His Baby Bombshell

by Jessica Matthews

  "Yes."

  The news struck with the same impact as yesterday's golf ball and left him reeling. "How?"

  She shrugged. "The usual way."

  At first, he felt guilty because he'd obviously pushed her away and she'd found comfort in someone else's arms—someone who'd taken advantage of her, then left. But as he guessed Jeremy's age and mentally counted backwards, a sense of foreboding swept over him.

  He stared at the child, this time seeing what he hadn't noticed before. Jeremy had the classic McReynolds chin, the same eyes and nose. In fact, he came close to looking very similar to himself in his own baby photos.

  "How old is he?" he asked hoarsely.

  "He's not quite seven months. He was born in January."

  Still unwilling to believe his own suspicions, he met her gaze. "Is he mine?"

  She squared her shoulders and lied. "No."

  "Don't play games, Sabrina," he warned her. "He looks like the pictures of Clay and I when we were his age. I'm his father and don't deny it."

  "Oh, all right. I'd like to say he isn't yours, but I can't," she snapped. "It's quite obvious just by looking at him that you were the sperm donor."

  Hearing her confirm his status should have been a reassuring moment. Instead, Adrian's head felt as if he'd suffered another concussion.

  He was a father. To a boy. A son. Another generation of McReynolds had arrived.

  Immediately, he flashed back to the afternoon before his very first date with Marilyn Carstairs, a blonde who had been fifteen and built like she was twenty-five….

  "I imagine you've learned all the physical mechanics of the birds and the bees by now," his father said.

  "Yes, sir."

  "There's a responsibility that comes with that sort of activity. Did your biology classes teach you that?"

  Adrian met his father's sober gaze. "No, sir, but you have."

  He nodded thoughtfully. "Keep in mind that accidents happen, no matter how careful a fellow tries to be. The best way to avoid it is to keep the horse in the barn, if you catch my meaning."

  "I do."

  "The consequences will last a lifetime," his father continued. "If there are any, a real man won't shirk his duty…"

  He swallowed hard, shaken by his memory.

  Sabrina peered at him, clearly concerned. "Are you OK?"

  "I'm fine. Just surprised."

  But other emotions soon followed. Anger that she hadn't told him she was pregnant. Guilt that she'd gone through her pregnancy alone. Fierce pride and joy that he had a son. Another bout of anger when he realized how easily he might never have known this earth-shattering piece of news. More anger as he reflected on how he'd heard his own child giggling and laughing last night and she'd refused to tell him. Refused to introduce them.

  He purposely held onto his temper as he watched the baby that had instantly captured his heart with his chubby little face and drooling smile. Forcing his attention back to Sabrina, he saw her fearfully wide eyes. At the moment she had every right to be worried because this was a slight he couldn't forgive or ignore.

  "Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.

  * * *

  Ever since she'd collected Jeremy from the day care, Sabrina had agonized over her decision to tell Adrian about the baby they'd created. Her heart had told her it would be better if he heard the news from her because he'd find out anyway, but she hadn't forgotten those days when she'd had nothing but righteous anger to sustain her—when she'd been so ill with morning sickness and had worked her shift instead of curling into a fetal position and staying in bed; when she'd had to quit work a few months later and survive on her small nest egg and the generosity of others. Knowing Jeremy would be hers and hers alone until she said otherwise had given her a lifeline to hold onto when the world had seemed bleak and threatening.

  Now her best-laid plans had vanished and she needed to devise a way to regain control of the situation.

  "Why didn't you tell me?" he repeated.

  "How? After our enlightening conversation, I rarely saw you and when I did, you weren't ever alone."

  His jaw held a stubborn set. "You should have made the effort. Sent a letter. Done something."

  "Done something?" she asked, incredulous. "You didn't answer my phone calls or respond to my emails. What would have been my clue that you would have welcomed a letter?"

  He didn't answer, so she continued, clutching the flowers until she felt the thorns poke her palm through the protective plastic. "And why should I have bothered? You didn't have time for a relationship, you said, because you'd be too busy with Clay. Using your logic, if you didn't have time for me, then you certainly wouldn't have found time for a baby."

