Josh. “I love Mommy. But heroic? She just stays here and works.”

  Josh gazed into Nealie’s eyes. “You’re mother is the most heroic person I know. Some day you’ll understand that.”

  THE CALL CAME two days later.

  Josh and Briana and Nealie were working in the greenhouse when Penny came with the message that there had been an urgent call from Carson Michelman. He wanted Josh to phone immediately.

  Josh saw Briana’s face go pale and felt his muscles tense.

  Penny said, “I drove. You can ride back with me. If you want.”

  “Yeah,” Josh said tonelessly. He turned to Briana. “I’d better go.”

  Briana’s chin quivered, but she squared her jaw to make it stop. “Should we go with you?”

  “No,” he said, washing his hands. “It might be nothing. I’ll come right back.” He didn’t bother with his parka. He left the greenhouse and got into Penny’s car.

  “I hope it isn’t bad news or something,” Penny said.

  He shook his head. If it was Carson, it was bad news, all right, because it probably meant that Adventure finally wanted its pound of flesh. It was going to be Burma, he knew it. Well, Burma was dangerous as hell, but he couldn’t stay over four weeks. That was all a visa was good for.

  At the house, Penny went to the office, and Josh used the downstairs telephone. He dialed Carson Michelman’s number. He thought of Nealie. He thought of Briana. He thought of the child who might or might not being growing within her, and suddenly four weeks seemed an eternity.

  Carson answered on the second ring. “Michelman and Associates.”

  “Carson, this is Josh. I got word you called.”

  “Right. How’s your kid?”

  Josh knew this question, coming from Carson, was a mere formality. “She’s holding steady.”

  “It’s not necessary for you to be there any longer?” Carson’s voice was brusque. He sounded in the mood to waste neither words nor sentiment.

  “Maybe not absolutely necessary,” Josh said. “But I’d like to stay longer. There are still serious family concerns.”

  “There are also serious contract concerns,” Carson returned. “And you’ve had three weeks off. Vacation’s over. Adventure calls.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Josh said, resigned to it, hoping Briana was. “So give me the bad news. Burma, right?”

  “Nope,” Carson said. “They finally made the breakthrough. Adventure pulled it off, by God. Pitcairn Island approved you. You’ve got a visitor’s permit.”

  He felt numbed, in shock. “What?”

  “It came through last week. We’ve been looking for a way to get you there.”

  Josh swore. “Pitcairn? Are you crazy? Is Adventure crazy? They really want to go through with this? Pitcairn’s a rock in the middle of nowhere. There’s no real story, and they don’t like talking to journalists.”

  “The story is that it’s the most remote community on earth. It’s in trouble, it’s dying,” Carson said.

  “That’s been happening for years,” Josh said. “It’s old news.”

  Carson said, “The Pitcairners are considering tourism, but not too much. They’re going to let Adventure do an article—”

  Josh was full of foreboding. Pitcairn was an inaccessible and dangerous place, and nobody would pay it an iota of mind if, over two hundred years ago, Fletcher Christian hadn’t led the mutiny on the Bounty.

  After Christian seized control of the ship, he went to Tahiti, picked up the women he and his followers had left behind and set out to find the farthest-flung hiding place he could.

  And that place was Pitcairn Island.

  The island was close to no other civilization. It was an isolated dot in the middle of the world’s biggest ocean, three thousand miles from New Zealand, four thousand from Chile.

  The few people living there were mostly descendants of the mutineers. The place had a romantic reputation. But it was primitive, and there were rumors of a darker side, as well.

  Josh said, “It gives me bad vibes, Carson. It’s too hard to get there and back. A man could get stuck there for months.”

  “Right, right,” Carson said. “But your visitor’s permit is only for six months. By then a ship will come along.”

  Six months, thought Josh. Six bloody months? When he was younger he would have thought half a year on Pitcairn would be heaven. Even six months ago he might have thought it. Now, with Nealie sick and Briana trying to get pregnant, it sounded like an interminable season in hell.

  He said, “I don’t want to stay six months. I need to be back here.”

  Carson swore at him. “Listen, you SOB, the islanders had to vote unanimously to grant you that permit. Right now you’re the only photographer in the world who has one. Watson’s the only writer.”

  “Watson’s in the middle of an assignment in Mexico,” Josh argued. “I know that.”

  “Not any longer,” Carson snapped back. “The senior editor’s hauling him out because—get this—Adventure found a ship willing to take you. But you’ve got to be in Houston in forty-eight hours.”

  “That’s impossible,” Josh protested. “You couldn’t find a way there this soon.”

  “Adventure got word three weeks ago this might happen. They’ve been monitoring ships all over the world. And they got very, very, very lucky. You and Watson have to work your way over on a Swedish chemical tanker.”

  Josh groaned. “Oh, that sounds great. Watson and I become swabbies on a chemical tanker and go to the big rock. Do you have any damn idea how we get back?”

  “I told you,” Carson said irritably. “Something’ll turn
up. A mail boat comes three times a year. If you’re lucky, you can get passage. We’ll do what we can from this end. Just don’t get sick or something stupid like that.”

  “Right,” Josh said sarcastically. “You get appendicitis on Pitcairn, you’re a dead man. The closest hospital’s thirteen hundred miles away—and there’s no way to get there.”

  “You sound like an old lady,” scoffed Carson. “Before, it was, ‘If the Pitcairn assignment comes up, I’m first in line.’ You’re going soft, Morris.”

  I have a wife, a kid, maybe another kid on the way, thought Josh. Maybe it’s time to go soft.

  But there was also honor at stake. Repeatedly he had said he wanted the Pitcairn assignment. But he no longer was hungry for it. Instead, it gave him a poisoned feeling in the pit of his stomach. “It’s too long,” he said. “I don’t want to be gone that long.”

  “You want me to get tough? Call in lawyers?” Carson asked, starting to play hardball. “You’ve got contractual obligations to Adventure. You break them, you get black-balled by every Tessman publication in America. And, Josh, that’s one hell of a lot of publications.”

  Josh cursed silently.

  “Look,” Carson said. “I said okay to your dropping everything else. You wanted to go back to Hysteria, Missouri—”

  “Illyria, dammit.”

  “Whatever. You wanted to go back, and you knew you had this commitment to Adventure, and you were going to have to take a tough assignment from them sooner or later, probably sooner. I cut you slack to keep you in the States as long as I could.”

  You’re all heart, Josh thought.

  “Well, the assignment’s now. The place is Pitcairn, and it doesn’t matter if it’s hell on earth, it’s where you’re going. The money, I might add, is excellent.”

  Doctor bills, thought Josh. Big ones. Lots of them.

  “Adventure wouldn’t ask just anybody to go,” Carson said, softening. “But they figured you were good enough that the Pitcairners would approve you. You’re smart and you’re careful. And you’ve got the one extra thing that makes you the man for the job.”

  “What’s that?” Josh asked, not buying it.