“Perfect as they come,” the doctor said.
Rita peered at the monitor to find a sweet little huddled shape. Tears gathered in her throat. “The baby’s perfect?” Just as perfect as that one night with Conn had been, when she’d thought that he might be the type of man who would love her?
“Perfect,” the doctor said.
The sound of her child’s heartbeat filled the room, and it pulsed through Rita, too.
It was silly, maybe even strange, but she pictured Conn standing by her side, watching the monitor right along with her. What would his face look like as he listened to the cadence of his child’s heartbeat, as he saw this miracle that had happened between them?
She pictured him, the proudest dad on earth, unable to look away from the screen, but...
But then she realized that, besides Dr. Ambrose and the baby, she was the only person in the room.
All alone.
Was it worth it? Was she doing the right thing, assuming that Conn was too much of a disaster right now to handle a baby?
She got a grip on herself as she watched the tiny person on the screen—legs, arms, toes, fingers. All so small. All so vulnerable.
Yes, this was the right thing to do. What if, after Conn regained his memories, he did become another Kevin?
That’s not what this baby needed, much less Kristy....
Rita listened to the heartbeat a little more, hoping it would make her feel better. It did, and it didn’t.
Fortunately, Dr. Ambrose spoke. “If you want to know your baby’s sex, I can tell you.”
Rita remembered what Conn had said when they’d had dinner last night. “It’s like opening a gift on your own birthday.”
God help her, she wanted to see what was inside.
“Yes,” she said, her voice thick. “I really want to know.”
Dr. Ambrose smiled that motherly smile. “You’ve got another little girl on the way, Rita.”
She laughed in utter joy. A girl. And, before she could stop herself, she looked at the place beside her, where she’d imagined Conn standing earlier.
A little girl. Our little girl...
But, of course, he wasn’t there.
Chapter Five
“Why a wedding just before Thanksgiving?” Rita murmured as she rushed out of the general store the next day, garbed in the first pair of sweats she’d seen in her dresser and with her hair pushed up into a messy bun. It’d been a chaotic morning, with her not only having to pick up some mascara, since she’d run out of it, but with her sister Kim arriving a little late to watch over Kristy, who was in one of her feistier moods. This, after yesterday, with the doctor’s appointment, a weekly inspection of the hotel, the rehearsal dinner and a short stint at Vi’s bachelorette party plus menu planning for the Thanksgiving that she and Kristy would be spending alone, since Kim and Nick would be en route to a horse-breeding schmooze-fest with some very good customers from out of the country.
While aiming for the church, Rita made sure that her garment bag, filled with her maid-of-honor dress, didn’t drag on the ground. She was also trying to carry a satchel with her shoes and accessories.
But those weren’t even the biggest things she was pulling around.
Nope—she wasn’t going to think about Conn right now. Wasn’t. Going. To.
She didn’t have time for the pang of missing him, for imagining that, for once, he might’ve gotten to see her all dolled up and looking like more than a hotel desk clerk if she hadn’t chased him out of town.
She didn’t have time for wanting.
Drawing near the church, she saw that someone had already adorned the white picket fence with autumn-hued decorations. Vi had wanted a fall wedding, and she’d chosen Thanksgiving time since some out-of-town relatives would already be visiting the area. Mist hung in the air, as if waiting for the sun to burn it off, while Rita entered the gate to the courtyard. She rounded the church to go to a side door where, in a half hour, she was to meet her hairdresser, who was going to make sense of this rat’s nest on top of her head.
But when she saw who was sitting on the stoop, she came to an abrupt halt.
Conn Flannigan spied her at the same time, slowly rising to his feet while taking off his cowboy hat.
All six-foot-plus of him. All tall, dark and off-limits, if she had any brains whatsoever.
“Rita,” he said, and the sound of his voice flowed through her, gathering in the center of her chest where it thudded.
He was looking at her as if she wasn’t the total mess she knew she was, dressed in the drabbest clothing possible and...
Good God, she wasn’t even wearing any makeup yet. Altogether, she felt more vulnerable than ever in front of him.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted out. Heck, it almost sounded like an accusation, as if he had some nerve seeing her like this.
He laughed a little. “Hi to you, too.”
She fought the urge to run, because she was basically au natural and, hello, he was seeing what she really looked like when she rolled out of bed. On the morning after their one-night stand, at least she’d still had on a trace of makeup.
He remained on the stoop, as if he was facing a skittish creature and he didn’t want to make her bolt. “I heard about Vi’s wedding this morning when I grabbed breakfast at the Orbit Diner. I figured you might be a part of it...”
“And you came to the church.” Yay.
“I actually went to your hotel first, but the clerk said you were already gone. So I took a chance and waited here.”
Took a chance, Rita thought. She’d already taken one too many of those with him.
But with him only about eight feet away, close enough for her to be under his spell once again, she felt as if she would take a thousand chances if only her common sense would let her.
Luckily, she still had that.
“You haven’t told me why you’re still here,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d stick around.”
“I left, but I couldn’t stay away.”
