SOMEBODY'S BABY

by Marilyn Pappano

  "Sarah?" He lifted her chin so she had to look at him, and his eyes searched hers. "What did they tell you?"

  "That I lack respectability." She swallowed hard and quickly continued. "I should have realized that. I mean, Sweetwater's a little place, and everyone knows everyone else's business, and of course they would be concerned about the kind of people they hire to teach their children. There are a lot of things that they don't approve of here, and you can't expect them to hire someone they don't approve of to spend six or seven hours a day with their kids, especially when they're so young and impressionable."

  Her flow of words came to a sudden stop when his hand fell away from her face. He walked away, stopping in front of the window, staring at the scene outside. "Who told you that?" he asked coldly.

  Sarah told him about her two brief interviews. "It's not their fault," she added in a flat, empty voice. "If either of them had tried to hire an unmarried mother who doesn't even have custody of her baby, they probably would have lost their own jobs."

  He was furious, not with Janet Hillier or the reverend or the narrow-minded people of his town, but with himself. Because of him, Sarah was open to harsh judgment from everyone in town who knew about Katie. Because of him, she'd been made vulnerable to hurts inflicted by people who knew next to nothing about her. Because she wanted to stay close to him for Katie's sake. Because he hadn't yet found the courage to ask her to marry him. "God, I'm sorry."

  Even though he couldn't see her, she shook her head. "It's not your fault, Daniel. It's no one's fault. It's just the time and the place and the way things are."

  "It's wrong. They have no right to judge you."

  His anger and defensiveness on her behalf gave her a heady, warm feeling. She crossed the room and hugged him tightly. "I love you, Daniel Ryan," she murmured, hiding her face in his shirt. "I really do love you."

  October 26

  Daniel used the excuse of business to go into town alone late Friday morning. Sarah never even suspected that he was lying to her, he thought regretfully. She trusted him, and he was betraying her with the lie, with this trip to Zachary's office to get the report from the private detective, with hiring the detective in the first place. His only consolation was that she would never know he had betrayed her. She would never have to face the insult of his lies. And he would never have to face the loss of her respect or her trust. Or her love.

  Alicia Adams was preparing to leave the office when he arrived shortly before noon. She greeted him with a bright smile. "Zach said you might come by today. He's on the phone, but go on in. And tell him that I've left for lunch, okay?" She pulled her coat on, lifting her hair free of the collar. "By the way, how's Katie? I heard she's been sick."

  "She's fine. It was just a cold."

  "Is she with Sarah? She seems like a really nice lady, you know?" Without waiting for an answer, she picked up her purse and left the office, calling goodbye as the door swung shut.

  A really nice lady, Daniel thought. Yes, she was definitely that. He tapped at the inner door, then stepped through. Zachary, the phone braced between his shoulder and ear while he wrote, waved him in. "No, that's no problem. If I don't see one of them soon, I can send a message out," he was saying. "I'm looking forward to seeing you again."

  When he hung up, he tore a page off the notepad and offered it to Daniel. "That was Beth Gibson. She wants Sarah to give her a call sometime in the next few days."

  Daniel accepted the paper warily, shoving it into his pocket as he sat down. He didn't trust the redheaded lawyer any more than he liked her, and he didn't like her at all. She had never understood Sarah's interest in him, had opposed giving Katie to him, had been against Sarah coming to live in Sweetwater. When she found out that he wanted to marry Sarah, she would probably do everything in her power to turn her against him.

  "The report hasn't come yet, but I talked to the detective, a man by the name of Mintz. His office sent it express mail yesterday, so I should get it today. He didn't give me any details, but he said it was pretty interesting reading." He paused a moment to judge the effect of his next statement. "He said she's had some tough breaks."

  Daniel already knew that. He'd seen it in her eyes, heard it in her voice. But the detective knew the details of those tough breaks. He didn't, not yet.

  "Did Sarah tell you we had lunch together yesterday?"

  Daniel nodded.

  "She seemed pretty upset about her job interviews."