  "A baby changes things," he insisted.

  "Oh. So you're telling me now that after you'd decided you had too many demands on your time for me—an adult who helped you any way I could—you would suddenly have been able to share your free hours with a helpless baby?"

  "You still…" He stopped in mid-sentence. "Can we take this inside or would you rather air our dirty laundry in public?"

  As she sheepishly noted they hadn't moved off her front porch, she glanced toward the other half of her duplex and saw the curtains rustle. With a sinking heart Sabrina realized her neighbor was not only aware of their argument but had probably also heard the reasons for it. As a young mother who'd never had a single man darken her door since she'd moved in, the conversation that the elderly Mrs Owens overheard would end up as great gossip. Wordlessly, Sabrina stepped back and allowed him enough room to sidle inside her small home.

  "Have a seat," she offered with chilly politeness as she motioned to the lumpy recliner that he probably remembered from their times together. It was one of the few pieces of furniture she still owned from her life BJ—Before Jeremy. She would have sold both it and the bed where she'd spent so many blissful hours with Adrian in her effort to wipe every trace of him out of her life, but she couldn't afford replacements.

  Jeremy gurgled and blew bubbles, seemingly unaware of the undercurrents in the room, so she set him in his playpen with a few of his toys and hoped he'd continue to be more enthralled with his plastic rings than with the man who'd arrived.

  She straightened to find Adrian slowly perusing her small living room, certain he noticed it only contained the recliner he was currently enjoying, a wooden rocker she'd bought at a garage sale, an umbrella stroller and a larger carriage, Jeremy's infant car seat, and a toy chest.

  Even without her sofa, television, and other household effects, she'd taken pride in the cozy space she'd created, but Adrian's presence seemed to draw the walls closer and turn her haven into the size of a matchbox.

  "Nice place," he commented.

  "It suits us," she defended, well aware it didn't compare as favorably to her apartment in Denver, but this had been the only available apartment to fit her tight budget. "As you can see, I've decorated in Early Baby." Actually, she'd sold her own furniture to obtain the money to purchase the things Jeremy had needed, but Adrian didn't need to know that. She didn't want his pity.

  "It's hard to believe one little person needs so much," he said simply.

  "It is," she agreed, "but as one of my elderly patients once told me, 'Good or bad, this too shall pass.' I'm not as old as she was, but she made a believer out of me."

  "For the record," he began, "when I broke off our relationship, I was trying to spare you."

  "Spare me?" She stared at him, incredulous. "From what? From sharing my life with you when I thought we'd enjoyed being together? From helping not just you but Clay, who was more than your brother to me? He was a friend."

  He fell silent and when he spoke he'd softened his tone. "I saw everything you did for us and I appreciated it more than you know, but once I knew Clay would need extensive rehab, I had to give all of my time to him. You would have been tied to a man who simply couldn't be there for you."

  "Did I complain?"

  He fell silent.

/>   "I understood what would be involved, Adrian. I didn't ask you to choose between romancing me and supporting Clay, did I?"

  He hesitated. "No."

  "You didn't have the right to make that decision on your own."

  "It wasn't like we had made any promises to each other," he defended. "I was trying to do the honorable thing."

  She raised her chin ever so slightly. "You failed. We may not have gotten to the point of being engaged, but if I hadn't lo—" She bit off the word love because she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she'd been head over heels for him. "If I hadn't felt something for you and thought what we had would continue to grow, I never would have slept with you in the first place. You, of all people, knew I didn't have indiscriminate or casual sex."

  His skin turned ruddy, as if he'd conveniently forgotten that her first sexual encounter had been with him. A twenty-nine-year-old woman waiting that long for intimacy should have proved her character and established her principles.

  "So, you see, Adrian, your brilliant idea to 'spare me' so I could create a wonderful life with a different guy who wasn't potentially saddled with a disabled relative was flawed from the beginning. If you ask me, you knew we had something good and suddenly got cold feet. Clay's accident just gave you the excuse you'd been looking for."

