"Thought maybe I'd hang on to it long enough to be buried in it, save myself a few bucks."
"And wouldn't that frost a few folks," Dawn said on a chuckle. She poured herself a glass of juice and sat back down at the table. "Why didn't you ever tell me who my father was?"
Ivy nearly spilled her coffee. "What?"
"My father. I don't even know his name, or if he's in town, or if he's even alive or not."
Ivy carefully set down her cup, then said, even more carefully, "Would it make any difference if you did know?"
After a swallow of juice and a shrug, Dawn said, "Probably not."
"Then why now?"
"I don't know. I mean, why should I give a flying fig about a man who never wanted anything to do with me? But now, with the baby coming, I just got to thinking about it." Her eyes narrowed. "You know where he is, don't you?"
After a moment Ivy nodded, her heart knocking painfully against her ribs.
"But you're not going to tell me."
"I can't." She met her daughter's gaze. "I made a promise."
"Which means you can't tell me his name, either."
"No."
"Well. That was elucidating. Did he even know you were pregnant?"
"Dawn, please—"
"Did he leave you when he found out?"
"Honey, there's really no point to this. Your father and I…it was a mistake, okay? Not you," she added at the raised brows in front of her. "Us."
"Because…?"
Well, at least she could be honest about this part. "Because we…got together for all the wrong reasons. There never was a future it."
"Like Cal and me, you mean?"
Ivy got up from the table to rinse out her cup. "No, not like Cal and you. And there's no point comparin' the situations, so don't even try."
"You mean, because Cal wouldn't walk out on his child."
"Seems to me it's not Cal walkin' out that's the issue here."
"For God's sake, Mama!" Ivy turned to see tears cresting in her daughter's eyes. "I do want to do what's right, I swear! What's right for everyone—the baby, Cal, me…dammit! Why can't I get through a simple conversation without crying?" A tear streaked down her cheek. "I just don't know what that is, okay? I mean, Cal and I have talked, what? Three times since I've been here? And we never reach any conclusion beyond the 'fact' that I'm being muleheaded. And don't think I haven't figured out the two of you are in cahoots!"
Ivy crossed her arms and took the offensive. "Okay, fine. I think he would make a damn fine son-in-law. So sue me."
"Too bad you'll have to find another daughter for that to happen."
"He's sure as hell better than that creep you were going to marry!"
Dawn's laugh surprised her. "No arguments there. But this isn't about Cal's qualifications for husbandhood. He'd be a terrific husband. Just not for me."
"Why not?"
"Lord, you're as bad as he is! Have you not heard a single thing I've been saying since I got here?" She shot up from the table, forking her fingers through her matted hair. "I think I'll go get that shower now, if you don't mind—"
"Knock, knock…anybody home?"
* * *
Dawn shrieked and grabbed a kitchen towel to hold in front of her as Cal waltzed in through the back door as if he owned the place. She lobbed her mother what was supposed to be a searing look, which, combined with her campground-for-demented-squirrels coiffure, probably didn't have quite the impact she'd hoped for. And, since she'd been 30,000 feet over Cincinnati when she remembered she'd never actually put her pajamas in her suitcase, was this the high school vintage nightgown with the holes in it? She wasn't sure. She was sure, however, that she had a lot going on underneath that soft, clingy, might-as-well-be-Saran-Wrap fabric. More than usual. Another whole cup size more than usual, in fact.
Cal's gaze raked lazily from toes to towel, at which point that damned dimpled smile of his—the number one cause of female hormonal meltdown in high school—slid across his just-shaved face. To add insult to injury, his eyes twinkled like new grass after a spring shower. And, yep, her nipples perked right up. Damn things had been betraying her around Cal Logan ever since her blossoming boobs had pushed them front and center when she was thirteen. It was as if he had this psychic connection with them or something.
And if Cal and she could somehow forge a relationship on that point—or points—alone, they might have something. Since they couldn't, it was all moot.
"Why are you here, Cal?" And when had her mother vanished?
