THE BABY PLAN

by Susan Gable

  "Sure, just like Dusty was thrilled about the marriage."

  Her vulnerability never failed to get to him. Jake wrapped his arm around her shoulder and dropped a casual kiss on her forehead. At least, he hoped it seemed casual.

  The scent of jasmine and roses mixed with the crisp, earthy smell of the fall air, and he struggled against the impulse to sweep her into his arms and kiss her properly. That part of their relationship was over. Or so he kept telling himself. Trouble was, he had a hard time believing it. He still wanted her, wanted her with an ache that had become a near-permanent condition. And most disconcerting was that the ache didn't always have the good sense to stay below his belt. On occasion, it was distinctly higher. Like mid-chest.

  His family believed his marriage was the real thing, and a few kisses would reinforce the illusion. But she didn't look well. Now was not the time.

  He cleared his throat and shouted across the yard. "Hey, Mel, how about a break? I think we could all use some hot chocolate."

  "Yay! Hot chocowet!" Grace threw down her rake and raced as fast as her pudgy legs could carry her toward the front porch.

  Hope took a different approach than her sister had. The younger twin gently lay down the plastic tool, then ran and threw her arms around Jake's legs. "Up, Unka Jake," she demanded.

  Jake freed Harley, bending over to scoop up his niece. "As you wish, pretty lady."

  "Me too, hot chocowet?" She patted his cheeks with her tiny palms.

  "Yes, you too, Hope."

  Harley tugged on his sweatshirt sleeve. "Me too, hot chocolate?"

  Jake drew his eyebrows together and pretended to consider it. "Well, you really shouldn't… What do you think, Hope? Can Harley have some hot chocolate, too?"

  "Yes, her can!"

  "Oh, you women always stick together, don't you?" Jake tickled the little girl and she dissolved into a squirming, giggling mass in his arms. "All right, Harley can have some, too."

  "Yes!" Harley offered him a triumphant smile and pushed past him toward the front porch. "Last one in has to rake with the twins later." She launched into a trot.

  "No fair!" he called after her. "I'm unduly burdened." At that moment Hope planted a sloppy, wet kiss on his cheek. He grinned. How anyone could ever see a child as a burden was beyond his understanding.

  Dusty took his son from Kate's arms and helped her up. She smiled at him, an expression so full of love, Jake felt a moment's twinge of regret. A baby, a daddy and a mommy, a trio of people who created a family. Maybe he was wrong in wanting a child of his own with no mother in the picture. Then again, it was easier on the child if the mother left early. He recalled Dusty's tear-stained little face when, night after night, the toddler had called for his mommy. Only mommy wasn't there. No, his plan was the best thing for his child—and himself.

  The screen door slammed shut and Harley wandered down the hallway toward the large kitchen in the back. Cow magnets adorned the fridge, cow pictures hung on the walls, and a knickknack shelf in the corner boasted ceramic cows of all sizes. Melanie removed a cow-shaped teapot from the stove and held it under the sink.

  "So, Mel, I guess you like cows, huh?"

  Jake's sister laughed. "Actually, this all started out as a joke between Peter and me. You can see the joke's taken on a life of its own and gotten a little out of control."

  Harley arched an eyebrow. "A little?"

  "Okay, a lot."

  A gray cat rubbed across Harley's ankles.

  "That's Smoky," Mel said. "He's one of the cats I inherited from Jake. Patches is probably hiding somewhere."

  Smoky shot out of the room as the rest of the family clattered into the kitchen, filling it with amiable chitchat and laughter. Oak chairs scraped against the linoleum as everyone gathered around the large table. Jake unzipped Hope's jacket and tossed it onto a bench near the back door, then lifted the child up and deftly fastened her into a wooden high chair. Harley marveled at his skill with the little ones. She'd never have that kind of easy ability with a child.

  It doesn't matter, because you won't be getting the chance. The thought gnawed at her, and she shoved it out of her mind. Her stomach roiled and she swallowed hard, then turned her attention back to Melanie. "Mel, do you have any crackers or anything? I hate to admit it after that wonderful lunch, but I'm hungry again."

