His Secret Baby

by Ashlee Price

  I’d been surprised that Riker had called to ask me out. In the split second before I answered, I’d processed a dozen different scenarios under which I could meet him and still have him not know. I was miserable with my decision to not tell him. He deserved to know. But there was so much at stake. So much that I didn’t have control of. If the word got out, I could never get it back. Mrs. Pettibone would ruin me, and then there was Melanie waiting in the wings to finish me off. And there were still those unanswered questions about Riker. I knew I should have pressed him for those answers, but I had run out of time. The only focus I could afford at the moment was taking care of the child within me. As soon as it was born, I would begin nurturing it into life. It was hard enough to do that for myself. I hoped I was up to it for a child.

  I had never realized the attachment a woman could have to an unborn child. Up to that point, a baby bump was not much more than just that. It was a sign that a woman was about to give birth, but the idea that there was life inside that bump hadn’t really occurred to me until I had my own. While it was still too early to feel kicking or the tiny body moving around, I knew it was in there. It was fragile, it depended on me, and my life was now dedicated to it.

  I lifted my shirt and turned sideways. The nausea was keeping me from eating, and the pounds had begun to drop off. Even though there was a noticeable bump where my tummy was, the weight loss balanced it out and I was still able to wear my normal clothes. I was grateful for that; it bought me more time.

  There was a knock at the door. I quickly dropped my shirt and adjusted my clothing. I opened the door to see Melanie standing there.

  “Hi.” Her face was bland.

  I was puzzled. Had I forgotten an appointment with her? Maybe it was something to do with paperwork she needed from me. I had no idea. “Hello. This is a surprise.”

  “I know, can I come in?”

  “Sure, come on in,” I told her, standing back to open the door wide. She walked through and slid her boots off on the rug, something she’d never done before. Was this an act of penitence? What was she up to?

  “Okay if I sit down?” I nodded and gestured to the living room. Sitting at the table would force my shirt flat against my tummy, and she was sharp-eyed. We sat down, and I looked at her to begin the conversation, which she did.

  “So, I was wondering, I mean, after our last discussion, I know I sort of pushed you and you were probably pissed and that’s why you fired me. I get that.” She looked to me to disagree, but I sat there calmly and waited. “Okay, so I was wondering if maybe you’d changed your mind? I mean, maybe you’re too busy to handle everything on your own, and if I promise to be a little more respectful, maybe you would hire me back?”

  “Melanie, I’m sorry you’ve come all this way. It probably would’ve been better if you’d called. As your employer, well, your former employer, I have to be careful with our conversations, so let’s just leave it that I haven’t changed my mind. I appreciate your coming over, but there really was no need.”

  “You don’t forgive very easily, do you?”

  I took a deep breath. She was prodding me into anger, trying to get me to say something she could use against me, probably so she could sue me. I didn’t need that complication on top of everything else just then. So I said nothing.

  She looked at me, and the corners of her mouth turned down again. I’d seen that before, and it always meant she was about to say something nasty. “So, I was talking to Riker…” Oh God, here it comes. “He seems to think that you consider yourself better than him. He said he doesn’t want any goody-two-shoes with that kind of an attitude so he’s finished with you.”

  My mind raced over my conversation with Riker the night I’d confronted him. I could see that maybe in my fear, I’d been a little too judgmental. He possibly could’ve said that. A physical pain began in my heart again. I knew the truth—I knew I was in love with him. I was carrying his child, and my personal happily ever after was being tossed out the window with my own two hands. Even so, I had no choice, because I couldn’t control the outcomes involved.

  I rose to my feet, careful to do it smoothly despite the nausea that was about to send me to the bathroom. “You’ll have to excuse me, Melanie. I have an appointment and need to get ready. I’m sure you can find your own way out.”

  I didn’t wait to argue with her; I simply went into the bathroom and flipped on the shower to hide any noises of my being sick. When it was over, I opened the door just enough to make sure that she’d gone before I came out.

