CHEROKEE BABY

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  Chester leaped onto the bed and wiggled his butt. Bobby rolled his eyes and scratched the mutt's head.

  "You're a pest," he said.

  Chester grinned and plopped down on Bobby's pillow. What the hell? he thought as he continued a conversation with the dog.

  "Guess what? I'm going to be a dad." He picked up the book and found the page that had caught his attention at the library. He showed Chester a picture of a five-week-old embryo. "That's what my kid looks like. For now, anyway."

  The mutt cocked his head and woofed, as if to ask who Bobby had made it with. Even the dog knew he'd been living like a monk.

  "She's a redhead and her name is Julianne. She came here for her fortieth birthday." He paused and then added, "We were only together once. But she got pregnant just the same."

  Chester panted excitedly, and Bobby realized he'd told the mutt too much.

  "Yeah, I know. You like redheads, too." The dog was forever running off to a nearby ranch, where an Irish setter peddled her wares.

  He gave Chester a serious study and tried not to wince. Thank goodness Michael had neutered him. Chester's offspring would probably look like the hind end of a baboon.

  Preparing to relax, Bobby stripped down to his boxer shorts and removed his prosthesis. He usually gimped around on his crutches in the evening, as he put in long hours and often needed a break by the time his workday ended. He knew how much stress his residual limb could tolerate and he rarely pushed himself beyond those limits.

  He headed for the bathroom and washed his residual limb, wiping away the sweat from the day. It perspired inside the socket, as any body part would that was encased in plastic. Next he cleaned the prosthesis with alcohol, taking care to sanitize it properly.

  When he returned to the bedroom, he scooted onto the bed and glanced at Chester. The dog was still mulling over the book, probably thinking the image resembling Bobby's kid wasn't any cuter than his own pups would be.

  The five-week-old embryo did look a bit like a kidney bean, with a big head and a little tail. But according to the text, its tiny heart was already beating.

  Wow. How amazing was that?

  He shifted his gaze to the next photo, a seven-week-old embryo. At that point, the eyes, nose, digestive system and even the first stage of toe formation was visible.

  And finally, at eight weeks, the one-and-a-half-inch organism was clearly recognizable as a human fetus.

  Bobby set the book on his lap, awed by the changes that would take place in Julianne's womb.

  Suddenly he couldn't wait for the next few weeks to pass, to know his kid was a full-fledged fetus.

  A bit too anxious for his own good, he thought about the expectant mother and wondered what she was doing.

  He stole a glance at the phone. He could call her, he supposed. Just to make sure she was all right.

  "What do you think?" he asked Chester.

  The dog gave him a big, sappy grin.

  "Okay. You talked me into it."

  He dialed the number and it rang and rang. Then rang some more. Any minute, the answering machine would pick up.

  Damn it. Where was she? What if something was wrong? Just as he started to panic, Julianne's breathy voice came on the line. "Hello?"

  "What took you so long? Are you okay?"

  "Bobby?" she asked, obviously surprised to hear from him. "Is that you?"

  "Of course, it's me. Are you sick?"

  "No. I just got out of the shower. And I'm…" Naked and wet, he thought, deciding this call wasn't such a good idea after all. Now he had a mental image.

  Damp hair. Fragrant skin. A line of water trailing down her body, clinging to her navel.

  "I should let you go," he said.

  "No. Wait."

  He heard a rustling sound and assumed she was wrapping herself in a robe. He tried to cover her up in his mind.

  And failed.

  So he tried again, telling himself there was nothing sexy about her showering in his tub. Not with the handicapped equipment in it.

  Then again, she was naked in the same place he got naked. Had she used his soap? Slid the sudsy bar over her breasts, down her tummy, between her legs?

  "Why did you call?" she asked.

  Bobby's brain went blank.

  Chester nudged him, calling his attention to the book. To the baby.

  He snapped into the daddy focus. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. If you two were settling in all right."

