A Baby of Her Own

by Brenda Novak

  “There you are,” Uncle Ralph said as soon as she set foot on the doorstep. He’d spoken very little to her since she’d told them about the baby, but he seemed congenial enough today. Delaney wondered what had happened to soften him, then saw Vern hovering behind him at the door.

  “We were just coming to fetch you,” he added.

  “Am I late?” she asked.

  “Not yet,” Vern said.

  “Then, what’s the hurry?”

  “There’s someone here we want you to meet.” Uncle Ralph took one of her pies and held the door.

  Delaney hesitated on the stoop, surprised by their apparent eagerness. “Who is it?”

  “This is the fella who—” Ralph started, but Aunt Millie’s voice rang out from the living room, interrupting him.

  “Laney? Come in, dear. Hurry. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Were Aunt Millie and her friends up to their old matchmaking tricks? Surely not while Delaney was pregnant! Aunt Millie had once mentioned wanting to introduce her to Preston Willigut, her piano tuner. Maybe they’d invited him to come for dinner. But the only pair of young eyes that looked up when she entered the room didn’t belong to Preston. Golden-brown and framed with thick lashes, they belonged to Conner Armstrong.

  Oh, no. Delaney stopped abruptly.

  “We have a special guest today,” Millie announced, her round face positively beaming. “And he’s going to help us out with your…little problem.”

  “My little problem?” Delaney repeated, hearing the words echo in her head.

  “You know, with the library closing? You don’t have to worry about that anymore. Conner says you can come out and work for him at the ranch while Dottie goes to Utah to be with her daughter. Isn’t that nice of him?”

  Delaney’s knees buckled, and she put a hand on the piano so she wouldn’t sink to the ground like a deflated balloon. “I don’t need his help,” she said.

  “Is that any way to respond to such a kindness?” Millie said disapprovingly.

  “He’s Clive Armstrong’s grandson,” Lula supplied, as though that might make a difference. “And don’t worry, he isn’t going to tell anyone about the baby.”

  Lula knew about the baby? Had Aunt Millie told everyone? What happened to keeping the baby a secret?

  “Nope. I won’t tell anyone,” Conner confirmed, his voice calm and low.

  Even in her panic, Delaney could see he liked having her at a disadvantage. He smiled, but there wasn’t a hint of warmth in his eyes, and for the first time she felt worse than guilty about what she’d done. She felt uneasy. What was he up to?

  Standing, he extended his hand. “Conner Armstrong. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  She accepted the handshake but avoided his steely gaze, going along with the pretense that they’d never met; she was reeling too badly to do otherwise. Aunt Millie had obviously taken her entire circle of friends into her confidence about the baby and Delaney’s job situation, and now they were determined to solve her problems, whether Delaney wanted their help or not.

  “Your secret’s safe with us, too,” Ruby put in, but if Aunt Millie couldn’t keep news of the baby to herself even when she thought it could cost Delaney her job, Delaney had no faith in the rest of them. By this time tomorrow, all of Dundee would be talking about her.

  “I thought you didn’t want me to tell anyone about the baby,” Delaney said.

  “That was before,” Aunt Millie answered. “Now it doesn’t matter because Conner here is very understanding. Aren’t you, dear?”

  “Very,” he said.

  Delaney barely suppressed a groan. “So, everyone ready to eat?” she asked, breaking eye contact with Conner. Fortunately, almost everyone present, except Delaney and Conner, read the newspaper with the aid of a large magnifying glass. So if there was anything in her expression or manner to betray the fact that she already knew Conner—intimately—no one seemed to notice. The last thing she needed was to have that secret revealed now, in front of the entire geriatric society of Dundee. As far as she was concerned, there was no need for anyone to know those details. The two of them had to get together and talk, decide whether or not Conner wanted to pursue his rights as a father.

  “Don’t you want to talk about the job?” Ruby asked.

  “I don’t need a job,” Delaney said, a little too quickly.

  Aunt Millie peered at her in surprise. “You’ve found something?”

  “No, but I will.”

