by Ana E Ross
Michelle had made her choice. She had moved on. It was time he accepted it and did the same.
“I’m inviting her to our wedding,” his mother said behind him. “You’ll have to talk to her then, Erik.”
He turned and captured and held her gaze. “You do that, Mother, and I won’t be there.” He marched out of the room.
***
The first few weeks of her two-month refuge in South Carolina had been the worst. Michelle hadn’t been able to eat, sleep, or think, and when she’d finally let something down her throat, it had come back up within minutes. Her malady continued for about five weeks until she was so weak, had lost so much weight, and could hardly stand up that Ryan insisted she see a doctor, and had taken her to one himself.
As Michelle browsed a children’s store in the Mall of New Hampshire with Jessica, her self-appointed personal watchdog, trailing idly behind her, she reflected on that informative doctor’s visit.
“How long have you had these symptoms?” Dr. Nixon asked.
“About a month now.”
“When was the last time you had your period, Michelle?”
Her eyes puckered. “I—I don’t remember.”
“Is it possible that you could be pregnant?”
“Pregnant?” she exclaimed in a stilted voice.
“Well, all the signs are present—nausea, vomiting, appetite and weight loss, fatigue, and most significant of all, no period.”
Michelle uttered a strangled laugh. “There has to be another explanation, Dr. Nixon. Erik… We used protection.”
“Every single time, Michelle? Are you certain of that?”
‘Well, except for that one time, but that—”
“ It only takes one time, my dear. One daring energetic sperm and one ecstatic fertile egg and boom, you have a baby.”
Michelle had been speechless. Could she be pregnant with Erik’s child? That last night when he had taken her in Cassie’s house, could he have planted his seed inside her? Could his baby now be growing in her womb?
Trembling fingers had come slowly to caress her flat stomach as the shock of realization hit her full in the face. It was possible. The timing was right. She was going to have Erik’s child. She would forever have a part of him with her. A part far more blessed than any memory.
And yet, four months later, she still hadn’t told Erik that he was going to be a father again. She was certain that if he knew, he’d come back to her, but she didn’t want him back out of obligation. He would have to come to her because he loved her, not merely because she was having his child.
In addition to her baby, she had a lot to live for. The children at the center depended on her. Since her return to Manchester, they’d helped her heal one painful day at a time. They were no substitutes for the special love she had for Precious, but their daily devotion filled her days with contentment.
Her nights were a different story. Since the one hundred and twenty-three nights since she’d learned that the man who’d raised her killed Cassie LaCrosse, Michelle had cried herself to sleep.
She’d held on to the annulment papers for weeks, hoping that Erik would change his mind and realized they belonged together, but when she hadn’t heard from him, she finally signed and mailed them from South Carolina. She’d also mailed him a check for the money he’d deposited into her account. Yasmine said she was foolish to send it back, and that she should keep it for his child who would definitely need it. Erik hadn’t cashed the check, anyway. And she knew he never would. He was quick to take back his love, but not his money.
There was no denying it—that short sweet chapter of her life was over. There was no going back. She’d learned through Mrs. Hayes that Bridget Ashley was spending a lot of time at the house. Seemed they were becoming a couple. He was getting on with his life, with a woman who was his equal, both intellectually and socially.
His final words to her were forever etched in her heart: You have to forget what we shared, Michelle. And that is exactly what she was trying to do. Forget and move on.
A secretive smile softened her lips as she thought of the tiny life making roots inside her. She wondered about the gender of her baby, and whether it would have Erik’s grey eyes and curly dark brown hair, or her black eyes and straight raven tresses. Would he be tall and muscular like his father, or would she be slender like her mother?
“Ain’t that that little girl you used to watch? Ur—Cherish, Darling, Angel?”
“Precious!” Michelle’s head whipped around at Jessica’s question, her eyes wide and luminous.
“Yeah, that’s it, Precious.” Jessica snapped her fingers. “But if you ask me, she ain’t look all that precious—”
“Where?” Michelle ignored the envy in Jessica’s voice. She hadn’t seen Precious for months, and just the mention of her name and the slight chance she could talk to her sent her heart racing.
