A Baby of Her Own

by Brenda Novak

“What way?”

  “Sleeping apart.” He straightened, shoved his hands in his pockets and spoke calmly, unemotionally. “I don’t think it sets a good precedent.”

  Precedent? He wanted to sleep with her to create a precedent? “That is a big concern,” she said, but couldn’t tell if he recognized the sarcasm in her response. His face was inscrutable in the darkness, his eyes shiny dark pools.

  He glanced reluctantly at the door. “You’d rather sleep alone, then?”

  She considered how she’d feel if he walked away, and how she’d feel if he didn’t, and knew she wanted him here. But pride demanded she establish some standards. “Stay only if you want to, not because you think it’s best or want to mollify your mother or—”

  “I want to,” he said, his eyes meeting hers.

  Delaney’s breath caught as his gaze lowered to her shoulders, fixing on the ivory material of her negligee. “You’re wearing it,” he breathed. “Can I see?”

  She lay perfectly still as he folded back the covers. He looked at her for several seconds, then smiled and ran a hand over the small bulge that was finally providing visual proof of her pregnancy. “Hi, baby,” he said, bending down to brush a kiss across her abdomen.

  Smiling in spite of herself, Delaney cupped his cheek and held him against their baby for a moment longer. It felt so right to have him close again—at last.

  When she let go, his eyes swept over her negligee as one hand outlined the curve of her waist. “You make me crazy, Laney. There isn’t any question about that.”

  Delaney already knew she made him crazy. Any questions she had didn’t revolve around that, but she didn’t want to think about questions right now. Somehow her need for answers abandoned her the moment Conner’s hands started sliding over her skin, caressing her, exploring every sensitive spot he could find while watching the expressions on her face change as she responded to him.

  “Pretty,” he said, teasing her nipples with his thumbs through the fabric. Then he slid the straps off her shoulders and buried his face in the valley between her breasts, and Delaney felt her body go boneless.

  “Come to bed,” she murmured, as he lifted his head to kiss her. Unlike the brief kiss he’d given her at the altar, this one held enough promise to curl her toes.

  “Careful, Laney. I might actually think you want me,” he said.

  “I do,” she admitted.

  Grinning, he stood and stripped off his jeans, and she couldn’t help admiring the changes in his body since she’d first seen it. He’d been muscular and firm from the beginning, but he was slightly thinner now and even more defined from the physical nature of his work.

  “Somehow it doesn’t feel real that we could be married, does it?” she whispered.

  He tossed his jeans aside as though he couldn’t be less self-conscious, and his teeth flashed in a grin. “It’s going to feel very real in a minute,” he said. Then he climbed into bed with her and the warmth of his bare skin surrounded her as he drew her into his arms.

  Delaney didn’t get a moment’s sleep all night. Yet she woke feeling more satisfied and refreshed than she’d felt since…Boise.

  THE NEXT WEEK PASSED QUICKLY, and for the most part, Delaney’s days were no different than they’d been before the wedding. She helped Dottie cook and clean, do the grocery shopping, feed the animals and run errands in town. But once the sun went down and the stars came out, things were different. She’d moved into Conner’s room the day after the wedding. He always gave her plenty of attention at night, and she did her best to make sure he’d be too tired to work the next morning. But he never was. He always got up early and closed himself in his office or headed outside to ready the horses. She helped make breakfast for Grady, Isaiah, Ben and Roy, who still grinned broadly every time they caught her eye, even though she’d been married a whole week.

  “Roy, how long is it going to take before you stop with all the silly smiling?” she said in mock exasperation when she noticed him grinning at her again.

  He chuckled. “How’s that bun in the oven?”

  Delaney wasn’t sure, but she thought the flutter she’d been experiencing low in her belly just might be the baby moving. Then again, being around Conner seemed to cause the same sensation, even during the day, when he didn’t show any interest in her at all.

  “The baby’s growing,” she said. “I think I can feel it move.”

  “Did someone say ‘baby’?” Dottie asked, and started right in on a retelling of her own granddaughter’s birth.

