HER BABY'S SECRET FATHER

by Lynne Marshall

  “Let me get that for you.” Terrance jumped off his bike, laid it down, and quickly came to her aid. Dressed in skintight cycling shorts and a bright rainbow-colored, equally snug shirt, he wrestled the box from her arms. He lifted it like a feather, and waited for Jaynie to unlock the trunk of her car.

  Like every other nurse in the hospital, she knew his routine. Run to work one day; ride his bike home. Ride to work the next day; run home. He had to be as fit as any Olympic athlete with his rigorous daily routine.

  “You could have thrown your back out, trying to handle this all by yourself.” He raised an eyebrow and a lightbulb went on behind his hazel lamps. “Ah, I get it. You’re trying to get admitted back into the hospital, right?”

  She laughed, and tried not to look at his outstanding legs. “You know, that’s a thought. Gimme that back.”

  He pretended to fight her for it, then shoved it into the back of her SUV, closing the hatchback while they both laughed.

  Terrance held his hand out to check on the drizzle that had quickly changed to light rain. He screwed up his face. “Could you do me a favor?”

  Could she refuse the man who’d helped save her baby’s life? “Sure. What do you need?”

  He flashed a charming, pretty-please smile, and pointed to the sky. “A ride home?”

  A sputter escaped her lips before she could compose herself. “Of course.”

  *

  “So, after I spoke to Kim—” Jaynie clutched the steering wheel and took the corner cautiously, due to the rain “—I had to face the fact that I’d be going home to an empty house.”

  “Then you’ll just have to have dinner with me.” Terrance shifted his long legs in the passenger seat. “I can’t let you be alone tonight.” He smiled.

  Jaynie nodded, never even considered protesting.

  “Here we are.” He pointed to the rustic, woodsy home almost camouflaged by overbearing oak trees in an older neighborhood in the hills of the Silver Lake district.

  She’d always thought it suited Terrance perfectly.

  “Come inside while I change?” He hopped out of the car and leaned back inside the door.

  “I’ll wait out here, thanks.” Jaynie felt snug, and didn’t want to leave the comfort of her car heater. But, more importantly, she didn’t want to venture back into Terrance’s territory—the world that had always been so appealing.

  Now was definitely not the time to dream about a man. In fact, having just delivered her baby, it should be the last thing on her mind. And, besides, there would be no man in her carefully planned life, just Tara and her.

  Terrance removed his disassembled bike from the back of her car, placed both the frame and front wheel in his garage and walked on the redbrick path toward his front porch. At the halfway point, a large, worse for wear gray cat strolled up to meet him. He bent to scratch the tabby’s ears and let the pet stretch and press against his calf until the animal lost interest. Only then did he go inside.

  A half-hour later, Jaynie found herself sitting across a cozy table in a hole-in-the-wall Greek restaurant on the outskirts of Hollywood, bumping knees with Terrance.

  She glanced around. He had chosen the Mom and Pop eatery, and was most likely a regular, judging by the friendly greeting they’d received when they entered.

  He’d changed into a cobalt-blue polo shirt, which he’d forgotten to button, affording Jaynie a glimpse of light-colored chest hair. And how could she forget the worn-to-perfection, snug-to-the-rump jeans? Looking like a classic male sculpture in modern-day clothes, Terrance had oozed confidence and seemed comfortable in his flesh when he’d walked her inside. He looked damn good in it, too, which made her ill at ease. This was not the time to notice such things—what was the point?

  She finished the last of her pilaf, lamb kabob and grilled vegetables. Time had flown. They’d never lacked for conversation when dating, and ever since had maintained an easy banter at work. Tonight was no exception, and for the first time in days she felt pleasantly relaxed.

  “So tell me about your cat?” she asked, before sipping her water. “I don’t remember him.”

  Terrance wiped the corner of his mouth with a paper napkin. “His name is Papa Gino. I found him several months ago, eating from a pizza carton by one of the dumpsters at work. He was the sorriest-looking cat I’d ever seen.”