  “Why keep looking? This is perfect,” she argued. “Dottie’ll be gone for at least four weeks. And Conner says you can stay on even after she returns, till Thanksgiving, if the city won’t take you back. You won’t get a more generous offer than that.”

  Thanksgiving was nearly eight months away. The significance of that particular number terrified Delaney. In other words, he’d let her stay until after the baby was born—his baby. What was he trying to do?

  “We can talk about the job over dinner,” Aunt Millie finally conceded. “Ruby made a turkey, and we don’t want to let it sit for too long. It’s going to be dry enough as it is.”

  “My turkey’s never dry,” Ruby said.

  “It’s always dry,” Aunt Millie insisted. “That’s why I asked you to bring a meat loaf. But you couldn’t do that. Oh, no. You had to bring your dry old turkey.”

  Ruby drew herself up to her full five feet two inches. “I make the best turkey in the world. And you’d know it too, Millie Lawson, except you can’t cook your way out of a paper bag, which is why you always ask me to bring the meat in the first place.”

  Delaney almost intervened to keep the peace—it was her usual role—but today she was actually grateful for the distraction. Conner was staring at her, his dislike thinly veiled, and she didn’t want to think about what might be going through his mind.

  “Millie’s a wonderful cook,” Uncle Ralph said. “And I love your dry turkey, Ruby. Let’s not argue in front of company.”

  “It’s not dry,” Ruby said.

  “Ralph’s right about the arguing,” Lula chipped in. “Those of you who can’t hold a civil tongue in your heads won’t get one of my homemade rolls.”

  Everyone quieted down then, because they knew Lula’s rolls were easily the best part of the whole meal, and Aunt Millie seemed to remember her reason for having this dinner.

  “Delaney could have cooked this entire meal and done an excellent job of it,” she told Conner, “but Sunday’s her day to sell pies.” She guided him to a seat at the table opposite Delaney. He sat down, and Millie took the chair beside him, no doubt so she could continue to bend his ear with Delaney’s many attributes. “And she can clean, too.”

  “Being able to cook and clean is definitely a plus,” he said. “But domestic abilities fall far behind honesty, in my book. I don’t think I can work with anyone I can’t trust.”

  Delaney let her gaze dart to his face, but he didn’t add anything and pretended to settle for Lula’s response, which was a supremely confident “Oh, you can trust our Laney. There isn’t a dishonest bone in her body. To tell you the truth, we don’t know how she even got herself in this…predicament. She’s never been one of those—” her voice fell to a whisper “—loose women.”

  “So she’s pregnant,” Ruby said, waving her hand as though they were making a big deal out of nothing. “At least she’s not doing drugs.”

  A muscle had jumped in Conner’s cheek at the word pregnant. “I’m sure I can trust her,” he said smoothly, but the undercurrent in his voice made Delaney squirm.

  The conversation turned to the fact that Delaney could ride a horse and had experience with animals, since she’d been in 4-H and had done some barrel-racing as a teenager. But Delaney kept her eyes on her plate, purposely ignoring the funny anecdotes and comments Conner chose to share as other topics arose. He pretended to be enjoying himself as much as Aunt Millie and everyone else, but Delaney knew better. She could see that he was making a concerted effort to win everyone
over, which he did with ease. Why he’d bother, she couldn’t say.

  “What’s wrong?” Uncle Ralph asked, looking concerned as she helped him carry the dishes into the kitchen.

  “Nothing,” she muttered, pushing through the swinging door.

  “You hardly touched your food.” He put his load of dishes in the sink. “And you’ve been quiet as a mouse. Why are you letting those old ladies out there do all the talking?”

  “Conner’s been doing his share,” Delaney grumbled, resenting Conner’s easy charm and quick wit because she knew he was using them as some kind of weapon.

  “Don’t you like him?” Uncle Ralph asked.

  “He’s okay, I guess,” she said, but at the moment, she didn’t like him at all. Obviously she’d made a mistake in telling him about the baby. She should’ve listened to Rebecca and forgotten her scruples about having forgotten her scruples.

