by Susan Gable
And his heart ached for that.
He kicked himself for being so rough on her. But damn, this had been one hell of a shock. His anger had been aimed only partly at her. More of it belonged to the boy—and to himself. Somehow, he’d failed as a father.
Had his own father felt this way when Rachel had announced her surprise pregnancy? The distance between them at the time had prevented Sloan from knowing a lot about what went on in that period of Rae’s life. But at least his sister had been an adult with a college degree already, and a career of her own. Brook was still just a baby herself.
A warm hand on his shoulder had him twitching.
“Sloan?”
He whirled around. The hum of the refrigerator vibrated through his back. “Jenna. I kind of forgot you were here.”
“I imagine you have a lot on your mind right now.”
“That’s the understatement of the year.” He sighed. “One of the things on my mind is your part in all this. That positive test I found in your bathroom last night was Brook’s, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you really think that was your place?”
“She showed up on my doorstep, crying, terrified that she was pregnant but not sure. Should I have turned her away?”
“Just tell me this. If the test had turned up negative, would you have clued me in on the fact that my teenage daughter was sleeping with her boyfriend, Mr. Horn-toad?”
She pressed her lips together, apparently considering it. Then she shook her head. “Probably not.”
“And that’s because you’re not a parent.”
Jenna’s eyes widened a bit, lifting her eyebrows.
“You should have come to me immediately. I can’t believe you looked me right in the face last night and didn’t tell me my daughter was pregnant!”
“I made her promise she’d tell you soon. And she did.”
“That doesn’t excuse what you did.” Needing some distance, he stalked to the other side of the kitchen, propped his hip against the counter. “Look, I think it’s safe to say I’m going to be pretty busy for the next while, so…”
“Don’t give me that, Sloan. You’re calling it quits, aren’t you? Had enough dessert, right?”
His throat tightened at the thought of not having her vibrancy, her light, in his life. Especially now, when he’d probably need it even more. But he needed to focus on Brook. “Yeah. I guess I am. I’ll call you though, okay?”
For a long moment, she just looked at him. Then she nodded. “Sure. You do that.” With her head held high, she turned and strolled from his kitchen. A few minutes later he heard the front door click shut.
Gathering his courage, and resolving to stay calm no matter what, he made his way upstairs. He knocked on Brook’s half-open door, then entered her room. The perfume and lipstick on the dresser, and the posters of the latest teen heartthrob on the walls, clashed with the collection of stuffed animals perched in the cargo net in the corner over her bed. A lacy bra lay on the floor next to a pair of Curious George pajama shorts. Even the room couldn’t decide if it was more child or woman.
On the bed, Brook pressed her face against the wall, shoulders shuddering. His guts twisted. The twin mattress shifted as he eased himself onto the edge. He cleared his throat. “Brook? I’m sorry for yelling at you. I was just…well, surprised is too mild to describe it. Stunned might be better.”
She pressed tighter against the wall.
He reached out, stroked her arm. “Somehow—and I honestly have no idea how at the moment—it’s all going to work out, I promise you. But there are some serious decisions to be made here, Brook, so we need to talk. Roll over.”
She did, bringing with her a yellow teddy bear clutched against her chest. She scooted away from him so her spine pressed against the wall. “Are—are you going to make me get an abortion?”
“What?” He reared back. “I’m not going to make you do anything. Especially not have an abortion. Why would you think that?”
She sniffled. “Be-because of that night with Mom. I heard you tell her to get an abortion and she said no.”
“Oh, Brook. That conversation was definitely not meant for your ears.” Sloan dragged his hand over his face. “Well, if you’re old enough to be carrying a baby of your own, I guess you’re old enough to know the truth of what happened that night. But this is between us, Brook. Your little sister doesn’t even remember her momma, and I don’t want her thinking any less of her.”
Brook looked puzzled.
“Your mother was pregnant all right. But the baby wasn’t mine.”
“What?” Her mouth dropped open for a moment before she snapped it shut. “No way! That’s a lie! Mom would never do that!” She hugged the bear tighter.