  "No!" He shook his head. "No."

  He sounded so horrified and so vehement that she might have been convinced had she not remembered the painful scene she'd witnessed. Unfortunately, nothing either of them said would be able to sway the other's opinion at this point. Replaying everything was only stirring up emotions that were better left at the bottom of the pot.

  "Look," she said tiredly, "we can both rationalize and accuse and second-guess all we want, but it won't accomplish anything."

  He frowned as he reached for the stroller parked beside him and rolled it back and forth. For a few seconds the only noises in the room consisted of Jeremy's gurgles and squeaky wheels. "I still wish I'd known you were pregnant," he said quietly.

  His voice carried a wounded quality, as if he recognized exactly how much he'd lost by his magnanimous gesture and now regretted his choice.

  "Just for the sake of argument, let's say you had known." She eyed him carefully for his response. "What would you have done, Adrian? Would you have had second thoughts or blamed me for getting pregnant? Or would you have felt guilty enough to marry me because it would have been the right thing to do? And if we had, would you have felt trapped?"

  "No." He shook his head. "Never trapped."

  His words were bitter-sweet, and suddenly she wanted to get everything out in the open, once and for all. "You say that now, Adrian, but I saw you with a redhead and she seemed quite important to you."

  He appeared startled and a thought wrinkle marred his forehead. "A redhead? I don't know a redhead…"

  "As a matter of fact, I did try to contact you. I waited outside the ER one night at the end of your shift. You had just come through the doors and were on your way to the parking lot when this woman ran after you. The two of you talked, then you hugged and kissed her before you swung her round and laughed as if you didn't have a care in the world."

  To her surprise, mentioning what she'd seen was almost as painful as observing it for the first time. "You didn't have time for a romance with me," she continued, "but you obviously found the time to be with another woman."

  He was clearly at a loss. "I didn't. There hasn't been anyone. You must have mistaken someone else for me."

  She raised an eyebrow. "Then you have an identical twin who also owns the same green scrub suit with the bleached out spot on one pocket."

  Still puzzled, he shook his head. "I don't remember…"

  Somehow, his memory loss irritated more than it consoled or explained. "Did you go out with so many women that you've forgotten this particular lady?"

  "No!"

  He sounded so appalled she almost believed him, but the same pride that had stopped her from telling him about their baby rose again. "In any case, you'd obviously moved on with your life, so I made the choice to do the same."

  "You didn't have to leave town."

  "I wasn't a glutton for punishment, Adrian. I couldn't stay, but my transfer wasn't a secret." She met his gaze. "Considering how many months have passed, you can't claim you rushed to mend fences. Why did you come now?"

  He leaned back. "My boss twisted my arm because I haven't been the easiest to work with. He thought I'd benefit from a change of scenery."

  "Chewed out one too many nurses, did you?"

  "Nurses, colleagues, it didn't matter. I was on the fast track to losing my position. As crazy as it sounds now, I was eaten up inside by not knowing how you were doing and I took out my frustration on my staff. I had to see you again, to reassure myself I'd done the right thing, but enough time had passed that I didn't know how to make the first move." He managed a smile. "As it happened, my boss took matters into his own hands.

  "What's important now," he continued, "is that I am here, regardless of the how or the why."

  She begged to differ. "If you say so."

  "While I'll have to live the rest of my life with the reasons why you didn't tell me you were pregnant before you moved away from Denver, you could have told me about our son last night. The baby I'd heard outside my room was Jeremy, wasn't it?"

  She heard the chiding note in his voice and it irritated her to think that he had the audacity to question her decisions when his own had been so faulty.

  "Yes," she agreed defiantly, "but your head had just been sliced open by a golf ball, you had an entire drum corps pounding in your head and were under observation for a concussion. As I told you last night, you weren't in any condition to hold your end of a serious conversation and you certainly weren't able to handle additional shock and stress. In fact, I'm not sure you should be hearing this tonight, either."