A slam of emotion hit her, almost as if she’d been putting pedal to the metal, driving so fast that she hadn’t seen what was ahead of her and crashed—but in a good way. It took her a moment to actually feel the happiness that his words brought on.
He couldn’t stay away?
But just as soon as she thought it, he corrected himself.
“What I meant to say is that I came to a realization at home. A decent man wouldn’t stay away in this situation.”
Somehow, she kept herself standing upright. Was he talking about the baby? Or was there something else he was referring to?
It was too much to hope that he’d come back because he had all of a sudden remembered everything his amnesia had taken away from him, and he’d realized that their one night had been chock-full of true love.
“What exactly do you mean?” she asked.
“The baby you’re carrying is mine, Rita. That should tell you everything.”
Although there was a warm spot growing in the pit of her stomach at that news, she withered a little, too.
Of course he hadn’t come back just for her. Who ever did?
Yet shouldn’t the fact that he’d returned because of their baby make her happy in and of itself? He was here because he didn’t want to leave her in the lurch. He was every bit the good man she’d hoped he was.
Wasn’t he?
“So,” she said, her voice sounding so tiny, “you’re here because of some notion of honor then.”
He seemed to turn that over in his mind, then a long breath escaped him before he said, “Maybe it is honor. I have a feeling I never had much of it.”
He glanced at her as if she knew enough about him to tell him otherwise, but she only shook her head. That haunted look she’d seen on him so many times took up residence in his gaze again, and she almost closed the distance between them, comforting him.
But the space that separated them was too big in so many ways.
“I kept thinking of you and this child,” he said, “and it was out of the question for me to stay home.”
He met her gaze straight on, but she didn’t back down. Her past wouldn’t allow her to.
“Do you even want to be a dad?” she asked.
“I think I could be a good one.”
It was an analytical answer, but what else could she expect from a man whose life was in flux? She would bet he wasn’t even sure what kind of emotions he should be having—what emotions the “real him” would have.
“I don’t understand,” she said, finally stepping forward and dropping her bag to the stoop—except for her dress. She kept that in front of her like a thin shield. “I’m not holding you to anything. You could go on with your life and not be saddled.”
“Then I guess we have some things to talk over, because that’s not my plan.”
He was impossible. “How can you even want this in your condition?”
“How?” He looked genuinely puzzled. “How can I not?”
As he said it, she could see something in his eyes grow stronger, and she wasn’t sure just why that was.
He still had to be confused, right? Like Kevin, he would end up not wanting the responsibility, and she had to prepare for the inevitability of that.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” she said. “You’re going through a lot, Conn. Maybe you’re—”
“Not thinking straight?” Now he sounded angry.
“I think you’re dealing with more than any human should have to deal with. You’ve still got a lot to sort out.”
And that’s what makes you extra dangerous to me.
He gripped his hat at his side. “Well, I’m here to do the sorting.”
“Conn—”
Shoving the hat back onto his head, he stepped around her bag on the stoop as he descended. Then he halted right next to her, and she went still, taking in the scent of him.
Hay and clover. It was as if he’d already become a part of her. A part that she had to let go.
“If it’s the last thing I do,” he said in a low voice, “I’m going to show you who I really am, Rita. Bet on that.”
As he walked away, why did she get the impression that Conn Flannigan would be dogging every step she took from now on?
And, most disturbingly, why was her heart jumping at the very thought?
* * *
A couple of hours later, Rita stepped back, hand over her heart, as she surveyed her best friend in the long antique mirror that stood in the dressing room in back of the church. Violet’s gown was just as polished as she was, with long sleeves and button detail, and a cut-out back with lace embellishments. A short veil was worked into her upswept red hair.
For a stolen second, Rita imagined that she wasn’t wearing the latte-colored satin cocktail dress that allowed her enough room to barely disguise her growing belly. She imagined she was the bride.
And that a certain cowboy who’d stubbornly moseyed back into town would be waiting for her at the altar.
“Thinking about Conn?” Violet asked as she adjusted her décolletage.
Whoops. Bad maid of honor, bad.
“I’m thinking about how Davis is going to melt when he sees you walking down the aisle,” Rita said. She meant it, too. Poor Davis was mincemeat.
Besides, this was Vi’s wedding. It wasn’t good timing for Rita to be thinking about how Conn made her weak in the knees or how she was dying to run outside after him just to make sure she hadn’t imagined that he’d returned to St. Valentine yet again.
“You’re not fooling anyone, you know.” Violet turned away from the mirror, smiling. “You should’ve just asked him to come inside and watch the wedding.”
“Yeah, that definitely would’ve shown him that I don’t want him around.”
“But you do.”
Dang it. “Yeah. I do.”
There were those words—“I do.” And Rita couldn’t help but wish yet again that things had turned out differently—that Conn had been the fantasy man she’d projected onto him that first night. That he’d lived up to all her wants and needs. That she might’ve been the one saying, “I do,” someday if she would only open up to him.
But what was it Mom had always told her? “If dreams were dimes, I’d live in a sprawling mansion.”
