Living With Lies Trilogy (Books 1, 2, and 3 of The Dancing Moon Ranch Series)

by Watters, Patricia

  "It's a strong beat," Jack said. "It's amazing. One egg, one sperm, and from that a child will grow into a man. I want to be there when you deliver."

  "Oh no," Grace replied. "Just because I was forced into an embarrassing situation at the hospital doesn't mean anything close to that will happen again. I'll let you listen to the baby's heart and feel him kick, but you're not my husband, and that's as far as we go."

  Jack stood and faced her. "Grow up, Grace," he said. "I'm thirty-three years old. I've seen my share of naked women. But get used to the idea that I'll be around when you give birth to our son, whether he's delivered by a midwife or a doctor."

  "Not if I won't allow it," Grace snapped. "There's nothing legal establishing you as father."

  "There will be by then," Jack said. "I have lab tests proving I'm the father, and I've already filed a Notice of Intent to Claim Paternity. I will be around during labor, and I will be there to help make decisions if our son has medical problems when he's born. Like I said, he's not just your son, Grace. He's mine too."

  Grace glared at the man. If the welfare of her baby wasn't at stake she'd leave, but she was stuck. And the father of her baby was the most exasperating man she'd ever met. There was no in-between with him. It was his way or no way. The thought of having the man around for the next eighteen years was almost inconceivable.

  She turned abruptly on the bed and reached for her robe…

  And a pain shot low in her belly, doubling her over and drawing a groan from her.

  "You're having contractions again," Jack said.

  Grace shook her head. "Just a stitch in my stomach— Ohhh... Umm." She pressed her hands to her belly. "Maybe you'd better call the midwife."

  "You need a doctor," Jack said.

  "No, I need the midwife," Grace replied. "Her number's in my purse."

  Jack handed Grace her handbag, and after she got the midwife's phone number and handed it to Jack, she said, "I think I'll take a nap until she gets here. It's been a long day."

  Jack took the paper. "Just to set things straight, you don't have to worry about me taking advantage of you whether it's holding your hand during contractions or anything else you need. You're the mother of my son and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you healthy for him, and that's all." He gave her a little half smile. "And if he's still sitting on your bladder, I'll carry you to the bathroom every fifteen minutes if that's what it takes."

  The sincere look in Jack's eyes told her he meant every word he'd just said, and for the first time since she'd met Jack, Grace wanted something more than just being an incubator for his son, but for the life of her, she didn't know what it was.

  ***

  Grace awakened from her nap to hear the midwife and Jack in the hallway just outside her room, Jack relaying to the woman what the doctor at the hospital said, so the woman knew that Jack had been present during the exam, and from the way Jack talked, the woman would assume Jack had been a part of Grace's life from the start, but she'd soon set things straight.

  The midwife, whose name was Dorrie, examined Grace while Grace tried to explain the convoluted story behind her pregnancy, but Grace could tell that the woman was more wrapped up in the examination than what Grace was saying, which the woman affirmed when, after the examination, she stepped into the hallway, and said to Jack, "Grace needs bed rest and lots of fluids. I'm leaving some cramp bark for her. She won't like the taste so give it to her by the dropperful and follow with a chaser of orange juice whenever she has contractions. It should stop them within an hour." Then to Grace's dismay, she said to Jack, "If you want to be Grace's doula, start coming to birthing classes. Here's my card with the address."

  "What's a doula," Jack asked.

  "He doesn't need to know because he's not going to be one," Grace called out.

  Dorrie re-entered the room with Jack trailing behind. "You'll need someone," she said, then turned to Jack and added, "A doula's like a labor coach, usually the father. The doula reminds the mother to breathe right, and he walks with her, and helps her change positions when she's in hard labor. Come to the classes with Grace and you'll watch some movies and learn what to do."

  Jack looked at the card, and said, "I don't like the idea of Grace having the baby at home. He's a big baby. What if she needs a caesarian?"

