Black Hills Baby

by Debra Salonen

  The possibility that she might actually become a mother seemed to give her a different perspective on simple acts like reading Megan to sleep at night or making finger-paint masterpieces on the back deck. Probably just hormones, she guessed, but she always felt on the verge of tears.

  And now she was facing another dilemma. Did she tell her friends, her brother, her town, about the baby? Or did she wait until she was sure she could carry it to full term? First-trimester miscarriages were common, she’d read. Especially among women her age.

  And what of Cooper? Should she tell him?

  A part of her said no. The sneaky bastard didn’t deserve the truth--couldn’t handle the truth, as Jack Nicholson barked on film.

  In the past weeks since he'd left, she’d become a Netflix fanatic, catching up on back seasons of television shows she’d heard about but never watched, as well as watching a new title every night. She didn’t know why. Maybe because that industry was his life and she craved the connection-–regardless of how remote.

  She closed the lid of the washing machine and pushed the start button. The quiet chugging sound made her long to curl up on top of the machine and take a nap. Nap? That was so not her. This was Sunday. Her day to catch up. But she’d arrange to take the next day off, as well, so she could go to Rapid City to the doctor.

  The sound of the phone ringing made her hurry into the kitchen. She checked the call ID before picking it up. Although the service had added an extra few bucks a month to her phone bill, she’d found it saved her a good dozen “No comment” responses a day to calls from the media.

  “Hi, Kat. Are you and the boys back from church?”

  “Didn’t go. Jordie has a cold, and Tag is at his dad’s. I actually spent a decadent morning reading the Denver Post. They’re doing some kind of promo and one was delivered to my doorstep. Free.”

  Nobody was thriftier than Kat. Not even Libby. “That’s nice. What’s my horoscope say?”

  There was a long pause. “I didn’t think you believed in those kinds of things.”

  “I don’t, but…never mind.”

  She heard a rustling of newsprint. “Hold on. Here it is. You're a...got it. Okay, listen... Fate opens a door that was previously marked Do Not Enter. Now is your chance to find a part of you that was missing. Do not be afraid. Do not pass Go. Do collect all that you are entitled to.”

  Libby’s knees went wobbly and she sat down on the closest chair. “You made that up.”

  “W…what? No. I--I…okay, I did. But that’s what it should have read. The real one says something about your finances being on the upswing. Who gives a fig about that?”

  I do. If I’m going to be a mother, I need to work extra hard to rebuild my baby’s college fund. But at least, I still have my entire share of the mine.

  She shook her head to refocus on their conversation. “I’ve never known you to fabricate horoscopes, Kat. What’s going on? Why’d you call?”

  Kat sighed. “There’s an article in the lifestyle section about Cooper. I think you should see it.”

  “I don’t—”

  “It’s more about his mother and her gambling addiction than him. She really screwed up her life and his finances, Lib. You might not hate him so much if you read it. I mean, I feel sort of sorry for him. He really loved her, you know.”

  “Love? The only kind of emotion that man is capable of is self-adoration. You shouldn’t believe everything you read, Kat. We’ve had this discussion before in book club. You’re the resident softy, remember?”

  Kat made a frustrated sound. “I knew you were going to say that, but I still think you should read the article. Aren’t you the person who values fairness and impartiality when Jenna gets on a rant or Char goes all mystic on us? You always say opinions are only as good as the information behind them.”

  “I say that?”

  “Yes, you do.”

  Libby didn’t want to admit it, but a part of her craved an explanation for his actions. “Okay. I’ll try to find a paper. There might still be one—-”

  “Jenna’s on her way over with a copy as we speak. I would have come, but I don’t want to expose you to Jordie’s germs.”

  “Is he really sick?”

  “No. Just a cold, but you…you’re fragile right now.”

  Libby’s heart skipped a beat. Kat was intuitive, but surely she hadn’t guessed about the baby.

  “I know you’re not sleeping well. And you blame yourself for the uproar around town. Guilt is heavy burden. It can run down your body’s natural defenses.”