Speaking of moms, Violet’s mother, Andrea, eased open the door, saying, “Knock, knock!”
“Come on in,” Violet said.
Dressed in a tasteful, chocolate-hued long dress with her gray-and-red hair in a bun, Andrea closed the door behind her and sucked in a breath. “Oh, Vi. You’re going to make me cry.”
“No crying allowed.” She turned around, fairly glowing. “This is the happiest day of my life.”
Tears clogged Rita’s throat. Darn those baby hormones.
After Andrea doted over her only child, she turned her attentions on Rita. It’d been that way for years, since Vi and Rita had grown up together. When Rita’s parents had passed on, Andrea Osborne had taken their places in a lot of ways, offering a maternal shoulder to lean on when Rita needed it.
So it was no big surprise when Andrea noticed that something was wrong with Rita.
“It’s Conn, isn’t it?” she asked.
Rita shot Vi a glance, and Vi mouthed, “I didn’t say a word.”
“Is this all everyone in St. Valentine talks about?” Rita asked.
“Oh, honey, when a good-looker like that Conn Flannigan ambles into town, everyone talks.” Andrea came over to link arms with Rita. “I got a good peek at him while you two were in the courtyard earlier. He can’t seem to stay away from you, can he?”
Rita wanted to spill her guts to them, ask them if she was being too willful and prideful. But, again, this was Vi’s day.
“You’re in a real spot,” said Vi’s mom, rubbing Rita’s back.
“It’s these crazy hormones pinging all around in me,” Rita said.
Vi came over, too. “You’re carrying his baby, Rita. That means you’re attached to Conn in a significant way. He’s always going to be a part of your life. There’s no getting around that.”
“I was attached to Kevin, too, and—”
Andrea put the kibosh on that. “You lived through what Kevin did, and you’re going to come out of this with flying colors, too, because you’ve got a choice, Rita. You can sit here in your pretty dress and sob, or you can let go of the past and take a chance on the present.”
Vi jumped right in. “And don’t you dare say Conn left you a second time. You pretty much told him to take a hike. Kevin would’ve gone no matter what.”
Andrea and Vi walked Rita to the mirror, and what Rita saw wasn’t a bridesmaid who would never be a true, long-lasting bride—she saw that her friends might just be right.
She saw a woman with a growing baby bump in a gorgeous dress...and with a choice in what she wanted from the father.
“I know you’re looking for a guarantee,” Andrea said softly. “But there aren’t any of those in life. There’re just risks that we have to take to find happiness. You don’t get one without the other.”
Vi put her arm around Rita. “I took a risk with Davis, and here I am.”
“Risks are...scary,” Rita finally said. And it was the first time she’d been utterly honest with them. The words just seemed so naked, in need of being covered up.
But Vi and Andrea hugged her, as if they completely understood.
Andrea backed away, and Rita fully embraced Vi as tightly as she could. The music started up in the church. “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.” The song that would usher in the rest of Vi’s life.
Time for the bride. Time for Vi and Davis’s future to start.
“Just go out there and get him, would you?” Rita whispered in her friend’s ear.
As Vi backed away with a radiant smile on her face, then headed for the door, Rita almost forgot that Conn had all but promised he was going to catch up to her sooner or later.
Almost
.
* * *
Conn had frittered away the time by driving to the Co-Zee Inn on the east side of St. Valentine, checking in to it for the second time this month, and then catching up with the news on TV until he guessed the wedding was over. All the while, though, his thoughts were racing.
Could he really live up to this promise he’d made to Rita, unlike the one he’d made to her the morning after their night together, when he’d said he was going to come back and resume their romance? It seemed the most important thing in the world to prove to her that he was responsible now. Actually, it was important to him, too.
If it’s the last thing I do, he’d said, I’m going to show you who I really am.
He hadn’t come back to St. Valentine to uncover memories this time—he was here to build them. But these memories would be about the child he’d created during that one, life-changing night.
What about Rita, though?
His heart told him that, yes, he was here for her, too. That there was something between them that he hadn’t quite grasped onto in his piecemeal memories. But, more important, every time he looked at her now, he couldn’t look away. This morning, as she’d stood in front of him in sweats, her hair in curly, haphazard disarray, she’d been the most stunning woman in the world.
It was something chemical in him that bubbled every time he got close.
It was something he couldn’t fight.
He just had to know what it was and why it wouldn’t go away.
After he drove to town, he parked in a public dirt lot, then walked to Amati Street. The farther he strolled down the boardwalk, the more he could hear the music coming from the Queen of Hearts Saloon. He also caught a glimpse of fancied-up people hanging around outside, laughing and socializing.
The wedding reception.
Adrenaline fizzed in him as he came to the front of the timeworn building, where there was a crowd of gray-haired men smoking pipes with cherry-scented tobacco. An oldster who resembled a crazy-haired cowpoke wearing a wrinkled blue suit and a bolo that had gone askew busted out of the bar and grill, waving everyone inside.
“Bride and groom are on their way,” he said. “Time to get in here for a toast!”
Daddy in the Making Page 7