And, as if he had known that she couldn’t escape, Sam stood waiting, his expression an unreadable mask, while she inched the car forward again.
‘Hello,’ she called and her heart continued its painful thump, thump, thumping.
He ducked his head to look at her through the passenger window. ‘Good to see you at long last.’ She nodded.
‘How are you?’ His voice quaked a little, showing her he was probably as nervous as she was. He looked paler than she remembered, but his eyes were the same mesmerising, slumberous blue. One look into them and she felt a familiar tug of longing.
‘I—I’m fine,’ she managed to reply. ‘And you?’
‘Just great.’ His attempt at a grin fell short of the mark. ‘Hey, are you going to get out of this car?’
No! she wanted to scream. Not till next Christmas. He still hadn’t noticed she was the size of a whale. There was still a chance to escape.
In her dreams!
Reaching over, she picked up her purse and two grocery bags from the passenger seat, shoved her squeaky door open, and stood with her packages hiding her stomach. From her side of the car, she looked at him over its bonnet.
He looked back at her and the intensity of his gaze showed her that this wasn’t just a casual, passing visit. ‘Anything else you need out of the boot?’ he said volunteering.
She shook her head.
Get moving, she silently ordered her feet and at last she began a slow journey around the front of her car, avoiding meeting his eyes. She didn’t want to see his face when he first recognised her condition.
But when she reached Sam and he didn’t speak for the longest time, she was forced to look up.
And she knew as soon as she did that, to the end of her days, she would never forget the expression on his face.
’Meg!’
His agonised cry cut straight to her heart.
‘There’s been a little change in my life,’ she whispered with a self-conscious dip of her head.
Pale-faced, he stared at her pregnant stomach, shaking his head slowly and obviously unable to speak.
So many times she’d pictured a scene like this because, somehow, she’d known Sam would find her. She’d envisioned his anger, his surprise, even his elation. But her imagination had never pictured him looking so frighteningly shocked—as if she’d dropped from the clouds and crashed to the ground right in front of him.
In the face of such raw, unprotected emotion, her plans to be cool and distant vanished. ‘Come inside,’ she said gently, feeling close to tears. ‘I’ll make you a cuppa. Or maybe you need something stronger?’
With another dazed shake of his head, he followed her.
Inside, Meg kept herself from thinking and feeling by fussing about making tea and pouring a Scotch for Sam. She felt light-headed—as if this whole scene was some kind of hallucination. When she took a mug from the cupboard, she rubbed it against the palm of one hand, as if needing the reassurance of its everyday smooth coolness.
‘How far—when?’
His voice coming from behind, startled her. She spun around. ‘The baby’s due in three weeks.’
She could see him trying to calculate dates and she offered him the Scotch, which he tossed down in one angry gulp.
‘Does that mean—?’ He set the empty glass on a nearby book shelf and, shoving both hands deep in his pockets, squared his jaw and nodded his head in the direction of her middle. ‘Am I the—?’ He swallowed and tried again. ‘Is it mine?’
Now it was Meg’s turn to be shocked. ‘How could you ask such a thing? Of course it’s yours—I mean, of course you’re the father.’
‘But I don’t see how. I used protection.’
‘I know we did. They don’t always work, but that’s not your fault. I knew a baby was the last thing you’d want.’
She turned quickly back to the business of making tea. ‘Find a seat.’ She tossed the instruction quickly over her shoulder. ‘I’ll join you in a minute.’
It was a sign of how shocked he was, she decided, that, like an obedient child, he returned to the back porch and sat staring out at the river.
A baby!
Sam dropped his head into his hands while his stomach heaved. His emotions were rioting. In all the months he’d been worrying about Meg, knowing that she’d taken off, he’d never thought of this little bombshell. A baby! His child! He was damned if he knew how the pregnancy had happened. He’d been careful!
But what about Meg? Here he was feeling sorry for himself, but what a time she must have had. And what a blow to the old ego that she wanted to keep this to herself. She hadn’t been able to trust him to be there for her.