  Libby let out a sigh of relief. “You’re right about not sleeping.” Her nights were filled with memories and what-ifs. And ridiculous dreams of scenarios that couldn’t possibly come true. Images of her and Cooper making up, sorting things out, starting fresh.

  “And the initial trimester of any pregnancy is problematic-–especially when it’s your first.”

  The phone slipped from Libby’s grasp, but she managed to catch it before it hit the table. “What did you say?”

  “Don’t worry. No one else knows. I just have a sense about these things.”

  “Kat…I… Oh, God, this can’t be happening. What am I going to do? When people find out, they’ll probably run me out of town on a rail. It’s his baby, of course.”

  Her friend made an exasperated sound. “Like there was any question of that. Nobody is going to hold this against you-–or your baby. Believe me, Lib, I know. I got pregnant out of wedlock not once but twice. The only people who like to remind me every chance they get about my tendency to shoot myself in the foot are members of my family.”

  “Mac is going to be furious.”

  “He’ll get over it.”

  The words were comforting because deep down Libby knew they were true. Despite being completely justified in telling her “I told you so,” Mac had been in her corner ever since word of Cooper’s plan came out.

  “Thanks, Kat. I appreciate your support. Do you think I should hold off telling the others?”

  “Only if you’re prepared to put up with several months of pouting.”

  Another truth.

  “Gotcha. Hey, I hear a car. It’s probably Jenna. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  “Sure will. Book club’s Tuesday night, remember? Botany of Desire. I’m bringing everything. Since we try to shape our menu around some aspect of the book, I had to get creative. The chapter about marijuana was challenging, since I don’t want my kids to even guess that I know what it is. But I found some beer made out of hemp. You can take a sip. I promise it won’t hurt the baby. Gotta run. See you tomorrow.”

  Libby hung up, then walked to the door just as Jenna started to knock. She didn’t give the other woman a chance to speak. “Come in. Kat told me you were coming. Let me read the article first, then we’ll talk.”

  Jenna presented her with the folded paper. Cooper’s photo was visible and half the headline: …ing A Gambler.

  Loving a gambler? Supporting? What?

  She spread the page wide. Her Famous Son’s Secret: Hiding A Gambler.

  “Got any coffee left?” Kat asked, shouldering past Libby, who felt rooted to the spot. She couldn’t wait to dive into the story.

  “I had tea. The water’s probably still hot.”

  “Tea?” Jenna exclaimed, picking up a box of Celestial Seasonings Lemon Zinger. “You never drink tea unless you don’t feel well. Oh, God, no.” The box went flying. “Don’t tell me. You have AIDS.”

  “Huh?” Libby picked up the box and handed it to her.

  “Did he give you some kind of STD and you’re on a powerful antibiotic and can’t drink caffeine?”

  Libby shook her head. “You’ve been spending too much time with your hypochondriac mother. I’m not sick, you big dufus. I’m pregnant.”

  The box tumbled from her friend’s fingers a second time and she clapped a hand over her mouth to lessen the shrill squeal that followed. “Libby. How? You said you used protection.”


  “We did. Except one time.”

  Jenna threw her arms around Libby and squeezed. Hard. “I’m so happy for you, Lib. I really am. Despite what a rat Coop turned out to be. I’ll be your baby’s acting aunt until…Mac gets his act together.”

  Libby knew Jenna had had a terrible crush on Mac before his marriage to Misty. She wondered… No, Jenna wasn’t still in love with her brother. She hoped. As much as Libby adored him, she knew Jenna could do better. Mac was a lost cause.

  “You go read about the big creep and I’ll make us both a fresh cup of tea. Do you have any muffins or anything? We’re eating for two now, you know.”

  Libby laughed. Two friends down, one to go. Then she had to break the news to her brother. And Gran. And the rest of Sentinel Pass.