  He nodded once more. Settling back in the chair, he crossed one ankle over the other knee and traced his finger absently back and forth over the hem of his jeans. "I, uh…" He looked at his friend across the desk. "I've changed my mind, Zach."

  "About Sarah? About the kind of mother she is and suing for custody? I figured you had." At Daniel's fierce frown, Zachary shrugged and enumerated the reasons for his guess. "I saw you two together last week, and I talked to her for half an hour yesterday. She's practically living with you, she is Katie's mother, she's awfully pretty … and she's awfully fond of you."

  Daniel clasped his hands together to still their nervous movement, but immediately began rubbing his thumb hard over his palm. "I'm going to ask her to marry me. If she agrees, I want to forget about the lawsuit. If she says no…" He fell silent. If she said no, Zachary would file the lawsuit and Sarah would know how Daniel had deceived her, and she would hate him. But he wouldn't lose Katie, too. He couldn't.

  Zachary nodded once. "If she says no, we go ahead as planned on the first." He paused. "She doesn't suspect anything, does she?" He knew she didn't from their conversation yesterday, but he waited for Daniel's confirmation anyway.

  "No." Saying it made him feel like a bastard. Just being here, he revised, made him feel that way.

  "Well, if I'm any kind of judge of people, she'll accept your proposal, and you'll be able to forget that any of this ever happened."

  "I hope—"

  Daniel's response was interrupted by a voice from the waiting room. "Alicia's gone to lunch," Zachary called. "Come on in."

  It was the mailman, and along with the usual mail, he was carrying a large flat envelope with an express label on it. Daniel was torn between the urge to snatch it from him and rip it open and the desire to tell him to take it back, that he didn't want it after all. These were Sarah's secrets. If he learned them, it should be from her, not from some stranger who had snooped into her life. But his need to know was greater than his respect for her privacy. He waited impatiently while Zachary signed for the envelope, then chatted with the mailman for a few moments.

  Even as he talked, Zachary was slicing through the flap of the envelope. He drew out the papers as he said goodbye to the mailman.

  It looked to be about fifteen, maybe twenty, pages thick, as far as Daniel could tell. That seemed like an awful lot to cover an average woman's life. He imagined that his entire thirty-four years could be summed up in one or two pages.

  Zachary skimmed the pages as he turned them. Employment history, a list of residences, credit history. He gave a low whistle. "She's up to her ears in debt," he remarked. "She'll never get free. Hospital, pediatrician, obstetrician, anesthesiologist, nephrologist…" The detective had made notes beside each entry, specifying the specialty. He looked up, puzzled. "Katie didn't have any medical problems when you got her, did she?"

  Daniel shook his head.

  "The list goes on—name a specialty and it's on here." It was an exaggeration, but only slightly. "Internist, surgeon, hematologist, pathologist, radiologist. Has Sarah been sick?"

  "Not that I know of." There were definitely no scars on her body, and she seemed healthy. Still, she was awfully thin and frail looking. And she didn't like doctors. She had refused to go with him to take Katie to Dr. Hamilton—a matter they still hadn't settled, he thought with a frown. He had let it go at the time, telling himself that he would bring it up later, but in reality he had been delaying the confrontation, unwilling to force the issue.

  There was also tha
t memory, in the back of his mind, of Sarah and a doctor… His gaze dropped to his hands, but instead he saw her hand, small and delicate and oozing blood. It was the day she'd gotten that chunk of wood in her palm, he remembered now. When he'd suggested that she go to the doctor, she'd been adamant about him removing it instead. At the time he'd paid it no attention, but now, coupled with her later refusal to see Dr. Hamilton, it made sense. An illness that required the services of nine types of doctors could certainly result in a fear of the medical profession in general.

  Zachary continued reading, sometimes aloud. "She was married for four years to Brent Lawson." He glanced up and saw that Daniel was already aware of that. "They divorced three years ago, two months after the birth of … their son, Tony."

  Daniel hadn't known that. He stared at the lawyer, who repeated the last few words. That wasn't possible. She and Brent had never had children—she'd told him so. Then he corrected that. She had told him that Brent was too immature, too childish himself. He hadn't wanted the responsibility of children. But he'd had a child. They'd had a child together, a son.

