by Wendy Vella
She was having a baby!
An hour later that thought and not much else was still ricocheting around inside her head. She’d come up with no plan for her future, or if she would leave Howling or stay.
Reaching the peak, Hope realized she hadn’t walked up here in years, and even then, she hadn’t come up this high. She saw the water below, and more spectacular scenery, then cut right, and came across another trail that she hoped went down.
Raising a child here would make sense. It was secure, her mother was here, and plenty of people she knew who would support her. Newman was also here. If he married someone else, or actually settled down with a woman, then she’d see him. Was that a problem? She realized it could be, because she felt more for him than she should.
“And that makes no sense.”
The path came to a fork. She went left, and ended up on another ridge. This one looked back down on Lake Howling. Hope couldn’t remember ever coming up here, and when she saw the house she realized she hadn’t seen that before either.
The front of the roof was slightly higher than the back, in soft gray slate. Hope imagined windows offering spectacular views of the water and mountains on the side she couldn’t see, and maybe even a peek at the town of Howling. The wooden exterior had faded to a silvery gray, and blended into its surrounds with ease. Large and single-storied, it hugged the ridge. Whoever had designed it had done so with the environment in mind.
Walking slowly forward, she followed the stone driveway to the edge and studied it more closely. Would it be rude to walk around the front and take a look?
“Hey.”
Newman appeared around the side, reaching her in seconds with his slow, easy gait. He wore jeans, old and faded, and a loose cotton button-front shirt. Only the bottom two buttons were done up. His hair was a mess, and he looked sexy. Which just pissed her off, because Hope could never throw on clothes and look anything but a mess. And his sexiness had gotten her in the mess she was in.
“How come you’re up here?”
Hope took a step backward. It was instinctive, but his eyes narrowed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Her voice was far too squeaky.
“Hope.”
“I—ah, have to go.”
He grabbed her wrist and stopped her, his eyes roaming her face and down her T-shirt.
“Nice outfit. That shirt rocks with the boots.”
“I really have to go, Newman.”
“Why? I thought your hero was out of town today?”
“Hero?”
“The revered Mr. Finch.”
“John is a very nice man.”
“I know, you’ve told me and anyone else who will listen. Then there’s the hours you spend hanging on his every word.”
“What are you talking about?” Hope looked at him. His eyes were narrowed, and he looked seriously annoyed.
“You’re making a fool of yourself over that man.”
Hope wrenched her arm free. “I cannot believe you’re jealous.”
His face closed up like a clam.
“So am not.”
She had no reason to laugh because her life could be termed a disaster, but Hope found herself doing just that.
“You’re an idiot, and I don’t have time for this.”
“You came here,” he pointed out.
“I didn’t. I was walking, and ended up here, please note the difference.”
“So maybe I was a bit.”
“A bit what?”
“Jealous, all right. Shit, do you want me to spell it out?”
It was so strange to see Newman flustered, she took pity on him.
“No, and yes. I have something to tell you.” She had to do this now; it was only fair.
He didn’t speak, just looked at her, then he held out a hand.
“Want to have a look inside?” He nodded to the house behind him. “I have lemonade, and you look like you could use a glass.”
She had to tell him, she just had to. Hope nodded, and he stepped aside, motioning her to go first. Hope tried to relax, but was sure her back looked rigid.
“I built it five years ago. It sits in here nice, don’t you think?”
“It’s beautiful,” Hope said honestly. It was something she’d build, if she could ever afford to build a house.
They rounded the front and she saw the windows. They stretched the entire front of the house and were glass from floor to ceiling. The middle section was open wide with bifold doors.
“Wow.”
“That’s how I feel every time I come home.”
A deck ran along the front, and beyond it just grass. It was beautiful in its simplicity, because the view did the rest, and when you looked behind you, there was the magic of the house.
“It’s really something,” Hope said when she could think of nothing else. “Willow and Buster’s wedding will be amazing here.”
“That’s the arch I’m building for them.”
It was slightly to one side, and once again simple, in the same wood as the house.
“Willow wants flowers and greenery all over it. We’ll set up the chairs either side of the aisle and run a carpet down the middle.”
“She asked me to do the photos.” Hope wandered over to the edge of the lawn to inspect the view and put some distance between herself and him.
“I know, and you’ll be amazing at them.”
“I’ve never done a wedding. It seems so much responsibility. What if I mess them up?”
“Have you ever messed up?”
She shook her head. He was close now, standing at her back.
“Talk to me, Hope.”
“I’m pregnant.”
Hope closed her eyes as he sucked in a deep breath, almost like she’d punched him hard in the stomach.
Newman was the man who always knew what to say, especially when it was to make someone he cared about feel better, but right at that moment, he was at a loss for words.
“It’s a shock, take your time. I nearly puked.” Her words penetrated the terror of what he’d just learned.