  "She shouldn't," Dorrie replied. "Obstetricians insist on having women on their backs when giving birth, but a woman in that position has trouble pushing a big baby out, but with an upright or squatting position, she can deliver a big baby without problems. If there looks to be trouble, you can take her to the hospital in McMinnville. It's only twenty minutes away."

  "I'm not having the baby here," Grace insisted. "I'm only here for another week then I plan to go home and stay there, permanently!"

  Dorrie patted her arm. "The best place for you is right here, where you can stay off your feet. You're not out of the woods yet."

  Grace pursed her lips and said nothing, but after Dorrie left, she said to Jack, "I feel like you're taking over my life when in fact you've had no personal involvement in this baby. I'm the one who's been carrying him for almost eight months, and who went through morning sickness, and have back pains, and premature labor pains, and who'll be going through hard labor and getting up at night to breastfeed. All you did was supply a cup of semen, and from the looks of you, I doubt it took more than a few minutes to produce." She focused on his crotch, although she didn't realize it until she looked up to find Jack smiling.

  "Actually about thirty seconds," Jack said. And the smile broadened.

  His eyes went to Grace's breasts straining beneath the gown, and for the first time since she met him, Grace got the feeling that Jack was looking at her as something more than simply an incubator for his son. To her alarm, she found the idea arousing.

  CHAPTER 4

  Grace awakened sometime in the middle of night to the sound of muffled voices coming from the direction of the great room. Disregarding everyone's advice to stay in bed, she slipped her robe over her gown and crept down the hallway and through the narrow opening in a door standing ajar, she saw Susan sitting on a couch, with Sam beside her holding her hand, Jack pacing the long room, a troubled look on his face, and Flo, the housekeeper, standing in her robe and looking as if she was called in to be the referee in some kind of family dispute, which she affirmed when she said to Susan in a hushed voice, "It's a terrible mix-up, but give it time. Life has a way of straightening things out. The important thing is that your baby is healthy."

  "I'm stuck with a stranger's baby!" Susan cried. "It's not fair!" Gasps and sobs stopped her tirade.

  Flo looked as if she were about to say something more when Sam said to Susan, "Honey, it's going to be okay. The baby's not the one we planned but he'll still be a member of our family."

  "I got the sperm of a dead man!" Susan sucked in a ragged breath, and continued in a high-wavering voice. "I feel violated, like I've been raped. And that woman Jack brought here has a baby that should be mine—"

  "That woman's name is Grace!" Jack said, stopping his pacing to glare at Susan. "She's the mother of my son, and you're not the only one who's been wronged here. For months Grace thought she was carrying her husband's child. How do you think she feels with you carrying a child that's supposed to be hers?"

  Sam glared at Jack. "Cool it, buddy. Susan doesn't need this."

  Jack held Sam's caustic gaze. "Yeah, well neither does Grace." He started pacing again, the look on his face grim.

  Sam took Susan's hands, and said, "Honey, if we adopted a child he'd be the child of strangers and still we'd love him like our own, but this child you're carrying is half you. As soon as you recover from the birth we'll try again. Jack can give us more sperm, and in a year or so we'll have another child."

  "And Ricky might be dead by then!" Great, frantic sobs racked Susan's body.

  "This isn't good for you, Susan," Sam said in a firm voice. "You'll go into labor if you don't pull yourself together."
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br />   "Fine then! Maybe I'll get rid of this one and can start on the baby I want." Susan clamped her jaws shut and glared at her husband.

  Grace couldn't stop the tears from welling, or from shoving the door open.

  Jack looked at her with a start, then walked up to her and took her by the arms, and said, "What are you doing out of bed?"

  "Trying to find out what all the commotion is about." Grace shrugged her arms from Jack's grasp and walked up to Susan. Peering down at her, she said in a voice wavering with emotion, and eyes streaming with tears, "The stranger who fathered your child was the most loving, caring man I ever knew, and if you don't want his baby I do, but unlike you, I won't have another chance to have a child by him because he's dead and you got all his sperm!"

