The Baby Bargain

by Dallas Schulze

  Eighteen. Geez, he should be shot. It could have been worse, of course. She could have been sixteen, or a well-developed fifteen.

  The waitress returned, setting steaming cups in front of them. "The apple pie is real good today, hon." She was looking at the girl as she spoke, a faint frown in her eyes, and Dan knew she was thinking that a good slice of pie might help fill out the hollows under her cheeks. Maybe the girl realized the same thing. She flushed and shook her head. With a shrug, the waitress left them alone.

  Neither of them spoke for a moment. It was left to Dan to break the silence.

  "Look...ah..." He stumbled to a halt, realizing too late that he didn't know her name. She lowered her head and he saw her knuckles whiten around the sturdy mug in front of her. He flushed, cursing his clumsy tongue and his lousy memory.

  "Kelly," she said with painful dignity. "Kelly Russell."

  "Kelly." He certainly wouldn't forget it again. He stared at his coffee, wondering just how one went about conducting a conversation like this. Maybe honesty was the best policy.

  "I was pretty drunk that night," he said quickly. "I'm not making excuses. I just want you to understand why there are some gaps in my memory. Some pretty substantial ones obviously."

  "There isn't that much to remember," she said in a flat little tone that sounded as if she was trying to pretend none of this mattered. "We met at the bar. We talked a little. We danced. It was noisy and you suggested going back to your apartment We...we..."

  "I remember," he broke in when she couldn't get the words out. And he did remember. He remembered how right she'd felt in his arms. He remembered her trembling response. That odd hesitancy at the end. And afterward, the feeling that some-

  thing had gone wrong somewhere. He'd tried to talk to her but the night's drinking had finally caught up with him.

  When he'd awakened the next morning, she'd been gone. Since he hadn't been able to recall her name and he'd known nothing else about her, there had been no question of trying to find her. If he was honest with himself, there'd been a certain amount of relief in the realization. He didn't normally pick women up in bars and take them home with him.

  He had done his best to forget that night. And he'd succeeded reasonably well, only remembering her at odd moments. It had begun to seem almost as if it had happened to someone else. Only it hadn't been someone else—and that wasn't all he remembered.

  "You were a virgin," he said bluntly. He glanced up from his coffee to see the color sweep into her cheeks in a fiery flood.

  "Yes." Embarrassment reduced her voice to a strangled whisper.

  "Oh, God." Dan thrust his fingers through his hair, sitting back against the booth. He'd really hoped to hear her deny it

  Kelly cradled the cup of tea, trying to absorb some of its warmth into herself. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt truly warm. Winter seemed to be dragging on forever.

  She stole a glance across the table at her companion. He was staring at die scuffed tabletop, one hand cupped around his coffee mug, the other clenching and unclenching on the table.

  None of this was going the way she'd thought it would. It had taken her two days to screw her courage up to come find him. And, in reality, it wasn't courage that had brought her here. It was desperation. She had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to.

  It hadn't occurred to her that he might not remember her. It was stupid of her to think that the night that had shattered her life had meant anything to him. And it wasn't until she'd seen the lack of recognition in his eyes that she had realized how different she looked.

  She reached up to smooth back a strand of dark hair that had slipped loose from it's pins, conscious of her pallor and

  the dark circles lack of sleep had put under her eyes. She looked completely different from the girl he'd met that night. She felt completely different—as if she'd aged years in the past two months.

  Had he really thought she looked beautiful that night? Or had she been nothing more than a warm body to greet the new year with?

  "Are you sure you're pregnant?" She jumped as Dan's question broke the tense silence.

  "I'm sure. I took one of those tests."

  "They're not a hundred percent accurate, are they? It could still be a false alarm, couldn't it?"

  "I'm sure." She made the statement as definite as possible hoping he wasn't going to ask her to explain. The intimacies they had shared made him no less a stranger and she didn't want to discuss the changes in her body with him, the odd awareness that couldn't be explained.

  Her tone must have convinced him. He thrust his fingers through his hair again, looking so shaken that, at another time, she might have felt sorry for him.

  "I don't mean to sound rude or unkind but I have to ask. Are you sure I'm the father?"

  'I'm sure. There was only that one time with you." She flushed but her eyes were steady. She'd been prepared for that question, prepared for him to have doubts. She'd even braced herself for the possibility that he might refuse to accept the responsibility, that he might not be willing to help her.

  "I guess we were just lucky, huh?" He downed the last of his coffee, setting the mug on the table with a snap. "I'm not trying to deny my responsibility. It's just that this is all a bit much to take in." He gave her a crooked smile that held an unselfconscious charm.

  Kelly felt an odd pain in her chest at that smile. She'd forgotten that smile, forgotten the loneliness that seemed to linger behind his eyes, forgotten the disarming way his hair tended to fall down over his forehead.

  Over the past two months, there had been times when he'd become nearly an ogre in her mind. She'd wanted him to be

  an ogre. She'd needed someone to blame. If he were the bad guy, then it was his fault that her life had been turned upside down, his fault that she'd done something so foolish, so self-destructive.