  Mel settled the second teapot on the stove to heat the water for their hot chocolate. "Of course I do. They're in the bread drawer. Help yourself. In fact, pull them out and put them on the table. Get the cookies, too, while you're in there."

  Harley walked in the direction Mel was pointing. She pulled out the large, metal-lined drawer and examined the contents. A newly opened package of Oreos lay nestled beside the bread and crackers. She cast a furtive look over her shoulder to check on Jake. Ever since the confirmation of her pregnancy, he'd become the nutrition police. He took the whole thing a bit too seriously in her humble opinion, though given his personality and the fact that he'd done his best to change her diet right from the start, she hadn't been too surprised.

  The Oreo cookies called to her. Biting back a grin, she reached into the bag and grabbed one, stuffing the whole thing in her mouth.

  "I saw that." Jake's baritone directly at her ear made her jump.

  "Saw what?" she mumbled.

  "You're eating a cookie."

  She swallowed, then ran her tongue over her teeth, hoping to remove any evidence. She turned around to face him. "Surely you're mistaken."

  "I don't think so." He leaned closer, forcing her to take a step backward. "Don't think you can hide it from me. I have ways of finding out these things."

  The edge of the counter pressed into her back. "Oh? Like what?"

  A strange expression crossed his face, and he quickly glanced at his family. "Like this." He slid his arms around her and moved his body into contact with hers.

  Her knees quivered. He hadn't been this close since he'd comforted her in the doctor's office, and she'd missed the warmth of his arms, his body, his kiss. She tilted her face expectantly, closing her eyes.

  He lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers, nibbling at the seams, probing gently with his tongue. Her breasts tightened against his chest and a warm pool of desire flooded her body.

  He deepened their kiss, and the heat intensified. She felt like one giant hormone, and she craved him far more than chocolate cookies. No one had warned her pregnancy would make her feel so aroused, either.

  "Get a room, would you?" Dusty growled at them.

  Harley tore her mouth from Jake's, opening her eyes to meet his sky-blue ones. The lust-darkened irises and dilated pupils betrayed his desire. "I knew it," he whispered. "Oreo cookies."

  Dusty scowled at his brother. "If you want to know what she's been eating, ask. No need to shove your tongue down her throat. Children are present."

  Jake glanced around the room again. "Yes, but the only one who seems to have noticed is you."

  Dusty's scowl intensified and he turned, stalking back to the table.

  "He's going to have a fit," Harley murmured.

  "Too bad. He'll get over it. In fact, let's just get our announcement out of the way now, shall we?"

  "Now?"

  "No time like the present." Jake released her from his embrace and turned around to stand next to her. He reached down and threaded his fingers through hers. "Everyone? Could we have your attention for a moment?"

  The clamor in the kitchen was reduced to a dull murmur, all adult eyes focused expectantly on Jake and Harley. Her face grew warm under their frank stares.

  "We have some news. The family is about to increase again. We're having a baby in the spring."

  Melanie quickly left the stove to gather Harley in a hug, gushing congratulations, then embracing Jake. Peter and Kate also made their way over to offer congratulations, and Dusty followed reluctantly. Harley could see the wheels turning in his head, and knew she'd pegged his response correctly. Jake could fool himself all he
wanted. She knew the truth—his little brother was less than thrilled with their announcement.

  After the fuss had died down, and they'd enjoyed their hot chocolate break, Harley excused herself, wandering down the hallway to the half bath located beneath the front stairs. When she came out, Dusty was waiting for her. Arms crossed over his chest, he leaned against the wall, storm clouds apparent in his eyes.

  She nodded at him and headed back to the kitchen.

  His hand darted out and he grabbed her arm. "No, you don't. I wanna talk to you."

  "Fine, Dusty, let's talk." She yanked her wrist from his grasp. "What shall we talk about? The weather? Your job? How many tickets did you write this month? Bust anyone for running a chop-shop lately?"

  His eyes flashed a warning. "I was thinking more about the news my brother just dropped on the family. He didn't say—when's the baby due?"

  "April 25. Would you like me to help you count to nine?" Harley watched as he did the mental calculations himself.