  I went to lie on my bed, a cold washcloth over my eyes as I waited for the nausea to pass. I tried to focus on happy things to get through it. The pictures flashed through my mind’s eye. Sitting down by the lake with Riker and Jonas, roasting hotdogs. Standing at the window with Riker coming up behind me, wrapping his arms around me to hug me against him. The look on Jonas’s face when he won the decorating contest. The night I’d spent with Riker in his bed, his heavy but oh-so-dear head lying against my breast. I was making myself even more miserable, but I didn’t know how to make it stop. My cell phone rang, but I just couldn’t talk. I let it go to voicemail, rolled over onto my side and closed my eyes.

  I couldn’t find the peace that a nap would bring. I tried to think about the baby, wondering whether it was a boy or girl. I thought of names and how I would decorate the nursery. A nursery? Where was I going to let the baby sleep? I couldn’t hide the baby forever; eventually someone would find out. My head ached with the complications.

  Then I came back to Melanie’s visit and the aggravation with her resurfaced. I was so frustrated that I had to take it out on someone. I picked up my cell and tapped out a text to Riker.

  Melanie was here. She told me you think I’m a goody-two-shoes. I thought you understood me better than that. I’m really disappointed in you. Stay away.

  I tapped the send button and then quickly went into my contacts and blocked his number so he could neither call nor answer my text. In effect, I was blocking him from my life. I was starting out brand-new, and neither Riker, Mrs. Pettibone, or Melanie Curry were part of it.

  Chapter 18

  Riker

  Women! They just simply weren’t worth the misery. Normally I wouldn’t have given Melanie’s words any credit, but then, Lacy wasn’t doing anything to contradict them.

  I tried to text Lacy back and got a message failure in return. I tried to call her, but it went straight to voicemail on the first ring, which told me she had me blocked. I didn’t know what to think. I knew she was upset, and I had a suspicion her business was failing, but that still didn’t add up to the total shut-out she’d given me. There had to be more to it.

  I had a client down the lake from Lacy who wanted an estimate on a basement remodel. I grabbed my laptop and measuring tape and left to go over there. I frowned as I saw the truck door—it pissed me off every time I came out of the house. Jacoury had settled down, though, and as long as the two of them stayed that way, I’d see them through their eighteenth birthdays and they’d be free to go. Jonas kept bringing up the subject of working for me, and as much as I’d have liked to give him the nod, finances just didn’t warrant it. As it was, I was having to cut some corners to keep them all fed. I’d forgotten how much growing boys could eat. There was always the option of my going to work in psychology, but it didn’t pay enough more than what I was already doing to make the change worthwhile. Anyway, if I did something like that, I’d lose the ability to help the boys, which made the huge house unwarranted. It was a circle of frustration, no matter how I looked at it.

  The Williams house sat back from the water’s edge, which gave them enough elevation to have a basement. It was a walkout with a full-width patio. Mrs. Williams gave me the tour.

  “I thought you worked for Lacy Chatte,” she commented as we went down the steps.

  “No, ma’am, I’ve always been self-employed. She was a frequent client, but I’ve always been independent.”

  She nod
ded at my response, and I wondered why I was feeling defensive. Was Mrs. Williams one of Pettibone’s crew? I hoped to hell not, because if Pettibone got wind of me doing work here, Williams would cut me loose. I needed the project income.

  She showed me through the open room and indicated where she’d like walls and a bathroom to be added. We talked about how she planned to use the space.

  “We’d love to have a party set-up, actually. We get a lot of out-of-town company, and of course when they come, they want to party by the water. So I also need to be able to convert the space into sleeping quarters for them,” she explained.

  I could do the floor and walls, but she needed someone like Lacy for the furniture recommendations. “I’ll be happy to quote the construction for you, but I suggest that you also consult with Lacy Chatte before making any final decisions. She can help you with the furnishings and design ideas, and knowing what you ultimately want will be good before we get started with any walls.”