  Looking at him now, she realized she couldn't blame him for what had happened. He hadn't coerced her into going home with him, hadn't forced her into his bed. She'd been looking for an escape, a few hours when she could pretend to be someone else. Someone attractive and likeable. And he'd given her that.

  It was just bad luck that the price had turned out to be so high.

  "If you're pregnant, I'm as responsible as you are," Dan said finnly. "More really. I should have known better."

  "All I want is some money," she told him, hoping he couldn't hear the way her voice threatened to shake. She broke off as the waitress appeared to refill Dan's cup. She set another cup of tea down in front of Kelly without asking, clearly believing that Kelly needed it. Dan spoke as soon as the waitress left.

  "You're going to need more than money. I realize I'm probably not your favorite person at the moment but I do want to help you. You're going to need a lot of help for the next few months—and after. Babies are expensive. There's going to be medical expenses—hospitals and doctors." He waved one hand in a vague gesture that encompassed all the cost that went along with having babies.

  "That's not going to be necessary," Kelly said before he could continue.

  "Don't be stubborn about this. I want to help. I insist on it. This is my responsibility."

  "All I want is money." Her fingers were locked so tight around her mug that her knuckles hurt. "I want an abortion. I just need the money from you to pay for it." Kelly didn't look at him as she said it. She had spent two days thinking about it and she knew it was the only possible solution. The only way. Still, she rushed the words out, feeling them catch in her throat.

  There was a moment of silence when she could hear the low

  murmur of conversation from the only other occupied booth. Two men sitting next to the front window, absorbed in an earnest discussion.

  "No!" She jumped at the explosive denial, her eyes flying to Dan's face. His skin was flushed, his eyes a bright, angry blue. "Absolutely not."

  Dan was as surprised as Kelly by the strength of his reaction. There had been no time to think, no time to consider.
The refusal simply exploded out—a gut-level reaction to her words.

  "It's the best solution," she said, trying to sound firm.

  "No." There was flat denial in his voice.

  Kelly stared at him, frustrated and feeling a stir of anger. She'd spent so much time analyzing, looking for other ways, trying to decide what was the best thing to do. Now he was throwing all her painful decisions out the window in the time it took to draw a breath.

  "This is my decision."

  "You're carrying my baby."

  "It's my choice."

  "You came to me. That makes it my choice, too."

  She glared at him, feeling the tears that came all too easily these days burning in the backs of her eyes. Why was he making this even more difficult?

  "There's no other way."

  "There's always a choice. I'll help you."

  "You can help me by giving me the money I asked for. A couple hundred dollars. You'll never see me again."

  "I won't give you the money for an abortion." His jaw was set in a rigid line and Kelly felt the tears well up. She blinked, forcing them back.

  "You're not being reasonable. I didn't even finish high school. I have no skills, no job, nothing."

  "What about your family?"

  The angry color ebbed from her face, leaving her ashen. Her eyes dropped to the table. "No. They can't know about this."

  "Okay. So I'll help you. I said I would help you."

  "With the medical bills and things like that...we're talking about a lifetime commitment"

  "I'll help you. I'll be there for you and the child. Til do anything you want but I won't give you money to have an abortion."

  "It's the only way," she said stubbornly. "It won't cost that much."

  "It's not the money."

  "You're not being fair. I'm the one who has to cany it. And then have it and then try to manage. It's my choice."

  "You're right. It is your choice."

  "You'll give me the money?" she asked.

  "No."

  "But you said it was my choice."

  "It is. But I won't help you."

  "Are you going to take the baby and raise it?" she snapped, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill over.

  She thought her question would end die discussion, make him see how unreasonable he was being. He stared at her, stunned by the suggestion, his expression blank. He didn't say anything for the space of several slow heartbeats and then he nodded slowly.

  "Yes. Yes, I will take it."

  "What?" Kelly sat back, feeling breathless, as if the air had been knocked from her.

  "I'll take the baby and raise it. It's my child."

  "But you can't."

  "Why not? Because I'm a man? Single fathers aren't as rare as they used to be."

  "You just can't." She shoved the cup of tea away, splashing it over the rim of the mug, creating a dark transparent pool on the table. "You don't want this child."

  "As a matter of fact, I do." Dan was surprised by the conviction he felt. He did want this child. This was what he'd been needing. A reason to put his life in order. A family, something to build a life around. This wasn't quite what he'd had in mind but there was no reason it couldn't work.

  When she'd told him she was pregnant, he'd thought in abstract terms. She would need help. It was his responsibility. It

  wasn't until she'd suggested the possibility that there might not be a baby that it had suddenly become real.

  This was his child she was talking about, his flesh and blood. He felt a wave of excitement. It didn't matter that he hadn't planned on this, that the circumstances could hardly have been worse. He wanted this child, wanted it with more passion than he'd felt about anything in a very long time. He'd lost one child when Michael had married Brittany. Danielle was his daughter only by blood. He'd learned to accept that. But he wasn't going to lose another child. Not if he could help it.

