Stolen Goods: A Secret Baby Romance

by Lola White

  Again, Nolan dragged in a massive breath. “I talked to the people at the Barre Birth and Reproductive Center. Went to their Board of Directors with my lawyer.”

  “You strong-armed them into dropping all charges.” His supervisor nodded. “I heard.”

  “Easy enough to do, considering my sample was a case of fraudulent storage anyway.”

  “Doesn’t help with the judge, though.”

  Nolan gritted his teeth. “Tomorrow I’ll be visiting with the State’s Attorney General. Enough is enough. I want her out of there.”

  Guilty.

  The word haunted Nolan. In his sleep it echoed in his head, and when he was awake it twisted in his gut. He couldn’t escape it or the way it shook his heart and locked around his lungs. He carried the weight of it with him everywhere he went.

  When it finally came, when Moon finally got her day in court, he’d been certain the judge would declare her sentence complete. After all, she’d been lost in Chittenden for nearly two months. Surely the rest of her time could be spent on house arrest.

  The judge didn’t agree. But he did let her remain where she was.

  Nolan visited Weslyn every Saturday. He managed to get to South Burlington for almost all of her doctor’s appointments, too. The baby was healthy. Weslyn was slightly less so, but everyone had assured him that was normal for incarcerated mothers, and that the doctors were keeping a close watch on her.

  Nolan’s previous obsession with Weslyn Moon paled in comparison to what he felt for her then. And what he felt only deepened as the weeks flew by and her belly grew larger. It was a new brand of torture, every time he had to leave her in jail. A new level of frustration when he saw her again, gaining weight but not the glow everyone claimed a pregnant woman should have.

  His little mouse was unhappy.

  Nolan was furious.

  The state of Vermont wanted to take their baby away.

  13

  The contractions were coming faster, harder. Pain deeper than any Weslyn had ever known drew her body taut, lifted her spine from the thin mattress and held her in a terrible arch as she struggled to find breath. Still, she could bear it—she’d known pain much worse, and less rewarding.

  The handcuffs were annoying, and the sound they made clinking along the metal rails of the hospital bed scraped her nerves raw, but she could deal with it. She gritted her teeth and breathed the way she’d always seen in movies, and let the fierce wave of heat roll through her.

  When her body found a small respite, she asked her nurse, “Where is Agent Nolan Findley? Please, did anyone tell him I was in labor? I need him. He’s the father.”

  In the months since he’d picked her up in Chicago, Nolan had become the one person Weslyn depended on for laughter…happiness. For the first time in her life, she felt protected and cared for, and she’d loved seeing him, even though she wore shackles to their weekly meetings.

  She been lost in the system for a while, fought over and bartered for. The judge kept allowing the state to postpone her trial, but then Nolan saved her from that, too. Whatever strings he pulled, whoever he talked to, once her court appearances started, the whole process moved quickly. But she was still in jail. Sentenced to a year for art forgery, she’d expected her time to be spent on house arrest like her lawyer and Nolan had assured her. It wasn’t, and while Chittenden wasn’t a hardcore prison, she was still uncomfortable. Nolan had become the one bright spot in her life.

  Meeting after meeting, sitting across the table from him and talking to him about everything under the sun had done something to open her heart. Memories of their nights together, the two motel stays that had brought her so much pleasure, kept her warmer than she should have been. Some days she’d been lost in a dreamy fog, others she felt like a girl with her first crush, imagining the way life could be—with her, Nolan and their child together and happy.

  The nurse ripped Weslyn’s fantasy apart with a simple statement. “No one else is allowed to be in here. You’re a prisoner.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Another pain swept through Weslyn, and she gritted her words out in a strangled scream. “He’s the father. He needs to be here!”

  The nurse shook her head. “That’s not how it works.”

  He wasn’t there and couldn’t come. Weslyn’s thoughts spun, but she held on to hope and her dream. Later he would come, after the baby was born. They would call him and Nolan would rush to her side, tell her he was taking care of everything.

  Through the night, she held on to that delusion. She’d seen something special in his photograph, and she’d experienced it firsthand when he found her in Chicago. He was beautiful inside and out, a true gentleman, a good man. A rare breed.

  She loved him. In the moment of tearing pain and agonized relief when her child slipped from her body, Weslyn experienced love in a way she’d never done before. She was dizzy with it, panting and gasping, reaching for it with shaking arms. Bright spots spun in her vision.

  She wanted Nolan to share in her joy. Needed him.

  “My baby,” she whispered. “Nolan’s baby. Let me see.”

  But she couldn’t see. The bright spots grew brighter, bigger, hotter. Somewhere far, far away, a nurse screamed for a doctor and machines beeped incessantly.

  Weslyn passed out before she could hold her baby.

  Life descended into darkness. Pure darkness without light or hope. Only the pain of broken dreams and wishful thinking found a home in the empty void that Weslyn had become.

  She knew she was on suicide watch, but there was no need. She didn’t have the energy for such trouble. The only thing she had the energy to do was cry.

  So she cried. Long, slow silent tears.

