Have Baby, Will Marry

by Christie Ridgway

  That grin again. “Have a lot to discuss?”

  “Of course, um…” This was so surprisingly easy, she was a bit confused.

  His hand recaptured hers, and his thumb slid down to her wrist to make distracting circles against her pulse. “I’wasn’t going to agree, you know. No way, uh-uh, I wasn’t going to get involved.”

  Why was he telling her this? She knew he’d never planned on keeping Daisy. But those little circles kept stroking her pulse and she couldn’t quite form the question.

  He stared down at their joined hands. “But then the whole drive to L.A. and back, I couldn’t get the idea out of my mind.” His head suddenly came up. “To tell the truth, I made it back in record time. Lucky for me the highway patrol must’ve been on a doughnut break.”

  Molly smiled and squeezed his hand. “You are lucky,” she said. “For more reasons than that.” He’d gained guardianship of the most precious gift in the world!

  With his free hand, he tucked a strand of hair around her ear. Then he traced the rim, slowly, sensuously. “Mmm. I know.”

  His hand moved from her ear to her elbow and he pulled her toward him. “Lucky to have such sweetness land in my lap.” And that was where she landed.

  Molly swallowed and tried ignoring the warmth of his naked chest searing through her light robe. Something was wrong here. Oh, it felt completely right, hormonally correct, but weren’t they supposed to be discussing something else? “Daisy.” That was it.

  He nuzzled her neck again. “I told you. Asleep. Down for the count.”

  “I mean about you deciding to keep her.”

  His head came up so quickly he smacked her chin with his forehead. “Ouch. What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about Daisy Ann. How you couldn’t get her out of your mind. How you decided to get involved.” She rubbed her smarting chin.

  He ran a hand over his burgeoning bump. “What?”

  “Aren’t we talking about Daisy Ann?” Molly asked.

  Weaver looked astounded. “Aren’t we talking about option four?”

  “Option four?” Molly heard her voice squeaking again. She’d been thinking…He’d been thinking…Her face heated and she scooted out of his lap and onto her chair. “I wasn’t.”

  “You weren’t?”

  She shook her head.

  “You don’t want…” He let the question go unfinished.

  “I hadn’t thought…” Not since she’d heard him talking so tenderly to Daisy Ann.

  “Well, I have.”

  She frowned. “I don’t know.”

  “You said you would.”

  “I said I wanted to discuss it.” Her gaze ran from his rumpled hair to his exasperated expression to his wide shoulders and the absolute, stomach-clenching beauty of his bare chest. She put her hands over her eyes. “I must be going nuts.”

  “You and me both.” He stared at the ceiling, his voice containing her exact bewilderment.

  “It’s just that I thought we were talking about something else. About how you love Daisy Ann.”

  Weaver’s gaze whipped from the ceiling to her. “Love Daisy Ann?” Disbelief showed all over his face and his ironic chuckle sounded half-choked. “I wouldn’t know how.”

  Bam. Bam. Bam. Molly’s heart pounded against her chest She had to say something. She had to think of something first. But all she could do was feel the most profound, deepest disappointment in her life.

  The phone rang shrilly.

  From down the hall, Daisy Ann cried. And Molly stared at Weaver, still stunned.

  His grab for the kitchen phone got her legs moving, and zombielike, Molly headed toward the baby.

  When she reentered the kitchen, with Daisy in her arms, Weaver was standing beside the sink, his fingers gripping the edge of the countertop.

  “Weaver?” Molly wanted to touch him, but she gathered Daisy closer instead.

  He turned and walked toward them, as if the baby drew him like a magnet. “Thanks for taking such good care of her.”

  “My…pleasure.” Her throat tightened.

  Something was really wrong. Suddenly Weaver halted, then threw himself into one of the kitchen chairs. He slid down to lean his head against its back. “Daisy’s okay?” He closed his eyes.

  Molly swallowed to wet her dry mouth. “Who was that? Can you—do you want to tell me?”