  “Nice of him to let you take over Dottie’s position. He hasn’t even started interviewing yet.”

  “I’m not sure we should count on his help,” Delaney said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because he probably won’t last long around here. Roy, out at the ranch, says he’s going back to California soon.”

  Uncle Ralph raised his eyebrows. “That’s odd. He’s not talking like he’s going back anytime soon.”

  Delaney had noted the same thing, and it worried her more than anything else. She didn’t want to live with his hostility for years to come. “I can find another job,” she told him, infusing her voice with false confidence as she rinsed the plates and loaded them in the dishwasher. “I don’t want to bank on something that’s still so tentative.”

  “All we have to do is ask him. A woman in your situation can’t be too choosy.”

  Aunt Millie yelled for the pie server, and Uncle Ralph immediately grabbed it and left the kitchen.

  Delaney took as long as she possibly could with the dishes, but the time still came when she had to return to the dining room.

  “Conner said you can start Monday,” Ruby told her the moment she appeared, passing her a piece of pie.

  “I can’t start on Monday,” Delaney said. “I’m working at the library for another two weeks.”

  “Then, start when you can. I’m not in a big hurry,” Conner said.

  Delaney gritted her teeth at the self-satisfied smile that curled his lips and shoved a bite of pie into her mouth, stalling until she could think of a refusal Aunt Millie and Uncle Ralph might accept. Now that they felt they’d found the perfect solution, they weren’t going to give up. And Conner was taking full advantage.

  “I’d be better off looking for something closer,” she said. “The ranch is several miles out of town, and the roads will be icy that early in the morning. My tires aren’t great,” she added, hoping for a little support from Uncle Ralph, who was always worried about the tread on people’s tires.

  “It’s nearly spring,” Ralph said instead. “You don’t have to worry about the roads.”

  “And you could do what Dottie does—spend the week at the ranch and go home only on weekends,” Conner suggested.

  “We were just saying that having you stay would probably be the best solution,” Aunt Millie chimed in. “You know, to cut down on the driving.”

  Delaney folded her napkin, unable to take another bite. “Actually, I still have my pie business. I’d need to come home at night to bake—”

  “It would be smarter to bake at the ranch,” Conner said, sounding downright solicitous. “You’ll have a big kitchen and lots of time.”

  “See? It’s ideal!” Ruby said. “And he’s promised to match the salary you’ve been making at the library. With what you’ll be getting from the city besides, you won’t have to sell pies if you don’t want to and you’ll still be able to save for the baby.”

  Delaney managed a weak smile, but the thanks that sprang to her lips was too sarcastic to utter. “That’s very generous, but—”

  Conner looked up at her, hitting her with the full force of his amber eyes and the dark emotion that lurked behind them. “Is there a problem?”

  Aunt Millie rushed to reassure him. “Of course there’s no problem,” she said. “She’ll start week after next, as soon as the library closes.”

  “What a nice young man you’ve turned out to be,” Vern told Conner.

  Yeah, what a guy, Delaney thought. Conner believed he had her cornered, and he wasn’t about to let her escape. But she’d show him. She’d show them all with a quick and absolute refusal.

  Except, she couldn’t think of a single objection they couldn’t easily override. Conner was being too reasonable. And she was afraid that if she pushed him, he’d end up telling the room at large that he was the father of her baby. Worse, he might explain exactly how he had come to be the father of her baby and destroy everyone’s good opinion of her in one fell swoop.

  All over one mistake…

  “Why not come out to the ranch tomorrow so we can show you around?” he asked, his manner deceptively casual.

  “Will Dottie be there?” Delaney asked.

  “For another few weeks.” His grin made her feel unsettled. “After that, we’ll be on our own.”

  Delaney nodded weakly. “Great.”

  “No problem,” he said. “Happy Easter.”

  HER HEAD WAS GOING TO EXPLODE if the ringing didn’t stop. Shooting out an arm from beneath the comforter Rebecca must’ve thrown over her sometime during the night, Delaney almost fell off the couch as she fumbled around on the coffee table, searching for the telephone. She sighed in blessed relief when she succeeded in disconnecting it from its base and restoring silence.

