The Baby Bombshell (Shadow Creek, Montana)

by Victoria James

He searched for the right words. “I have faith in myself. Beyond that there is nothing. If there were, Michael and Matthew would be standing here with us.”

  His mother leaned forward, her hands clasped together tightly on the table in front of her. “That’s not faith, things going exactly the way you want your entire life. Believe that there is more, Jack. Believe that everything will be okay. Believe that this season was our winter, but that spring is coming.”

  He took a long chug of his beer, trying to wash down the words that would hurt her. “Five years is a hell of a long winter. You know what? Nevermind. I’m tired and should probably get to bed.”

  His mother made a scoffing noise. “Well, you certainly weren’t too tired to drive Lily home on New Year’s Eve and not come home until the next day.”

  If he were the type to blush, he probably would have had the good grace to. He shouldn’t be surprised that his mother knew where he’d gone. “Fine. What else do you want to tell me?”

  “I’ve seen Michael.”

  His heart stopped beating for a second and searched her features, looking for signs of senility. “Mom…”

  “He’s appeared to me, in dreams.”

  A shiver ran down his spine. “You mean you dreamt of him.”

  She shook her head. “No. I know what I mean, and that’s not what I mean. He’s appeared to me. He said he’s fine, with Matthew, and not to mourn them anymore. To live and be happy.”

  His eyes stung as he continued to stand still and stare at his mother from across the kitchen. “Mom…” He was about to tell her that was just a dream but stopped himself. If she wanted to believe that, if it gave her comfort, then who was he to tell her otherwise?

  “He hasn’t spoken to you?”

  He shook his head and bit his tongue.

  “You need to believe.”

  He sighed roughly.

  “Look for signs, Jack.”

  “Signs.”

  She nodded and then spread her arms wide. “Everywhere. Be open.”

  He took a long drink. “Will do, Mom.”

  “You’re hiding, Jack.”

  He lowered the beer and looked at the woman who had always given the best of herself to them. He looked at her and lied. “I’m not.”

  She nodded and gave him a little smile, exactly like the smile she gave him when he was eight years old and had accidentally run over Gwen’s pet hamster with his bike and he’d denied it—even though there had been hamster fur still attached to the tire. Back then he had yet to learn that his mother had the uncanny ability to detect her children’s lies even before they attempted to tell them. He knew that look better than he knew the man that stared back at him in the mirror every day.

  “Then why do you still have that awful beard?”

  He rubbed his hand over his jaw. “I like it.”

  “Jack.”

  He downed as much of the beer as one gulp would allow. His mother was a cross between a saint and a ball-breaker. Well, he knew he deserved it. He’d bailed. On all of them. Now he needed to face the consequences.

  He willed the liquid that was turning to acid to stay in his stomach. “I didn’t want to look at that face anymore.” He didn’t move or say anything else. He just watched his mother’s round face, partly shadowed in the dark kitchen and partly lit by the moonlight, fall slightly.

  “That’s your face,” she whispered, a slight tremor stealing some of the confidence from her voice.

  He shook his head. He knew she couldn’t possibly understand. “It was Michael’s, too. And I can’t stand to look at it—”

  “No.”

  “Yes,” he insisted, walking forward, clutching the back of the chair across from her. “I couldn’t stand looking at it, knowing that he should be here, not me. And I sure as hell didn’t want to have to look at your faces when you saw it again. I couldn’t deal with the pain I’d see in your eyes, and the disappointment, when you saw this face again, on me instead of Michael.” There, he’d said it. The five beers he’d consumed had loosened his tongue, apparently. He looked down at his hands, his knuckles white and strained as they grasped onto the chair as though it could possibly offer some sort of support, as though it were actually strong enough to bear the weight of his sorrow.

  “Jacob Andrew Bailey, thirty-three years ago I gave birth to twin boys. I was in labor for over twenty hours with the two of you hell-raisers, and when I was sure I couldn’t go on anymore, when I was sure I would die, the two of you presented yourselves, minutes apart. You were both my salvation. I held you both. I was exhausted. I was in pain. But I was a new person. And I looked at your little wrinkled faces and I swore to God Almighty that I would spend the rest of my days loving you and caring for you. Both of you.”

  She stopped speaking for a moment, closing her eyes. And then she opened them again and her face grew fierce, almost bear-like. “You are my son. How dare you think I wouldn’t want to see your face? How dare you think I would wish it were Michael and not you? That I could love one of you more than the other? How dare you leave us, leave me, after Michael and Matthew died? You left me with no sons.” Her strong voice broke on a sob.

  He walked forward, allowing the guilt to wash away in order to help the woman that had given him so much. He knelt down beside her and took her hand in his. “I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. He had uttered those words countless times since coming home. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the front of it. “I’m sorry I left you.”

  She drew a heavy, shaky breath and waved her other hand in front of her face. “You could always charm women, Jack. You were always unaware of how charismatic you were, and I loved how humble you were. Now, sit across the table from me and let’s discuss how you’re going to get Lily back.”

  He stood, kissing his mother’s cheek before walking around the table, doing as he was told. “Lily’s pretty angry.”

  “Of course she is. A woman scorned, Jack.”