  She sat in her father’s chair-–the one Cooper had favored when he’d been here-–and opened the newspaper. She still hadn’t decided whether or not to tell Coop. Word might get back to him if a film crew showed up. Maybe she could stay behind the chest-high window at the Post Office and nobody would know the difference.

  Yeah, right. But if he did hear about her condition and he called, she could always lie. After all, she’d learned from the best--a man who lied for a living.

  Chapter 17

  “Sit still, will you? My God, do they make Ritalin for grown-ups?”

  Coop ignored Shane’s grousing. The SUV they’d rented at the Rapid City airport was only ten miles from Sentinel Pass. The tall ponderosa pines and Black Hills spruce had already started filling the air with their distinctive welcoming scent. He was home. His olfactory sense knew it even if his mind was still reluctant to admit the truth.

  Or, rather, was afraid the truth was going to disappoint him. He might have come to the conclusion that he needed to make a large part of his life in the Black Hills–-he wondered if Kevin Costner had felt the same way after filming Dances with Wolves-–but that didn’t mean Sentinel Pass or its postmaster was going welcome him back.

  “Do we get a motel before or after you prostrate yourself at the feet of your postmaster?” Shane asked, subtly emphasizing the second half of Libby’s title.

  “After.”

  “You’re sure? Coop, I’m worried that you’re underestimating just how much groveling is going to be required to woo this woman away from the point of wanting to gut you in public.”

  Coop smiled. “That isn’t Libby’s style. She’s more likely to suffer in silence.”

  “Then stick it to you later. Behind closed doors,” Shane mumbled.

  Despite the fact they were best friends, Coop knew practically nothing about Shane’s private life-–except he liked to keep it private. Mostly, Shane was a workaholic who had enough money to never have to work again but refused to play the role of rich playboy. Instead, he shied away from the glitz and glamour that Coop had courted at his mother’s insistence.

  “Are you speaking from experience?”

  “My family has mastered the art and science of passive aggressive behavior. On the surface, we epitomize the standard American norm, but when the doors close, look out.”

  The personal revelation was so out of character, Coop gaped, speechless for several seconds. “You’ve never mentioned your parents before.”

  Shane’s scowl told him the man wished he’d kept his mouth shut. “They’re both dead now, but they were married nearly thirty years when my mother passed away. My father remarried four months later to a woman twenty years his junior. After his stroke, she started sleeping with my brother…while running his campaign for the Minnesota congress.”

  “Wait a second. Isn’t that a storyline from The Young and The Restless? If not, it should be. Where’s your brother and stepmother now?”

  “Still one state over in Minnesota, as far as I know. We’re not exactly close.”

  “But isn’t he your twin?”

  “We’re the yin and yang of fraternal evolution.”

  Coop wanted to know more, but the turn-off for Sentinel Pass loomed. He spotted the large white teepee the housed Char’s Native Arts gift shop. There were only three vehicles in the parking lot. Impulsively he pointed and said, “Pull in. Libby’s friend owns this place. She might tell me what to expect when we get to town.”

  Shane slowed down and put on the blinker. Looking around, he frowned. “Are you sure? This looks like the kind of place that has bows and arrows for sale. Is she a friendly native?”

  “Char’s as white as you or me, but she likes to promote Native American crafts and artisans.”

  “Is this Char person one of the secondary characters you mentioned? The book club ladies?” He parked and turned off the engine.

  “Uh-huh. The one I labeled ‘Quirky. Weird-colored hair.’”

  Shane got out. “Ah. I can’t wait.”

  “Then you go first. I…I’ll slip in behind you and make sure there aren’t any posters with Wanted: Dead or Alive above my name.”

  Shane rolled his eyes, but he opened the door and walked directly to the main counter. To Coop’s surprise, the person working the cash register wasn’t Char. It was Jenna.

  “Hi,” she called out, sitting up straight on her stool behind the counter. The round layout of the teepee was somewhat restrictive in size, but the sunlight filtering through the canvas and the shafts of light angling through the conical opening of the ceiling gave the place a bright, open feel. “We have a great sale on jewelry at the moment, if you’re interested.”