"Oh, no special reason." More grinning, more tingling. He set a wrapped parcel on the counter. "I had to come into town, anyway, so Ethel figured y'all might like some of her apple cake…."
Food and gossip. The life blood of a small town.
"Then I figured I'd take you out for a while, since it's finally cooled down some, give you a chance to see what the town's like these days. And you can let go of the towel, honey, since I already know what it's covering."
Dawn clutched the towel more tightly, nausea momentarily distracting her from her duplicitous knockers. For the first time in weeks she was almost grateful she felt like crud.
"The last thing I want to do right now is go anywhere. Besides, I don't imagine the town's changed all that much since the last time I saw it."
Cal's hands slid into his back pockets. Like most guys out here, his belt buckle was shiny and silver and only marginally smaller than Texas. And Dawn noticed the bottom didn't lie exactly flat against his belly. She jerked her eyes to his face—dimples and lazy grins were a lot safer than angled belt buckles—in time to hear him say, "And when was the last time you saw Haven?"
Cheeks burned. "Two months ago."
"I didn't say the last time you were here. I said the last time you saw it. As in, paid attention to what it's like now. Not what you remember."
She shut her eyes. Let's see…she looked like hell, felt worse, and was standing in a socially unacceptable nightie arguing semantics with a man who made her hot just by breathing. And not even on her. Yep, she was officially having a sucky day.
"It doesn't matter," she finally said. "Mama's giving me my first prenatal checkup after I get cleaned up."
Immediately Cal's expression changed, as something that looked close to awe obliterated every bit of the smart-aleckiness…and walloped her emotions right out of the ball park. Again his eyes sauntered back to her body, only this time, she felt…worshipped. So much so, she didn't even object when he took a step closer, then closer still, finally tugging the dish towel from her hands to lay one large, gentle hand on her still flat belly.
She swallowed. Twice. One from a plain old-fashioned rush of awareness, the second time from something achy and weird she couldn't even define.
"Tell you what," he said, bending slightly to look in her eyes, and she saw not the man who rattled her hormones clear into the next county, but the boy with the courage to cry in front of her when his mama was dying. "Let me stay for your appointment, then I'll take you over to Ruby's for lunch and we'll see how it goes from there. How's about it? A couple of hours, just for us."
Senses returned. She removed his hand—managing not to sigh—and crossed her arms. Under her braless breasts. Wrong. So she lowered her arms, feeling them bounce back into place. Terrific.
"There is no 'us,' Cal. There's never been an 'us.' And there's never going to be an 'us.'"
And quit standing there making this so damn hard, with those damn sweet eyes of yours and that damn, double-damn, stupid, infuriating, unflappable grin.
Quit making me long for things that can't be.
"But there is a baby," he said. "Our baby. So I'm sticking around."
"God. I'd forgotten how stubborn you are."
"One of my more endearing qualities."
She sighed. "There's really no point, Cal. It's not as if you can see or hear anything yet."
He crossed his arms, the smile gone. "I don't suppose I can stop you from going back to N
ew York if that's what you're determined to do. But let me tell you something—when you are here, there is no way you're keeping me from being part of your life as far as it concerns our child. So you might as well get used to it, right now, and save yourself a lot of headaches down the road."
Hoo-boy. Major-deer-in-headlights time. If only…
If only what?
She had no idea.
Dawn blinked until the fog cleared and Cal's calm, set-to-simmer gaze swam into focus. She blew out yet another sigh, her hands flipping up on either side of her head.
"Fine. Stay. But I'm not going anywhere afterward."
Then Cal grinned, Dawn's nipples went tra-la-la and she took off down the hall for that shower, in as dignified a manner as she could manage in a nightgown a breath away from disintegration.
"You might want to bring a sweater or something," he called after her. "It's kinda chilly out today."
Chapter 3
"Just remember," Dawn said as Cal held open the door to Ruby's two hour later. "I'm only letting you do this because I'm starving. Got that?"
Her shampoo scent distracted him for a second, but he caught himself fast enough to both say, "Yes, ma'am," and swallow his smile. She narrowed her eyes slightly, then turned to head inside. Only she wheeled back around so fast her hand whapped him in the stomach.
