You're My Baby

by Laura Abbot

  “Trust me. We’ll work it out.” Then he winked and kissed her on the cheek. He steered her back to the table and sat her down. “Merry Christmas,” he murmured huskily just before he left the room.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  PAM COULDN’T HELP HERSELF. She picked up the sugary doughnut laced with colored sprinkles and took the first satisfying bite, oblivious to the early morning chatter and bustle of the teachers’ lounge. One sinful indulgence. Surely it couldn’t hurt. As if in agreement, a tiny kick nudged her tummy.

  Connie edged up next to her, a teasing smile on her face. “Back to your evil ways, huh?”

  “Caught in the act,” Pam acknowledged, brushing crumbs off her maternity jumper.

  “This is the big day, right?”

  “I can’t wait.” Her ultrasound appointment was at eleven.

  “Are you going to find out if it’s a boy or girl?”

  “No way. I love surprises.” She finished the doughnut, wiped her mouth, then balled up the napkin and tossed it across the room into the wastebasket. “It’s like opening night and Christmas morning all rolled into one.”

  “Good for you.” Connie topped off her coffee. “Any further instructions about covering your class?”

  “Just keep Beau Jasper’s nose to the grindstone. Thanks for covering for me, Connie. I owe you one.”

  “What time are you and Grant leaving?”

  “Grant?”

  “Surely he’s going with you?”

  “He couldn’t justify abandoning his calculus class. Besides, he has lunch duty today.”

  Connie searched her face, while Pam did her best to act as if going to her ultrasound alone was no big deal. Finally Connie simply said, “Men!” in a tone of voice that left no doubt which sex, at that moment, she considered inferior.

  IT FELT LIKE playing hookey to be on her way to the doctor while her class was deep into a discussion of imagery in Hamlet. At least she hoped that’s what was happening. Barney must be excited about the upcoming ultrasound, too. He beat enthusiastic tattoos all the way to Dr. Ellis’s office.

  Miraculously, the doctor was on schedule, and after the initial exam, Pam, uncomfortably bloated with all the water she’d had to drink in preparation, was sent down the hall to the ultrasound room. The technician helped her lie down, then bared her abdomen and applied a cold jellylike substance. “I’ll get the doctor,” she said, leaving the room. In her absence, Pam’s excited anticipation turned more and more to apprehension. What if something was wrong with the baby? She closed her eyes against the thought. She’d already had one scare. She couldn’t bear another.

  “Pam?” Belinda Ellis, a broad smile on her face, peeped in the door. “Are you ready?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “Good.” She opened the door wider. “I have a surprise for you.” She stepped inside, followed by the technician, and then by Grant. “Your husband was able to make it after all.”

  “Grant?” She turned her head and saw his big frame filling the range of her vision.

  He hurried to the examining table. “You didn’t think I wanted to miss this, did you?”

  Pam was aware of Dr. Ellis, studying them with the delight of an approving parent. “But how—”

  “When Connie found out I couldn’t come, she turned into a one-woman dynamo, getting Jessie Flanders, of all people, to cover calculus and recruiting poor Jim to take my lunch duty.”

  Pam smiled wanly, aware of the bittersweet quality of the moment.

  Dr. Ellis spoke up. “Are you ready to meet this baby?”

  Grant clutched Pam’s hand. “We sure are.”

  Was it only this morning she’d told Connie she liked surprises? She wasn’t sure about this one, though. The more a part of this pregnancy Grant became, the more painful it would be when she had to leave him.

  Then filling the screen was the image of a curved spine, a large head, and…

  “See?” Dr. Ellis took the pointer and highlighted a blurry portion of the picture. “There are the hands.”

  “Wow,” Grant said, squeezing Pam’s fingers.

  “It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Dr. Ellis said, as if this was the first time she’d seen an ultrasound.

  “Oh, honey,” Pam addressed the screen, “I loved you before, but now…” She couldn’t go on, overwhelmed with powerful maternal feelings.