Lifting his head, he stared out at the river. It was so peaceful and languid in contrast to the turmoil raging inside him. How could she read him so wrong?
He felt hot prickles behind his eyelids and swiped at his eyes with a hasty action he hoped she didn’t see.
Meg’s hands shook as she brought the mugs outside. For an uncomfortable stretch of time, they sat side by side staring at the river without speaking.
‘Now I know why Dolly made such a big deal about how well you’re keeping,’ Sam said at last.
‘Dolly’s been wonderful,’ Meg admitted. ‘I wanted her to know because, in a way, she’s the baby’s great grandmother.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ Sam snapped bitterly. ‘Tell the step-great-grandmother, but not the father. That’s really neat thinking.’
Meg felt her cheeks flame. ‘I tried to ring you as soon as I found out. But I got one of your snooty girlfriends on your line.’
Sam frowned as he thought for a moment. ‘I think that must have been Julia.’ He let out a long, bitter sigh. ‘She wasn’t a girlfriend.’
‘Whatever,’ Meg responded. Who was he trying to kid? ‘But even if I hadn’t spoken to her, I still knew it was in my best interests to forget about you, Sam.’
‘Why?’ he yelled. An angry flush reddened his face.
‘Please,’ she whispered. ‘Let’s not fight about this.’
He sighed again. ‘Just give me a little moment or two to—to adjust. I’m sure I’ll behave myself when I get a little more used to the idea.’
She wriggled in her seat to get more comfortable. Her baby’s foot was kicking hard against her ribs. Suddenly, she felt cold as if a rogue breeze had crept across the river. She sipped at her rose-hip tea. There was no way to make this easy.
Sam wasn’t going to just wish her well and saunter off into the sunset like a vagabond cowboy. This was going to be the awful part, when he started to get possessive.
As if on cue, he took a deep swig from the mug and then turned to her hastily. ‘I’m quite willing to marry you.’
Her eyes widened with shock.
‘Sorry if that was too blunt,’ he muttered. ‘It didn’t come out quite the way I meant it.’
‘I certainly don’t expect you to marry me, Sam. In fact, it’s the last thing I expect—or want.’
‘Last thing, eh? That’s what I thought.’ He looked away again.
‘I’ve never believed in people marrying just because there’s a baby on the way.’
‘I can always help with finances, of course.’
‘Sam,’ she said, and her voice cracked on the single syllable, ‘you don’t have to worry about me. I’m managing just fine. I mean that.’
‘What about after the baby’s born? How will you manage then?’
‘I have some money. And I’ll study. Eventually, I’ll go back into marine science.’
‘What about the baby?’
‘What about it?’
‘Are you keeping it?’
‘Of course. And don’t you even think of lining up those lawyers of yours for some kind of paternal rights contract.’
He frowned. ‘So you’re quite settled on bringing up a little kid all on your own?’
‘Yes.’ She wished her answer sounded more definite. She meant it to sound totally convincing.
His face grew tight. ‘Or do you have some other guy lined up for the job? A new daddy for little…’
‘Of course there’s no one else.’ Jumping up, she stomped across the porch to stand near the railing with her back to him, hiding her quivering chin. When her anger had dropped from boiling to simmering, she turned back to him. ‘For Pete’s sake, Sam. That’s twice already you’ve suggested I might have another man hidden away somewhere. Another lover. That’s your department. It’s not my style at all.’
‘I just want to understand your situation,’ he muttered defensively.
Meg took a huge breath. ‘OK. Here’s the situation It’s quite simple really.’ She held up one hand and, with the other, she ticked off her fingers as she made each point. ‘We had a brief relationship. We made love once. You went home again, back to being Seattle’s favourite bachelor. Now I’m pregnant. And I’m dealing with it. This baby’s mine.’