  As she rambled on about how marvelous it had been to participate in the process, Delaney let her mind drift—as usual—to Conner. She loved it when he held her and made love to her and slept in her arms. His presence in her life fulfilled her like nothing she’d ever experienced, far more than being a single parent ever could, she thought. Sometimes she’d just sit and daydream about the way he smelled. And the way he moved. And the way his eyes closed and his lips parted when she—

  “Earth to Delaney,” Isaiah said, interrupting her reverie.

  Delaney blinked and looked over at him.

  “How long is it going to take before you stop with all the silly smiling?” he asked, and the others laughed.

  “I was thinking about the baby,” she lied. She stood up to rinse the dishes so she could hide her blush, but Conner came in at that moment and any embarrassment she felt was instantly lost in the hope that today would be the day he acknowledged her outside the bedroom. Just a smile or a meaningful glance or a quick kiss on the temple…Anything to tell her he cared about her, that the relationship developing between them wasn’t just sexual.

  She dried her hands and made him a plate of scrambled eggs, ham and toast. Her heart was in her throat when she gave it to him. But he didn’t even look up. He spoke to Roy about some missing cattle, took a chair at the table and ate. Then he told the cowboys he’d meet them outside and started toward the back door.

  “Conner?” Delaney said, catching him before he could leave.

  He turned and Delaney felt everyone else’s eyes on her, too. She suddenly wished she’d kept her mouth shut. It was stupid to push him for more than he was willing to give. But now that she’d drawn his attention, she had to say something. “I—I have a doctor’s appointment later. I thought maybe you’d like to go with me and meet him.”

  “Sorry,” he said with scarcely a pause. “I can’t make it today.” He went outside and the door banged shut behind him.

  Isaiah met Delaney’s eyes, his expression one of empathy, and she hated that he understood the hurt Conner had so carelessly inflicted. She wanted to leave and avoid the awkward silence that had settled over the room, but she refused to be that much of a coward. Keeping her back straight and her head high, she accepted each cowboy’s dirty plate with a smile and wished them all a good day as they filed out.

  But Isaiah didn’t go. He lagged behind, and when Dottie—whistling obliviously to herself, probably thinking about her new grandbaby—went into the pantry, he touched her arm.

  “He’ll come around, Delaney,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

  “Sure he will,” she responded. But she wasn’t so sure. Isaiah didn’t know about Boise.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  LIFE AT THE RUNNING Y was peaceful enough during the next few weeks. Conner left before Delaney woke in the mornings, stayed out on the ranch most of the day, then buried himself in his office at night, working until ten, eleven, sometimes twelve o’clock. Delaney tried to get involved in his work so she could relieve some of the pressure. She knew he’d purchased the ranch from his family, understood that he was fighting desperately to save the home he loved. But he insisted everything was fine and wouldn’t share his burdens with her. If she asked what was on his mind, he’d say nothing or tell her not to worry. That was it.

  So she turned her attention to cleaning blinds and baseboards and organizing closets, since Dottie was back to manage the kitchen and the chickens, dogs and goats. If Conner
wasn’t going to let her share his load or give her any responsibilities, she’d find some other way to make herself useful.

  But soon every nook and cranny in the whole house was sparkling clean, and she had nothing to do but plant a garden. Dottie’s knees bothered her; she couldn’t bend and weed or plant, so Delaney gratefully took over the small plot of earth just outside the back door and spent a great deal of time reading books about gardening. As the days of June passed and the baby’s movements became more obvious, she planted tomatoes, corn and zucchini, peas and carrots, and some bulb flowers she’d found for sale in a magazine—dahlias she’d ordered from Denmark. All the while, she hoped that once Conner grew used to her presence, used to the idea of having a wife, he’d let go of the grudge he held against her.

  But he remained as aloof and reserved as the day she’d married him. He was still coming to her at night. He made love to her often and was gentle and kind and generous during those times. But when morning came, he gave the ranch everything he had without sparing so much as a thought for her.