  "Two?"

  "You and the baby."

  "We're fine," she said with a smile in her voice. He smiled, too. Then couldn't come up with another thing to say.

  Silence stretched the line like a gaping hole.

  Bobby stammered, trying to fill it. "So…"

  So he was an idiot – a tough, old, one-legged cowboy rendered speechless by a pregnant lady.

  "I should let you get back to putting on your pajamas or whatever you were planning on doing," he finally said, trying to find a dignified way to end the call.

  "I am a little tired. But that's normal."

  Because of the baby, he thought. "Then sleep tight and I'll see you tomorrow sometime."

  "Okay. Good night, Bobby."

  "'Night." He hung up, feeling stupid and mushy.

  Not knowing what else to do, he picked up the book and resumed his studies, scanning information about the second trimester – the fourth, fifth and sixth months of pregnancy.

  During this period, he read, women felt the first flutter of life. A soft, light movement, like the wings of a butterfly. Then later, little kicks and jabs.

  He grinned, trying to imagine what that must be like. Now he was even more anxious for time to pass.

  Time that didn't include him, he realized. In three or four months he wouldn't be able to put his hand on Julianne's tummy and feel one of those tiny kicks. Not if she went back home and he remained in Texas.

  He frowned, wondering how many trips to Pennsylvania he would have to make to experience the advances in Julianne's pregnancy.

  Too many, he thought.

  And what about after the baby was born? The time factor would become even more crucial then. If he wasn't there on a daily basis, the child wouldn't bond with him. He would miss everything – the first time the baby lifted its head, smiled, crawled, walked, started school.

  This baby was his destiny, a little Cherokee soul he'd helped create. Yet the child would barely know him.

  He muttered a frustrated curse and Chester perked his gigantic ears.

  "What am I going to do?" he asked the dog. Chester gave him a befuddled look and Bobby cursed again.

  He wanted to be a full-time dad. He wanted to raise his son or daughter, to be a strong, steady influence in the child's life.

  Which meant he had to convince Julianne to stay in Texas.

  For the next eighteen or so years.

  Dear God. He closed the book. He had to think of something, anything, that would keep Julianne nearby.

  Anything, he added, glancing at the gold band on his finger, except a marriage proposal.

  * * *

  The following day Julianne arrived at the barn. She entered the building and checked the office, but Bobby wasn't there. Strange, considering this meeting had been his idea.

  She started down a row of box stalls, looking for him. Some of the horses whinnied and she smiled, feeling as if she were being rewarded with equine catcalls.

  She stopped in front of Caballero's stall. The gelding came forward and poked his head over the door.

  "Hi, there." She stroked his nose, wondering if he remembered her. "I brought you something." She reached into her pocket and removed a carrot. He sniffed her hand and snatched up the treat, munching noisily.

  "Julianne," a familiar voice said from behind her. She turned and saw Bobby, then stood like an imbecile, just staring at him, thinking how rugged he looked.

  A slightly battered hat shielded his eyes and his clothes and boots wore a thin layer of dus
t. A hardworking rancher in his prime, with sweat beading his brow.

  "Hi," she said.

  "Hi, yourself."

  He smiled, and their conversation faltered. Just as it had last night on the phone. Only she had been half-naked then.

  "Where were you?" she asked, trying to gain control of her senses. She could feel Caballero breathing into her hair.

  "In the tack room, returning some equipment." He glanced down at his dusty clothes. "I've been working with a new gelding. He's still a little green."

  "Did he kick some dirt at you?"

  "More or less." Bobby lifted his gaze. "Are you hungry?"

  How could a sweat-dappled man look so appealing? So touchable? "Not really. I made an omelette about an hour ago."

  "Do you mind if I eat? I haven't had lunch."

  "No, go right ahead."

  They headed to his office, quiet again.

  Bobby washed his hands in the adjoining bathroom and returned within minutes.