“Yes, way. She’d told her lover and hadn’t gotten the response she’d expected. In fact, he’d told her no matter what, he wasn’t taking responsibility for a kid. It took her a few days to get up the courage to tell me. Needless to say, since I knew the baby wasn’t mine, I wasn’t too keen on the idea that she’d been steppin’ out on me. On you. And on Ashley, who was only a little mite at the time.”
“H-how did you know it wasn’t yours?”
Sloan groaned. “Brook, I didn’t want to know about your sex life—hell, I didn’t want you to have a sex life until you were long married and out of the house—so I certainly don’t feel like discussing my sex life with you.” His face warmed. “Let’s just say when I told you abstinence is the best birth control, I was speaking from experience, okay?”
Beth had discontinued their lovemaking while pregnant with Ashley, saying she felt unattractive and not interested in sex. He’d counted down the weeks after their second child’s birth, waited for her to get the okay from the doctor, but their sex life had never gotten restarted. His ego had been horribly bruised when he’d discovered that it wasn’t sex his wife wasn’t interested in anymore but, rather, sex with him.
“Huh?” For a moment, confusion filled Brook’s face, then the pieces fell into place. “Oh. You mean you weren’t getting any?”
“How did this become about me?” Sloan tried to remember where the conversation had derailed. Right, the night of Beth’s death and their argument over the child she carried. “I was angry, and I said things that night to your mother that I shouldn’t have. I regret that every day. But Brook, I’m not about to force you to have an abortion. That’s one option in front of you. We have to figure out what the right thing is.” He’d always considered himself staunchly pro-life. But the reality of his pregnant teenager had him thinking about the possibility of an abortion. Life sure had a way of smacking you in the face and making you really consider what you believed deep down.
“Jenna said abortion, adoption, or motherhood were my three choices.”
“She did, huh?” He sighed, partly out of regret—he was already missing Jenna—and partly out of sadness. None of the options were much of a choice for a fifteen-year-old. “Well, that about sums it up. And one of the first things we need to do is get you to a doctor.”
“Are you still mad at me?”
“I’m not mad, sugar. I’m disappointed. I’m hurt that you didn’t listen to me. How many times I’ve said ‘I don’t talk just to hear myself,’ I don’t know. I’m upset and I’m sad, and I wish I could change things for you.”
“What about Dylan? You’re not really going to hurt him, are you?”
“Right now we’re going to focus on you. But we will be having a talk with Dylan and his parents, don’t you worry about that. Does he know?”
Arms still clutching her bear, Brook nodded.
“And what did he say?”
She shrugged.
“Brook, I want to know what that boy said when you told him you were pregnant.”
“Are you gonna make him marry me?”
“What?” His indignation made his voice squeak like an adolescent’s. Like the way he imagined Dylan might squeak when Sloan applied a little pressu
re. “I swear, where do you get these ideas?”
“You always say to do the right thing. And Granddad made Uncle Roman marry Aunt Rachel when she got pregnant with Daniel.”
“Yeah, and just look how that turned out. No, Brook, you’re far too young to be getting married. I don’t think that’s the right thing at all.”
“I’m far too young to be having a baby, too.”
Unfortunately, that point was already moot.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LATE THURSDAY afternoon, Sloan pulled up in front of a large Tudor house in one of the upper-crust neighborhoods. He’d often wondered who could afford these expensive places the builders kept cranking out. Answer: the parents of the kid who’d knocked up his daughter. Brook shifted in the passenger seat and tried, without success, to stifle a long sigh.
“You okay?”
She nodded. “I suppose. This is going to be bad. I just know it.” Brook turned to face him. “Dad, promise you’re not going to go all psycho, okay?”
Sloan held up his hand. “I promise I am not going to go all psycho. We just need to know where things stand on their side of the issue.” He’d taken Brook to an ob/gyn yesterday. So far, both she and the baby were healthy. His head still spun with all the information the doctor had loaded on them, from the risks Brook faced as a pregnant teen, to nutrition, diet and exercise tips, along with places they could go for help no matter what Brook chose to do.