  "Damn close. Now I understand your answer when I first asked if you were pregnant. You got knocked up to trap my brother, didn't you? He took you into his house, but that wasn't enough."

  She shook her head. "You have it all wrong."

  "Yeah, I'll bet. I'll bet my pension, too, that this baby's going to be born earlier than April 25. Exactly when did you get pregnant? Is it really my brother's baby you're carrying or somebody else's bastard, and you found Jake a convenient target for fatherhood?"

  Overhearing his brother's words, Jake skidded around the corner in time to see all the color drain from Harley's face.

  "Bastard?" she whispered, hands fluttering protectively around her middle. "This baby is no bastard."

  Jake closed his fingers around the back of Dusty's neck. "Outside!" he roared. "Now." He half shoved, half dragged his younger brother toward the front door.

  Once outside on the porch, Jake released him with a final push in the direction of the stairs. Dusty rubbed his neck, maintaining a wary eye on his brother. "What the hell are you doing, Jake?"

  "I might ask you the same thing. How dare you interrogate my wife like she's some kind of thug!" The crisp autumn air did little to cool his anger.

  Dusty moved toward the far corner of the wraparound porch. "Did you see her face? She's hiding something."

  "Of course she's hiding something, you idiot! Did the thought ever occur to you that she's got a sensitivity to that word because she's illegitimate herself?" Jake's hands curled tightly into fists. "And let me assure you, the child she carries is mine, one-hundred-percent, absolutely, positively mine."

  "Listen, Jake—"

  Jake held up his hand, palm out, and shook his head. "Don't you 'Listen, Jake' me. That is a pregnant woman you were just grilling. I thought I raised you better than that! How would you have felt if I'd done the same thing to Kate while she was carrying Matthew?"

  Dusty clenched his hands and his face darkened.

  "Exactly. I'm about an inch away from hauling off and letting you have it. If you were anyone else, you'd already have my fist in your face."

  "It's just—"

  "It's just nothing! You've had it in for her since you met her. You didn't even give her a chance. Anyone would think you'd never made a mistake in your life, the way you treat her."

  Dusty stared at the plank floor. "I don't have a record."

  "First of all, she's innocent of those charges. And second, I seem to recall a certain fourteen-year-old boy who took my Mustang out joyriding one night. What do you think would've happened if I'd called the cops?" Jake crossed the creaking floorboards to stand directly in front of his brother. He poked him in the chest. "I didn't call the cops because I was afraid that in addition to charging you with grand theft auto, they'd take you away from me. Luckily, you dumb ass, you brought yourself and my car home in one piece."

  Dusty had the grace to look slightly abashed. "I was a juvenile, not an adult."

  "Oh, so a few years makes a difference? Give her a break and trust my judgment. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. If you ever, ever talk to her like that again, the whupping I gave you that night will look like a walk in the park."

  The brooding eyes lightened and a slight smile twitched on Dusty's face. "You could try. I'm not fourteen anymore."

  "No, you're not. You're a grown man with a son of your own. Try to act like it." Jake stepped back.

  "Now, get inside and apologize to Harley. And mean it." As he turned to face the house again, the curtain over the window in the living room shifted. Which member of the family had decided to watch the show?

  * * *

  The jeep jolted along the back road, causing Harley to grit her teeth. Next time we're taking my truck. For a split second she wished she hadn't urged Jake to put the Mustang to bed in the garage for the season quite this early. Anything beat being jounced around in his Jeep.

  "You okay?" Jake asked.

  "If you don't want a wet seat, watch the bumps." She pressed her thighs together.

  He chuckled. "You should've gone before we left Mel's house."

  "I did, Mr. Smarty. You try bouncing down the road like this with a baby in your belly and see if it doesn't make you have to go, too."

  A companionable silence enfolded them again on the ride back to Millcreek. Harley carefully considered how to bring up the subject of Dusty. Did Jake realize part of his brother's behavior came from jealousy? That Harley and now the baby were taking Dusty's place with his big brother, the man who'd raised him? Probably not. Men, even men as sympathetic as Jake, were thickheaded when it came to stuff like that. But still, the way he'd defended her to his brother made her feel … cared for? "How did you know?" she asked.

