From Here To Maternity: A Second ChancePromoted to MomOn Angel's Wings

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Mom’s disillusionment and Jenny’s husband’s desertion had taught me to find my course and stick to it, to search out happiness and fulfillment without a husband and maybe even without children. I’d been afraid that what had happened to Jenny could happen to me.

  And I still was.

  Ever since discovering I was pregnant, I’d been terrified something would happen to my baby. I thought of this little life inside me every waking moment. I was torn by what would be best for my child and what would be best for me. Our lives would always be intertwined.

  How did this promotion fit in and what should I do about it? How was I going to tell Charlie Rugland and Frank Temple, who’d just offered me the job of a lifetime, that I was pregnant?

  As the CEO of Natural Beauty vied for my attention now, I answered him. “Yes, I agree. Christmas sales this year will equal or surpass last year’s.”

  Gray-haired, robust, in his early sixties, Frank Temple took a no-nonsense approach to everything, including the quality of the cosmetics his company produced, the success of his sales force, and the enthusiasm and commitment of every one of his employees.

  “Is there something wrong, April? You look a bit pale today, and you seem distracted,” Charlie Rugland commented, regarding me with a kind look.

  “I’m fine, Charlie. Mr. Temple, if I seem a bit distracted, it’s just that I have a very long to-do list to tackle.”

  Charlie nodded in agreement. “You certainly do. You have your replacement to train in the next six weeks, as well as tying up all loose ends. As we’ve told you, we’d like you in L.A. by February fifteenth. Then, of course, there’s business as usual…” He trailed off. “I did notice you came in late this morning. An appointment with that mover we discussed?”

  I still hadn’t made a decision about my furniture—what to keep and what to sell. But this morning a mover hadn’t detained me. I’d had a check-up with my obstetrician. “No, sir, that wasn’t today. I have an appointment with Overland Moving the first week in January.” I wasn’t going to explain further unless I was pushed. Charlie’s raised brow said he’d like a detailed reason for my tardiness, but Frank Temple didn’t seem to care.

  Apparently sensing something, though, Mr. Temple asked, “Are you unsure about this promotion, April? You seemed thrilled four months ago when we proposed it. When I announced I’d be moving you into our corporate headquarters, I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a more enthusiastic or spontaneous thank-you. But now—”

  “I want this job, Mr. Temple. I studied for it, I trained for it, and now I have the experience that you’re going to need for me to be a successful Vice President of Sales. You won’t be sorry you promoted me.” My enthusiasm and confidence were good cover for my doubts, which had begun as small worries but were taking over more and more of my thoughts.

  “That’s what I like to hear,” Temple responded, standing now, signaling the meeting was over. The papers I’d given him a half hour earlier were lying on the conference room table. “I appreciate all the work you’ve put into these reports. As usual you’ve gone beyond the call of duty. I seriously consider every note you write, every comment, every suggestion.”

  “It’s my job.” I thought about Christmas next week, and my hand went to my stomach, envisioning the holidays a year from now and how everything was going to change. Where would I be living? Would Braden be in my life—as well as his child’s life?

  A few minutes later, Charlie walked me out into the hall. Frank Temple strode off toward the elevator as Charlie and I veered toward my office. The firm was housed in a smoked-glass and steel building on the outskirts of Galloway. An up-and-coming company, it was already making its mark in the world market. I wanted to make this move desperately for a multitude of reasons.

  “What is wrong, April?” Charlie asked.

  “I have a stack of work to finish before my move.”

  “All right. But if you need a shoulder, I’m here.”

  At fifty-seven, Charlie was twenty-two years older than I was. He was a handsome, well-built man, and he’d been my mentor ever since I’d taken a position with Natural Beauty.

  “Thanks, Charlie. I know that. I’ll let you know if I need to talk. I know I was late coming in this morning, but I’ve worked a lot of evenings this month. I’m also going to need a couple of hours this afternoon for personal affairs, but I’ll be here earlier than usual in the morning.”

  After studying me for a moment, he responded, “I know you’re dedicated to Natural Beauty. You take the time you need before you leave for L.A.” Then with a smile, he turned to head in the other direction.

  When I looked down the hall, I stood perfectly still. Braden was standing at my office door. He was an hour early. As I took a few steps forward, everything I’d ever felt for him flooded through me all over again.

  I was five foot six without shoes, and even when I wore high heels Braden towered over me. Today he was wearing a charcoal gray suit, pale blue shirt, and gray-and-blue tie. The suit coat fit his shoulders as if it were custom-made for them, and maybe it had been. He was unsmiling, and I realized I’d give anything to see the playful twinkle back in his eyes, to have him tease me about the conservative cut of my suits. Whenever he’d turned his crooked grin on me, I melted.

  The night we’d broken our engagement, we’d been poles apart in terms of what we wanted in life. Were we still?

  As I reached Braden, he said simply, “I finished up in Tulsa early. How about taking a drive with me to the cowboy museum? It’s quiet this time of day. It’s always been a special place for us. Maybe walking and talking there will help us sort things out. I have a commitment later tonight, but we’ll have a good chunk of time now.”