  Weaver didn’t open his eyes. “Gabe. He figured we’d be up by seven.”

  Molly checked the wall clock—yes, 7:00 a.m.then swallowed. “Did he call—is it something to do with Daisy?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Silence swelled in the room. The hum of the refrigerator took on the annoying whine of an insect buzz. Molly wanted to scream.

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  He opened his eyes, pain dulling their bright blue. A short laugh escaped him. “You think you want to know?”

  Molly gathered Daisy still closer against her. “Tell me.”

  “Gabe’s given up.”

  A shiver ran down Molly’s spine. “Given up?”

  “On finding someone from the family to take Daisy Ann.”

  Molly pressed back against the kitchen wall to suppress another shudder. “Why is that?”

  “No one to be found.” He shrugged helplessly. “I wanted to find family, a blood relation, because I knew how important that was to Jim. We started by looking for Reeds, since I knew a little about them, but nothing.”

  Silence again.

  Molly licked her lips. “So you were looking for someone on Daisy’s mother’s side.”

  “Yeah.”

  “No one there, either?” Her insides squeezed again, as if a torrent of tears were being released.

  “No one.” He fisted his hands. “Gabe dead-ended on the very last lead. He suggested I see the lawyer about getting papers.”

  Another shiver rippled through her. “What kind of papers?”

  “The papers I need to put Daisy up for adoption.”

  Molly stared at him. “You’re going to let Daisy go to a stranger?”

  With a violent gesture, Weaver slammed his palms on the table and jumped up from the chair. “Damn it, Molly, I was just fooling myself. Anyone who adopted Daisy would be a stranger, whether they had some blood tie to her or not”

  He strode toward the back door. “Hell, Molly. I’m a stranger to her.”

  Thud. The door slammed shut.

  As dusk settled over the neighborhood, Weaver took Daisy Ann for a long walk in the warm evening air. He didn’t use the stroller or the jogger but held her high in his arms and spoke quietly into her ear.

  “Sorry I flipped out on you earlier today, little one.” He grimaced. “Guess I hoped the right people for you would be somewhere in your family tree.”

  Daisy blinked back at him and blew an air bubble. He felt forgiven.

  “What about Molly?” he asked. “Do you think I owe her an apology?”

  She’d been strangely silent when he’d returned to the house after his early morning blowup. He’d escaped to the garage for the rest of the day, while she’d puttered about the house. When he’d announced his intention to take Daisy for a walk fifteen minutes ago, she’d merely frowned and said, “See you later,” in a distracted voice.

  He could tell she disliked the idea of putting Daisy up for adoption.

  Molly obviously disliked it so much, he wondered how much longer he would have her in his life.

  Would she leave tomorrow? Tonight, maybe? Would she be gone when he returned to the house?

  A funny pain stabbed his chest. “We gotta get back, Daisy.” He spun around in the direction he’d come. “We just can’t let her walk out on us.”

  You’re the one walking out on them. Weaver stomped all over that stupid thought.

  Rushing down the streets, dodging cruising cats and stray playground balls, he tried not thinking at all. He didn’t want to imagine the house without Molly in it. The quiet without Patch’s c
lanking collar. His future within the absolute, deadly silence of his town house in Maryland, which didn’t have a woman, a dog or a baby.

  Pain stabbed his chest again, but holding Daisy a little closer seemed to lessen it. “I’m going to do right by you,” he promised. “I’ll find you that family, Daisy.”

  And if he was a little bit lonelier at the end of all this?

  No. Not lonely. Busy. With his job, and his—his—

  The house came into sight. With a wash of relief, he noted the lamps lit in the living room. He could feel Molly inside, her warmth as palpable as the lights.

  She sat in the living room, on the corner of the couch, and her head came up when he shut the front door.

  “I want to talk to you,” she said.

  Weaver suppressed his instinctive impulse to head right back out the front door. He didn’t want to discuss Daisy’s future—hell, anybody’s future—right now. “Why, Molly? What’s there to talk about?”