“Jesus,” he managed to wheeze out.
Her shoulders were hunched and she was looking out at the lake. He was in shock; he could only imagine what she was going through, seeing as she had to carry the baby.
“I’m not getting rid of it, Newman.”
“You think I’d want you to?” He hadn’t meant to raise his voice.
She spun to face him. “I don’t know anything about you. How could I? We’re not friends. In fact, we have nothing in common!”
He was going to be a father . Newman tried to get his head around that fact. Father… me!
“We need to talk about this,” he managed to get out in a tight voice as he battled the panic.
“What’s to talk about? I’m pregnant, you’re the father.” Her eyes widened. “Do you think I… that there was another man?”
“No. Christ, Hope, give me a minute here. My life is about to change, I need to come to grips with that.”
“ Your life’s about to change?”
Newman winced as she screeched the words at him.
“You’ll pay for support and see the child, but that’s it. It’s me whose life will change.”
“No.” Newman shook his head. “We need to—”
“If you even mention the word marry, I’m punching you.”
Newman realized now was not the time to have any discussion. They were both still off-balance. Both saying irrational things.
“We need to discuss this, but not now. Now we need time to adjust,” Newman said as calmly as he could. It didn’t calm Hope.
“You can’t fix this, Newman. You can’t apply your logic or make it all better! Mr. Do-Good can’t make this better, or go away.”
“I know that!”
She was angry. Angry and terrified. And Newman felt the same, and he could add numb to that.
“I need to go.”
“Where?” H
e grabbed her again.
“Away from you. I need to think.”
“Don’t leave Howling.”
She stopped fighting him, her eyes wide as she looked at him.
“Do you believe so little of me, that I would run with your child inside me?”
Did he? Was he that untrusting of her, or women in general? He didn’t think so. Newman had always believed he loved women. She didn’t wait for his answer. Shrugging out of his grasp, she ran away from him, and he let her. Newman then simply sat where he was on the grass, put his head in his hands, and tried to form a rational thought.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
He gave himself two days of thinking. Two days with no interruptions. His friends had tried, but he said he had work. What he was doing was thinking. He’d thought about his plans. Especially the find a woman to live his life with, marry, and then start a family plan. Then there was his ideal for that woman. Elegant, poised, well-dressed. Hope was the exact opposite.
Walking into the Howler Newman found Noah at the bar. “Hope on, bud, or out framing up yet another Redwood for the perfect shot?”
“She’s in. She and the legend that is John Finch worked this morning. She’s out back now, taking a break. You sweet on her or something? This is the second time you’ve come in here asking.”
“Or something,” Newman said, then moved out the back to where he knew there was a small room set up for the staff to take their breaks.
She was sleeping on the table when he walked in, head pillowed on her hands. Her face was turned his way and he saw the fatigue in the smudges beneath the eyes. He felt a tug of something inside him. Not sure what, he moved closer. Dropping to his haunches beside her, he touched her cheek. Her eyes opened slowly, and the brown depths were unfocused from sleep.
“Hey.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” He touched the lock of hair that had fallen over her cheek. Pushing it aside, he leaned in and kissed her softly. “You doing okay?”
“Just tired.” Her voice was soft and unused.
“I hear that happens in the early stages.”
“Me too. I read a bit about it.”
“Me too.”
She sat up then, and rubbed her eyes like a small child. She wore a short tartan skirt and white T-shirt that had the Howler’s logo on it.
“We’ll work it out, Hope.”
She nodded. “It’s just I never planned for this, you know. My life has always been set in a direction, just like my mom wanted it to be.”
“What about what you want?” He touched her chin, and it was warm from sleep.
Her sigh was small. “My mom was an activist. She was into everything, and also a good lawyer. Not many people know this, but Ryan and I do, because we read about her and saw pictures.”
“Actually, I can see that,” Newman said. “Just not how she ended up the way she did.”
“Bitter and bristly?”
He nodded.
“She was a good mom, but I think she loved my father, but he realized he couldn’t live here, and she realized she couldn’t leave, so it ended. I think most of the bitterness came then, being left with two children to raise alone.”
It wasn’t the ideal place to have this conversation, anyone could walk in, but Newman wasn’t about to stop her talking when it was usually so hard to get any personal information out of her.
“Me and Ryan think he broke her heart, because no one is born that way, right? I mean, she was a good mom, but she’s pretty hard and unemotional.”
“And you have constantly been trying to get her approval and not let her see you fail?” Sounded familiar to Newman.
“Maybe. Yes, I guess. Although I probably didn’t realize it until now.”
“You even dress like her. How could you not realize it?” Newman took any sting out of his words by smiling. She gave him a small one back.
“What about you? Now you got me at a weak moment, and I bared my soul, it only seems fair you reciprocate.”