  A few seconds later she remembered that the ringing of a telephone generally meant someone was on the other end of the line.

  “’Lo?” she mumbled, barely managing to bring the receiver to her ear without knocking herself on the head with it.

  “Rebecca?”

  Aunt Millie’s hearing was getting worse all the time. Delaney squinted at the clock above the television, surprised to find it after ten, then promptly squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to stop the room from spinning. Morning sickness on top of a bad night. Wonderful.

  “Hi, Aunt Millie,” she said. “It’s me, Delaney.”

  “You sound funny. Did I wake you?”

  From the dead. “No, I mean, yes, but I have to get up, anyway. I need to do some housework before I go to the library.”

  “I was just wondering what time you were going out to the Armstrong ranch.”

  The ranch. Conner. God, it hadn’t been a dream. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to give him a call.”

  “Want me to arrange it for you?”

  “No!” Delaney shoved her tangled hair out of her face and struggled to a sitting position. “You’ve done enough, thanks. I’ll handle it from here.”

  There was a long silence, during which Delaney realized, rather belatedly, that Aunt Millie was treating her in an almost normal manner. Yesterday, she’d even given her a hug goodbye. “I know you’re trying to help,” she added. “And I appreciate it.”

  “Well, I love you, you know that.”

  “I do.”

  “I still don’t agree with what you’ve done, though.”

  “Of course not.” Even Delaney didn’t agree with what she’d done. But she was left with the consequences of it, and those consequences just seemed to keep coming and coming and coming.

  “You’ll probably lose your job over this.”

  “Maybe.”

  Another pause. “So that’s not good. But I think I’ll enjoy having a grandbaby. I’m not getting any younger. Sooner’s probably better than later, huh?”

  Delaney smiled in spite of the ball of nerves that had lodged in the pit of her stomach at the mention of Conner. “I needed to hear that,” she said. “Tell Uncle Ralph I wouldn’t mind if he were to forgive me, too.”

  “Ralph thinks you’re about the best thing since sliced bread
. He’ll come around.”

  Delaney felt her throat tighten at this matter-of-fact pronouncement. They still loved her, bless their wonderful old hearts. “You two have always been there for me.”

  “And we’re not going anywhere, least not till we don’t have any choice in the matter.” She chuckled. “Call Conner Armstrong and make sure you get that job. It’s exactly what you need, especially since you’re having a baby.”

  His baby. Conner’s job was the last thing she wanted, but Delaney wasn’t going to argue now that Aunt Millie had decided to let bygones be bygones. She promised to call back once she’d talked to him, then hung up and sat staring at the phone while the ball of nerves in her stomach turned to acid.

  Hi, Conner. We don’t know each other. We have nothing in common. So maybe you’d be willing to go about your business and just forget about me and our baby….

  Hi, Conner. Just calling to say there’s no need for you to get involved in my life. I can take care of this baby just fine on my own.

  Yeah, right. Like he was going to buy that. He knew she didn’t even have a reliable job.

  Taking a deep breath for courage, she picked up the receiver, hoping something brilliant would occur to her—or that Conner would already be gone for the day. But Dottie answered on the first ring and assured her that he was just out in the barn.

  “I’ll get him,” she said. “He’s been expecting your call.”

  Don’t throw up…don’t throw up, Delaney encouraged herself while she waited, but as soon as she heard Conner’s voice, she had to dash for the bathroom.

  Unfortunately, he was still there when she returned.

  “Where’d you go?” he asked.

  She tried to catch her breath and ignore the nausea so she could think straight. “I’m not feeling very well.”

  “I hear pregnancy will do that to a woman.”

  “So I’m learning.”

  “Sorry if I’m having a difficult time dredging up much sympathy. When are you coming out here?”

  Delaney grimaced as the unrest in her stomach increased. Not again…“I’m not coming out,” she said. “I think we should talk.”

  “Isn’t it a little late for that? Talking’s not going to solve anything at this point.”