  She stood up. “Let’s put Daisy Ann to bed first. She’s asleep.”

  The fresh air had done Daisy in. He followed Molly to the baby’s bedroom and helped her deftly change the baby’s diaper and put her into pajamas without waking her.

  They both stared down at her once she was on her back in the crib. Molly tenderly pulled up the baby blanket and smoothed it over Daisy’s tummy. Weaver made himself look away.

  As they left the room, Molly touched his arm. “We need to talk.”

  He’d never seen Molly so serious. Her silver eyes glowed like polished metal—and her determination seemed as strong.

  In the living room again, she took her place on the couch, and he tried to avoid her gaze by staring at the picture hanging over the mantel.

  “You know I wish you’d keep Daisy.”

  He ignored the now familiar pain in his chest. “You know I can’t.”

  She half smiled. “It’s your loss.”

  “Don’t think I don’t know it.”

  “But I’m not willing to lose.” Her gaze found him now.

  He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about Daisy. I’m talking about me and Daisy Ann.”

  He shook his head as if that might clear it. “I’m not following you.”

  “Weaver, I want to adopt her.”

  8

  Molly searched his face for some pleasure or approval but could only find stunned surprise.

  “You want to adopt her.” He shook his head again.

  “I’ve thought hard about it. Seriously about it. I want to be Daisy’s mother.”

  He blinked. “Have you thought long about it?”

  “Only since this morning. Since you said you’d given up on a blood relation.” She found the hem of her T-shirt and gripped it hard. “She doesn’t need to go to strangers, Weaver. Not when she has me.”

  He forked a hand through his hair and blinked again, as if he was still trying to understand her words. “I never thought…I never expected…”

  “Me, neither. But it seems so right. I went looking for a dog because my maternal urges needed something warm and cuddly to nurture. I not only found Patch, but Daisy Ann, too.”

  “I don’t know.” A strange expression crossed his face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I need some air.” He strode from the room, and she heard the front door open and the screen door click shut. He didn’t pause when he returned to the living room. “I’m going to open all the windows.”

  He left her again.

  Molly crossed her arms over her chest, crossed one leg over another. Muted sounds of window sashes rising drifted into the living room. She swung one foot nervously.

  Why wouldn’t he just answer the question? Why couldn’t he just say yes?

  The thought of Daisy going up for an anonymous adoption had floored her. And in the instant she’d picked her heart up off the ground, the solution had flowered in her mind. Why shouldn’t she? Why couldn’t she?

  But first, Weaver had to agree. And he hadn’t returned.

  She listened hard, but the window opening had ceased. A soft breath of warm, perfumed air floated through the living room. The cross breeze made it apparent he’d done his fresh-air bit all the way to the back of the house.

  So where was he?

  She left the couch and with Patch at her heels, went through the kitchen, family room, looked out to the backyard. He wasn’t in the office or his bedroom.

  As a last resort, she palmed open the almost shut door to Daisy’s room. And found him hovering, looking like a dark and lonely angel, over her bed.

  His arms rested against the crib rail and he didn’t look up as she came forward.

  She moved even closer, her hand reaching out to his shoulder, but then she thought better of touching him. Her fingers landed on the crib railing, grasped it tightly.

  “It could be wonderful, Weaver. She’ll have grandparents. My mom and dad will dote on her.”

  “I’m more worried about you.”

  Her stomach tensed. “I have a degree in education and six years of teaching experience.” She paused. “And I love her.”

  Weaver turned his head and looked at her now. He straightened, one hand reaching out to stroke her hair. “I wasn’t worried about your qualifications, Molly. Just about the position I put you in.”

  She bit her lip. “I’m asking for the position, Weaver. You didn’t put me here.”

  He shook his head. “I still feel like I trapped you.”

  “But you didn’t, Weaver. When I came here to adopt Patch, I was looking for something to fill the emptiness in my heart.”

  “So you got the dog.”

  “But it wasn’t enough.” She gripped the crib rail tighter. “And that’s why I agreed to be the nanny. Something about Daisy felt so right.”