“I’m adopted, and no one knows.” He wasn’t sure why he told her of all people the secret he’d carried deep inside him for so long. But he had, and could not take it back now.
“Wow. I can’t believe no one knows.” The shock on her face was real.
Newman got to his feet and pulled a chair close. When he sat, his knees touched Hope’s.
“My dad is someone who likes to be in control. He couldn’t control the fact that he and Mom couldn’t have children, but he could control the fact that no one knew. So he moved him and Mom away for two years, and when they came back to Howling, it was with me.”
“And he controlled you from the beginning?”
Newman nodded at these insightful words.
“And he never let me forget that I should be grateful. Always threatened me with chucking me out of the house if I wasn’t helpful and grateful.”
The breath hissed from Hope’s mouth.
“Bastard! How dare he do that to you! You must have been terrified as a child.”
He enjoyed her anger on his behalf. It soothed something inside him, and he felt it again, that warm feeling in his chest as he looked at her.
“Not terrified, more on edge.” He took the hand she waved in front of her at his words. “It’s really okay, Hope. My mom loved me.”
“I was scared of failing my mom.”
“So we both have parent issues. At least we have something in common,” Newman joked.
“I’m scared, Newman.” He read the fear as she looked at him. Saw how pale she was, and pulled her onto his lap. She didn’t fight him, instead resting her head on his chest.
“How about we take this slow. For now, we’re going to be parents in….”
“Just over eight months.”
“Okay. So that gives us time to prepare. How about we take small steps and try and work out what’s best for us and the baby?”
The top of her head hit his chin as she nodded.
“And we’re friends, Hope, which is a better place to start than a lot of parents.”
“We are.”
“And I have style even if you don’t.”
“There’s that, and I care about the environment and you don’t.”
“Okay, good. So you can teach our child to recycle, and I can teach it to look good. Not sure what else there is to parenting, but sounds like a good start to me.”
She snuffled, then raised her head. They were close. Close enough that he saw the small gold flecks in her eyes.
“I may have teased you about your do-gooding, and being a nice man, but you are, Newman.”
“Aw, thanks.”
“I always thought you were too nice actually.”
“And there’s that mouth.”
“You can’t expect me to change overnight. But after telling me about your father, I understand you more.”
He didn’t want her to change, he realized. He liked her as she was. Bad dress sense, attitude, and need-to-save-the-world ways.
“I need to go back to work now, Newman.”
“Okay, but if you need anything you let me know.”
“I will, but I’m just tired at the moment.”
“No morning sickness?”
“A bit.”
“Let me know when you want to tell your mom, and I’ll come round.”
She frowned, and then slid off his lap. He missed the weight of her spread across his thighs.
“I don’t need you to help me with that. I can tell her.”
“We’re in this together, Hope.”
“Am I going to be there when you tell yours?”
Hell no.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“And yet you think I need you at my side to tell my mom?”
He wasn’t fooled by the softly worded question. Hope wasn’t happy, and their truce was about to cease. Newman scrambled to come up with the right words.
“My dad’s an asshole.”
She had him there.
“My parents are away visiting my aunty.”
“And?” She lifted a brow.
“And nothing.” Newman got to his feet. “And that’s enough talking for one day, because for almost thirty minutes we actually talked without sarcasm, which is likely a record.”
“I’m not sarcastic.” She stood beside the table, hands on hips, glaring at him in those ugly boots that he was starting to find way too sexy. What the hell is with that?
“Whatever. I’m out. Don’t overdo it with Finch, the first trimester is the hardest.” He closed the door on her outraged shriek, and didn’t exactly run from the Howler, but it was a swift walk.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“ All hail, our missing corporate troubleshooter has risen.”
Newman walked into the Hoot to find Buster wiping down tables in an apron that should make him look soft but didn’t. It was one of life’s mysteries how the man managed to look like a wrestler dressed like that.
“Two days, baker boy. Surely you didn’t miss me that much?” Newman kept his voice light. His friends knew him better than anyone, even his parents. It would only take the scent that something was up with him and they’d pry mercilessly.
Buster came to stand beside him. Newman opened a cabinet and got out a pie. He couldn’t avoid his friend, so he looked at him. “Coffee, get to it.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing. I need coffee and food.”
“No, there’s that line there.” Buster poked him in the forehead.
“Ouch.”
“Wimp.”
“Am not.”
“Are so.”
“Can I have coffee now you’re done abusing me?”
“Sure. What’s up? You can tell Uncle Buster.”
“Nothing’s up.”
“Okay. I’m making coffee now, you go and sit, and think about how you’re going to tell me.”
“I’ll have it to go.” Newman felt it again, the panic he thought he’d got a handle on. Seeing Hope had calmed him. Seeing Buster ignited the anxiety once more.
He was going to be a father.
“Don’t think so,” Buster said. “Sit. I’ll bring coffee.”