  Jaynie made a sad face. “Aw.”

  Terrance screwed up his mouth and gave her a bemused look. “So I stuck him inside my windbreaker, zipped it up and rode him home on my bike.”

  “Ouch. Are you serious?”

  “Would I lie to you?”

  She shook her head. He had a good heart, she knew that much about him, and she could trust him. He wouldn’t lie. And now she had another reason to respect Terrance.

  “Other than a few claw marks on my chest, he didn’t seem to mind. So he’s stuck around ever since, and he’s good company.”

  She smiled.

  Terrance grew serious. “Me having an independent cat is one thing.” He leaned forward. “But how in the heck are you planning to raise a child by yourself?”

  Jaynie brushed the tough reality check aside with a quick wave of her hand. “I’ve been on my own most of my life. I know the ropes; I’ll make it work.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt that you’ll rise to the challenge. It just seems like such a big responsibility.” He looked into her eyes. “I admire your fearlessness.”

  Touched, she glanced away. “I’ll be honest. I’m scared, but resourceful.” She rolled her eyes and gave a courageous grin. “What I can’t find out about parenting in books, I’ll figure out…somehow.”

  He nodded his head.

  His agreement gave her a false sense of confidence, but the nagging tightness in her breasts alerted her to the need to go home and pump. The last thing she wanted was to be embarrassed in public by leaking through her blouse.

  “This was great, but I’d better be getting home.”

  “Do you have to go so soon?” Terrance sounded disappointed; it surprised her. “They’ve got astounding baklava here.” He studied her face and must have keyed in to her unspoken need. “I’ll get some take-out so you can eat it later.”

  “That’s sweet of you, thanks.” She clasped a clump of unruly hair behind her ear, wishing she’d pulled it back into a ponytail.

  “I aim to please,” he said, with a different kind of smile and a twinkle in his hazel eyes.

  What was that about? The look took Jaynie by surprise and she had to work to ignore it. “I’m dreading walking into that house alone, but I’m really tired.”

  “Well, in that case, you need your rest.” He rose and pulled out her chair so she could stand, then helped Jaynie on with her jacket, lifted her hair from underneath and fiddled with it while fixing her collar.

  Jaynie liked the extra attention, but ignored the chill that tickled her neck.

  “I’ll just have to go inside with you until you’re comfortable,” he said, walking away.

  Terrance went to the counter, insisting on paying the entire bill, and Jaynie took the opportunity to admire his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Not to mention the threadbare denim slash high on the back of his thigh. Forcing herself to look away, she noticed the money left on the table.

  Sheesh, he rescues stray cats, insists on paying the bill and is a generous tipper. Same old Terrance.

  After settling the check with the owner, he met her at the restaurant door. Heavy rain, steady and cool, spilled in glass sheets from the awning. Bursting through the downpour together, he rushed her to the car by putting a protective arm around her back and holding a throwaway newspaper over her head.

  When she got inside her car, she lowered the window and noticed his hair had gone wavy, plastered wet against his head. And even that looked appealing. Embarrassed, she could only imagine how her hair must look.

  He’d led the way over the hill to the restaurant in his own hybrid car, so she wouldn’t have to drive him back ho
me.

  “I’ll follow you—make sure you get home safely.” He didn’t seem to mind standing in the weather one bit. “Angelenos don’t know how to drive in the rain.”

  She shot him a look. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to do that.”

  “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  Too tired to think of anything smart-alecky to say, she agreed. Besides, she didn’t feel like dragging that bulky car seat around. And she liked the idea of not having to set foot inside her house all by her lonesome.

  On the drive home, after thinking about Tara most of the way, and Terrance part of the way, Jaynie took the opportunity to think about snuggling up in bed and reading the book she’d borrowed from the hospital library, Your Special Preemie. By morning, she vowed to know everything there was to know about caring for a wee one like Tara.