  His head turned again, and even in the dim light she felt his gaze fixed on her face.

  Her stomach tightened nervously. Swooped and whirled. “Come September I’ll be in my own house, but my folks will only be a few miles away. I know they’ll give me any support I might need.”

  He looked back at Daisy. “Courts don’t like singleparent adoptions, Molly. There was a case XNS was involved in…the details aren’t important. Just that I know it was hell for our single client to adopt the baby we rescued.”

  Her heart dived like a waterbird into the ocean. “But…” She was drowning.

  Air finally found its way into her lungs. “I know you wanted a two-parent family for Daisy Ann. So…then I need a husband.” A pause to take in more air. “I’ll be on the lookout for one of those.”

  He seemed frozen. He didn’t move. She didn’t think he was even breathing.

  “Weaver—”

  He sprang to life, grabbed her hand in a punishing grip and hauled her from the room. Not letting go of her, he dragged her to the living room and drew her down to the couch.

  In the soft glow of the room’s lamps, he stared at her, his eyes hot and glittering.

  And totally confused.

  His ragged breath washed hot over her face. “On the lookout for a husband? What the hell do you mean by that?”

  Her shoulders crowded against the sofa cushions. “Just what I said. I’ve not been in any big hurry to get married, but now—”

  His mouth cut her off. It landed on hers with more force than finesse. Her hands grasped his biceps, felt the tense tremble in his muscles. He wrenched away from her and ran a hand over his face, then raked both sets of fingers through his hair.

  “Damn, Molly.” Distinct distress sounded in his voice. “Damn.”

  He looked up, his face set. “You don’t need to go looking. If you want a husband, then I’ll marry you.”

  Molly’s pulse jumped to warp speed. “What?”

  “Doesn’t it make sense to you?” He seemed calmer now, less agitated.

  “But marriage for us?” Molly took a breath. “Now I feel like I’m forcing you into something.”

>   He sighed, running a hand through his hair again. “No, Molly, you’re giving me a solution I feel good about. A temporary marriage, Molly.” He took a breath. “Then we can divorce and I’ll give you custody of Daisy.”

  A temporary marriage. She hesitated. What choice did she have? “A temporary marriage,” she repeated aloud, nodding.

  “To satisfy the courts.”

  “To satisfy the courts.”

  He held out his hand.

  She shook it.

  They remained linked. After a minute, Weaver pulled her up and took her back to Daisy’s room. Molly’s stomach tightened again as they both stared into the crib.

  The sound of Daisy’s breathing filled Molly’s ears. Her heart swelled in her chest and tears stung her eyes.

  One of Weaver’s long fingers brushed the baby’s head. “Jim had the same thin hair that she does.”

  The tears threatened to spill over, but Molly smiled, her stomach surfing waves of tenderness and nervousness. “I’m not sure it’s quite the same. I think she’ll have a full head of hair when she’s a little older.”

  “Did you know her mother liked to draw? I wonder if Daisy has inherited that.”

  Molly swallowed, her throat going dry. “I’d like to hear everything about her mother and father. And I promise I will let her know how much she was loved by them.” And by her Cousin Weaver, even though he doesn’t realize it

  He turned to her, and the hand that had stroked Daisy’s came up to make a rough caress against her cheek. “I know you will, Molly. I know.”

  Suddenly, something new charged the quiet atmosphere in the room. He half smiled. “I guess you’re going to be my wife for a while.”

  Wife. Mother. Daughter. Husband. The words sowed a dozen flashing images in her mind. Her heart swelled again and she felt dizzy. “I guess I am.”

  He looked down at her, his blue eyes as dark as his hair in the early evening light. “Molly,” he whispered.

  Wife. Husband. Molly’s heart trembled. “Weaver.”

  Weaver’s heart slammed against his chest as he walked Molly into the hall. He had found someone for Daisy Ann. The relief that had eluded him for weeks should untether him now, but instead of feeling free, he felt even more connected, and hungry for…something.