  "That's fine for you to say," Susan replied, her voice filled with venom. "You're not faced with losing a child, and you're not willing to fly to New Jersey and have Jack's baby on the chance he could be a match for my son." She mopped her eyes, blew her nose, and added, "Please go back to your room. This is a private conversation."

  "Hold it," Jack said. "Grace is here on my invitation because I want her here, and I don't want you or anyone else making her feel unwelcome." He looked at Grace. "You need to get back in bed or the contractions will start again."

  Sam rose from his crouched position, and said to Grace, "Susan's not herself tonight. She's overwhelmed with things—tests at the hospital didn't go well. And with the sperm mix-up. It's a hell of a situation, but I'm sure she'll want to keep the baby by the time he arrives."

  "And what if she doesn't?" Grace said. "Women have been known to kill their unwanted babies. This is my husband's child she's carrying, not the child of a rapist, but that's the way she views it. And just for the record, the child I'm carrying is the most precious possession I own. He'll be loved every bit as much as my husband's child would have been loved." She looked at Jack. "Please take me back to my house. I can't stay here." She headed down the hallway to her bedroom to start packing her things.

  Jack caught up with her and followed her into her room, and said, "Don't do this, Grace. Susan doesn't mean what she said. She's desperate for a way to help Ricky."

  "I'm sorry for Susan and Sam, and I'm sorry for their sick child, but my first concern is for my baby," Grace replied, "and I am going to have him delivered by a midwife and with no drugs, like I've been planning for eight months. If you want to come to the classes and be in the room when I deliver, fine, but don't try to talk me into flying to New Jersey because I'm terrified of flying and if I did I'd go into labor from stress and have my baby on the plane. Now, I want to get my things together and leave."

  But as she made a sharp turn toward the closet to get her clothes, a severe pain gripped her, sending her doubling over and clutching her belly. Jack lifted her in his arms, and after sweeping the covers back, lowered her to the bed. "I'm not taking you anywhere," he said, "And forget what Susan said. Right now she's overwhelmed by the situation."

  Grace too was overwhelmed, but unlike Susan, there was nothing on God's earth she'd let happen to the child growing inside her, no matter who the father was. She was also upset and miserable and feeling alone in the world and wanted someone's arms around her, just to know someone cared about her baby. After the tirade from her mother the night before, when she informed her parents of the mix-up, there had been no empathy, only a firm reminder of what a terrible mistake the whole artificial insemination idea was, and that the only reasonable thing to do would be to put the child up for adoption.

  Tears welled, and as Jack was leaving the room, she found herself saying, "Jack?" He turned and waited. "Will you hold me?"

  Jack said nothing, just stood looking at her, his face troubled. For a few moments Grace thought he'd refuse, then he walked over to the bed, sat on the side of it and took her in his arms. But when he held her against his chest, and pressed her head to the hollow of his throat, she started sobbing, and sobbing, and sobbing. It seemed she couldn't stop. The tears just kept coming. He held her until her sobs settled into short jerky breaths, but after they became nothing more than sniffles, he handed her a fistful of tissues, which she used to wipe her eyes and blow her nose, then he crooked a finger under her chin and raised it so he could look at her, and said, "Things will be okay, honey. You'll see?"

  She nodded. But when she finally found her voice, she said, "I don't know what came over me. I just felt so alone in the world, and nobody cares, and Susan doesn't want Marc's child and she could do something to get rid of him—" She burst into tears again.

  "It's been a rough few days," Jack said against the top of her head as he continued to hold her. "Nothing's going to happen to your husband's child. I won't let it, and Sam won't let it, so stop worrying about that. Just get some sleep. In the morning things will look better."

  Grace only nodded in misery and tried not to think about tomorrow.

  ***

  Grace watched Jack from her bedroom window. Even though several more inches of snow covered the ground, he was working a horse in the corral alongside the stable. He sat tall and straight in the saddle when he worked the horse, reining it first one way, then the other, backing it, spinning it around, making it stop short. There was no question. Jack was an impressive man. His shoulders looked even broader beneath his heavy parka, his booted legs in the stirrups, longer, his hands enclosed in leather gloves, bigger. Even his Stetson added to his height.