  He looked at Zachary, trying to form a dozen questions, but not one came out. There was simply a stunned, helpless look on his face.

  Quickly Zachary paged through the file. He glanced at one enclosure, a copy of the birth certificate for Anthony David Lawson. After handing it to Daniel, he continued to look. A moment later Daniel took the second sheet Zachary offered, and it answered one big question. It was a death certificate for Tony. For Sarah's son.

  "He died in May. Five months ago." Zachary's voice was low, troubled. He didn't know what he'd expected to find out about Sarah Lawson, but this wasn't it.

  Daniel's hands were trembling when he gave the two documents back to Zachary. He didn't want to know more … but he had to. He forced himself to sit still, his jaw clenched, his expression grim, and listen to the rest.

  Sarah's baby had been born with an often-fatal disease, and her husband had walked out on her, had left her to watch their son die alone. She had sacrificed everything for Tony, including herself. Including, temporarily, Katie.

  The guilt that he thought he'd banished with his decision to marry Sarah came back stronger than ever. He remembered the things he'd said to her, thought about her, the times he'd accused her of being a poor mother, of being selfish and caring only for herself. One day, right here in this office, he had asked her what kind of mother gave away her own child, and he remembered her answer clearly, remembered her pain when she'd said it. One who has no other choices. And he had cursed. There are always choices, he'd told her arrogantly. You were just too selfish to make the right one.

  God, she ought to hate him for the way he'd treated her, the things he'd said to her. Between her son's illness and the bastard who had been her husband, she'd been through more than any woman should ever have to bear, and he had only made it worse. How could she ever forgive him for that?

  After Zachary had covered the highlights of the report, he offered it to Daniel to read through. It took him longer than it should have because he was numbed by disbelief and dismay. When he finished, his heart ached for Sarah, for her little boy, for all of them.

  The silence in the office was oppressive. Zachary stared at the papers lying on the desk, and Daniel simply stared. Finally the lawyer cleared his throat. "Do you want to take that with you?"

  "No," Daniel had to clear his own throat. "She's more or less living with us. There's no place…" No place in his house or workshop that was off-limits to her. No place in his life.

  "I'll keep it in your file." Zachary fell silent for several more long moments. "You said you don't want her to know about any of this, but, Daniel, you can't keep something like this secret. She'll know the minute she looks at you that something's wrong."

  He knew Zachary was right. If he looked one-tenth as bad as he felt, Sarah would suspect right away. When he got on his knees and begged her forgiveness, she'd know. "I—I'll think of … something—"

  "It would be easier if she'd been open from the start, if she'd told you about the baby and her husband."

  Daniel shook his head. "You saw those statements from her so-called friends and neighbors." They had condemned her actions, had said the same kinds of things he had. The difference was, they'd known about Tony. He hadn't. "She hardly knew me. When friends react that way, what can you expect from strangers?"

  "So…" Zachary sighed. "What are you going to do?"

  "Go home. Try to make things right. Hope that someday she'll forgive me." He got to his feet, moving as if his body was tired. In truth, it was his spirit that was weary. "Thanks, Zach. I'll be in touch."

  Alicia was returning from lunch as Daniel left. He didn't even hear her greeting. Outside, he stopped on the sidewalk and looked up at the sky. The sun was bright but offered little warmth. The wind sweeping down the street made him shiver inside his jacket.

  He was tired, and he wanted to go home. To Sarah. But how could he face her yet? How could he walk in, knowing what she'd lived through, knowing that he had increased her burden with his judgmental behavior, and look her in the eye? How could he make up to her for what he'd done?

  He climbed into the truck and headed home. He drove automatically, too deep in thought to concentrate on his actions. At the row of battered mailboxes four miles from his house, he pulled to the side and reached into the box on the end. Stuck in with his mail was a bill for Sarah from a doctor named Jackson. That was the surgeon, wasn't it? he thought, trying to remember as he stuffed the envelopes into his coat pocket, then deciding that it didn't matter. All that mattered was Sarah.