  "Believe me, not hearing this tonight would have been much worse." He paused. "Were you ever going to tell me about him?"

  "I'd planned for the two of you to meet on Friday." At his dubious expression, she shrugged. "Believe me or not, I don't care. Introducing you to Jeremy was the only reason I agreed to see you. As for him being 'our' son, he isn't. He's mine."

  "A judge might feel differently. Fathers have rights these days, too."

  She squared her shoulders, raised her chin and bluffed. "Threaten all you want, Adrian, but intimidation won't work. I don't scare as easily as I did then."

  This time, he bounded to his feet and rubbed his neck in obvious frustration. "Look, I don't want to fight about this. I'll admit I may have made a mistake—" At this she scoffed, but he continued, "But I don't want Jeremy to grow up with his parents at odds with each other."

  Part of her wanted to rant over his naive belief that she could pick up where they'd left off on the strength of his I-may-have-made-a-mistake statement. The other part told her that carrying a grudge wasn't healthy for Jeremy, or for her. Frankly, she didn't have the energy required to fuel this level of animosity indefinitely.

  "In my head, I know I should forgive you," she began tiredly, "and someday, Adrian, I probably will, but today my heart won't let me."

  He accepted her reply with equanimity. "I'm asking for too much too soon, but I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you."

  She didn't think that would ever be likely, but his voice carried a note of promise, as if he was making a solemn vow to both of them. Before she could guess at or ask what he had planned, he spoke again.

  "The big question at the moment is, what do we do next?"

  His use of the plural pronoun irritated her. How like him to barge in and take over as if he were riding a white horse to the rescue!

  "We don't do anything," she said firmly, determined to hold onto her position. "I will raise my son and you're welcome to visit him as long as you're in town. After you return to your family—" she couldn't resist throwing his long-ago reference back at him "�
��I'll drop you a postcard every now and then."

  His eyes narrowed. "I want more than a postcard. Jeremy is part of my family, too. I'm as responsible for him as you are."

  "No, you aren't," she argued. "You relinquished your claim a year ago."

  "I. Did. Not!" he roared.

  Jeremy immediately burst into a howl and Sabrina rushed to cuddle him against her chest. "Sorry, little man. He wasn't yelling at you, just at Mommy." She kissed the top of his head and wiped away the tears clinging to his eyelashes before she snarled at Adrian, "Would you please control yourself?"

  To his credit, he appeared completely repentant. "Sorry. I didn't mean to shout."

  Sabrina sat in the rocker, holding a wary Jeremy on her lap. "What if Clay suffers a relapse and he has to live with you so you can personally care for him again? I won't be put in the position of explaining to our son why his father doesn't want us except when it's convenient."

  "It wouldn't be like that."

  She turned a steely-eyed gaze on him. "Sorry, but I'm not convinced and I'm not willing to take the risk. For Jeremy's sake."

  Jeremy began to fuss and the noise drew her attention as well as Adrian's as they watched the little boy, who'd suddenly become distracted by his bib and was currently stuffing the fabric into his mouth.

  "Children need both their parents," he said simply. "I want Jeremy to know who I am."

  "Certainly. Feel free to send a picture every now and again."

  He shot her a look of disgust. "I'm supposed to be satisfied with Jeremy knowing me from a photo?"

  "OK, fine. You can visit after you've gone back to Denver," she offered generously. "And I'd be happy to drop by whenever we head in that direction." Of course, she never drove near Adrian's house or Mercy Memorial and didn't intend to do so either. In fact, she hadn't traveled outside Pinehaven since she'd moved here.

  "Not good enough, Bree," he said, unaware that his pet name for her irritated more than it soothed. "I can't be a face in a snapshot to him. I want to be his dad, in every sense of the word. Not just the sperm donor."

  Obviously, her previous description had struck a sore spot in his ego. Studying him with suspicion, she said, "Your life isn't in Pinehaven, Adrian. How do you propose to be his dad when you're hours away?"