  Julianne waited while he opened the bar-size fridge, scanned the contents and grabbed a plastic container.

  He popped the lid and put the container in the microwave. Soon the room smelled heavenly.

  "What is that?"

  "Just a simple stew. I threw it together last night. After I talked to you," he added, without looking up. "I was restless. I needed something to do."

  "So you prepared lunch for the next day?"

  "I was restless," he said again. "Did you sleep okay?"

  She'd fallen asleep last night in his bed, cradling his pillow, whispering a lullaby to his baby. "Yes."

  "Good."

  The microwave timer sounded and he removed the stew. "Are you sure you don't want some?"

  He met her gaze and her heartbeat accelerated. His bed. His pillow. His baby.

  "Julianne?" he asked when she didn't answer.

  She touched her tummy. Was she getting sentimental over him because of the pregnancy? Because her hormones were out of whack?

  "Maybe just a little," she said.

  He spooned their lunch into two large mugs, filling hers halfway. Next he grabbed a bag of potato chips and two lemon-lime sodas.

  "Why don't we eat outside? On the bench out front." He reached for the hot mugs, inviting her to carry the rest of their bounty.

  They ate in silence for a while. The stew he'd made was rich and hearty, with big chunks of beef. The drink tasted good, too. Cool and bubbly.

  "I want you to move to Elk Ridge, Julianne."

  She nearly dropped her mug.

  "I know this seems rather sudden, but it hit me last night. If we don't live near each other, I'll miss out on being a dad. A true dad."

  She didn't know how to respond, how to react. So she just sat, stunned into silence.

  "I was up most of the night, thinking it over," he said. "I can't relocate to Pennsylvania. I've got a ranch to run, so I figured maybe you could come here."

  She found her voice. "And do what? I have a job waiting for me. Friends, family. I can't just pick up and leave."

  "I'll make it worth your while."

  She blinked, sucked in a breath. She had no idea where this was going. What he truly had in mind. Last night on the phone, he'd seemed affectionate. Attentive. Awkwardly sexual.

  And now he appeared to be making a business proposition.

  "You won't have to pay rent," he said. "You can live in a guest cabin. The one closest to the lodge is the biggest. The most convenient."

  He paused, and something clouded his eyes. Something dark, she thought. Something haunted.

  "If you don't like how it's furnished, you can redecorate. However you choose." He opened the potato chips, making too much noise with the bag, almost as if he meant to distract himself, to shake away the emotion. "I also have the perfect job for you."

  She was still focused on the cloudiness in his eyes, the emotion he tried to hide. He confused her. Mesmerized her. Made her long to unravel his secrets.

  "Don't you want to know what it is?" he asked.

  "I'm sorry. What?"

  "The job I'm prepared to offer you. Aren't you curious about it?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "There's an empty space at the lodge, next to the gift shop. Michael and I have been thinking about putting a Western boutique there, a place with some fancy, upscale garb. And since you're in retail, I thought you could help us get it off the ground." He turned to look at her. "This project has been on the back burner for quite a while. We've just been too busy to deal with it."

  She sipped her drink and waited for him to continue. His eyes had shifted, the darkness gone.

  "We'd considered leasing the space to an outside vendor, but the idea of losing creative control didn't sit well. We prefer to own the shop ourselves and hire someone to run it."

  "And now you're offering me the job?"

  He nodded. "I'm prepared to pay you what you feel you're worth."

  Overwhelmed, she took a deep breath.

  "Do you like it here?" he asked. "Do you like the ranch?"

  She scanned the scene in front of her, the corrals, the grassy paths, the shady trees. "Yes. It's beautiful." Especially the distant hills and the flower-dotted meadows. "But this isn't a decision to be taken lightly."

  And she was a little lost, a little confused. Why had he come up with this scheme so suddenly? So abruptly? She almost felt as if she were being bribed.

  "What triggered this, Bobby?"