  She was sitting on the porch when he got home, rocking in the afternoon sunshine. Katie was on her lap, and Teddy was on her lap. They all rocked lazily while Sarah read from the well-used storybook. Her greeting was a smile. Katie peeked over the top of the book, whispered, "Hi, Daddy," then held her finger to her lips, signaling quiet, before she resettled.

  Daniel sat on the top step, turned so he could watch them. Sarah used her voice to make the story come alive, changing her pitch and tone with each character, growing loud and fierce, then soft and wispy. Her second-graders must have loved storytime in her class, he thought. They had probably loved everything about her.

  With each movement of the chair, the book she held shifted to hide her face from him. His gaze dropped to it, studying the brightly colored figures on the cover, the worn binding, the wrinkled edges. He had assumed that the books were part of her school supplies, meant to supplement whatever her last school had given her, but now he realized that the stories were too simple for second-graders. They were written for a younger audience, for toddlers like Katie. And Tony.

  What had the boy looked like? Had there been any resemblance to his half sister? Had his life been comfortable, though brief? Had he missed his father or his baby sister? There had been too much information in the private detective's report, yet not enough. He wanted to know more about Anthony David Lawson. He wanted to know him.

  The story finished, Katie wriggled down and ran over to hug her father. "Pink," she said, tugging until he looked at her sweater.

  He tore his glance from Sarah and offered a half smile to Katie. "Yeah, honey, that's pink."

  Impatiently she returned to Sarah, pulling at her sweater. "Mama pink, Katie pink," she said proudly.

  Sarah left the rocker, swooped Katie into her arms, then sat down next to Daniel. "Now we need to find a pink shirt for Daddy, right?"

  Following her mother's cue, the girl wrinkled her face into an exaggerated frown. "Noooo."

  "No, daddies don't wear pink, do they?" After kissing Katie's cheek, Sarah reached over to squeeze Daniel's hand. It was a casual, familiar gesture. "How did your trip go? Get everything taken care of?"

  "Yeah," he said quietly. He couldn't meet her eyes. His gaze was on Katie's feet, swinging merrily over the edge of the step. "She's stopped taking her shoes off all the time," he remarked, preferring such trivial matter
s to the ones that had been on his mind for the past two hours.

  "It was just a matter of showing her who's more stubborn." Sarah looked faintly puzzled. "Daniel, is something wrong?"

  "No." His denial came too quickly and too weakly.

  "Did something happen in town?"

  He shook his head. "I'm going to take care of some things. Why don't you and Katie go back inside?" Standing up, he stuck his hand into his pocket and found the week's mail. "Here's the mail. There's a letter in there for you. I'll be back—"

  Sarah stood up when he did and accepted the envelopes. Then she moved in front of him, blocking his way. "Daniel, something's bothering you. Tell me what it is."

  "Nothing, Sarah."

  "Please…"

  How could he lie when she was looking at him so earnestly? But how could he tell her the truth? "I'll be back later."

  After a moment's hesitation, she moved aside and let him pass. She could have refused, could have argued or pleaded, but she couldn't force confidences that he didn't want to make. When he was ready to talk to her, he would. Until then, she would just have to wait.

  She turned on the step and watched him walk off. When he turned away from the house toward the old barn, she called out, "We're having spaghetti for dinner tonight. Don't be late."

  His only response was a faint nod that she would have missed if she hadn't been watching so closely; then he moved out of sight.

  She sat down with a thump on the step and sorted through the mail, opening her single letter. Last month's payment had been credited, shown on the statement along with a computer-generated thank-you. The balance was slowly coming down, but it was still high. Multiplied nine times, plus the hospital bill, plus the fees for Beth's legal services, and her total debt was astronomical.

  Absentmindedly she stuffed the statement back into its envelope and let her thoughts wander to Daniel. Was he still bothered by her experience in town yesterday? Or had something else happened? Had there been further comment on her unsuitability to work with the town's children?