  When the technician finally turned off the machine, Pam slowly lifted her gaze to Grant. Another surprise.

  Tears he made no effort to wipe away coursed down his cheeks.

  IT WAS JUST AS WELL they had two cars, Grant thought, as he slowly drove back to Keystone. He needed time to take in what he’d just witnessed. Movement. Tiny skeletal features. Amazing. Had Shelley done this test with Andy? Surely he’d have remembered.

  When Dr. Ellis had confirmed the pregnancy was proceeding normally, he didn’t know who was more relieved, Pam or him.

  But why hadn’t she asked him to come to the appointment with her? Was she shutting him out? He had to admit it hurt. Yet what right did he have to be there? He wasn’t the father.

  The father. Just thinking about him caused Grant’s gut to tighten. Did he have any idea how difficult he’d made Pam’s life? Hell. No matter what was going on in his personal life, the man should’ve… Should’ve what? Not loved Pam? Damn difficult to do if his own experience was any measure. If Pam didn’t blame the guy, how could he?

  All he knew was he wouldn’t have missed being there today for anything. Seeing the ultrasound had made the baby real in a way nothing else had. Most confusing was the fact that he could no longer think of it as a baby.

  For reasons that had nothing to do with biology, a single notion filled his head—you’re my baby. Pam’s and mine.

  Yet that could never be.

  Weird. And cool, too. The pictures you brought home from the doctor, I mean. Did you ever see that fetus or embryo or whatever in the movie 2001, A Space Odyssey? That’s kinda what your baby looks like. I don’t mean any disrespect. I’m sure it’ll be lots cuter after it’s born.

  Pam stifled a smile. Bless Andy’s heart, he was trying so hard to make her feel better, as if she’d been disappointed that her baby looked just as it was supposed to at sixteen weeks.

  The other cool thing is that Gramps is coming to live with us for a while. I’m sorry he has to have his knee replaced, but this means I’ll get to spend more time with him. You’re lucky to have a dad like him. The kind that doesn’t get on your case or talk at you all the time, but really listens.

  Viola had crawled underneath the afghan Pam had spread over her legs and was rooting around, seemingly puzzled by the altered contours of Pam’s lap. Eventually she settled her head right where the baby had been kicking a short time ago. Pam reread the last two sentences with mixed emotions. It was an accurate comment about her dad, but was Andy also saying something about Grant?

  I need to ask you a big favor. I wanna get something nice for Angie for Christmas. Not anything too girly like perfume or bubble bath. But talk about clueless. That’s me. So I was kind of wondering if maybe you’d go with me to help pick something out. But don’t tell Dad, okay? It’s no big deal.

  Viola nudged the afghan aside and looked up at her with knowing eyes. “You’re right, Vee. Those two guys are impossible.” She leaned over and whispered in Viola’s ear, “But I’m flattered Andy trusts me. I’m afraid trust is something he doesn’t know much about.”

  THE NIGHT BEFORE Will’s surgery, Pam perched at the foot of his hospital bed while Andy sat in the single armchair, one jiggling foot crossed over his other knee. From beyond the drawn curtain, Will’s roommate’s family prattled in overly hearty voices about that patient’s recovery from a broken pelvis. “Grant said to wish you luck. He was sorry he couldn’t make it.”

  “Big game?”

  Pam caught Andy rolling his eyes. “This is the finals of the pre-Christmas Keystone Invitational Tournament, Dad. He was pretty keyed up.”


  “From what he tells me, they’ve got a good season going. After I get my sticks back under me, I’d like to take in a game or two before I head home.”

  “Grant would like that.” Pam nervously smoothed the fabric of the bedspread.

  “What about you, son?” Will turned a craggy smile on Andy. “Will you go along and fill me in about the players, all the inside stuff?”

  “Not much to tell,” Andy mumbled. “It’s all about Beau Jasper.”

  “One-man team?”

  Andy nodded.

  “There’s more to a rodeo than the bull riding. And it doesn’t do to have men pulling in different directions. That only works in calf roping.” He coughed dryly.