“Come on. Let’s do this.” Sloan jumped from the pickup’s cab. Brook followed more slowly. On the front porch, he rang the doorbell. His daughter slipped her hand into his and he squeezed it. As he schooled his expression, the door opened. Dylan’s face lost all its color when he recognized him. “Oh, Mr. Thompson. Hey. What’s going on?”
“Cut the crap, Junior. I think you know why we’re here. Are your parents home?” Sloan pushed his way into the marble foyer of the house, leading Brook in by the hand.
“Dylan? Who is it?” A woman in a pair of black dress slacks and a beaded sweater came down the curved staircase, fastening an earring as she descended. “Oh, Brook, how lovely to see you, dear.” At the bottom she extended her hand to Sloan. “And you must be Brook’s father. Very nice to meet you.”
“You may not think so in another minute or two.” Sloan shook her hand.
“Excuse me?”
“Is your husband home?”
“He is, but this is really not a good time—”
“No kidding. It’s not a good time for me, either, but there’s an issue that we all need to discuss.”
Dylan shuffled his feet, then cleared his throat. Sloan shot him a squinty-eyed glare.
Mrs. Burch looked from one to the other. “I can see that something’s going on here. Dylan, take our guests to the parlor and get them something to drink. I’ll go hurry your father along. Perhaps we can clear up whatever the problem is and still not be late for the club dinner.” She turned and glided back up the stairs.
“Uh, this way.” Dylan ushered them from the foyer to an intimate room with cream-colored upholstered sofas and dark wooden end tables. “Can I take your coats?”
“We’re not staying that long.”
Junior looked relieved at that. “What can I get you to drink?” The kid jammed his finger into the knot of his tie, loosening it.
It took every ounce of self-control Sloan had not to grab the blue silk and tighten the knot to the point where the kid’s eyeballs would bug out. “We’re not here on a social call, and you know it. Apparently you haven’t clued your parents in on the ‘situation’ yet, have you?”
Face blanching again, Dylan shook his head. “N-no, sir. Look, I’m really sorry—”
“Save it. If you’re smart, you might want to run along upstairs and give them an idea of what they’re facing down here.”
With a quick nod, Dylan darted from the archway.
Sloan turned his attention to Brook, who looked paler than the cream brocade furniture. “Sit down, honey.”
Without a sound, she eased onto the edge of the sofa.
“Sit back, relax. You’re not going to break it.” Sloan plopped himself next to her and took her hand. “I promise, Snickerdoodle, it’s going to be okay. The boy has to own up to what he’s done, and I want to be sure that these people aren’t going to make trouble for you.”
They sat in silence for several minutes. Then from upstairs, raised voices could be heard, followed by the slamming of a door. Sloan gave Brook’s fingers a squeeze. “Sounds like the polecat’s outta the bag now.” Another few minutes passed before the Burch family appeared together in the archway. Mrs. Burch’s face was flushed, and there were faint tearstains on her cheeks. Mr. Burch had his hand gripped around the back of Junior’s neck. The woman scurried to a chair in the corner of the room and lowered herself into it, hands fluttering on her knees. Mr. Burch urged his son into the room. “I believe Dylan has something to say to both of you.”
“M-Mr. Thompson, Brook, I’m really sorry about this.”
“This? You mean the fact that my daughter is about to turn your parents into grandparents?”
Mrs. Burch gave a little moan of dismay.
“Whoa, there.” Mr. Burch held up his hand. “No one said anything about us becoming grandparents. Now, it’s unfortunate that the kids messed up. But surely you’re not intimating that Brook’s going to go through with this pregnancy, are you?”
Sloan stood. “Brook is going to do what she decides is the right thing for her. Period.”
“Surely she can see that it’s in her best interests to have an abortion?” Burch reached into his jacket, pulled out his checkbook. “And we will be happy to pay the full costs for the procedure.”
Brook covered her face with her hands. The heavy padding of her jacket twitched as her shoulders shook with muted sobs.