  Until our argument, Braden had always been chivalrous, reasonable and unbearably sexy. The National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum had been one of our favorite places to visit together. In the garden there, he’d proposed. Was this his way of telling me he wanted to reconnect? Yet if Braden had a “commitment” later, did that mean he had a date…maybe with the redhead?

  “Let me gather some work together to take home, and then we can go.”

  It only took a few minutes for me to stuff personnel reviews into a folder and close that in my briefcase. Then I called the receptionist to say I’d be out of the office the rest of the afternoon.

  All the while I was on the phone, Braden stood casually in the doorway watching me, assessing my red suit, his gaze sending me messages I couldn’t begin to understand.

  When I hung up, he went to the coatrack and took my coat from the hook, holding it for me. “It’s still windy. You’ll want to bundle up.”

  “It’s always windy,” I returned with a small laugh, hoping to lighten the atmosphere a bit.

  I slipped my arm into one sleeve. As Braden held my coat, I was so aware of his presence behind me. His cologne was a woodsy musk, the same scent he’d worn when we dated. As I glanced over my shoulder at him, I could see afternoon stubble already shadowing his jaw. He had had a thick beard and the erotic sensation of its bristles on my skin had always been a sensual pleasure I loved.

  I remembered whisperings in the night as he’d told me about growing up in Galloway and I’d shared with him the information that we’d moved around a lot when I was a child before my father settled into a career as a venture capitalist. But I’d only met his family once, for our engagement dinner, and he’d never met mine. Why hadn’t either of us probed deeper? Had I been afraid of becoming too vulnerable? Had he?

  His eyes were mesmerizing, and I felt turned inside out. Then he moved and helped me with the other sleeve of my coat.

  As I buttoned and belted it, he asked, “How have you been feeling?”

  “Mostly fine. A little nausea now and then.”

  “You’re seeing a doctor?”

  There was a caring in Braden’s tone that wrapped itself around me, urging me to believe that at the least we could be friendly coparents.

  I kep
t my voice low, so that anyone passing by in the hall couldn’t hear. “I know there can be complications for women thirty-five and older, but I’m not taking any chances. At first I thought I had the flu, and I didn’t take a pregnancy test until I was about two months pregnant. But then I saw an obstetrician right away.”

  After studying me for a long moment, he motioned toward the hall and I preceded him out the door.

  As we walked through the parking lot toward Braden’s SUV, the December wind buffeted us and I wished we could fall into the camaraderie we’d experienced from the moment we’d met. We’d laughed together. We’d teased each other. Braden had shown me affection like I’d never known, taking my hand, draping his arm over my shoulders, kissing me on the spur of the moment. I’d loved the feeling of belonging that his attention had given me.

  “Have you been to any of the art shows at the museum lately?” I asked to make conversation. I knew Braden enjoyed going there because of his Oklahoma roots. He had a keen sense of history and a strong connection with the pioneers who had been his forefathers.

  “I haven’t had the time. Officially, I’m opening the restaurant in Galloway on New Year’s Eve and I’ve been caught up with the details of that. I managed to fit in a few days skiing just to take a break before the new year gets too hectic.”

  I wondered if his commitment tonight had to do with the new restaurant, but I didn’t feel I could ask. Maybe later I could find out if he’d been skiing alone.

  Braden used his remote to unlock the vehicle.

  When he opened the passenger door, I looked up at him and teased, “Maybe we should take my car.” Braden’s SUV was one of those that was built high off the ground, and I never could maneuver well in high heels and a straight skirt.

  “I’ll help you,” he offered as he had many times before.

  However, today, so much was different. Instead of me using his arm as a support, instead of him offering me a hand, he lifted me off my feet. I was in his arms and staring up at him, totally breathless and surprised. He’d swept me off my feet…again. Had he wanted to touch me as much as I’d wanted to touch him? Did he miss the closeness we’d once had?

  For the briefest of moments our lips were so very close, our breath almost mingling. Then he deposited me on the leather seat, closed my door and climbed in the driver’s side.

  Maybe we were both rattled by the close contact because we didn’t talk during the twenty-minute drive. The museum was located on Persimmon Hill in northeast Oklahoma City. At the end of summer we’d walked the colorful gardens hand in hand. Braden had proposed by one of the more secluded waterfalls, and I felt a lump in my throat now just thinking about it.

  After we parked and walked inside the building, Braden insisted on paying for both of us. As I checked my coat, I felt him study me all over again. I’d had to pin the waistband on my skirt because already my middle was thickening a little. It was so odd to think about the life inside me changing my body. Yet each day brought more of an awareness of that precious life and I cherished each change, even as I continued to worry. Jenny had gained weight month by month and had regular checkups. There’d been no indication of a problem before her premature contractions began. When I thought about that night in the hospital when my sister had lost her baby, I got chills.

  “Do you want to sit or walk?” Braden asked, moving through the entrance area.

  The cowboy museum was light and airy and shiny, peach and white and tan. There were comfortable leather couches that were deserted now. But sitting beside Braden just didn’t seem wise. “Let’s walk.”

