“Yeah.”
L.T. slumped back against the pillows. “A baby?
You, B.J.? You’re having a baby?”
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
Her father’s face flushed flaming red. B.J. thought, This is it. It’s happening. He’s having another heart attack. Any second now, he’ll be grabbing his chest and groaning in agony….
L.T. shook his head as if to clear it. He snorted. “I don’t believe it…” He snorted some more. But he didn’t groan. He didn’t clutch his chest or start to turn blue. He only went on blustering in the usual way. “What the hell are you gaping at?”
“Uh, nothing.” Amazing. Wonderful. The dreaded second heart attack was simply not happening. He was fine. Fine. The sweetest sensation of relief flowed through her. “Whether you believe it or not, it’s true. I’m pregnant. I’m keeping my baby. And I quit.”
Jessica spoke—softly, as usual. “Congratulations, B.J.”
“Thank you, Jessica.” B.J. nodded at L.T. “See you later, Dad.” And she got the heck out of there.
She went straight from the Castle to the office.
After finally facing down her father, she was ready to deal with Buck’s cover story. In the empty, silent break room, she made herself a cup of herb tea.
She’d always liked working Saturdays, liked the silence of the deserted hallways, liked how much she could accomplish without the usual weekday interruptions. And then there was the bustle and excitement, the day-to-day challenges of the regular workweek. She’d adored all that, too.
B.J. smiled to herself as she sipped her tea. Yeah. She’d liked this job. A lot. She was going to miss Alpha.
But there were other jobs. Monday, she’d start making calls. She had connections and she was damn good at what she did and everyone in New York publishing knew it.
Her smile widened as it occurred to her that TopMale would soon be needing a new features editor.
In her office, she booted her computer. Her silly hand was shaking as she checked her e-mail and found the one from Buck.
Two attachments: a scan and a document.
She opened the scan first and found an old black-and-white photo of the cabin at the Red Robin. A very young woman and a man ten or fifteen years older stood in the foreground, the cabin B.J. remembered so well behind them.
The woman was Chastity, when she was barely more than a girl, smiling shyly at the camera. The man beside her had his head turned toward her, so B.J. couldn’t really make out his features. But she knew who he was: the notorious Blake Bravo.
Who else could it be?
She moved the picture to the side of the screen and read Buck’s e-mail note.
Here’s the story. I’ve been working it over, trying to get it right. I think it’s fine now—or I hope it is.
Got the photo from Ma. Thought you’d get a kick out of it.
As you can see, dear old Dad did visit the Red Robin, after all. It was a month or two after they married. Ma told me Uncle Clovis took the picture. Ma and Blake stayed on at the mine after Uncle Clovis went on down the mountain. Ma says I was conceived there, in the cabin. She says it was one of their most beautiful times together.
Just like you and me, Bits. Pretty crazy, huh?
Bits…
B.J. reached up and touched the word on the screen—and it hit her like a physical blow, tightening her stomach, bringing out a grunt of pain.
He would probably never call her that again…
Her hand a little clammy on the mouse, she closed up the scan and opened the document. She couldn’t help fearing that she just might be in for man-eater revisited, though she knew that Buck wouldn’t—couldn’t—be that cruel.
She read quickly.
Halfway through, all her stupid, small-minded fears vanished. It was beautiful. Perfect. And truly Buck’s story: where he came from, the boy he’d been, and the man he had become. He’d left her out of it, completely—or at least, he’d left out B.J.
There were, however, mentions of a tender reunion in a miner’s shack with a long-lost love named Bitsy.
Who would ever know?
More important, B.J. realized, as she picked up her cooling tea and drank the rest, she didn’t care if they did know.
Now, if she only had the guts to go to Buck, to beg him to take a chance on her just one more time…
B.J. spent Thanksgiving with her father and Jessica.
L.T. gave her the silent treatment. Fine. Two could play that game. And she had Jessica to talk to. The bigeyed blonde was all atwitter at the news that a baby was on the way. She asked when the baby was due and if B.J. had seen a doctor yet.
Yes, B.J. said, she’d seen a doctor Monday. She was due in June.
L.T. sat at the head of the table and glowered through the meal. Every once in a while, Jessica would reach over and tenderly pat his hand. B.J. mused that there had been a time—a time not all that long ago—when her father’s furious silences would have cut her to the bone.
She would always pretend he couldn’t affect her, insisting to him, and to herself, that he couldn’t push her around. It was a good front she put up, so good she’d almost had herself convinced it was real. But deep inside, she would be terrified of losing his love and approval.
And she would always, somehow, end up doing exactly what L.T. told her to do.
Not anymore.
She hoped someday that the rift between them would heal. She would do her best to make that happen—but never again would she appease L.T. at the expense of her true self.
If only Buck could see her now.
If only she had the nerve to go to him…
The day after Thanksgiving, she did the Avenue. She took her time about it, ambling along, admiring each and every one of the gorgeously decorated Christmas windows.
Starting at her apartment, between Ninth and Tenth streets, she went first to Macy’s on Herald Square, then detoured back to Fifth. From Lord & Taylor, she headed up the Avenue to Saks, where the line went around the block just to view the displays. She got in line and she waited her turn.
