by Brenda Novak
This week—or sometime soon—the momentous meeting takes place: the sperm breaks through the egg and fertilization occurs. A baby is in the making!
That had already happened to her. She thumbed ahead to see what was coming next and couldn’t help smiling at the words and illustrations. The fetus grew fingernails during week eleven, kicked for the first time in week nineteen and could laugh at three months—
“Hello? Anyone here? Delaney?”
Quickly shoving her books beneath a nearby cart, Delaney sprang to her feet, her heart beating wildly. She knew that voice. It had been over six weeks since she’d heard Conner speak, but she would’ve recognized his baritone anywhere.
“The library closed at eight,” she called, to buy herself a few precious seconds. What was she going to do? What was she going to say? She double-checked to make sure the books she’d been reading were well out of sight, then hovered there in indecision.
“Delaney? Can I talk to you? It’s Conner Armstrong.”
Biting her lip, she forced herself to start toward the front desk. She had no choice. She had to deal with this situation, and she had to do it now.
When she emerged from the stacks and saw him standing there, wearing a heavy coat, jeans and boots, she felt apprehension—and a sudden, undeniable excitement. That excitement seemed to bubble up from the part of her that didn’t know this sudden appearance was a catastrophe, the part of her that clung to the memories of their time together and knew it had been special.
He looked good. Better than ever. Somehow, just seeing him evoked every wicked sensation she’d experienced at his hands. But he wasn’t smiling. Suspicion marked his features, making him seem more like the Conner she’d spoken to at the bar than the one she’d known in his room.
“Rebecca told me you were in town,” she said.
“I thought she might, although I’m sure that came as no surprise to you.”
“I’m sorry?”
“The fact that I’m here in Dundee, that I live at the ranch. That couldn’t have been a surprise. You knew I was Clive Armstrong’s grandson, right? That’s why you intercepted me in Boise, why you never asked anything about me.”
She’d picked him up because, in that setting, he was the obvious choice, and she hadn’t asked anything about him because she hadn’t wanted to know. She’d been afraid that knowing him would make him too hard to forget, and she was right. She might not have heard his hopes and dreams, where he came from or where he was going. But she’d learned other details that were just as significant—how he liked to be touched; the tenderness and caring he hid behind a façade of indifference, the security he offered when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close while he slept.
“I had no idea who you were when we met in that bar,” she said. “I intercepted you because…because you seemed the type who might—”
“Be an easy mark?”
Delaney winced at the accusation in his tone. “I wanted a one-night stand and you were there.”
“If it was that simple, why all the lies?”
Feeling her neck and cheeks warm with embarrassment as she recalled the make-believe childhood she’d created for his benefit, Delaney managed a brittle smile. Inside all those lies she’d actually revealed her heart, the real Delaney. But he wouldn’t realize that. She didn’t want him to. She showed others the Delaney they wanted to see, the one she knew they’d accept.
“I’m sorry about that. Really I am.”
His brows lifted. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say? I’m sorry?”
She had to tell him. She couldn’t stand here and lie to him again, couldn’t pass him on the streets as she grew bigger and bigger with his child. It was difficult enough living with what she’d done when she’d expected never to see him again.
“I—I wasn’t looking for an ongoing relationship,” she explained. “I told you those lies because I didn’t want you to be able to find me. I wanted to walk away and never look back—”
“You’re not going to tell me you have cancer, are you? Because I’m getting a real bad feeling about this.”
“No, I don’t have cancer. Rebecca just…well, she came up with that one on her own.”
He hesitated, his amber eyes searching her face. “So you’re healthy. There’s nothing wrong with you?”
She nodded.
“You just wanted to lose your virginity in Boise and went to greater lengths than most to make sure I wouldn’t stalk you later or something, right?”
Somehow Delaney sensed that he’d already guessed the truth. She could tell. He didn’t want to face the obvious, was trying to talk himself out of it, hoping she’d help him even if it meant more lies. But the stark reality of the situation stood between them.
When she didn’t answer, he thrust a hand through his hair. “You were trying to get pregnant, weren’t you?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He briefly closed his eyes. “And did it work?”
Everything Rebecca had told her over the past few days about the perils of Conner’s learning about the baby—the possible custody battles, the difficulty of sharing a child, the fear that he might not be the best influence, even the negative comments Roy had made about him—seemed to float to the forefront of Delaney’s mind. She didn’t want to do anything that would risk the security of her baby’s future. But the truth was the truth. She couldn’t get around it anymore. She’d cheated him, and her sense of justice demanded she admit it.
“Yes,” she said.
He gulped air into his lungs as though she’d slugged him, then jammed his hands in his pockets and whirled toward the door. Delaney thought he was going to walk out on her without another word, but after only two steps he turned back. “I can’t believe you did this,” he said. “I can’t believe any woman would do this.”
The loathing in his voice hurt even more than Delaney had imagined it would. “I’m sorry.”
“And what the hell do you hope to gain from it?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I just want the baby. That’s all. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Yeah, right,” he said, and strode out. Then silence fell again. But the peace was gone.