  Using tried and true nursing psychology, deciding to reframe the negative feelings she’d been carrying around inside, she opted to look at this particular ordeal as a great new adventure. Tara was growing in an outside womb for the last part of her gestation, and Jaynie had the privilege to watch.

  Amazed by her sudden shift in attitude, and by how much better she felt, she smiled and relaxed as she rolled into her driveway.

  *

  After Jaynie had parked the car in the garage, Terrance pulled his car behind hers. The rain had let up to a fine drizzle. She popped open the back of the SUV for him, and he grabbed the box and followed her to the porch.

  “Where do you want this?” Terrance angled through the front door after wiping his feet. He saw a sedately colored knitted afghan draped across an off-white overstuffed couch in the center of the room. That was new. Several matching throw rugs scattered across the hardwood floor. An old rocking chair, with flowers stitched onto the padded seat, sat beside a standing lamp complete with colorful stained glass shade, adding the only real color to the room. None of that had changed. The entire wall of bookcases, filled to capacity, seemed to be bulging with more volumes than before. And a tiny phone table with a huge vase stuffed with dried flowers was definitely new. But the feminine house seemed mostly unchanged, and he remembered how much he’d liked this older California craftsman bungalow in Glendale.

  Jaynie pointed him through the large arch toward the hallway and Tara’s room. “If you don’t mind, I can’t bring myself to go in there without her, so just set the car seat anywhere and close the door on your way out, okay?”

  Little did she know how much he could relate to her concerns.

  “Sure,” he said, and headed down the hall.

  Terrance flipped on the switch and saw a bright and happy room that sparkled and smelled of fresh paint. He grinned, even as melancholy ached in his heart.

  Stenciled-on ducklings marched around yellow walls at the chair-rail line. A white enameled baby crib with an attached colorful mobile was the focus of the room. A changing table was tucked into the adjacent corner, and a tall matching dresser was placed in the other.

  What a lucky kid to have a mother like Jaynie.

  He eased the box to the floor, then stood with hands on hips to survey the nursery more closely. It already smelled like baby lotion and fresh fabric softener, and a vision of his daughter Emily’s toothless grin appeared. He pined, and took a sniff of the baby blanket hanging across the bed rail, resisting rubbing it against his cheek—better not to wallow—and then noticing a beautifully framed picture on the wall.

  Impeccable sea-blue calligraphy spelled out some words on rice paper, surrounded by a dark blue frame. It looked specially made, and he couldn’t resist reading it.

  And if, in the end, I’ve done anything worthwhile with my life, nothing will compare to this. For the greatest achievement I will claim is giving you the opportunity to exist.

  His stomach dropped toward the floor when he recognized the words, no longer needing to read from the paper.

  Astounding!

  “‘Never take life for granted,”’ he repeated to himself. “‘It will always outsmart you. Consider each day a challenge. Dream big, love with all your heart and think positive. Only you can write the story of your life. Make it a great one.”’

  A jolt of realization struck his chest and knocked the wind from his lungs. His throat went dry and he practically lost his balance. He backed out the door, almost stumbled, trying to hide the turmoil that roared inside his head and heart.

  “Are you okay?” Jaynie asked, when he returned to the living room.

  “Yeah,” he answered, sounding distant, as though he’d left his voice in the nursery. He brushed fingers through his wet hair. “Listen, I’ve got to go,” he said, heading for the door. “I’ve got studying to do.”

  Terrance vaguely registered Jaynie looking confused, and thanking him for dinner on his way out. She reached for him, and he touched her fingertips with his own while backing away and wondering if she felt the shock radiating from his core.

  The next few moments were a blur, until he found himself sitting in his car with the engine running.

  He knew the words in the picture over Tara’s bed.

  Waxing poetic one afternoon in the cryobank clinic, he’d written them for his donor package.

  He shook his head in disbelief.