‘And mine. And normally—’
‘Please,’ she hissed through gritted teeth, clutching the mug tightly against her. ‘I agree that, as the father, you have some rights, but don’t start talking about normally. We don’t have a normal situation. We both agreed when you left the island that marriage isn’t part of our game plan.’
He rose and closed the gap between them. Meg shut her eyes. Whenever he came close, some traitorous part of her brain began to think about being closer. And that was insane.
‘I can see where you’re coming from,’ he said with a heavy sigh. ‘When I left last year, there was too much still up in the air.’
She turned to the river and opened her eyes to stare out across the stretch of water.
‘And, now, I guess it’s too late,’ Sam added.
‘Yes!’ Meg almost spat out the word. Then, ridiculously, she shot him a suspicious glance. ‘Too late for what?’
He stood beside her, looking, as she was, at the river. ‘Too late to start at the beginning and get things right.’
She nodded.
‘If we had gone about this by the usual route,’ he suggested slowly, ‘we would have got to know each other over time— then we might have married—and then had kids. Things might have worked out. Might have even been perfect.’
‘Please don’t go on,’ Meg implored him. ‘There’s no point in going over how things might have been.’
He persisted, in spite of her protest. ‘But you’re right. We met for a few days. There was a spark—’
‘A spark?’ she echoed, sounding surprisingly hurt even to her own ears. ‘Is that what happened?’
His eyes held hers and, for the first time that afternoon, she saw a glimmer of the old humour she’d learned to expect from Sam. ‘Actually,’ he said with a slow grin that sent uncalled for waves of longing rippling through her, ‘it was more like spontaneous combustion, wasn’t it?’
She refused to answer, but suspected that her flaming cheeks did the job for her.
‘And, hey presto!’ He gestured towards her bulging middle. ‘We skipped a whole bunch of vital steps in between.’
Meg’s chin lifted. ‘I don’t think that means we should automatically try to fill in the gaps now. You can’t do relationships dot-to-dot.’
‘No.’ He sighed.
She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself. ‘And that is exactly why I gave up trying to contact you.’
‘But you can’t keep me out of this, Meg,’ he said softly.
She refused to answer.
‘I’m already a part of it.’
Her chin lifted defiantly.
He went on. ‘This little kid is half mine. As much as you might be trying to overlook the fact, you can’t ignore the genetics. Your baby will be wearing my genes.’
She flashed a heated glance in his direction. ‘But that doesn’t give you the right to intrude into my life. I need you to respect my privacy.’
‘You’ve had eight months of privacy.’
‘Sam…’ her voice held a note of warning ‘…I’ve spent that time adjusting. And I’ve done well. I’ve got it all together now. Leave me alone. You—you’ve done the wrong thing tracking me down.’
It was his turn to be silent. He stood staring into the distance and he tapped at her driftwood mobile with one lean finger, setting it swaying so that the shells clinked against each other.
Meg watched, feeling wretched.
Finally, he turned her way. ‘We’ve probably said enough for the moment. We’re both upset and we need a little space to—adjust.’
She nodded.
He crossed to the top of the porch steps and Meg wondered why she didn’t feel relieved that he was leaving so soon.
‘You’re staying somewhere on the coast?’ she asked.
He nodded, but she noticed he didn’t seem to want to give her any details. ‘I guess you should get some rest, Meg, and drink plenty of milk, or whatever it is that’s good for pregnant women. I’ll be in touch.’
Grabbing the rail, he swung himself down the low steps in one bound and jogged back down the car tracks as if he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.
Sam resisted the urge to ring Meg or visit her the next day. And the next. Instead he visited the local library and unearthed a stack of books. She wanted her space and, for his part, he had a lot to learn.
Aside from how they started, he knew nothing about babies. He’d never given any considered thought to anything remotely linked to babies. Had never touched one—not even tentatively on the toe. The whole concept of fatherhood wasn’t one he’d ever applied to himself.
Now, late in the afternoon, he was grappling with a staggering information overload.
