“That may be true,” he agreed. “But at the moment, all I care about is my child. And I damn well intend to be part of his life. As soon as I take that paternity test, you’ll know beyond a doubt that I am the father and—”
“I already know it,” she interjected.
He blinked. “What?”
“You don’t need to take a paternity test,” she said tightly. “The Orr Clinic confirmed that your sperm deposit was used to impregnate me.”
He nodded, relief flashing in his eyes. “So now we can start making plans for the future.”
The pounding of her heart made it difficult to think. He was so tall. So...male. “Not so fast, Alan. I think you should know I’ve already consulted with my attorney.”
“So have I,” he countered. “And your lawyer probably told you the same thing. That this will be a big mess to work out in the courts, if it gets that far, but that I definitely have a case.”
So much for her hope he would back down gracefully. “Is this really how you want to start the baby’s life? With a battle between its parents?”
“No.” He folded his arms across his broad chest. “I’d prefer it if you’d simply recognize my rights as this baby’s father.”
“It’s not as simple as you want to believe,” she replied. “I refuse to have my child shuttled back and forth between two countries for the next eighteen years.”
His eyes darkened. “And I refuse to allow my child to grow up believing his father doesn’t care. I’m the father of your baby, Rowena. The fact that you’re not happy about it doesn’t change anything. I think it’s time for you to accept the inevitable.”
Rowena could see he was as implacable as he’d been the last time she’d seen him. It was like talking to a brick wall. This conversation wasn’t getting them anywhere. “And I think you should stop telling me what to do.”
Abruptly she turned away from him and grabbed the last box of detergent off the middle shelf. A weathered face peered out from the opening on the other side.
“Philo,” she cried, jumping back in surprise. “What are you doing?”
“Dusting,” he replied, holding up a feather duster in his hand to prove it. Then he cast his curious gaze toward Alan. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Rowena swallowed a groan. She had no doubt Philo had heard every word of their conversation. “No, not at all.”
“Good.” Philo swiped the feather duster over the immaculate shelf. “I’ll just leave you two alone now.” Then he was gone. Probably in a hurry to fill his wife in on this latest morsel of local gossip.
She whirled on Alan. “Now look what you’ve done!”
“Me?” he replied, having the audacity to look innocent. “All I did was come in here for a tube of toothpaste and some snacks. You’re the one who brought up the subject of the baby.”
“Now everyone in Cooper’s Corner will know I’m pregnant,” she cried, too upset to care who was at fault. “Even worse, they’ll think you’re the father.”
His jaw tightened. “I am the father.”
Grabbing her cart, she barreled down the aisle. “Leave me alone, Alan. From now on, if you want to talk to me, do it through my lawyer.”
She abandoned the cart at the door and walked out of the store with Phyllis staring after her. Standing on the curb, she wrapped her coat more tightly around her, knowing she shouldn’t let Alan affect her this way, much less chase her out of the store. She needed to eat, no matter how much trouble he caused in her life. Cooper’s Corner was too small for her to avoid him.
And why should she try? This was her town. Her home. Alan Rand was the interloper. Her nightmare with Max had taught her that the very worst thing she could do was back down from him—either in the grocery store or in a courtroom.
The winter air cooled her temper as she stood on the sidewalk. She didn’t need to panic. The baby wouldn’t be born until July. He’d never stick around Cooper’s Corner for that long. Alan had a life in Toronto. A high-powered job in publishing. Once he realized she couldn’t be browbeaten or bullied, he’d leave her alone.
She turned to walk inside and resume her shopping when the door opened and Alan stepped out.
“Are you always this high-strung?” he asked, two bulging grocery bags in his arms.
“Are you always this much of a control freak?”
“I’m just staking my claim, Rowena. The baby belongs to both of us.”
She clenched her teeth, wondering why it was so easy for him to goad her. Then she forced a smile, using every ounce of her acting talent to portray a calmness she was far from feeling. “Here in America, possession is nine-tenths of the law. And right now, this baby belongs to me.”
“Don’t fight me on this, Rowena.” His gaze narrowed on her. “I will do whatever is necessary to win this case.”
“So will I,” she vowed.
A wry smile tipped up the corner of his mouth. “With two parents as determined as we are, our baby will probably grow up to become prime minister.”
“I think you mean president,” she countered, brushing past him as she walked into the store. For once, she’d gotten in the last word.
He’d better get used to it.
* * *
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Rowena pulled her car up to the post office, the back seat full of groceries. Cooper’s Corner no longer had a mailman, so the residents picked up their mail each day from a post office box.
She met Keegan Cooper at the door, his arms full of envelopes and packages for Twin Oaks.
“Hey, there,” she said, bending to pick up a magazine he’d dropped. “Do you need a lift home? It’s quite a walk all the way to Twin Oaks.”
“Nah, my dad’s coming to pick me up in a few minutes. He’s just over at the library checking out some videotapes for one of our guests.” Keegan grinned. “Tapes about you.”
A prickle of apprehension skittered up her spine. “About me?”