  “That’s a good idea. I apologize for misunderstanding earlier, but it just seems so natural for you two to be working side-by-side.”

  I had to agree, and I wished someone would ask Mrs. Pettibone why she was so opposed to that. After all, Mrs. Williams was willing to hire me, so I couldn’t be that heinous.

  “Well, Mrs. Williams, I think I have everything I need for now. Go ahead and contact Lacy, if you don’t mind, so she can be prepared to follow up my recommendations.”

  “That’s great. I really appreciate your coming by. Stay warm out there, you hear?”

  I got into my truck, letting it warm up again and thinking. That had been so effortless. Lacy and I were the perfect combination when it came to remodels and makeovers. I didn’t know who that Pettibone bitch was, but I damned sure didn’t like her running my life. I wanted to have it out with Lacy, once and for all. I needed to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering her. I put the truck into gear and went around the block, heading toward her cottage. I didn’t see her car in the drive, so I decided to go ahead and wait inside. I still had my key.

  I opened the door and stood there a moment, looking around. It was nostalgic—everything looked just as it had when I’d been there last. The only thing different was the emotion I felt being there. It felt like I was trespassing, and I’d never thought it would get to that. I couldn’t go on as I was, wanting her, needing her, unless she knew how I felt and told me to go away forever. If that happened, I would. Otherwise, I was in it for the long run. I had plans for her, for us. I knew she was ready for what lay behind the locked door. She had some deep-seated aggression lurking inside, and she needed work it out. That would help her.

  There was a light tap at the door and then it opened. Melanie stood there.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked her.

  “Oh, I was just driving by and saw your truck out front. I thought something might be wrong, so I stopped.”

  “Melanie, I think it’s about time you and I have a little talk.” I took a couple of steps back and leaned against the counter. Crossing my arms, I looked at her. “I seem to see a correlation between your interfering in Lacy’s life and her being upset. I would like to think that you’re not doing that deliberately.”

  She shook her head vehemently and stepped toward me. Putting one hand on each of my shoulder blades, she looked up at me and leaned into me so that her crotch was pressing into my thigh. “Oh, Riker, it hurts me to have you even think I’d do something like that. Lacy has been very good to me, and so have you. Sure, I’ll admit that you turn me on, but I know where your head is. I always have.”

  “Melanie, I think you might have misconstrued my mood lately.”

  “Really? I think I know you very well; very, very well indeed. I know you have your hands full with the boys, and I also know that Lacy has been less than welcoming. You must feel a little abandoned and overwhelmed. What you don’t realize is that I’m here for you. I always have been here for you, in any capacity you like. You just have to say the word and I’ll move in and take care of you and the boys. Nothing would make me happier. I’ll admit it to you right now, Riker. I’m in love with you, and I think you have similar feelings towards me.”

  I was about to push her away and tell her she was full of shit when I looked up and saw Lacy standing there. Melanie had left the door half closed and Lacy had entered soundlessly—and evidently heard Melanie’s last couple of sentences.

  “Is that so?” Lacy said dryly. “Well, I hope the two of you will be very happy together, but I would appreciate it if you would share your happiness somewhere else. This is my house and you are both trespassing. I’m asking you to leave.”

  Melanie’s back was still to Lacy and her hands were still on my shoulder blades. She took advantage of the confusion to reach up on tip toe and kiss me on the cheek before I could stop her. She tapped me on the shoulder, saying, “I’ll see you at home, honey.” Turning, she walked wide around Lacy and left. The silence lay heavily between Lacy and myself, punctuated only by the brief toot of Melanie’s horn as she left the driveway.

  “Lacy, it’s not what you think.”

  “How many times have I heard that line? Let’s see, a million?”

  “Melanie set that up.”

  “I wasn’t aware you could be that easily manipulated. You’re trying to tell me that she talked you into driving over here in separate cars, breaking into my house and staging that little intimate scene all against your will? You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t believe you.”