  With a sigh, Delaney rocked back on her heels. A strand of hair had fallen from the sloppy knot on top of her head and tickled her face, but her hands were covered with dirt, so she shoved the stand back with a forearm. She’d been planting since just after breakfast, and her garden was growing—but so was her belly, which made it difficult to bend over for long.

  “Don’t overdo,” Dottie called, passing by as she threw last night’s table scraps to Champ and Sundance. Delaney had fenced them out of her garden with three-foot wire.

  “I’m not,” Delaney replied, but she had to pause a little longer to ease the ache in her back.

  “Rebecca called,” Dottie said. “She told me she’s planting watermelons with you today.”

  Delaney smiled. Rebecca had never planted anything in her life, not even a small garden like the one Delaney had weeded for Aunt Millie and Uncle Ralph when she was a teenager, but she’d thrown herself into Delaney’s new love with unexpected enthusiasm. She came out to the ranch often, and together they weeded and planted. Or Delaney met her in town and they went to Boise to buy Rebecca’s wedding dress, search for the perfect bridal bouquet or gather ideas for the caterers.

  “Did she say if she had to work later?” Delaney asked.

  “I’m afraid not. But she said she’s found something else for the nursery. You want me to bring you the cordless phone so you can call her back?”

  “No, she’ll be here soon. But thanks.”

  The screen door slammed shut and Dottie disappeared, leaving Delaney alone in the mellow midday sun. A butterfly hovered at the end of the row of peas Delaney was planting, and Sundance and Champ barked and growled in the grass not far away, wrestling over the beef bones Dottie had given them. But neither the peacefulness of such a lovely setting nor the knowledge that Rebecca was on her way could lift Delaney’s spirits. She had another doctor’s appointment at four o’clock and had made a point of asking Conner, once again, to accompany her. He’d mumbled something noncommittal and left the house early, and since she hadn’t heard any more, she doubted he planned to join her. Again.

  Oh well, she told herself, trying to be positive. Her marriage wasn’t perfect, but things could be a lot worse. She’d known when she said “I do” that Conner didn’t love her. Had she really expected that to change?

  Deep down, she must have, she realized. She’d probably been trying to live the “happily ever after” fairy tale every woman dreams about. But Conner made a poor Prince Charming. He was good in bed, but Delaney was learning that she needed more.

  In any case, Rebecca would go to the doctor’s with her. And maybe while they were in Boise, they’d find a good price on a car seat at some secondhand store.

  Bending over her work, she managed to finish the row she was working on before the screen door swung open again and Rebecca strode into the yard. Sundance and Champ barked and wagged their tails, and Rebecca patted heads and rubbed ears and let the dogs lick her fingers. But when she turned to Delaney, her usual smile was strained, and it struck Delaney that her friend had lost weight.

  “Are you feeling okay?” she asked.

  “Sure. Why?”

  “Something’s wrong. What is it?”

  “Nothing,” she said impatiently, her initial smile replaced by a look of irritation.

  “Rebecca—”

  “I haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all.” She shrugged.

  “Why?”

  “Come on, let’s plant,” Rebecca said. “I brought some watermelon seeds. Late summer isn’t anything if there’s no watermelon.”

  Delaney used the shovel at her side to help her stand. “Is it Buddy? Are you two having problems?”

  “Not exactly,” Rebecca said.

  “Then, what exactly is it?”

  “He wants to postpone the wedding again.”

  “Why?”

  “He said his mother wants to attend. She lives in Georgia and can’t come until August.”

  “But that’s a good thing, right?”

  “I don’t know. I think he’s scared.”

  “Wouldn’t he tell you if he was scared? Maybe he just wants his mother there, like he said.”

  “Maybe.” Rebecca pulled a small bag of seeds from her pocket and tore open the top. “Do you really think we can grow these things from scratch? I mean, maybe I should’ve bought little seedlings we could transplant, so they’d have a better chance of surviving.”

  Delaney propped her hands on her hips. “The seeds will work just fine. Quit trying to change the subject.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” Rebecca snapped. “You’re miserable out here, yet you won’t ever talk about that. Why should I spill my guts?”