  We strolled by an immense plaster statue—End of the Trail—then took the hall toward the galleries. Passing a security guard, we entered the room that housed masterpieces by Remington, Russell and Reynolds.

  “Are you certain you’re all right?” Braden asked quietly, gazing at me.

  “Nope. I’m pregnant,” I returned lightly. “I’m still coming to grips with that and…It feels strange to be back here again. With you.”

  “I thought coming here would be easier than going to your place or mine.”

  He was right. There was so much tension and awkwardness between us right now. Along with mutual attraction. Our shoulders were almost brushing, and I realized how much I wanted Braden to hold me, to assure me everything would be all right. Yet I pushed away that fantasy.

  After a few moments, Braden asked, “Did you tell me about the baby because you wanted to involve me in your pregnancy or because you thought it was the right thing to do?”

  I felt as if I were about to step onto a minefield. “I don’t think I can separate the two.”

  He turned to me, ignoring the paintings around us. “You knew if you told me, I could disrupt your plans.”

  I shook my head vigorously. “No. I knew if I told you, my choices would be more difficult, but they are still my choices to make.”

  “You can be so stubborn,” he muttered.

  Before I could respond that he could be just as rigid, my cell phone beeped in my purse. As I reached inside to retrieve it, Braden stayed my hand. His skin was warm on mine, getting hotter.

  The cell phone continued beeping.

  “We need this time together. Let your voice mail take it.”

  Braden was waiting to see how I would respond, and I realized that whatever I did now could affect the rest of my life.

  Closing my purse, I looked up at him. “Okay.” Even if we didn’t come up with any solutions today, we needed to get in touch again.

  In touch. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair as I had before. I wanted to lay my head on his shoulder. I wanted him to reassure me that we could work out our lives together.

  The quiet of the art gallery provided a respite from my hectic work life and from the Christmas bustle. This place seemed to be a world set apart. Apparently Braden had known that it would be.

  As we moved around the room, I barely noticed the scenes of horses running free and cowboys at work.

  When we stopped before a bronze of a cowboy rounding up steers, Braden’s voice was low. “Why are you scared of settling down?”

  “I’m not.” After all, I had accepted his marriage proposal.

  “I don’t believe that. At the first mention of family, you were ready to run.”

  How could I tell him everything all at once? The time and place just didn’t seem right—or else I still wasn’t ready. “I’m going to settle down in Los Angeles in a position I’ve always wanted to have. Since I learned I was pregnant, I’ve never had any doubts about keeping this child.”

  “But you wouldn’t have chosen to become pregnant now or any time soon.”

  Honestly, I had to admit, “No, I wouldn’t have.”

  He thought our broken engagement was all about work and my promotion. That was a huge part of it. Still, I wasn’t sure Braden could understand the other reasons why I hadn’t wanted to get pregnant—simply because he was a man, a man who had rejected me because I wanted something other than what he wanted. Most likely that was the real reason I couldn’t pour out my heart to him yet. But there was another reason, too—I needed to know if he’d really gone on with his life as if our relationship hadn’t mattered.

  “You said you have another commitment tonight. Is it a date?”

  Did I see a glint of satisfaction in his eyes?

  “Not in the sense you mean. Would you like to come with me?”

  “Where?”

  “Say yes, and you’ll see.”

  This was the playful side of Braden I’d fallen in love with. I thought about the work in my briefcase and my to-do list. Somehow none of that seemed to matter tonight. “All right. I’ll come with you.”

  “Good. I think we’ll bypass the Western Performers Gallery today in favor of getting something to eat.”

  That gallery was a favorite of Braden’s. I remembered the Roy Rogers CD he’d given me as a surprise one evening and had to smile. It was nostalgic and pure and romantic—as ro
mantic as the pink roses he’d often brought me. So much about us being together had been good.

  Why had it been so easy for us to throw it away?

  Because neither of us knew how to compromise? Or because Braden had decided I couldn’t fit into his world and I wasn’t the type of wife he needed in his life?

  Maybe I’d find out tonight.

  CHAPTER TWO

  AFTER A QUICK BISTRO DINNER and a short drive Braden parked in front of an older two-story home in a residential district of Oklahoma City. I glanced at him, puzzled. “A relative’s?” I asked.

  “Nope. No one in my family lives here.”

  Although I’d met Braden’s parents, sister, brother and their families when we’d eaten dinner together at the Tin Roof, I’d never seen their homes. Now I wondered why. Had the two of us been so wrapped up in each other we’d cut out everyone else? That was the obvious explanation. Yet now I was determined to find the real explanation. I’d fallen in love with Braden the first night we’d met. Attraction had been part of it, of course, but beyond that Braden had made me feel so many things. Definitely excitement. There had been something in those green eyes of his that had told me he was a kind man, a man who knew how to treat a woman with tenderness, a man who could make me feel safe for the first time in a very long while.

  Throughout my dating years I had protected myself with an armor that had kept most men at a distance. With Braden, my armor had begun to crumble, and today I was having a lot of trouble lifting it back into place. Our dinner tonight had included some fairly awkward silences, and I hadn’t felt free enough to ask my questions. Still my heart pounded hard whenever I was near him.