  "Don't you see? This is perfect." He leaned forward, determined to make her agree. 'Til take care of you during the pregnancy. I'll provide you with a place to stay if you can't stay where you are. I'll pay the medical expenses, give you money to live on, anything you want. Then once the baby is born, you give me custody. I'll give you enough money to get yourself established, get training, whatever you need."

  "That's like I was selling my baby to you," she protested.

  "It's my baby, too," he reminded her firmly. "And nobody would be doing any buying or selling. If we were married or living together, I would do the same thing, wouldn't I? And if we got a divorce after the baby was born, I'd be expected to make a settlement And there'd be no reason why I wouldn't get custody of the child. Our child. In fact, if it will make you feel better, we can get married."

  "No. No, I don't want that." Kelly hid her shaking hands in her lap, staring at the spilled tea. She'd thought that she'd grown numb over the past few weeks, that there wasn't much that could shock her anymore. But she'd just been proven wrong.

  Never in her wildest dreams had she thought of Dan offering to take the baby. She'd thought he'd probably be relieved that she wasn't going to have the child, that she wanted so little from him. No paternity suits, no demands, no awkward intrusions into his life. But he'd just suggested turning his life upside down, changing it irrevocably. He'd even suggested marriage.

  That was one thing she knew she didn't want. She'd made

  one mistake and it had been a big one. But that didn't mean she had to compound it by getting married for all the wrong reasons.

  "Think about it," Dan urged. "It's the perfect solution. You don't really want to have an abortion, do you?" he added gently.

  She shook her head. No, she didn't want that, had never wanted it. It had seemed the only choice, the best thing to do. How could she bring a child into the world when she had nothing to offer, no future for herself or the baby?

  But what he was asking... She twisted her hands together in her lap. To give up her child... Don't be such an idiot, she scolded herself. He's offering the baby a chance, at least Could she carry a child under her heart for nine months and then give it up? Could she do anything else?

  Kelly could feel Dan's tension across the table. He was practically willing her to agree. She pressed a hand to her stomach. She hadn't let herself think of the life she carried. She'd forced herself to think only in hard, practical terms.

  It was only now that he was offering her this oh-so-practical alternative that she realized that there had been a tiny, half-formed dream in the back of her mind. The dream of finding someway that she could keep the baby, someway that she could escape her father and have her child and raise it.

  She'd give it everything she'd never had, all the love and affection, all the caring, that hadn't been hers. It had been a hopeless fantasy, which was why she'd never let herself admit to it. It had hovered in the darkest corners of her thoughts, too foolish to entertain, too precious to give up entirely.

  And suddenly Dan was offering her that dream. Only it had been taken and twisted around. He was offering her baby a chance at the life she'd wanted for it. And he was offering her a way to escape her father. But to get those things, for herself and her child, she would have to give up that child. It didn't even occur to her that Dan might allow her to see the child once he had custody.

  Dan watched her down-bent head, trying to read her thoughts. He wanted her to agree, couldn't remember the last

  time he'd wanted something so much. It suddenly came to him that he'd thought something similar on New Year's Eve—that he hadn't been able to remember ever wanting someone the way he'd wanted her.

  He wasn't a man who put much faith in fate, but if he had been so inclined, he might have wondered if maybe fate hadn't taken a hand in his life that night This was a chance at the home and family he so desperately wanted

  And who was to say that this couldn't even work out well for Kelly? From the looks of her and the way she'd reacted when he mentioned her family, her life could use a
litde help, too. He could provide her with a new start.

  She had to agree to this. She just had to.

  As if the urgency of his thought reached her, Kelly lifted her head. Her eyes were wide and dark, showing the turmoil she felt

  4 'You truly want this baby? You'd be good to her?"

  "I truly want this baby and I'll be a good father to him or her. I inherited some money from my father, not a fortune but enough. The child would never want for anything."

  "Money isn't everything," she said slowly, unaware of the impact the cliched statement had coming from someone who so obviously had very little of it "Love and affection are a lot more important. That's what a child really needs," she added, her expression wistful.

  "There would never be a moment when this child didn't know it was wanted," he said quietly.

  She looked at him searchingly, as if trying to read his sincerity. Dan met the look without flinching. He wasn't sure what she might read in his eyes. Could she see how desperately he wanted this child?

  "All right" The word was so low he had to strain to hear it. She lowered her eyes from his, but not before he'd seen the glitter of tears.

  He felt a wave of fierce exultation when he realized what she'd just said. He was going to be a father, in the fullest sense of the word this time. This child would never call another man "Daddy."

  He wanted to jump up and shout the news to the world. He felt like passing out cigars and pastel balloons. But he couldn't do any of those things. He knew Kelly's decision had been difficult, though not, he suspected, as difficult as her original choice had been.

  He reached across the table to catch her hand in his. It was freezing cold and trembling. She didn't look up and he knew she was fighting back tears.

  "Thank you," he said simply.

  4 'Just see that you treat her right," she told him, her tone suddenly fierce. She pulled her hand away, sliding to the end of the booth.

  4 'Wait a minute." Dan stood, catching her arm when she would have walked away. Kelly turned back, pulling away from him as if his touch was painful.

  "I have to go," she muttered without looking at him.

  44 We have to work some things out."