"And not one word about…you know."
She'd been right, that there really hadn't been much point to his sticking around for the exam, especially since Ivy threw him out before they got to the fun stuff, anyway. Except that being there helped make the whole thing feel more real, somehow. Dawn would probably have kittens if she knew, but he'd already been up in the attic and found the cradle he and his brothers had used as babies, the one his daddy had made the instant he found out he was gonna be a daddy, after nearly fifteen years of marriage. And when Cal thought about his own baby lying in it, looking up at him with a big, goony grin, he got all choked up.
When he thought about Dawn having the baby in New York…well, it just made him sick, is what. But he also had enough sense to know when to back off.
"I'm not stupid, Dawn," he said, nudging her from behind before they attracted any more attention than they already were. As it was, the noise level in the diner—which at lunchtime generally hovered somewhere between deafening and mind numbing—dropped considerably at their entrance. Cal was tempted to call everybody on it, only he knew that would only make it worse. Besides, Dawn had gone still as a statue, one arm pressing against her stomach.
Damn. He'd forgotten what she'd said about strong smells. And the grease-to-air-molecule ratio in here was running, at a conservative guess, a good fifty-to-one.
"You okay?" he said quietly, taking her elbow whether she liked it or not. The look she gave him pretty much indicated she didn't.
"What?"
"The smell," he whispered. "Is it getting to you?"
Except for a couple of clips, her hair was hanging loose down the back of her light blue sweater, which was the same color as the flowers in another of those long, floppy skirts that looked like something her mother would wear. Just like the ugly, clunky shoes. The ends of her hair teased the top of his hand, sending memories racing around inside his skull for a second until he silenced them by focusing on the present.
"Lord, yes," she whispered back. "I want every single thing on the menu. Oh, there's a booth! Grab it!"
As the noise level gradually worked its way back up, Charmaine Chambers, Ruby's newest waitress and the same age as Cal and Dawn, leaned over to wipe down their table, her initial—and customary—smile for Cal vanishing the instant she caught sight of Dawn.
"Special today's a boneless barbecue rib sandwich," she announced in a monotone, her breasts shifting restlessly underneath a baggy uniform that was so bright pink it hurt Cal's eyes to look at it. She straightened, then poured them both water from a dripping plastic pitcher she'd grabbed from the nearby station. "You need a menu?" she asked Dawn, her words all tight.
Dawn flicked a glance at Cal, then pressed one hand to her chest. "Hey, Char! It's me, Dawn."
The brunette's slate-blue gaze bounced off Dawn. "I know." Her mouth twitched, but calling it a smile was pushing it. "Thought you were in New York."
"I'm…here visiting my mother. How're those gorgeous boys of yours?"
"They're fine. You know what you want yet?"
Dawn shoved a hank of hair behind her ear, obviously wrestling to keep her thoughts to herself. "The rib sandwich sounds great. That come with fries?"
"And slaw, yeah. Soup's extra, though."
"What kind?"
"Split pea."
"Really?" she said, her whole face lighting up. "Lord, I can't remember the last time I had split pea soup. Could I get a double bowl?"
Wordlessly, Charmaine scribbled the order down on her pad, then took Cal's, yelling them out to Jordy, Ruby's husband, before stomping off to tend to the next customer.
Dawn sighed. Cal leaned over. "Don't let her get to you—"
"It's okay. We weren't exactly best buddies when we were kids, you know."
"Maybe not, but the thing is…she's been having a hard time of it lately. Brody walked out about a year ago, leaving her with the kids. Ruby gave her a job 'cause she felt bad for her, but I don't think waitressin's exactly her thing."
Dawn's dark brows dipped. "Brody left her?"
The split had surprised Cal, too, especially since Charmaine and Brody had been tight as ticks since the seventh grade. That they'd managed to wait until after high school to get married had been a miracle in itself, although Cal knew for a fact they hadn't waited about anything else.
"Yeah. Kids took it real hard, too."
"I bet they did. Oh, God, Cal," she said on a sigh, "how awful for her." Her eyes following the waitress's moves, Cal supposed, she asked, "Is she at least getting child support?"