  "Truthfully?" He placed his half-eaten stew on the ground. "I checked out a child-development book from the library and the stuff I read was amazing. It made me want to experience everything. The pregnancy, the birth, the first time the baby crawls." He paused and grinned. "Did you know kids sometimes crawl backward in the beginning?"

  His eyes had shifted again, only this time they were bright and warm. Fatherly.

  Everything inside her went soft. Bobby had begun to love their baby. He felt the same connection, the same tender affection, she felt for it.

  She touched her tummy, letting her hand linger. "I wasn't expecting this." And now she had to consider making a life-altering change. The baby deserved to have two full-time parents, two people who cared, two people devoted to its well-being.

  But could she live here? So far from home?

  And what about her relationship with Bobby?

  Wouldn't it be awkward, seeing him every day? Fantasizing about him? Wanting him?

  Or would time dissolve the attraction? Releasing her from those uncomfortable bonds?

  "I don't know," she said, thinking out loud. "I don't know if it's a good idea." What if her feelings for him developed? What if they got stronger?

  "Why?" he asked. "Why isn't it a good idea?"

  "Because of us," she responded, trying to explain without baring her fears. "Half the time we don't even know what to say to each other."

  "So we'll get past that. We can try to be better friends. We can work on it."

  Friends raising a child together. It sounded simple. And complicated.

  Julianne closed her eyes. A gentle breeze blew, stirring scents from earth, from the ranch that could become her home. Hay and horses and the blades of summer grass filled her senses.

  When she opened her eyes, she found Bobby watching her with a strong, candid gaze. He made no attempt to hide his emotions, the enormity of what he wanted.

  The desire to give their child his heart.

  "Will you think about my offer?" he asked.

  "Yes," she said.

  "Will you come up with a decision in the next day or so? Before you leave?"

  "Yes," she said again. Somehow she would.

  * * *

  Bobby had been waiting, worrying and wondering what Julianne's choice would be. Finally on the last day he went to the cabin. Up to this point he'd left her alone, but he couldn't wait any longer. She was scheduled to return to Pennsylvania tonight.

  Would she come back? Or was he destined to be a long-distance dad?<
br />
  He knocked on the door and, after a few moments, she answered.

  "Bobby." She started smoothing her hair, fussing with her sleep-tousled appearance. She was still in her pajamas, a silky top and matching drawstring bottoms. "I was going to call you later."

  How much later? It was already noon. "I'm sorry, but I was getting impatient."

  "That's okay."

  She stepped away from the door and he entered the cabin. When she started fussing with her hair again, he studied her.

  The green pajamas matched her eyes, but she looked tired. Freckles stood out against pale skin like misplaced fairy dust.

  Suddenly he realized noon was early for her. She was probably battling the aftermath of morning sickness.

  Now he wanted to hold her, to rock her and the baby back to sleep.

  "Would you like some tea?" she asked. "I was just making myself a cup."

  Because the urge to hold her unnerved him, he shoved his hands into his pockets. "No thanks." He could see the outline of her breasts, the indentation of her waist.

  Soon, he knew, her stomach would swell and her breasts would grow fuller, the nipples turning a darker shade of pink.

  "Coffee?"

  He shook his head and sat on his own sofa, waiting for her to finish preparing her tea.

  Julianne went into the kitchen and then returned with a stoneware cup.

  So he was fixated on the changes her body would go through. That was normal, wasn't it?

  She sat in a rough-hewn chair, looking far too delicate for the dark, routed wood.

  Now he wanted to hold her again, to protect her.

  "I'll move here," she said.

  A wave of relief flooded his body and he smiled. She smiled, too. But it seemed shaky at best, as if she were nervous about her decision.

  "I have some conditions, Bobby. Some things I think we should discuss."

  "I'm listening."

  "I don't want to feel like I'm being kept. The free cabin doesn't work for me. I'll pay rent, the way any other tenant would."

  Feminine pride, he thought, noting the tilt of her chin. He hadn't expected that.