  "Know what?"

  "That I was a bastard."

  Jake shot her a quick glance. "Ah, so it was you listening at the window."

  She dropped her eyes to her lap and nodded.

  "Well, I can't say I blame you. If I'd been you, I'd have gone to watch. I'm sorry if I disappointed you, though."

  "Why would I be disappointed?"

  "Because I didn't let Dusty have it."

  "Yes, you did."

  "Not really. And don't use the word bastard to describe yourself. That word means someone very undesirable. It doesn't apply to you."

  "You still didn't tell me how you knew."

  Jake moved his hand from the stick shift to place it on her knee. "Sweetheart, it was written all over your face. I kind of figured that was the reason you were so adamant about getting married in the first place."

  "It was." She slumped in the seat and stared unseeingly out the window. "I've lived with that label all my life. I'd never want any child to hear the taunts I heard growing up. You know, even in a children's home, there's a pecking order."

  She didn't say she'd landed at the bottom of the pecking order. Nor did she confide that Steven Kessler had used the word bastard repeatedly while he'd beaten her. She could hear his taunting as though he were in the Jeep with them. She hadn't been good enough for his son. And Jimmy had stood in the corner of her bedroom and watched while his father reinforced his words with his fists.

  "The only person who ever paid any attention to me was my dad," she murmured. "And I didn't even get to share his last name. They were never married, and my mother insisted I have her name. After she took off, I think Dad figured it was all I had left of her."

  Jake downshifted as they rounded a curve, but quickly returned his hand to her knee, squeezing gently in support. "Names are important. I wasn't always a Manning myself."

  She looked over at him.

  "Manning was my stepfather's name, Mel and Dusty's father, Bud. He was a hell of a man and the only father I ever really knew." He withdrew his hand to grip the steering wheel tightly. "When our mother left, he could've easily tossed me out, too. But he didn't. He let me stay. 'Course, I helped by taking care of Mel and Dusty. But he kept a roof over our heads. He never made me feel like I was less to him than they
were. He was a hell of a man."

  Jake fell silent.

  "What happened? How'd you become a Manning?"

  "The day I turned eighteen, I went to court and had my name legally changed. I wanted to acknowledge him. Bud's the one who started me on the path to becoming an architect. I wanted to be like him."

  "What happened to Bud?"

  "He died of a massive heart attack a few weeks after I finished my master's program." Jake exhaled loudly. "There I was, twenty-two, with a fourteen-year-old sister and a twelve-year-old brother to care for, and an architecture internship to complete—which I was supposed to do with Bud."

  "That couldn't have been easy."

  "No. There were times I was ready to pull my hair out. Especially with Mel. But somehow we survived. I wasn't about to let them be taken by the state."

  Harley winced.

  "Sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

  She shrugged and turned back to the view out the window. How lucky for Mel and Dusty that Jake had been there for them. Made her wish she was a Manning, too. Maybe she should have changed her name when they got married. Jake certainly was a better role model of caring than her mother had been.

  "How did you end up in foster care, Harley?" Jake's voice was soft.

  "You know, Mel really has her hands full with your nieces. They're hilarious. Did you see Grace stuffing those leaves into poor Hope's sweater?"

  "I guess there wasn't anyone else to take care of you after your dad died, huh?"

  A small ache, a reflection of the one she'd felt years ago, blossomed in her chest. Surely it was the hormones making her so sensitive these days. She'd buried her emotions under layers and layers of control, but since Jake Manning had walked into her life, that control was hard to come by. "No. There was no one else. They tried to find my mother…"

  "And?"

  The pain throbbed a little harder. She forced herself to answer him. "She told them she had no interest in me, that she'd washed her hands of me years earlier. She signed away her parental rights and that was that."

  "I'm sorry, Harley."

  "Hah. Don't be. Hey, you should be grateful to my mother. You know what they say, 'The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.' Basically, I'm going to do the same thing she did—abandon a child. So I guess you owe my mother for having a daughter who can follow in the family footsteps." Her hand slipped to her waist. His child. His. Not hers, not theirs.