After Saks, she bought a bag of roasted chestnuts from a street vendor and made a special stop at Rockefeller Center to admire the giant tree. It wasn’t lit yet, but it was up and it was beautiful.
The stroll took hours. She savored every step. Her city did Christmas like no other city in the world.
Her final day at Alpha, Arnie threw a surprise going-away party for her, right there in the office. He hired a top caterer and he had the big table taken out of the main conference room, had a piano rolled in there, complete with piano player.
Bob, the new editor-in-chief, gave a speech about how much he hated to see her go. Giles, who was stepping into her job starting Monday, sang a Billy Joel medley in her honor. After a rousing chorus of “Only the Good Die Young,” he dropped to his knees in front of her and begged her not to leave.
B.J. grinned and said she had to go—and then she reached down a hand to him. Everyone applauded as Giles jumped up, grabbed his former boss, and danced her around the piano.
She was gathering up the last of her things from her office, when Arnie came in to say a private goodbye.
“Great party, Arnie. Thanks.”
“You’ve got a job here any time you want it,” he said, and she knew that he meant it—and not only because the day would come when she would own the place.
The office closed early and B.J. headed home to her apartment.
When she got there, she had a surprise waiting for her in the lobby.
“B.J.! Finally. I thought you’d never come.”
B.J. barely had time to put down the box of stuff from her desk and open her arms before Glory flung herself into them.
Their rounded stomachs bumped. They jerked apart, laughed, and then grabbed each other close again.
“You okay?” B.J. whispered in Glory’s ear.
“Same ol’, same ol’. My family won’t get off me to say yes to Bo
wie. Bowie’s been trying not to be such a big butthole as before, but… Oh, Beej, I just had to get away, you know?”
“It’s okay.” B.J. hugged her tighter. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Glory pulled back a little. Her huge dark eyes were moist with tears. “You think you could put me up for a few days?”
“You’ve got a place here for as long as you want one.”
“You mean it?”
“You bet.”
They stayed up late that night. They had a lot of catching up to do.
Glory reported that Chastity and Alyosha were together constantly.
“He’s always out of there early in the morning, way before the sun comes up, but I know he stays the night sometimes. They are so gone on each other. It’s really cute. And you should see Chastity. I’m not kidding. She looks twenty years younger. She sings now, around the Sierra Star, just crooning away while she mixes up her muffins. She’s not what I’d call a great singer, you know? But she sure gives it a lot of feeling.”
B.J. chuckled. “I’m glad for her—for both of them.”
“Yeah. Yeah, me too…”
Glory asked about Buck.
B.J. told her everything.
And Glory told B.J. what she already knew.
“You have to go after him. You have to tell him that you’ve finally stood up to that father of yours. That you love him and you want to be with him. That you’re ready to be with him. B.J., I think that’s all he’s waiting for. Up till now, he’s had to do all the chasing. It’s time you showed him you know how to go out and get your man.”
“Maybe…”
“What’s that, maybe? No maybe about it. Go get ’im, and you’ll see.”
“I don’t know…” B.J. told her what had happened six years ago. She admitted, “I guess, well, I’m pretty terrified that I’ll find him in bed with someone else. And worse than that, I’m scared it’s just simply…too late. That when he walked away from me two weeks ago, it was finally for good.”
Glory said what she’d said more than once before. “You’re nuts. Buck is crazy for you. And he’s too smart to make the same mistake twice. There’ll be no other woman in his bed. I guarantee it. If you go after him, he’ll be there. Ready and waiting for you and only you.”
B.J. still doubted that Buck would take her back. But she did know she was going to have to go find out for sure.
Soon…
By the next morning, at the breakfast table, Glory was having second thoughts about her own situation.
“I didn’t sleep at all,” she said. “I’m kind of seeing that maybe I shouldn’t have run off like that. I guess I’d better make some calls…”
B.J. handed her the phone. Glory called Bowie first. He didn’t answer, so she tried the Sierra Star. Chastity told her that Bowie was frantic—the whole town was worried. Bowie was out looking for her.
“Tell him I’m fine,” Glory said. “And yes…I know. Running away doesn’t solve anything… Yeah. Okay. I’ll be home as soon as I can get a flight. Call my mom for me?…. Oh, Mrs. B., you are the best…” She paused to grin at B.J. “B.J. says hi… Uh-huh. I’ll tell her. Bye.” Glory hung up. “Mrs. B. says hi—and I need to get myself a flight home.”
“Consider it handled.” B.J. called Jessica, who said she’d make all the arrangements. The jet would be ready at Teterboro within the hour. Once that was taken care of, B.J. called Glory a cab.
When Glory’s ride arrived, B.J. went down to the street with her to say goodbye. A light snow was falling. It gleamed in Glory’s dark hair and dusted her shoulders as B.J. gave her one last hug.
Glory ducked into the cab. B.J. stood at the curb, waving, until the cab disappeared into traffic on the way up the Avenue.
Back in the apartment, B.J. took off her coat, her wool cap and her mittens. Her place seemed too quiet and just a little bit empty, now her friend was gone.
The day stretched ahead of her. She had nothing pressing to do.