He nodded. “Yeah, those old Another Dawn videotapes. I think Mr. Rand is a big fan. He’s been asking all sorts of questions about you.”
Despite the cold, Rowena’s anger at the man flared hot once again.
“Is something wrong?” Keegan asked, tilting his head toward her. “You look kinda mad.”
“No,” she replied, forcing her anger aside. Alan Rand could watch those tapes until his eyeballs fell out. He’d never find anything to use against her in court, if that was his intention. “I’m fine.” She gave the boy a reassuring smile. “How about you? Is school going well?”
He shrugged. “I guess. The only thing the girls want to talk about is the Sweetheart Dance.”
“Do you have a date yet?”
He grimaced. “No. I don’t want one, either.”
“Are you sure?” she teased. “I’m still available. Or you could ask Alison.” She pointed toward the post office. Alison Fairchild was the local postmistress and had lived in Cooper’s Corner all of her twenty-eight years. “You could show up with one of us and make all those girls at school jealous.”
A flush stole up his cheeks. “Don’t you think you’re both a little too old for me?”
“You’re probably right.” She bit back a smile, not wanting to embarrass him anymore. He was such a sweet kid who tried to act so grown up. “But save me a dance anyway, okay?”
“I guess.” Keegan moved closer to her on the sidewalk. “So Alison doesn’t have a date to the dance?”
“I don’t think so. Why?”
He shrugged his thin shoulders. “I don’t know. I mean, she seems like a nice lady and she’s not married yet or anything.”
Rowena grinned. “I thought you just said she was too old for you.”
Keegan rolled his eyes. “She is. But she’s not too old for my dad, and he doesn’
t have a date for the Sweetheart Dance, either.”
“Oh,” Rowena said softly, her heart touched by the little matchmaker. She’d heard that Keegan’s mother had passed away shortly before Clint and his son moved to Cooper’s Corner. Now it seemed Keegan was trying to fill the void in their lives.
She thought of her own situation. Would her child try to play matchmaker for Rowena, as well? If she succeeded in keeping Alan out of their lives, would her child feel a void there, too?
The thought was sobering and not one she wanted to consider at the moment. She reached out to pull Keegan’s knit hat over one protruding red ear. “I think your dad might prefer to pick out his own date.”
Keegan looked skeptical as he shifted the mail in his arms. “Maybe you’re right. Alison is real nice and all, but... Well, you know.”
Keegan didn’t have to spell it out for her. Unfortunately, it was as plain as the nose on Alison’s face. The very large nose.
“Looks aren’t everything, you know,” Rowena told him. “It’s what’s on the inside that counts.”
He rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, right.”
The honk of a car horn forestalled her reply.
“There’s my dad,” Keegan said, moving toward the street. “See you later, Rowena.”
“Bye, Keegan.” She waved to Clint, then walked up the steps leading to the post office.
Alison wasn’t at the counter, so Rowena walked over to the rows of post office boxes. She retrieved a handful of envelopes from the one belonging to her, as well as the latest Hair Today magazine.
“Good afternoon, Rowena,” Alison said, leaning over the marble counter. “Can you fit me in for a haircut tonight?”
“Sure, what time?” Rowena said, moving in her direction. After her conversation with Keegan, she couldn’t keep her gaze from straying to the younger woman’s nose. It was unusually large. So large it distracted from her pretty blond hair and blue eyes. Alison was always trying a new hairstyle to minimize her most prominent feature.
“How about six o’clock?” Alison said. “Right after I get off work.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.” Rowena turned toward the door. As she walked out of the post office, her gaze fell to the mail in her hands, and she began flipping through the letters. Mostly bills and junk mail.
But it was the eerily familiar powder blue envelope that made her blood run cold.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ALAN CHEWED ON a chocolate chip granola bar as he drove his car past Twin Oaks and then headed north on Highway 7. He needed time to think. Time to wonder if Rowena might be right.
Could his presence in his child’s life really be detrimental? His gut instinct was to deny such a ridiculous notion, but he’d been the editor of too many books on child psychology not to consider the possible consequences.
What if he was projecting his lousy childhood onto this baby? George Rand had been physically present in Alan’s life but never acted as if he cared about his only son. It still perplexed Alan, even after all these years. Had Alan done something wrong? Had their personalities clashed? Or had George never wanted to become a father?
These were questions only one man could answer.
Two hours later, Alan found himself in Albany, parked along the curb outside his father’s house. George Rand might not have visited him while he was undergoing cancer treatments, but he had sent a get-well card with his return address on the envelope.
Alan stared at the small brick ranch house. Neatly trimmed bushes lined the front. Christmas lights still hung from the eaves. A black oil mark stained the empty driveway. It was the home of his father. A home he’d never known.
Should he go up and knock on the door? Ask his father the questions that had plagued him as long as he could remember?
Why didn’t I matter to you? Why didn’t you want to be a father? Why don’t you love me?