“Over there.” Jessica rolled her eyes and pointed.
It was Precious, standing next to a giant stuffed teddy bear. She must have been watching them for some time, Michelle speculated, because even from that distance, she could see the confusion and uncertainty in her eyes. She looked as sad as the day, seven months ago, when Michelle first saw her.
Michelle’s heart throbbed loudly. It wasn’t right. It just wasn’t right. Erik had no right to make his child suffer this way. Her first instinct was to ignore Precious and obey her father’s wishes, but the sadness in those brown eyes ripped a huge hole in Michelle’s heart.
Before she knew what was happening, Michelle was standing in front of Precious, smiling down at her with gentle longing, fighting the need to clutch her in her arms. “Hi, Precious,” she said softly.
“Hi.” Precious hung her head and stared at her black kid leather boots.
She looked absolutely pretty in a pink cashmere sweater with pink lacy ribbons across the front, and black corduroy trousers with cuffs at the hems and pink bows at the sides. Her hair was loose and hung down to her waist with a pink ribbon on one side.
She was Erik LaCrosse’s daughter—elegant and beautiful. She had the best of everything—food, clothes, toys, education... Michelle tried not to think of her own child, Erik’s second child, and all the luxuries it would have to do without. “How are you, Sweetheart?”
“Fine.” Her voice was so low, Michelle could hardly hear her.
“Precious, who are you talking to? Get back here!”
Precious jumped. Her head flew up, fear glistening in her eyes.
Michelle did a right about turn. Who the heck thought they had the right to yell at her baby like that?
“Oh, it’s you,” Bridget Ashley said. Her eyes washed over Michelle with contempt as she came toward them, holding two little dresses in her hand.
Michelle remembered shopping with Precious. They used to have such fun trying on one pretty outfit after another. The kid didn’t seem to be having any fun today. It was impossible to have fun around that woman, she thought, recalling the night in Boston when Bridget was shamelessly throwing herself at Erik—her then new, secret husband.
Bridget placed a possessive hand on Precious’ shoulder. “Precious, you know you shouldn’t talk to strangers.”
“Oh, knock it off, Bridget.” Michelle challenged the malice in the other woman’s voice. “I’m no stranger to her.” She was careful to place her wool coat in front of her stomach. She didn’t need Bridget blabbing to Erik about her condition.
“Her father made it clear he doesn’t want you near her. After what you did to Erik—”
“Don’t even go there, woman. You know nothing about what I did or didn’t do to Erik. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what we had.”
“Had, being the operative word. Well, as you can see, he’s over it, over you.”
“Stop it! Stop it!” Precious ran from them, tears streaming down her face.
“Look at what you’ve done.” Bridget snapped in a condescending tone, casting a worried eye around at the attention
they were attracting. “But what else should one expect from an ill-bred ghetto rat?”
Oh God, that hurt. Michelle ignored her insult and chased after Precious. She found her huddled on the floor in a corner of the store. Michelle dropped down beside her and pulled her into her arms. “Oh, Precious, baby.”
“Michelle, I miss you so much, and Daddy says I can’t talk to you. Why, Michelle? Don’t you love me anymore?”
Dear God, help me, Michelle prayed silently as she rocked Precious in her arms. “Yes baby, I love you. I will always love you, no matter what. You have to believe that. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of you. I wonder what you’re wearing to school, if Sippy and Charlie are still sucking on those stupid rocks, if Sam Martin is still trying to kiss you.” Michelle smiled as she arranged her on her lap. It felt so good to hold her, to smell her, breathe in her innocence.
Precious lifted limpid eyes and placed her arms across Michelle’s shoulders. “You’re wearing my earrings.”
“I told you I would never take them out. Good thing they match all my outfits. Diamonds are forever, I guess.”
Precious smiled then stated rather sadly, “You missed my birthday. I had a big party. I’m eight now. And look.” She gave Michelle a wide grin. “I lost two teeth.”