  He looked over his shoulder in Coop’s direction, but Cooper wasn’t ready to reveal himself.

  “Is this the right road to Sentinel Pass?” he asked.

  Coop almost snorted. Lame question.

  But the dreamy expression on Jenna’s face told him she was too intrigued by Shane’s dark good looks to notice. “You’re one of the TV people Libby warned me about, aren’t you?”

  Shane looked down as if questioning what aspect of his black jeans and long-sleeve black shirt gave him away.

  “It’s the tan,” she said, as if sensing his unasked question. “The only people around here with tans just got back from a cruise. And you don’t strike me as the cruise type.”

  “You’re right,” Shane said. “I’m not. I…um… I’m here with a friend.”

  “Girlfriend?” she asked. Even from a distance, Coop could see her face turn red as she stammered, “L…like I said, we have some nice jewelry on sale.”

  Good save, Jenna.

  Shane shook his head. “No. My friend and business associate. I think you know him. Cooper Lindstrom.”

  She jumped off her stool so abruptly it fell backwards, crashing into a desk behind the counter.

  “Coop’s here? In Sentinel Pass?”

  “I am. Is it safe to come out?”

  She crossed her arms in front of her. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here.”

  Shane let out a laugh. “God, Coop, you were right. This place is wonderful. That line was straight out of an old western. Miss Kitty to a gunslinger at the-–what was the name of her bar?”

  “The Longbranch,” Jenna supplied, her gaze never leaving Cooper. “Didn’t you cause enough grief the first time around?”

  He shrugged. “Who’s to say what’s enough? I’m back because…well, to paraphrase Ricky Ricardo, ‘I’ve got a lot of 'splaining to do.’ To Libby and to the town.”

  Jenna looked from Coop to Shane and back. “What if I told you you’re too late? We had a town meeting last night and we voted not to cooperate with your film operation.”

  Coop didn’t believe her. She kept glancing at Shane, which was probably a tell. “Then I’d say you need to convince Libby to call another meeting. The show is going to happen. This is Shane Reynard, the producer,” he said, motioning Shane to come closer. “He’s here to get a feel for the town, its people and how much the show can borrow from the real Sentinel Pass without stomping on too many toes.”

  She leaned over the counter to look at his feet. “I can’t believe I helped you bre
ak in those boots.” She shook her head and sighed. “Your hurt us, Coop. You lied. Do you have any idea how much stock Libby puts in the truth? You should. Remember how mortified she was when she thought you’d misinterpreted her ad?”

  Coop didn’t need to be reminded. He’d thought of little else over the past month. “Libby’s a better person than me, Jenna. There’s no disputing that. I don’t deserve her, and I don’t for a minute think that winning back even some small part of her affection is going to be easy. But I’m here to try."

  “And because Cooper know how much your friend loves Sentinel Pass, we want to do this right.”

  Shane moved to Coop’s side. “We plan to get a motel room somewhere close by and write the script for the pilot and the first couple of shows. Coop told me there’s a popular diner right downtown. We’d try to make ourselves available to take input from anyone who wants to contribute.”

  She seemed to be studying his friend’s face more intently than seemed fitting for one as shy as Jenna. “You’re a writer? I thought Cooper called you a producer.”

  A memory clicked in Coop’s brain. “Jenna writes, too, Shane. Poetry. Deep, poignant poetry." He looked at the woman behind the counter. "I read your book, but I didn’t get a chance to tell you so before I left. It was…intense and insightful--a little troubling because I felt like I owed you an apology and I didn’t know why.”

  “Well, you know why now.”

  Shane smirked at the quick comeback.

  “I do. I know and I apologize. So are we even? Do you want to work for us? Maybe do some copy editing or something?”

  Coop looked at Shane. The man’s brows were practically touching. Not a good sign. Coop didn’t know why the idea had upset his friend. What could be wrong about hiring a pretty girl who knew the town to help them?