  She cried at never having held her baby before they took him away. She cried for the pain that still racked her body and ripped into her heart. She cried for herself.

  Because Nolan had never come.

  Sometimes, in the long, lonely darkness, someone fed her pills and whispered of post-partum depression. Weslyn didn’t have the energy to care about that, either.

  14

  The weight of the ankle monitor made Weslyn limp, as she walked out of the probation officer’s office. Her stomach in knots, she still took a deep breath and trekked down the hall toward the lobby. Her P.O. said someone was coming for her, to take her to her new home, which had already been outfitted for her needs. She’d spend the rest of her sentence there, confined. Other than that, the details were vague and Weslyn didn’t care enough to probe further.

  She tried to feel some sort of optimism or even a sliver of hope, but happiness was a far-off dream. Not even a memory, but a wish, perhaps. After all, she had nothing and no one, and hadn’t even gotten a letter from Nolan since she’d given birth to their son. The son that had been snatched from her and given away.

  All in all, it was about what Weslyn had expected. Or feared, rather.

  So when she turned the corner to the lobby and saw Nolan on the other side of the long desk, chatting up the receptionist, she almost fell over. She stumbled to a halt, the monitor dragging her a little to one side. She caught herself against the wall, but lost all her breath in the process.

  He turned to her with a wistful smile that broke the rest of her heart. “Moon.”

  “What—” She forced air into her lungs and ignored the sudden pain in her chest. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came for you.”

  Bitterness flooded her, tears came to her eyes. “Why bother? I haven’t heard from you in over a month. Why bother to come now?”

  “Because you’re coming home with me.” He cocked his head and stared at her with eyes deepening into a grassy green that she remembered meaning trouble. “I didn’t transfer back to Vermont because I liked the fall foliage, you know.”

  “Why did you, then?” She folded her arms over her chest and tried not to hope for much. But the butterflies in her stomach didn’t listen.

  He smiled again. �
��I found us a house with a real nice room you can use for a studio. A friend of mine is working on your website as we speak. This time, the landscapes you sell can be Moon originals.”

  “I told you, my stuff doesn’t sell.”

  “It didn’t,” he agreed. “But that was before there were fake Moon fakes out in the world, Weslyn. You’ve made a name for yourself, and now it’s time to make it legit.”

  Her stomach shook up into her chest and her eyes burned. Weslyn wanted nothing more than to fall into the plans Nolan outlined, let him take care of her the way no one else ever had. But she’d tried that before, and spent long, lonely months in jail because of it.

  “Why?” she managed in a thin, strained voice. “Why now, when I haven’t heard from you? Why all this after…you stopped coming to see me. Not even a fucking letter, but now you just show up and—”

  “I was a little busy, Moon. Something real important.”

  “I bet.”

  Nolan winked and disappeared behind the counter. The lady manning the phones grinned. When Nolan straightened, he held a baby.

  Their baby.

  Weslyn’s heart dropped to her toes.

  “You have no idea what I had to go through to get our child from the state foster system, Weslyn. Paternity tests, letters from my supervisor, court testimonies. I had to undergo investigation from every state agency Vermont could think of to get involved. I had to agree to stay here for an extra year on top of your sentence so we could continue to be evaluated as parents, and I’m relegated to desk duty at the Bureau for the foreseeable future.”

  The tears that had been crowding her eyes finally fell. Weslyn stepped forward hesitantly, scared to dream, scared that her wish might have come true. “You got our baby back?”

  “I did.” Nolan held out his hand, pulling her close the moment she was within his reach. “But I didn’t want to tell you how close I was until I had everything together. I didn’t get the final custody papers until a few days ago, and by then I figured… I’d surprise you.”

  “Oh, I’m surprised. Very.”

  She huddled close to his side as he put their baby in her arms. Weslyn was shaking so badly she didn’t dare move away from Nolan’s strength, terrified she’d collapse. Hot shudders raced through her and the butterflies that clogged her stomach worked their way into her throat. Her head spun.

  “I love you,” she told him on a broken breath. She told both of them, her lover and their baby.

  Nolan dipped his head and put his lips next to her ear. “I love you, too Moon. Now, let’s go home.”

  “I’ve never had one of those before. Not a real one.”

  He picked up the carrier the child had been in and steered her toward the door with a hot hand against her back. “Now you do. A home, a family…and I’ll make damn sure you get a happily-ever-after, too.”

  The End

  About Lola White

  Delve into the emotions, dive into the erotic.

  An extensive traveler who loves to incorporate various legends from around the world into her tales, Lola White likes to twist reality at its edges in her stories. She likes delving into the emotions of her characters, finding their strengths and weaknesses, and seeing (and showing) how they get themselves out of whatever trouble has found them—if they can.

  For news, exclusives and special deals, sign up for her newsletter at http://goo.gl/N4YZ1K

  Visit her website www.lola-white.com

  Books by Lola White

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  The Tithe Collector

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  The Garguiem

  Fighting corruption through faith, duty and love.

  My Stalker

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  Psychic Trilogy

  Confronting the darkness within is the only way to save themselves, and the men they’ve agreed to help.