REBECCA WAS ON THE TELEPHONE—with Buddy, no doubt—when Delaney slipped through the door, deposited her purse and coat on the bench that was the only piece of furniture in their small entryway, and tried to slip through the living room to her bedroom. She didn’t feel like talking, but Rebecca glanced up when she entered, took one look at her, and told Buddy she had to go.
“Go ahead and talk to Buddy. I’m okay,” Delaney lied, but Rebecca hung up anyway.
“What happened?” she asked, turning down the volume of a Sarah McLachlan CD playing in the background.
“Nothing,” Delaney said.
Rebecca shook her head. “I’m not buying that, Laney. You look as white as a ghost. And the library closed hours ago. Where’ve you been?”
“At the library,” she said. “Conner came by.”
“Oh, Laney, you didn’t tell him, did you?” Rebecca wailed.
“I had to. How can I keep his baby a secret from him?”
Rebecca smacked her forehead with her open palm and fell back on the couch. “I knew it. You thought I was crazy to come up with the cancer thing, but—”
“You were crazy to come up with the cancer thing,” Delaney argued. “If word of that got around, it could break Aunt Millie’s heart.”
“But it was working. It kept Conner Armstrong away from you.”
“For a whole week? Big deal.”
Rebecca rubbed her hands on her jeans. “I can’t believe it. This is exactly what I was afraid of. Now you’re going to tell me he was mad as hell. And of course he was. Who wouldn’t be? But it didn’t have to be this way. He didn’t have to find out!”
Delaney threw up her hands. “We don’t know that he’s going back to California, Beck. What if he sticks around? Then he would’ve found out eventu
ally. Don’t you think he would’ve wondered when he saw me carrying a baby around?”
Rebecca groaned and covered her eyes, but didn’t answer, and Delaney started to pace the area rug that covered the scarred hardwood floor. What was she going to do now? She had no idea how Conner was likely to respond, Aunt Millie and Uncle Ralph weren’t speaking to her, and she had no job.
Rebecca was the first to break the silence. “Have you ever thought of leaving Dundee?” she asked. “You could move to a big city, start over, escape Conner and Aunt Millie and all the judgmental bull you’re going to go through living in such a small town once everyone learns about the baby.” She leaned over to reach the stereo and turned off Sarah McLachlan, but Delaney caught her hopeful glance. “You could even move to Nebraska with me.”
Delaney sat in her easy chair and crossed her legs, willing the tension to ebb from her tired muscles. For days she’d walked around feeling as though one more setback might make her unravel completely. “You know I’d like to come to Nebraska,” she said. “But I can’t leave here. Aunt Millie might be angry with me right now, but she and Uncle Ralph need someone to take care of them. And so do their friends.”
“Their friends?”
“Mrs. Shipley’s kids went away to college and never came back. Who’s going to look after her?”
“That’s up to her family.”
“She didn’t say that about me when my mother died. Nor did she say it throughout all the years she took me under her wing at the library.”
“You were six when your mother died, and you were always a great help to her in the library!”
“I needed someone, and she was there. Now she needs me.”
“So you’re telling me that even if Aunt Millie and her self-righteous friends put you down, find fault and judge you, you’re going to stay put and take care of them.”
“They’re not all self-righteous. Mrs. Shipley will probably just assume that Conner’s no good. And the others, well, it’s just what they’ve been taught. I’m going to help them out regardless.”
“That’s nuts.” Rebecca shook her head. “Especially now that Conner lives here.”
“Maybe, but I can’t leave. Besides, I do like my job—if I can just get through the remodelling. Where else can I work noon to eight Monday to Friday, have weekends to myself and be my own boss?”
“You’re not really your own boss. You’re afraid you’re going to be fired.”
“In practice, I have a lot of autonomy,” Delaney said.
Rebecca twirled her hair around and around her fingers, something she did when she wanted a cigarette but couldn’t or wouldn’t let herself smoke. “So who knows about the baby?” she asked.
“You, me, Conner, Aunt Millie and Uncle Ralph.”
“And who knows that Conner’s the father?”
“Just you, me and Conner. And I want to leave it that way, okay?”
Rebecca’s lips turned down. “You’re the one telling everyone.”
“Well, you’re the one who works at a beauty salon and does more gossiping than hair care. And I don’t want Aunt Millie and Uncle Ralph to find out—certainly not until they get used to the idea of me having a baby on my own. If I told them now, Aunt Millie would probably make Uncle Ralph march over to the Running Y and demand that Conner marry me.” She noticed Rebecca’s agitated hair-twirling again and said, “Why don’t you go have a cigarette?”
Rebecca didn’t budge. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged impatiently. “I quit.”
Delaney let her head fall back on the chair. “Oh Lord, not now.” Rebecca had tried to quit several times before. She always lasted a few weeks, then caved in, and those weeks were hell for both of them. She’d eat like a horse, litter the house with empty ice cream containers and cookie and candy bar wrappers and complain about the smallest things, slowly driving Delaney crazy.
“That’s some support, Laney,” Rebecca said in a sarcastic voice.
“You know I want you to quit. I’ve been after you to give up smoking for years. But right now, I can’t deal with you constantly chewing your nails and twisting your hair and bouncing your knee. Can’t we get through this Conner mess first? One nervous wreck at a time is enough in this house, and I got there before you.”