  “Jasper’s really good, Gramps.”

  “When he’s eligible,” Pam said.

  Andy’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean?”

  Too late Pam realized she should have kept her mouth shut. Although it was inevitable Andy would pick up some school gossip, she’d been irresponsible to volunteer it. “Oh, nothing much. But he’s struggling in English, that’s all.”

  “You wouldn’t flunk him?” Andy was incredulous.

  Gramps scooted back against his pillow. “Why wouldn’t she?”

  “It’d screw the team.”

  “First of all, I doubt that, son. But more important, aren’t there rules about keeping your grades up?”

  “Well, yeah, but—”

  “No buts, boy. A fella has to live by some sort of code. He’s not much of a man if he doesn’t play by the rules.”

  Andy put his foot down, then recrossed his legs. There went the other foot, fidgeting with the rapidity of a bird’s wing. “Maybe.”

  “No maybes, either. Maybes can get you killed.”

  Pam watched their exchange with interest. Andy listened to her father in a way he listened to no one else. Despite the inconvenience of the upcoming sleeping arrangements, having Will in the house could benefit Andy.

  The other patient’s visitors departed, leaving only the incongruous sound of canned laughter from his TV. A nurse parted the curtain and excusing the interruption, began taking Will’s vitals. Pam watched the blood pressure gauge, a tremor of fear eroding her composure. When the nurse finished, she smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid visiting hours are over.”

  Pam’s stomach lurched. She couldn’t think about tomorrow’s “what if’s.” She approached the head of the bed and picked up her father’s work-roughened hand. “I talked with Barbara today. She sends her love.” Pam didn’t add that Barbara had actually thanked her for taking care of their father. Maybe there was hope for the two of them. “Rest well, Daddy. I’ll be here first thing in the morning.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “Don’t you worry, girl. No busted knee’s gonna keep me out of action, hear?”

  Andy levered himself out of the chair and stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed. “G’night, Gramps. Good luck.”

  “At least you didn’t say, like Pammy always used to, ‘Break a leg.’” He chortled at his own joke. “Now, get on out of here.”

  Pam picked up her purse and Andy started for the door.

  “Son?”

  Andy turned to face the old man. “Yeah?”

  “Remember what I said. A fella always has to be responsible. If he’s a man.”

  Pam averted her face before she alarmed Andy with the tears that threatened. Will Carver was a good man. And an extraordinary father.

  And now, grandfather.

  BOTH GRANT AND ANDY INSISTED on being with her at the hospital the next morning. Their welcome company helped keep her mind off the cold well of fear building inside her. Will had been both father and mother to her, and the thought of losing him was too hard to contemplate.

  After what seemed an interminable wait, she crumpled with relief when the surgeon appeared to inform them Will had come through the procedure beautifully. When a nurse escorted her into the recovery room, her dad managed a smile, squeezed her hand and then drifted off.

  Pam intended to spend the day at the hospital, but urged Grant and Andy to return to school. For all their good intentions, neither was comfortable in the hospital setting nor was there anything for them to do. By late afternoon, Will had been transferred to a regular room, tired but glad to have the ordeal behind him, and they’d both talked with Barbara, assuring her all was well. When Will noticed Pam’s eyes drooping, he mustered his strength and urged her to go home. “Nothin’ you can do here, ’cept leave me in peace.”

  It had been a long day, she reflected on the drive home, marked by worry, boredom and relief. A warm cup of soup and her own bed sounded divine. Traffic was heavy and the late afternoon sun was in her eyes, so she exited the interstate and wound her way home, taking an unfamiliar route through her neighborhood. Stopping at a light, she recognized the park on the other side of the street. Not too far now. She fiddled with the volume control on the radio, then accelerated slowly through the intersection. Suddenly a dog darted in front of her. Braking, she watched it lope over the curb and off across the grassy area near the basketball court.