"I seriously doubt it—"
"Dawn Gardner!" Ruby Kennedy said next to them, hands the color of bittersweet chocolate parked on seriously wide hips. "What on earth you doin' back here so soon, honey?"
"Giving you a hug, that's what," Dawn said with a laugh as she clambered out of the booth and did just that.
After they'd hugged themselves out and Dawn was settled back in the booth, Ruby asked, "You order the rib sandwich, baby?"
"Like I was gonna pass up Jordy's ribs," she said with a grin. "Or the fries or the slaw or the soup."
Ruby mm-mm-mm'd and said, "Why is it the skinny one's're always the ones who can pack it away? Me, all I have to do is look at one of Jordy's ribs and my butt starts expandin'. Oh, and Maddie brought over a peach cobbler this morning that's so pretty it'll make you cry. You want me to save you some?"
"Whoa, whoa—" Cal raised his hand. "I don't hear you offering to save me any!"
"That's because, Mr. Me-Too," Ruby said, "being's Maddie's your sister-in-law, I suppose you can taste her cobbler anytime you like—"
"Hey!" Charmaine yelled over by the display of gum and candy bars and stuff underneath the cash register. "You have to pay for that—come back here!" Cal looked over just in time to see a blond kid just this side of puberty tear out the door, nearly knocking over Homer Ferguson in the process.
Seconds later Cal was hot on the kid's tail, his much longer legs catching up to the boy before he'd even reached the Hair We Are two doors down. He grabbed the skinny thing around the waist and plucked him right up off the ground, getting a barrage of elbows and fists and rubber-soled feet for his efforts.
"Lemme go! I didn't do nuthin'!"
"You gonna run?" Cal said softly in the kid's ear.
"What do you think?"
Cal let go, but not before getting a good handful of too-big T-shirt just in case the boy had any ideas about booking it. The kid took a swing at him, but he didn't really put his heart in it. Besides, Cal ducked.
"I said, let me go!"
Still hanging on with one hand, Cal held out the other one, palm up. "Giv
e me what you took."
"I didn't—"
"Now."
The boy glared at him for several seconds, his breath coming in sharp bursts. He didn't exactly look like he'd had a bath any too recently, but then, how many boys his age did? Finally the boy rammed his hand into his pocket and yanked out a slightly smashed candy bar.
"That it?" Cal asked.
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
"You don't believe me, you can look for yourself."
"Okay, you can ditch the attitude. Unless you like lookin' ugly." When the kid only scowled harder, it suddenly struck Cal where he knew him from. "You're Jacob Burke's boy, aren't you?"
"I don't have to tell you nothin'."
Cal was sorely tempted to cuff the kid upside the head. Or feed him, one. "What's your name?" he said gently.
More scowling.
"You can tell me now, or I can call your daddy—"
"Elijah."
"That what they call you, or you got a nickname?" At the shake of the shaggy head, Cal grimaced at the Three Musketeers in his hand. "You mean to tell me you caused all this ruckus for one lousy candy bar? How dumb is that?"
"Yeah, well, it's none of your business, is it?"
"You stole something from a friend of mine. That makes it my business—"
"Is he okay?"
Cal turned at the sound of Dawn's voice, noticing a small crowd had gathered to watch the proceedings. For Haven, this qualified as excitement.
"Yeah, he's fine." He handed her the flattened candy bar.
"This, however, isn't. Come on," he said, tugging the boy in the direction of the diner.
"I ain't goin' back there."
"Yes, you are. And when we get there, the first thing you're gonna do is apologize for your momentary lapse of good sense. Then we're gonna see what you can do for Ruby to make up for it."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Some kind of job, I'm thinking."
"A job? No way! For one candy bar?"
"I'm a firm believer in nipping things in the bud, bud." The small crowd dispersed when Cal dragged Elijah through the door, Dawn on their heels. "We're back, Ruby," he hollered from the doorway. "Where you want him?"
"Kitchen's good," she called from the back of the diner.
Staking His Claim Page 4