“I won’t be difficult,” Rebecca insisted. “I have more resolve. I can do it.”
Delaney was afraid for her friend’s health. And she didn’t particularly relish the smell of smoke that trailed into the house on Rebecca’s hair and clothes. But Rebecca had been smoking since she was sixteen. It wasn’t an easy habit to break. They already knew that from past failures.
“Why now?” Delaney asked.
Rebecca picked up the remote and turned on the television.
“Why now, Beck?” Delaney pressed. “Is it because I’m pregnant?”
“That’s part of it.” Rebecca blew her short bangs off her forehead. “And I saw Josh today. At the drugstore.”
Josh. Rebecca hadn’t talked about him for a couple of months, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. He and Rebecca went way back, to their childhoods. And somehow, whenever he became involved in anything that included Rebecca, the world tilted a little off its axis.
“Did you speak to him?” she asked, wondering why a recent sighting of Josh would be a factor in giving up cigarettes.
She nodded. “He stopped to congratulate me on my upcoming marriage.”
“That was nice of him,” Delaney murmured, but Rebecca offered nothing more, and what she’d said so far didn’t explain why this chance meeting was significant. “Is he still with Mary Thornton?” she asked, probing for the connection.
“Yeah. She was with him.” Rebecca made a face. “All that perkiness makes me want to slap her, you know? Doesn’t she get on your nerves?”
Delaney had never been fond of Mary, either, but she was a little surprised that Rebecca seemed to feel so strongly about her all of a sudden. “So how does this connect with your new resolve to quit smoking?”
“I think Mary whispered something to Josh about me always smelling like smoke.”
So that was the story. What Mary said had gotten to Rebecca. But why? Rebecca didn’t care what other people thought. Especially Josh. Delaney had grown up with the two of them, had witnessed how they competed and goaded and snubbed each other. Although, there was that one night when Rebecca and Josh had danced at the Honky Tonk, and finally left together. But ever since Buddy came on the scene, Delaney had figured that was all in the past.
“I’m guessing they’ll be getting married soon,” Rebecca said.
“Probably,” Delaney agreed. “I’m surprised Josh has waited as long as he has to find a wife.”
“He’s been too involved in building his business. He’s driven, doesn’t do anything halfway.”
Was that admiration Delaney detected? She shook her head in confusion. One minute, Rebecca’s tone was disparaging, the next it was almost…wistful. “Does this have something to do with that night the two of you left the Honky Tonk and went to his place?” she asked.
Rebecca’s hair-twirling suddenly sped up. “It didn’t mean anything to me. You know that.”
Uneasiness crept up Delaney’s spine, and it had nothing to do with the blatant worry she felt about her own situation. Was Rebecca rushing toward certain marital disaster?
Delaney hesitated, but what needed to be said needed to be said. Better now than after the wedding. “Beck, if you have any kind of feelings for Josh—”
“Stop it!” Rebecca said. “I don’t feel anything for him. I’ve never even liked him.”
“It wouldn’t be fair to Buddy if—”
“I said I don’t feel anything for him. He belongs with Mary Thornton or someone just like her. She fits into the Dundee mold. She’d never do anything that would so much as raise his eyebrows. I’m not like that, and we both know it.”
“But do you love Buddy?” Delaney asked.
“Of course I do.” Then she stood and headed to her room, leaving a Seinfeld rerun on the TV. “I’m going to bed.”
Delaney didn’t respond. She’d always taken Rebecca at her word when it came to Josh Hill. But she was beginning to wonder: Was Rebecca telling the truth when she said she felt nothing for him? Or did she like him just a little too much?
CHAPTER TEN
“YOU OUT OF SORTS?” Roy asked, lingering after supper instead of going directly to his house in back as he usually did.
“Why do you ask?” Conner replied, slouching lower on the brown leather sofa in the ranch’s main living room and taking a long swallow of his beer.
Roy stepped over the two dogs lounging at Conner’s feet and carried his beer to the chair closest to the fire that raged, hot and crackling, in the huge stone fireplace. “Been brooding most of the day.”
He had good reason to brood, but he’d be damned if he was going to tell anybody about it. His family had sent him to save the ranch, and he’d knocked up the town librarian instead. The second they found out he was involved in yet another scandal, his grandfather would probably follow through with his promise to cut him off.
“Maybe I’m beginning to take after you.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
Conner prodded Sundance to move over and stretched his legs, hoping the fire’s heat would ease the stiffness in his muscles and help his anger to dissipate. He hadn’t slept a wink last night, and he and Roy had hauled water and feed to cattle all day. He was exhausted. But not exhausted enough to forget what Delaney had said to him last night, what she’d done to him.
“So?” Roy said, interrupting the incessant question—what the hell am I going to do now?—that had been consuming Conner’s thoughts for nearly twenty-four hours.
“So, what?” he replied, taking another sip of his beer.
“You gonna tell me what’s the matter?”
He swallowed and drank some more. Maybe he’d get drunk and forget the whole thing. Maybe he’d call up a few old friends and run off for Europe, let his grandfather and uncles have the damn ranch and everything else.