  He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the old saying. “Right.”

  “So what are you going to do about it? How are you going to make it up to her?”

  He ducked his head. If his mother only knew. “The house. I’m fixing it up.”

  She pursed her lips. “You can’t throw her over your shoulder like some caveman and bring her there, son. You need to woo her. Some finesse. Some romance.”

  He stretched his legs out in front of him and avoided eye contact with his mother as he thought about New Year’s and the ways she’d let him woo her. He cleared his throat. “That’s what Lil said. Obviously, I’m working on it.”

  She nodded and patted his hand. “Good. You were meant for each other, Jack. There’s a reason neither of you were ever able to find someone else. Believe that.”

  He knew that. On his darkest days, even the days he’d sworn he’d never come back here, that too much had happened to both of them, he knew Lily was in his blood.

  …

  Lily stood in front of her washroom mirror and slowly lifted her tank top. She stared at her flat stomach for a long moment then turned to the side. Still flat, of course. She placed her hands on her abdomen and knew, remembered this feeling. It was the feeling that something or someone very precious had claimed residence inside her.

  She drew a shaky breath and tried not to go back to the night she’d lost Jack’s baby five years ago. She squeezed her eyes shut as shivers stormed her body. History wouldn’t repeat itself. This time, everything would be okay. Jack was here this time. Except…Jack was part of the problem. She got Jack. She got him enough to know that if he ever found out they’d had a baby and he hadn’t been here for her, he’d never forgive himself, which was why she didn’t ever want him to know.

  Jack. Yes, Jack was the problem. He’d want to be a father to their baby, she knew that. But she wasn’t sure she could let him back into her heart. He’d hurt her so badly, and she’d never felt more alone than when she’d lost the baby.

  She eyed the box and stopped sta
lling. She’d finished a long ten-hour day and had raced over to the Walmart outside of town to purchase the pregnancy test. She was wiped and all dressed for bed in her cozy snowflake flannel pajamas.

  Two minutes later, Lily placed the pregnancy test on top of the box and waited, her heart racing, her palms sweating. The knocking on her door caused her to jump. Who could that be? Oh right, Luigi’s pizza.

  She bolted out of the washroom and ran to the door, grabbing her twenty-dollar bill that was sitting on the counter. She’d been very forward thinking when she’d ordered her double-olive pizza; if there was a Baby Jack in her stomach, she’d need to console herself with pizza…and if there wasn’t a Baby Jack then, well, she’d…celebrate with a pizza…then hopefully sleep would come easily once her stomach was filled with carbs.

  She whipped open the door, prepared to shove the twenty out, grab her pizza, and then run back to see the test results. Except when she opened the door, it wasn’t Sal the delivery guy; it was Jack. He was holding her pizza.

  “Double olive pizza?” he said, holding the pizza box with one hand, leaning against the door jamb with the other, and looking even better than that pizza smelled.

  She thrust the twenty in his direction and grabbed the box, trying to slam the door on his beautiful face. There was no way this man could enter her apartment, except the door didn’t slam. It was being held open by a large tanned hand. She scowled at him. “Congratulations on your new job as pizza delivery boy. Now go.”

  He laughed. “I’m not working for Luigi’s. I’d think you’d be happy to see me. I intercepted the pizza guy, paid for it, and you attempt to slam the door in my face?”

  She clutched the box to her side. “It’s almost the weekend and I have big plans.”

  He lazily looked her up and down. “Doesn’t look like it.”

  She crossed her arms and ignored the rush of heat as his eyes dipped. “I’ve ordered a large pizza for myself, clearly I have plans.”

  He laughed, that deep, throaty, Jack laugh. “Great. I need to speak with you.”

  She let out a moan of frustration. “Jack, I need to eat this before it gets cold.”

  “Perfect, then you eat while I talk.”

  She rolled her eyes. She couldn’t let him in here. “Tell me what you need to say, and make it fast.”

  “Let me in, sweetheart.” His voice was low and soft, and the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly as he gave her a gentle smile. Oh good grief. Maybe if she hadn’t let this man in, she wouldn’t have a pregnancy stick on her bathroom counter right now. “I promise you can kick me out whenever you want.”

  But that was the other problem; she had missed him. She had missed the way he filled up her empty apartment, the way his voice sounded, the way he laughed. She had missed the way he made her feel—alive, loved. “Fine. My pizza is getting cold. I’ll let you in, but you stay on the couch, talk, and then leave.”

  He flashed her a smile that still had the power to make her stomach flip a half dozen times, before walking into the apartment. She placed one hand on his back and all but shoved him onto the couch while holding her precious olive pizza in the other.

  He laughed as he sank into the couch. Little did the man know why she was so desperate to have him quarantined to the small living space. He had no idea that the future of his life was now displayed on a pregnancy stick. But she was going to have to play it cool and wait until he left before she went to check it out. So, she flipped open the lid on the pizza box and dug right in, while her stomach growled loudly.

  He cleared his throat, and her gaze snapped over to him. He was grinning, as if he thought she was funny or something. She should probably offer him a slice. She motioned to the pizza, her mouth still full.