  Lacy hadn’t removed her boots or her coat. She just stood there, the pain masking her face. “Riker, I need you to leave, now. I thought I made it fairly clear that I didn’t want to see you again.”

  I walked toward her with the intention of pulling her into my arms. Both her hands came out and kept me at bay.

  “What’s the matter with you, anyway?” I demanded. “You’ve never behaved this way before. Something’s going on with you… Something different. If you don’t want to date me, okay, but don’t push me away as a friend. Everyone can use a friend, and I have a feeling, you more than anyone right now. Is it the business? Is it failing? Do you need money? I just sent a customer your way as a reference. Pettibone doesn’t need to know about it. I know she’s got you in her pocket, but I wish you’d find another way. You need to have your life in your own hands.”

  “So now you’re giving me advice? Shall I move into one of the eight bedrooms upstairs in your house? So you can ground me when I don’t do as you tell me?”

  “Don’t be silly. Why are you making such a big deal of my trying to help you?”

  “I believe it’s polite to wait to be asked for help before pushing yourself in on someone’s life. Even Mrs. Pettibone waited until I asked for help. In my book, you’re the one who’s out of line. I don’t need to explain my future plans to you. I’m perfectly fine, and I don’t need any money. I’ve been taking care of myself for a very long time, and I can continue that from now on. I’m asking you one more time to leave. Put your key on the counter on your way out.”

  Her boots and coat still on, she swept past me and went into the bathroom. She shut the door and I heard the lock click. I knew there was no point in waiting around. She’d wait until she heard the door close. I was only making things worse. I slapped the key down on the counter so she could hear and shut the door harder than I needed to leaving the house. I tried to control myself before I got onto the road—the last thing I needed was to rear-end someone.

  In the confines of the truck, I said aloud to myself, “Lacy, honey, you are on your own from here on out. I tried, and you won’t even talk to me. If that’s all I mean to you, then fuck it, you are on your own.”

  Chapter 19

  Lacy

  My hands were shaking as I heard him slam the key on the counter and then slam the kitchen door closed. It was a sound of such finality. If there were any doubts I had about keeping my pregnancy secret, they were gone now. Riker had violated my privacy a
nd tried to tell me what to do. That’s what I’d been afraid of all along. If he knew about the baby, he’d never leave me alone and I’d never get my life back again.

  There were so many plans, so many contingencies and configurations to figure out. For the time being, the baby was still safely hidden beneath my heavier clothes. That wasn’t going to be the case for much longer. I knew I was approaching the months when the growth spurt started. It would become harder and harder for me to hide my baby bump, even beneath bulky winter clothing. So it appeared that the first order of business was to figure out a way to be out of circulation for the rest of my pregnancy. Then there was the monumental task of explaining the baby. I wasn’t sure I could pull it all off—not and still live any kind of a semi-normal life.

  All you have to do is get through this until you can unload Mrs. Pettibone, I told myself. Once you’re free of her, it doesn’t matter what other people think. Yet I knew I was lying to myself. It was a catch-22. Do I stay here and grow the business, endure the small-town prejudice against an unmarried mother, or do I put up the For Sale sign and begin again somewhere else before the baby is even born? Maybe it would be better if I waited to move until the baby was born. I could say that the father had been killed in a car accident and no one in my new town would know the difference. But what would I eventually say to the baby when it started asking, “Ma, Ma, where’s my Pa?”

  I felt like I would go insane, and there was no one to talk to. I stripped down to my nightgown and pulled a robe on. I made a cup of tea and grabbed the newspaper on my way to the living room. I sat down and paged through to the classifieds, looking for the ad that I’d placed for basement upgrades. They’d placed it at the top of the column as I’d asked, but it didn’t seem to be producing. I knew there was only one way to grow the business from that point on. I would need to get out and shake hands. I’d have to go door to door, or maybe offer one free room upgrade when you ordered my services for three others. There were all kinds of ways to promote myself, but they all involved being very visible, and that wasn’t something I could afford just then. I needed some way to bring in money in the meantime.