Michelle knew Precious was having a party and had wondered if Erik would have been upset if she sent her a gift. In the end, she’d decided not to. The man had asked her to stay away from his daughter and she was trying to adhere to his commands. “I hear you have a new nanny,” she said. “Is she nice to you?”
“She’s old and she smells funny, and she doesn’t put notes in my lunch box like you did.”
“Well, we’re going to fix that right now,” Michelle said, as she searched her bag for a notepad and pen. When she was finished writing, she read the note out loud. ‘Dear Precious, I love you today much more than I loved you yesterday, but still not as much as I’ll love you tomorrow. Have a great lunch. Michelle.’ She drew a happy face, little hearts, and a half dozen x’s and o’s at the bottom of the note. “You keep this in your lunch box and read it every day. Okay?” she said, placing it into Precious’ hand.
“Okay.” Precious pressed the note against her heart then pushed her hand into the pocket of her slacks. “I have your lucky penny,” she said, opening her palm. “I take it everywhere with me. Do you want it back?”
The light in those brown eyes widened the hole in Michelle’s heart. It took all her energy not to break down in front of her. “No baby, you keep it. I have your earrings and you have my penny. Maybe one day you can pass it on to someone you love, someone who means a lot to you. Okay?”
Precious nodded. She folded the penny inside the note and shoved them into her pocket. “You know what else?” she asked smiling up at Michelle.
“What else?” Michelle managed a tentative smile.
“Grandpa Erik and Grandma Felicia got married. They went to Greece on their honeymoon. What’s a honeymoon?”
‘It’s a special trip people take after they get married so they can get to know each other better.” Felicia had sent her an invitation to the wedding, but she’d had to decline. Even though she wasn’t showing much, one look at her, and Erik would have known she was pregnant. He’d told her once that he could tell a woman was pregnant even at two months. She was almost at the end of her first trimester at the time. He would have smelled his child growing in her womb from miles away.
Precious’ eyebrows suddenly wrinkled as she pressed into Michelle’s stomach. “You’re getting fat, Michelle.”
Michelle stiffened as a cold flush crawled up her spine. “Yeah, I’m—I’m putting on a little weight,” she said, pushing Precious to her feet.
“I was just thinking the same thing.” Bridget’s eyes blazed down into Michelle’s as she stood imposingly over her.
“Michelle isn’t fat, silly,” stated a defensive Jessica. “She’s going to have a—”
“Jessica!” Michelle silenced the girl as she struggled to get up.
Jessica crossed her arms, pursed her lips, and rolled her eyes.
“Jessie, why don’t you take Precious over to the toy section and help her pick out something. And you get something for you, too.” Michelle pulled some bills from her wallet and thrust them into Jessica’s hand.
Jessica snatched the folded bills, grabbed Precious’ hand and practically hauled her away to the toy section.
“You’re pregnant?” Bridget snapped.
“Yes.”
“Is it Erik’s?” Her tone grew more distasteful.
Michelle sighed. Nobody knew for certain, but there was a lot of speculation that she and Erik had been sleeping together. She’d returned to New Hampshire, just as the news about her father was winding down. The press had hounded her for information, but when she simply ignored them, they finally left her alone. The man she’d called her father for twenty-five years had pleaded guilty to the charges, thank God, so there was no long drawn-out trial.
She could lie to Bridget about the father of her child. Ryan was back in town and was paying her attention. Their friendship had deepened while she’d been hiding out at his place in South Carolina. He’d taken good care of her when she was at the lowest point in her life, and since his return to Manchester, he’d started helping out at the center—which brought them even closer still. They’d gone out together a few times, as friends, but just in case Erik found out, she couldn’t bear for him to think she had been intimate with another man so soon after their breakup.
Foolish rationale, considering she was speaking to the woman he was currently dating. “Yes, it’s Erik’s, but he doesn’t know,” she finally answered Bridget.