  Delaney blinked in surprise. “I’m not miserable. I love the ranch. And I’m excited about the baby.”

  “That might be true, but something’s making you unhappy.”

  Delaney opened her mouth to deny it, then changed her mind. What was the use? Rebecca knew her too well. “My husband ignores me all day. He’s generally polite when I see him—if he acknowledges me. And he’s great in bed. But he doesn’t care about me enough to seek my opinion on anything. He doesn’t trust me enough to let me help him. He never needs me except for a little warmth at night. And he won’t take two hours off work to come to the doctor with me. Is that what you want to hear?”

  Rebecca’s eyes narrowed at this revelation, and she began to scan the surrounding hills, as though she’d take Conner on right now if she could find him. “I’m going to have a talk with him.”

  “No, you’re not. That’s precisely why I’ve kept my feelings to myself. I don’t want him to start being solicitous because he feels he isn’t measuring up. I think he’s busy trying to prove something to himself right now, though I’m not really sure what that is. Anyway, he has pretty big plans for the ranch, and I want to give him the space he needs to succeed. And if he ever comes to care about me, I want him to do it on his own, okay? Love isn’t something we can force.”

  Rebecca tapped her foot, obviously thinking this over, but not making any promises.

  “Tell me you’ll leave him alone and you won’t say anything,” Delaney insisted.

  “Oh, all right. If that’s what you want. For now,” she relented.

  “That’s what I want.” Delaney wiped the perspiration from her forehead and let herself out the makeshift gate. Then she pulled Rebecca down next to her on the back steps. “Have you ever thought that maybe you and Buddy aren’t really right for each other?” she asked.

  “What? We’re in love. Of course we’re right for each other.” She thrust a hand through her hair—hair she’d bleached blond for the summer and cut into a messy style reminiscent of Meg Ryan’s. It suited her much better than the red ever did, made her look younger, more carefree, and highlighted the fine bone structure of her face. “I’m out of here in two months.”

  Delaney gathered the folds of h
er loose cotton dress around her ankles. “See? You’re ‘out of here in two months.’ That’s what has me worried. Is Buddy the man of your dreams, or a ticket out?”

  Rebecca scratched Sundance, who immediately laid his large head in her lap and gave a few grateful whines. “He’s both.”

  Delaney tried to read Rebecca’s face while fending off Champ. Was she right to push this subject? Maybe it was none of her business. Maybe she needed to let Rebecca make her own choices.

  “Well, two months aren’t going to make much difference in the long run, then, is it?” she said.

  Rebecca lowered her forehead to meet Sundance’s. “Just as long as he doesn’t put it off again.”

  CONNER STARED at his sleeping wife. Sometimes she was simply too beautiful to touch. He’d stand in the shadows of the room and watch her sleep, and think about the way she welcomed him into her arms every night, how she’d smile and press his hand to her belly when their child moved, how good she smelled when she cuddled up to him—and he wished he could breach the barrier between them.

  But something inside made him hold back, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t let go.

  Part of it was fear. If he loved Delaney as much as he knew he could, he’d have even more to lose than the ranch, and the voice in his head told him he’d already risked enough. He’d probably fail and she’d leave him, anyway. Why up the ante? And yet, for the first time in Conner’s life, happiness seemed so close. If only he could…

  He must have made a noise, or perhaps Delaney sensed his presence, because she stirred and opened her eyes. “Conner? What are you doing? Aren’t you coming to bed?”

  He felt the familiar desire in his gut, was amazed at how badly he always wanted her. “Yeah, I’m coming,” he said, and started peeling off his clothes. It was okay, he told himself. He just needed to feel her against him. He wouldn’t love her. He wouldn’t give any more of his heart.

  IN THE LIGHT seeping around the door from the hall, Delaney watched Conner dress for work. He’d made love to her twice last night, passionately, his fervor almost all-consuming, even though she knew he had to be exhausted from the long hours he’d worked. But he wouldn’t open up, wouldn’t really talk to her or share himself with her, and loneliness settled over Delaney as completely as it had before he’d come to bed.