Or did she?
There was one thing….
B.J. bundled up warmly again and went back downstairs. Melvin held the door for her.
“Merry Christmas, Melvin.”
The old sweetie tipped his hat to her. “Happy holidays, Ms. Carlyle.”
“Oh, Melvin. I so hope you’re right about that.”
He helped her into a cab.
“Where to?” asked the cabbie. She gave him Buck’s address.
All the way uptown, B.J. stewed. Was she doing the right thing? What if he already had someone else? What if she walked in on him and it was the same as six years ago?
What if he wasn’t even there? Or what if he was there, all alone—and he told her it was too late, he didn’t want to try again…
The snowfall increased. It was coming down thick and heavy as the cab reached Buck’s block. B.J. told the cabbie where to pull in. The cab slid up to the curb and she handed the money over the seat.
She got out. The cab pulled away. And she just stood there on the sidewalk, the snow a thick white curtain all around her, not knowing what to do with herself now she’d come this far.
Finally, with snow caked on her shoulders and clumping in her eyelashes, she turned to face the big brick building where Buck lived.
There was no doorman. Just a vestibule lined with mailboxes and an inner door. B.J. still had the key that Buck had given her. She used it and took the elevator to the fifteenth floor.
When she reached his door, she hesitated again. The minutes ticked by as she tried to drum up the guts to ring the bell.
Twice, she started to walk away. But after a few steps, she would realize that if she didn’t go the distance with this now, she might never gather the courage to try again.
And then how would she ever forgive herself?
At last, she made herself do it. She lifted her red-mittened hand and she pushed his doorbell.
After several seconds that seemed like centuries, the door swung inward.
And there he was.
He looked her up and down and then, at last, he said, “It’s about damn time.”
Twenty-Four
“You’re home,” B.J. said, as if stating the obvious might make it more true.
“Got back yesterday.”
“From?”
“A two-week assignment. In Mexico. For National Geographic.”
“Oh. Well. I guess I’m lucky I caught you.” Lucky. Perfect word. She felt, at that moment, like the luckiest woman in Manhattan—and it got better. He wore khakis, a coffee-colored sweater that matched his eyes and a pair of tan mocs. “You’re…fully dressed.”
He almost smiled. “That I am.”
“Are you…” She had to gulp before she could say the rest. “Alone?”
He did smile then. “Yes, I am. I’m decorating my tree. I have popcorn. And hot cocoa.”
“Hot cocoa? No kidding?”
“If you’ll come in, I’ll be happy to pour you a cup.”
“Well, you know, cocoa sounds lovely.” She stepped inside and he shut the door behind her.
“Let me take your coat.” He helped her out of it, causing those wonderful, zinging little thrills of sensation every time his fingers happened to brush against her shoulders or her arms or, just once, so lightly, the side of her neck. He hung the coat on the rack by the door. “Your gloves and your hat?” She handed them over and he shook the snow from them and hung them with the coat. She gave him her scarf and he hung that up, too.
Then he led her out of the small foyer and into his living room, which faced the park. Beyond the picture window, the snow came down in thick, white swirls.
And in front of the window, on a card table, stood the most pitiful-looking tree B.J. had ever seen. Most of the needles were missing.
“What happened to your poor tree?”
He shoved a box of ornaments aside to clear a place for her on the sofa. “Ma sends me one every year—fresh-cut, from home. Some years it gets here in great shape. Thi
s year, not so much…” His voice trailed off. “Here. Have a seat.”
She stayed on her feet. They stared at each other. Finally, she managed huskily, “I’ve quit Alpha.”
“I heard.”
“You did?”
“The world of publishing is a pretty small one.”
“Oh. Yeah. I guess it is….”
He regarded her steadily. “Are you sorry you quit?”
She answered without having to even think twice. “No. I’m not. I took your advice to heart, Buck. I truly did. I quit, and I’m glad I did. I’ve drawn the line on my father, the way you suggested, and it feels really good.”
“How did L.T. take it?”
“We’re not exactly speaking now, L.T. and me.”
“He’ll get over it.”
“Yeah. I think that he will. Eventually. And I… Oh, Buck. I’ve really messed up, and I know it. For all my life, I had this idea that love wasn’t for me. But I’m getting past that, I honestly am. And I’ve been kind of hoping…” She hesitated, but then she forced herself to stumble on. “Oh, Buck, I…”
“Yeah?”
And she went for it, went right, straight to the heart of the matter. “Buck. I love you. I love you so. I think I always have.”
That did it for Buck. He held out his arms to her. She moved into them.
They shared a kiss—a long, deep, hungry one. When he lifted his head, he muttered, “Damn, you had me worried there. I was starting to think maybe you’d never come and get me.”
“I’m here.”
“I can hardly believe it.”
“Consider yourself taken.”
“I love you, Bits. Marry me.” It was a command—but a tender one.
“Oh, yes. I will,” she answered proudly.
And after that, there was no more need for words.
The next day, they visited Castle Carlyle to tell L.T. and Jessica the news. Jessica, who loved Christmas almost as much as Chastity Bravo did, had decked the Castle out in true holiday style. She was just thrilled for them.
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