The car idled for twenty minutes while Alan tried to decide if he really wanted to know the answers. At last, he pulled out a Twin Oaks Bed and Breakfast business card he’d picked up when he’d checked in. Then he scribbled a simple message on the back, telling his father he’d be at Twin Oaks for the next couple of weeks.
The rest was up to George.
Alan got out of the car and walked up to the house. Instead of knocking, he slipped the card into the screen door. As he drove back to Cooper’s Corner, the situation with Rowena and the baby, which had been so cloudy before, now seemed perfectly clear.
He never wanted his child sitting outside a strange house, wondering if he was welcome inside. Alan knew down into his soul that he could be a good father. A loving father. A father who cared.
Now he just needed the chance to prove it.
* * *
THE NEXT DAY, Rowena stood in her shop behind the barber’s chair, carefully combing out Maureen’s long hair before she trimmed the ends. The afternoon sun shone through the windows, belying the bitter cold temperature outside. “Would you like to try some of the new shampoo that just came in?”
Maureen hesitated, then said gently, “That’s the third time you’ve asked me that question in the last ten minutes, Rowena. I don’t mean to pry, but is something wrong?”
So much for her intention never to bring her personal problems to work. Rowena wanted her shop to be a place her customers could relax and unwind. A place that brought them comfort. She was used to counseling people who sat in her chair. It came with the job. But her fingers shook as she ran the comb through Maureen’s hair, and she knew she had to talk to someone.
“I’m sorry,” she said, placing the comb on the tray next to her. “I guess I am a little preoccupied today. Maybe more than a little.”
Maureen twisted around in the chair. “Is it because you know Alan Rand is the father of your baby?”
Rowena froze. “How did you know...” she began, then groaned as realization dawned. “Philo told you about it, didn’t he? I was trying to convince myself he wasn’t eavesdropping in the general store, but I should have known better. Please tell me the news isn’t all over town already.”
Maureen nodded. “I’m afraid it is. I’ve heard it from at least three people.”
Rowena came around the chair to face her. “What exactly did you hear?”
“That you’re pregnant and the father is a guest at Twin Oaks. Since Alan is the only single man staying there, it wasn’t hard to figure out his identity.”
Rowena sank into one of the drier chairs and buried her face in her hands. “This is a nightmare. First Alan, and now...” She couldn’t put her new problem into words. “Why is this happening to me?”
Maureen was instantly at her side, a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
Sucking in a deep breath, Rowena slowly lifted her head. “I will be. I have to be.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “The last thing this baby needs is a crazy mother.”
Maureen gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “I think you deserve to go a little crazy once in a while, considering the circumstances.”
If only the circumstances didn’t keep changing. She’d been fully prepared to bring a baby into this world alone—until Alan Rand showed up to make his demands. Her perfect life was starting to crumble around the edges, and Rowena didn’t know what to do about it.
She turned to Maureen. “So now that you know about him, tell me your impression of Alan.”
Maureen considered the question. “I’ve only really seen him a couple of times at breakfast. At least now I know why he expressed such an interest in you. He didn’t strike me as the kind of man who watched soap operas.”
“Do you like him?”
Maureen shrugged. “He seems nice enough. Friendly. Courteous.”
Her throat grew tight. “Unless you have something he wants.”
She looked at Maureen in surprise. “Didn’t Philo tell everyone about the big blowup Alan and I had at the general store?”
“He might have mentioned something about a lovers’ spat.”
Rowena groaned. “I don’t know which is worse. Having everyone in town know that I’m pregnant or having them think Alan and I are lovers. Why couldn’t Philo keep his big mouth shut?”
Maureen gently brushed Rowena’s hair off her face. “Philo and Phyllis don’t mean any real harm. They truly do care about the people here.”
“I know,” Rowena admitted. “It’s just that I wanted to have the chance to announce my pregnancy in my own time. My own way.”
“I’m afraid Philo and Phyllis beat you to it.” Maureen smiled. “But the news isn’t all bad. Last I heard, Phyllis was organizing a baby shower for you.”
Rowena tried to smile, but her lips trembled. Would her roller-coaster emotions ever come under control? “She’d better include an invitation for Alan Rand, or he’ll probably take her to court, too.”
Maureen’s eyes widened. “He’s taking you to court?”
Rowena nodded. “He wants to assert his rights as the father of the baby.”
“Sounds complicated.”
“It is. Alan is demanding to be a part of my baby’s life. He’s made it abundantly clear that he won’t stop until he obtains his rights as father. That includes generous visitation, possibly even joint custody.”
“And you’re opposed?”
“Of course I’m opposed!” She hated the tremble she heard in her voice. “Alan Rand is a controlling pain in the butt. I have enough to deal with in my life right now without him causing more trouble.”
Maureen pursed her lips, her green eyes too discerning. “Rowena, what’s really wrong? There’s something else, isn’t there?”
Rowena stood up and walked behind the counter. The front shelves were filled with rows of shampoo, conditioner and assorted styling gels in a variety of colors. Reaching into a wire mesh basket on the top shelf, she retrieved the powder blue envelope. “This came in the mail yesterday.”
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