  Curious to know if he was working the horse for some kind of event, she said to Flo, who'd entered the bedroom carrying fresh towels, "Why is Jack working the horse?"

  "He's keeping the riding horses from getting sour," Flo replied. Leaving the towels in the bath, she left.

  Grace glanced out the window again then decided to keep her mind occupied in more productive ways that staring at the father of her child. Although the only thing she'd ever knitted was a hat, from the illustrations in the book she knew how to start. After deciding to knit a pair of tiny socks, she picked up the circular needles and a skein of yellow yarn, then looked at the instructions and read:

  Cast on and divide the stitches evenly between the circular needles.

  Which she managed to do.

  Slide the stitches around and knit from either end of the needle...

  Within the hour, she had a tiny yellow cylinder and was ready to start the heel of the sock.

  Form the heel by working a portion of the stitches on the needle, then turn the work and knit those same stitches again before stitching all the stitches on the needle.

  Which made no sense. Skipping to the part about the gusset, she continued reading, deciding to keep on as she was and finish with a closed toe, if she could figure it out.

  Knit the main part of the foot and decrease for the toes then graft the fabric together so the sock is closed at the toe.

  As she mulled over the directions, while trying to figure out what grafting meant, she felt eyes on her and looked up to find Jack standing in the doorway, a very endearing smile on his lips. Her heart gave a little ka-thump. "What's so amusing?" she asked, managing to catch a stitch before it dropped off the needle.

  "Nothing," Jack replied. "You look contented."

  "I thought you had work to do," Grace said, frowning at the long narrow sock.

  "I do," Jack replied, "but I'm taking a break." He dragged a chair over to the bed, and after sitting down, glanced at her knitting, a puzzled look on his face.

  "It's a sock," Grace said, holding it up. "I couldn't figure out how to knit a heel." Jack smiled, and Grace decided she loved his smile. Different from Marc's, but appealing nonetheless. "I'll figure it out for the next pair." She set the knitting aside and rested her hands on her belly.

  Jack stared at her hands, or maybe her stomach, she couldn't decide which, and he became thoughtful, as he often did when he looked at her belly. After several seconds ticked by, he lifted her hand with her wedding ring set, and fingering the diamond in her engagement ring, said, "What
was your husband like?"

  Grace was surprised by Jack's question. It was the first time he'd asked about Marc. She looked at her hand in his, and replied, "He was a wonderful man, sweet, caring, a good provider."

  "What happened?" Jack asked.

  "He died of cancer," Grace replied, surprised to be talking about Marc without tearing up. Surprised to be talking about Marc at all. For the past three days she'd been so wrapped up in the change in her life and the newness of Jack as her baby's father that her thoughts had been on him

  "How long were you married?" Jack asked, turning her finger slightly, sending little shards of light glittering off the diamonds.

  "Five years," Grace replied.

  Continuing to look at the ring, Jack said, "Why didn't you start a family before you learned he had cancer?"

  "The time wasn't right," Grace replied. "Marc was still in college. I had a job so we bought the house, but we didn't want to start a family until Marc finished his PhD. But then we found out he had colon cancer. We knew he'd have to go through chemo, so we decided to store Marc's sperm in case he became sterile, but when they did the surgery they found out the cancer had gone to his liver and pancreas. He died a few weeks later. It took almost two years for me to decide to have his child. The sperm was there waiting, and our child would give me something of Marc, so his life wouldn't be in vain."

  "And now you have nothing of him," Jack said, looking up from the rings, "And Susan has the child that should have been yours. How desperate does that make you feel?"

  Grace looked at Jack, surprised at the wording of his question. She'd already told him how much she wanted his baby. "I don't feel desperate at all," she said, "only very sad. I wanted to have Marc's baby. But I want this baby just as much. Would you like to listen to his heart? He's curled just beneath my skin, probably sucking his thumb right now." She patted the bed. "Come sit here and get acquainted with your son."