  This is astounding. I’m Tara’s father.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JAYNIE took Dr. Marks’s suggestion and showed up at the NICU nursery at a quarter to eight—just in time for Tara’s morning bath—and was rewarded with being allowed to assist while the nurse wiped and swabbed clean the baby’s thin, almost transparent skin.

  How feather-light she felt, and, oh, did she squirm and protest when they moved her from side to side. Jaynie grinned and giggled until tears ran down her cheeks.

  This is just the way the book said bathing would go. I can’t believe I’m finally almost holding her.

  An amazing flood of motherhood and love overtook her, along with a hormone rush, and her eyes welled up. She bent over and pecked Tara’s cheek with the softest, sweetest kiss she’d ever given.

  “I love you, Peanut.”

  Tara opened her puffy little eyes and stared straight at Jaynie, and she thought her heart would explode with joy.

  “Hi, honey. It’s Momma.”

  Even knowing that babies this young could only distinguish between light and dark, Jaynie still swore Tara recognized her. Her gaze seemed serious and her expression intelligent. So precious was the moment, Jaynie thought she might walk on air the rest of the day. Optimism bloomed in her heart.

  All too soon the bath came to an end, and Tara got settled back down inside the incubator.

  Progress. This is good.

  *

  Terrance had lain awake all night, staring at the ceiling, wondering what in the world to do about the situation. Everything had changed in the blink of an eye. He was a father again—something he’d never intended to be after losing his little Emily.

  He understood the point of donating to a sperm bank was to create babies…but not for himself. Preferring to think of it as his anonymous legacy, merely sprinkling seeds in the countryside, he had never expected to know and care about the recipient or his offspring.

  Jaynie and Peanut?

  He’d been told that people traveled from all over the country to use that cryobank. That was supposed to be the safeguard, and knowing whom the beneficiary was definitely wasn’t part of the bargain.

  He pictured tough little Tara in his mind—his daughter—and fought a smile. He knew he’d felt a special connection with her in the hospital nursery.

  And now, though he’d resisted all night, he thought about Jaynie. She had a way of hijacking his thoughts and making his mind go blank with her natural sexy ways.

  Daydreaming about a newly delivered mother? Come on. That’s almost sick.

  Yet he couldn’t deny the lure she had for him.

  The same thing had happened last night, over dinner. She had been talking away, relaxed and comfortable with their
surroundings, like they were old friends. Well, hell, they were old friends.

  If quizzed about their conversation, he’d fail. All he could remember was staring into her soft brown eyes and watching her creamy complexioned face, and the annoying warm squeeze he’d felt in his chest.

  Friend wasn’t the word that had come to his mind when his hand had crept dangerously close to hers on the table. Why did he always feel the urge to plant a big kiss on her? Was it the delicate groove of her upper lip that some people called a Cupid’s bow? Or the sensual curl of her lower lip that drove him crazy? He remembered how they’d felt, pressed against his mouth. He shook his head and scrubbed his face, determined not to go there in his thoughts. But it wasn’t just that. He knew better. It was the whole package. Jaynie was just…well, Jaynie.

  He’d been infatuated with her for over a year, not giving a second thought to the fact she was four years older than him, and when he’d finally decided to do something about the crush they’d had several terrific dates. Only problem was, she’d put herself on a fast track to motherhood. He’d had to respect her wishes, and, with him knowing he could never handle being a dad again, they’d kissed one last time and had gone their separate ways.

  A few months after they’d broken up, he’d heard the hospital gossip. Jaynie was pregnant. He’d known he wasn’t the father, but had privately envied whoever was.

  And now he discovered he was the father of her child. Astounding.

  Could his mind be blown any more thoroughly?

  He pressed his fingers tight against his eyelids and thought about his loss. The unending pain he felt every time he remembered Emily ripped at his heart. Clear and simple: he couldn’t handle being a father. Yet everything he’d never planned or wanted in the way of parenting had already happened. He was a father. And the crazy thing was…he’d never even slept with Jaynie.

  The question remained: Was he man enough to accept it?