  Then she saw it. A bicycle that looked like Andy’s. A car eased up behind her. The driver gently tapped her horn. Pam collected herself, gave an apologetic wave and pulled over to the curb. What could Andy be doing here? It was nearly dark.

  She got out of the car, buttoned her jacket and started walking toward the bike. That’s when she heard grunts, shouts and the unmistakable words, “Gilbert, my man, awesome shot!”

  She headed for the basketball court shielded by a stand of trees. Pausing there, she watched the pickup game in amazement. A couple of smaller, quick-handed boys and several taller ones were involved in a noholds-barred contest. Bumping, leaping, dribbling, shooting with authority toward the basket. She watched for several minutes, her heart pounding.

  They were good. Very good.

  But the best was Andy, his eyes darting around the court, his jaw clenched in determination.

  So this was where he mysteriously disappeared to. Grant clearly had no idea. Equally clear was the fact Andy didn’t want him to know. What was she supposed to do about this? How could Grant not know his son was this talented? How devastated would he be to realize Andy couldn’t share this with him?

  “Pam?” Andy had seen her. The action on the court stopped abruptly, the lone sound a ball being idly bounced by a tall African-American youth who stood with the others in a huddle, watching Andy approach her. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was on my way home from the hospital when I saw your bike.”

  “Crap!” He stood in front of her, eyes directed skyward as if imploring the heavens. Then in a gesture uncannily like his father’s, he ran a hand jerkily through his hair. “This is all I need.”

  “What?”

  “For you to tell my old man about this.” He turned away. “Jeez!”

  She stepped forward, knowing that what she said right now was crucial. “I haven’t decided to do anything. Yet.”

  He slowly pivoted to face her, regarding her with stony eyes. “I don’t want him to know.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just don’t.”

  What was her obligation here? Would it hurt to keep his secret? “I’ll have to think about it, Andy.”

  “You said we could trust you to keep our confidences,” he blurted out.

  “In your journals.”

  “But no place else? Is that it?” The boy’s voice was raw.

  She laid a hand on his arm. “You’ve put me in a difficult position, Andy, but I’ll tell you what. I won’t say anything for now.” His head drooped in relief. “But you and I are going to talk about this later.”

  He straightened and studied her warily. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  She looked straight into his eyes. “Because I say so.”

  He held her gaze, then finally glanced at his bike. “I gotta go.”

  “I know.
See you at home.” She watched him walk toward his bike and, under her breath, added, “Please be careful.”

  She, too, would have to be careful. There was a delicate balance between keeping his trust and violating Grant’s.

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON Pam cleared off her desk, erased the chalkboard and grabbed the ungraded vocabulary quizzes. Maybe she could get to them while she visited with her father.

  She checked her watch. Twenty minutes to drop Andy at home, then off to the hospital. When she leaned over to retrieve her purse from the bottom desk drawer, she heard a thump, like a dropped backpack. Looking up, she saw Andy standing a few feet from her. “You startled me,” she said.

  “Sorry.” He made no move to leave. His hands were stuffed in his front pockets and she could hear the jingle of coin hitting against coin.

  “Ready to go?” When he still made no move, she felt a tic of annoyance. “What is it, Andy?”

  He jutted out his chin. “Did you tell him?”

  “No, I didn’t. Not yet.”

  “Are you gonna?”

  “I don’t know. It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “Whether you can figure out why you’re so determined to punish yourself.”

  His face colored. “What are you talking about?”

  “You love basketball, don’t you?”

  “What’s the difference?”

  Setting her purse on the desk, she summoned her patience. “The difference is that you’re denying yourself pleasure and accomplishment out of some misplaced notion of revenge.”

  “That’s crap.” The coin-jangling grew louder.

  “Is it? I think you’ve been blaming your father all these years for the divorce. Let me ask you something. Do you honestly think your parents would have been happy had they stayed together?”

  He shrugged without looking up.

  “Or that your father wanted to leave you? Walking out that door was probably the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. Like you, he’s been hurting every day since.” Her voice softened. “Can’t you give him a break?”