He phoned her.
‘Meg speaking,’ she answered, sounding relaxed…and beautiful.
‘It’s me,’ Sam announced. ‘How are you?’
‘Fine thanks.’
Had he imagined it, or was there a tinge of warmth in her answer? ‘Doing anything exciting?’
‘Oh, yes. My life is a thrill a minute. At the moment I’m ironing a maternity smock.’
A sudden picture of a domesticated, rosy-cheeked Meg, pregnant and standing at an ironing board, danced into his mind. Why the image should seem incredibly sexy was beyond him. It must be what happened to a guy after long periods of abstinence.
He banged a hand against his forehead in an effort to clean up his thoughts. ‘I was wondering if you’ve developed any of those food cravings that pregnant women get?’
‘Curried spaghetti,’ she responded impulsively.
He chuckled. ‘That’s an original one. Do you make it from your own recipe?’
‘I like the tinned version best.’
‘Uh-huh.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Anything else?’
‘Hot chocolate with marshmallows. Sam, why do you want to know?’
‘Just curious. I can see you’ve developed quite a sophisticated palate.’
‘Most of the time I eat a well-balanced diet.’
‘Glad to hear it.’ He muttered as he scribbled a few notes. ‘OK. I can do that.’
‘Do what? What are you talking about?’
‘I’m bringing dinner. My shout. I’ll be there around six-thirty.’
‘But, Sam, there’s no need.’
He didn’t bother to argue, deciding it was safer just to hang up.
As she set the table with simple red and white striped table mats and crisply ironed white serviettes, Meg tried to tell herself that she wasn’t at all pleased that Sam was visiting again and bringing dinner after staying away for two whole days. Two tension-packed days when she’d wondered what on earth he was doing.
She ought to be dampening her unsuitable enthusiasm by focusing on the last time Sam offered to fix a meal for her. The exotic seafood dinner that had never happened. That had been the worst night of her life.
She also had to apply her thoughts to how to get rid of him quickly. He hadn’t given her time to explain that she had a childbirth education class to attend this evening.
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There was a knock at her front door and she hurried to open it.
Sam smiled down at her as he entered her hallway, carrying a shopping bag. His big frame was silhouetted against the setting sun and he looked like heaven in blue jeans. Her breath caught and her silly heart trembled with delight.
She’d been too distraught the other day, to dwell on his good looks but, tonight, she couldn’t help registering every ruggedly masculine detail.
He dropped a kiss on her cheek so quickly, she didn’t have time to duck. ‘I didn’t tell you the other day how lovely you look,’ he said. ‘Motherhood really suits you, Nutmeg.’
The unexpected compliment and the old nickname caught her unprepared. She couldn’t hold back a pleased smile.
In her kitchen, he unloaded a bag of groceries and set them out on the bench. ‘I could only find little tins of curried spaghetti.’
Smiling self-consciously, she nodded. ‘I doubt it’s the most popular item on the supermarket shelves.’
Besides the spaghetti tins, he’d brought a huge packet of fluffy pink marshmallows, a bag of green salad, some cherry tomatoes, a bottle of dressing and a litre of milk.
He grinned at her. ‘A simple but tasty menu. How do you like your curried spaghetti?’
‘Heated on toast.’
‘Might I suggest a side salad?’
‘That would be lovely, Sam.’ Meg lifted a hasty hand to her mouth as she listened to herself. That would be lovely, Sam. What kind of limp-willed Lizzie was she? It was happening again. He was slapping on the charm. She was letting down her guard. The next thing she knew they’d be…
She shook her head. Next thing, if she had her way, he would be heading back to Seattle. After many ambivalent months, when she’d been uncertain about her future, the recent weeks had brought a reassuring feeling of focus and balance.
She knew what she wanted now: a simple, quiet life for her and her baby. She certainly didn’t want a playboy millionaire pulling her strings as if she was a mindless puppet.
The Pregnancy Discovery Page 11