  He made a face as he glanced at the pizza. There were so many black olives the cheese could barely be seen. “I’m not really into olives.”

  She shrugged. She was about to say “more for me” but then realized she was not making much of an image for herself. She slowed down her chewing, swallowed, and then blotted her mouth with a nearby tissue. “Well, don’t just stand there watching me eat. You’re making me self-conscious.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  She rolled her eyes, took another bite of pizza, and then put her feet up on the coffee table. Maybe she needed to look more casual. Like she didn’t care that he was here and seeing her like this, like he was just a friend. Not the man who’d broken her heart, taken off, come back and slept with her, and was now trying to pursue a relationship with her. Yeah. She took another giant bite of pizza and tried not to think of the little pregnancy stick in the washroom that was holding all the answers to her future. “Jack, I’m a very busy person. Tell me what you need to tell me and then leave.”

  “How about we have a beer and I’ll sit and pick off some of the olives on a slice and eat pizza with you?”

  There were so many things wrong with that statement she needed to process which ones to attack first. She could have a beer, if there was a little minus sign on the indicator. So maybe what she should do is get up and go peek. But she didn’t want to be having a beer with him, so did it really matter? She stared at the remaining pizza slice in her hand, slightly disconcerted to note that it looked as though a bear had attempted to eat it.

  It must have been all that concentrating that made her unaware that Jack was almost at her bathroom door.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, bolting out of her chair.

  He kept walking. “Going to wash my hands before I eat.”

  “Noooooo!” She threw her pizza in the air, feeling as though the world were moving in slow motion as she fumbled into a running dive, knocking over a lamp in an attempt to stop Jack from walking into her washroom. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, and all the gooey pizza threatened to work its way back up her throat as she catapulted herself into midair.

  Jack caught her as she plowed into him, staggering backwards into the washroom. The indicator sat there on the counter, in plain sight, its presence as obvious as a flashing siren on an ambulance.

  The red words, confirming what she already knew in her heart, stared at the both of them. Her body started shaking as Jack stood completely still, his hands still gripping her upper arms from when he prevented her from nose-diving into him. After the longest moment of her life, he turned to her, his eyes filled with something she’d never seen, his voice filled with something that sounded like awe. “Pregnant, Lil?”

  She tried to blink tears back. A part of her wanted this to be different. She wanted this to be planned. She wanted them to be the way they were, because then she would have expected they’d be both jumping up and down. Jack would have kissed her and they would have laughed and then spent the rest of the night planning and talking and laughing. Now they both stood still, looking at each other like two kids who got caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

  She sank to the ground, the weight of everything making it too difficult to stand. She sat cross-legged on the tiled floor and held her head in her hands. Fear. Joy. Fear. They juggled through her body until she couldn’t breathe.

  “Lily,” Jack said, sitting on the ground beside her now. “Did you know?”

  “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have taken a test,” she mumbled. She felt numb, and she wanted to be by herself to figure this all out.

  “I mean, when did you first suspect?”

  “The olives.”

  She looked up and caught the smile that transformed his face. Jack had always had the best smile. The kind that warmed you from the inside. She quickly looked back into her lap.

  “Ah, that explains it.”

  “What am I going to do?” she whispered, covering her face.

  He didn’t say anything for a long moment. “What do you want to do?”

  She dropped her hands and looked up at him, taking in his guarded expression. “Obviously have the baby.”

  His relief was palpable. “This doesn’t have to be a
bad thing,” he said, his voice gruff.

  It was… She didn’t know what to do. Emotions swirled through her. It would be complicated. “I need to be alone.” She needed to process the reality of this. And she was having a difficult time not associating this with the last time. The last baby they’d had…the one he didn’t know about. She wanted to take her pizza box into bed and eat and feel sorry for herself.

  “Lil, you never have to be alone again.”

  “Because of the baby.”

  He reached out and cupped one side of her face. She wanted to pull back, but God, she needed something. Human contact. Jack contact. “I came back for you, before there was a baby.”

  She rolled her lips inward, fighting the tears. She had never been a crier. She didn’t cry at movies or when she read books. Now, all she wanted to do was cry. She took a quivering breath. “I can’t process all of this. I don’t even know how this happened… Didn’t you use a condom?”

  Chapter Eight

  Jack ran his hands down his face, trying to look calm and collected, even though his world had just been turned upside down. He didn’t want Lily to see him as anything other than put together, though. Sure, her being pregnant upped his timeline, but it wasn’t bad news. He’d always wanted kids with her. Of course, having her on speaking terms with him would have made things a little simpler.

  “I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out how this could happen. I have the distinct memory of you putting on a condom.”

  He had to interrupt, grinning. “You remember that moment?”

  Clearly this was not a remark she appreciated, because she let out some kind of squeal and her arms flailed again. “No, no that moment is not what I’m remembering. I’m remembering the one where you told me you hadn’t slept with anyone else in five years.”

  “That’s true.”

  “But you had a condom in your wallet.”

  He nodded, feeling like he was on the witness-stand.

  “Did you replace this condom on a regular basis in case you got lucky?” She was speaking really slowly now, as if she might explode at some point soon if he didn’t give her an answer she liked.