“Like son, like father,” Sloan muttered. Brook had told him Dylan had pretty much said the same thing when she’d told him she was pregnant. “If Brook decides that’s what she’s going to do, then we’ll take you up on whatever my insurance doesn’t cover. But what I really want to know is what kind of support we’re going to get from you if Brook decides to keep the baby. Or if she puts the baby up for adoption, we want to know if Dylan will sign the relinquishment papers.”
“Adoption?” Mrs. Burch gasped. “Strangers raising the baby?”
“Lydia,” Mr. Burch barked. “Get a grip on yourself.” He flicked a nonexistent piece of lint from his jacket. “Mr. Thompson, if your daughter decides to keep this baby, then we’ll let our lawyers handle the situation of support. And if she wants to put the child up for adoption, Dylan will go along with that. He has a track scholarship waiting for him next year, and he’s not about to lose that opportunity. Not to mention he’s too young to be a father.”
“I guess he should have thought of that before he unzipped his pants, huh?”
“There’s blame enough to go around. It takes two, Mr. Thompson.”
“No kidding. Now I can see how you acquired this house. You’re a rocket scientist.”
Mr. Burch sputtered. Sloan reached down and helped Brook to her feet. “Come on, sweetheart. We’re leaving.” In the foyer, he turned to look at Dylan’s dad. “Don’t worry. We’ll be in touch.”
Dylan glanced at Brook without lifting his head. Hand at his side, he wiggled his fingers at her in a gesture so subtle Sloan almost missed it. Then he wished they both had, when Brook sniffled and burst into a fresh batch of tears. But at least the kids seemed to have feelings for each other, and in some way, he found that comforting.
Even if he did still want to wring Junior’s neck with the blue silk tie.
Outside, he dragged vast quantities of cold air into his lungs, hoping to chill the anger he felt at the people inside the house. Obviously Mr. Burch didn’t understand that support meant more than just money.
Do the right thing obviously had no meaning to them.
He helped his daughter into the truck, pulling some n
apkins from the glove compartment and offering them to her. She gave him a wavering, watery smile in return. “Thanks, Dad.”
“You’re welcome.”
“No, I mean it. For everything.” She blew her nose, then crumpled up the tissue. “I— I really am sorry I let you down.” Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
Oh, Lord have mercy, he’d forgotten what pregnancy hormones did to women. He pulled her into his arms. “I know, sugar. I’m sorry I let you down, too.”
She pushed him away, looked up at him with surprise in her eyes. “How did you let me down, Daddy? I’m the one that got pregnant after you told me a million times to wait to have sex. To do the right thing. B-but… I really thought he loved me!” She ended on a piercing wail, and threw herself back into his embrace.
“I know you did, sweetie.”
HOURS LATER, with both girls asleep, Sloan prowled the house, unable to settle down. The scene at the Burch household kept replaying itself over and over, along with Brook’s tears, her options, and… Jenna’s stunned face when he’d basically told her he’d be too busy for her now.
The next day at work, people had to keep repeating themselves, he was in such a fog. Fortunately, most people just assumed his distraction was normal behavior for an engineer. With a quick word to the station’s GM, he left early.
After parking the truck in front of his garage, he shoved his hands deep in his pockets, trying to ignore the pull of the girl next door. But he couldn’t. A few stray snowflakes drifted from the sky as he trudged down the sidewalk and around to the front of her building.
There, he was met by the Closed sign on Element-ry’s door. Despite that, he wrapped his gloved hand around the doorknob and gave it a hopeful twist. No luck. Cupping his hands around his eyes against the glare, he peered through the window, but saw no movement, nothing to indicate Jenna was in the shop. He rapped on the door, hoping if she were working in the office, she’d at least come to take a look.
Nothing.
He went around to the side and stabbed the buzzer. Her car sat in its normal parking space, so unless she’d ridden with someone, she had to be home. He waved at the security camera. “Come on, Jenna, at least let me apologize for the other night. I don’t want it to end like this.”