“My God,” Bridget rasped, a cold, congested expression settling on her pale face. “He has a right to know. He would want to be involved in his child’s life. You can’t offer that baby anything, Michelle. Erik has every right to raise it. He could give it a good home, a good life. With you, it would just be another hopeless statistic.”
The bottom dropped out of Michelle’s heart, and fear, stark and vivid, pounded in her veins. Good Lord, she hadn’t thought of that. What if Erik decided to fight for custody of his child? What if he won? And he could.
The odds were stacked highly against her. She didn’t have a steady job. She was living in her best friend’s apartment. The man who’d raised her and called himself her father was a convicted killer.
Erik was a respected doctor and upright citizen. He had money at his disposal. He could hire the best lawyers in the country. What he could do to her by taking her child away was snowflakes compared to what she had already been through. If she lost her child, Michelle knew she would literally crawl under a bridge and die. Her hands automatically clutched her stomach as her maternal instinct pumped the adrenaline through her veins.
“You listen, Bridget.” Despite the terrible quaking in her bones, Michelle managed to keep calm on the outside. “If Erik knew I was carrying his child, he would come back to me. There is no doubt about it. So don’t you start harboring any stupid ideas in your head, thinking you and Erik could take my child from me and raise it as your own. ‘Cause it ain’t gonna happen, sister. If you want to hold on to your man, I suggest you keep your scarlet mouth shut.”
“But—”
Michelle wanted to be absolutely certain she got her point across as poignantly as possible, so she wasn’t holding any punches. “Erik loves me. He has told me and shown me in ways far beyond your imagination or comprehension. His feelings for me are deep and strong. He shut me out of his life because of his loyalty to Cassie. If he finds out I’m carrying a part of him inside me, don’t think for one minute that your little romantic farce with him won’t be over. I’m the woman he loves. I’m going to be the mother of his child. Remember that before you go blabbing to him.”
An open-mouthed Bridget was at a loss for words. She would have had to swallow them, anyway, because at that moment an excited
Precious and an intensely serene Jessica returned, each carrying a shopping bag.
“Look, Michelle. I got a Snow White doll that dances.” Precious held up the doll.
“Beautiful. Happy birthday, darling.” Michelle pinched her cute nose, happy to see joy sparkled in her eyes again.
“Let me pay you for it.” Bridget opened her Gucci handbag and extracted a matching wallet.
“I don’t need your money,” Michelle said with a slight smile of defiance. She turned an affectionate smile on Precious. “Every time you play with it, you think of me, for I’ll be thinking of you.”
“I love you, Michelle.”
“I love you, too, baby. Always. You take care of yourself, and your daddy. Okay?”
She nodded as tears glistened in her eyes.
Michelle gathered her to her bosom one last time then quickly released her and turned away blindly. Her heart hurt so much, she thought she would buckle under the pain.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The next day was Sunday. The sun came up high and bright against a clear blue sky, and as Michelle sat at the kitchen table in Yasmine’s apartment, drinking a cup of warm Ovaltine and listening to the frigid February wind whistling sharply outside, she tried to analyze her feelings.
She’d gotten the call last night.
The man formerly known as her father was found dead in his cell. Apparently, he’d been suffering from cirrhosis, and last night his liver finally shut down on him. Well, he was a drunk, had been all her life, and even before that according to Robert and people who knew him back in Virginia.
Michelle was surprised he’d lasted that long, but grateful, nonetheless. If he’d died any sooner, she and Robert might never have found out that he wasn’t their father, but a homeless impostor by the name of Timmy Gleason who’d killed and stolen their real father’s identity.
While she’d been hiding out in South Carolina, Robert had found a note in the box of their mother’s stuff stored in his home. The note was from a woman in Virginia addressed to Dwight Carter at the apartment on Pine Street where they used to live, but on the inside she’d called him Timmy. It was postmarked twenty-six years ago, shortly after her mother arrived in Manchester, and months before Michelle was born. The note merely stated that the man he’d stabbed had died and he shouldn’t come back to Virginia.
