THE BABY PLAN

by Susan Gable

  "Damn it, Dusty, that was a lousy thing to say! Who the hell do you think you are?" Jake stormed across the room to his side, Hope still in his arms—luckily for his brother. Dusty was doubly lucky he held Matthew, as well. Or else Jake would've let him have it this time. This time he'd gone too far.

  "I'm the father of the baby she neglected tonight." Dusty cuddled his son closer. "Your wife needs some parenting classes, Jake, and she'd better take them now, before your child's born. I'm taking my son to the hospital to have him looked over!"

  Dusty brushed past Jake.

  Another gust of cold air entered the house, and Mel and Peter appeared.

  "Check your kids over carefully," Dusty snapped at them. "Our incompetent baby-sitter did one hell of a job." He gathered the baby's snowsuit and diaper bag.

  "Wook at Grace!" Hope shouted.

  Jake turned his attention to the twin still on the sofa. A puddle of vomit oozed across one of the beige cushions.

  Mel sighed and moved toward her daughter. "Poor Grace. Is your tummy upset?"

  "I'll go get some paper towels," Peter offered, heading for the kitchen.

  "Jake?" Mel glanced up at him. "What did she eat? It looks like … I'm not sure what it looks like."

  "Red cwayons," Hope supplied.

  Jake groaned. Harley had obviously endured the worst night of baby-sitting possible. Add that to Dusty's insults, and his plan for making her feel comfortable as a mother had certainly blown up in his face.

  Jake helped Mel get the twins cleaned up and into their coats. He thanked his lucky stars for his understanding sister when she easily forgave the night's disasters, confessing Grace had eaten crayons before and no ill had ever resulted from it, and the block in Hope's face wasn't exactly an unprecedented incident, either.

  After his sister's family had left and he'd released the whining dogs from the garage. Jake hurried to Harley's room. He turned on the light in the hallway and opened her door. "Harley?"

  She lay with her back against the wall, the pillow clutched to her chest.

  Jake eased himself onto the bed. He reached out and skimmed her cheek with his fingertips. Sticky tear tracks crossed her face. "Harley?" he whispered.

  A slight hitch in breathing was her only response.

  A full night's sleep would do her good. He untied her sneakers, removing them and dropped them alongside the bed. He grabbed the afghan from the bottom of the bed. Unfolding it, he draped it over her, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. "All accidents, Harley. Definitely not your fault." He caressed her cheek with the back of his index finger. "I love you. You're going to make a fine mother."

  But tonight definitely qualified as a setback in his plan to get her to realize that.

  * * *

  Chapter 16

  «^»

  Images flashed. A gala ball. Crystal chandeliers. Daphene Spandler looked down her finely sculpted nose and wagged a finger. A chorus of crying babies wailed in the background. Dusty appeared, head shaking. "You're not good enough for my brother or his child."

  Daphene tsked. "Look at those clothes. She simply won't do."

  Judge Ephraim took Daphene's elbow, twitching a finger in Harley's face. "I told you to walk the straight and narrow."

  "But, I haven't done anything!" Harley protested.

  Jake emerged from the crowd, carrying a delicate little girl with big blue eyes and light brown hair. A large bruise discolored her forehead and a plaster cast encased her left arm.

  Harley recognized her instinctively. "Peanut. What … what happened?" She reached for the baby.

  Jake turned to the side, shielding the child from her grasp. "You happened. You weren't watching her!"

  Two uniformed cops flanked her. "Ma'am, we're placing you under arrest for endangering the welfare of a child. You have the right to…"

  Harley heard no more as handcuffs bit into her wrists. "No, no! I didn't do anything!"

  She awakened in a cold sweat, heart hammering in her ears, breathing ragged. She threw off the blanket and launched herself upright. A menace. She was an absolute menace.

  They'd all be better off without her around.

  Staying had ceased to be an option. She endangered his career with her crass manners and lack of social graces. She endangered all the children. Her fingers slipped to her belly. Peanut especially didn't need a mother like her. Better to have none at all. After all, Harley had survived without a mother. And Jake would make an even better father than her own had been.

  Rising quickly in the predawn darkness, she changed her clothes, then pulled her duffel from the closet. She rummaged in the drawers and stuffed as much into the bag as she could. For the first time in her life, she owned more than she could possibly carry.

  The white satin nightgown whispered across her fingertips, and she snatched it from the drawer, rolling it into a tight ball and cramming it into a corner of her bag. Her hand hovered over the glass perfume bottle on the dresser. Endless Possibilities. No. Not that. Her endless possibilities all revolved around this house, this home, and they'd cease to exist the minute she walked out.

  She left the World's Greatest Aunt sweatshirt on her pillow.

  The bedroom door creaked as she opened it, and Harley winced. Freezing in place, she waited for any reaction, but the house continued its quiet slumber.

  In the garage, she gathered her tools and returned them to the chest in the back of her truck. The hood still gaped open from her explorations yesterday. Luckily there hadn't been anything wrong with the engine. She'd just had the overwhelming urge to tinker. Fat lot of good that impulse had brought.

  She eased the hood down softly, satisfied by the click that it was properly shut. Only one more task to complete. She tiptoed back into the house, heading for his office.

  Words flowed onto paper in spurts. Explaining her actions without hurting him was difficult. She had to make sure he understood that the failing was in her and not in him. How could she tell him he was the most wonderful man she'd ever had the good fortune to come across and in the next line rationalize walking out the door?

  She could hear her father telling her, "This is for your own good," and "This is going to hurt me a lot more than it will you" when he disciplined Harley by sending her to her room—or worse, by banning her temporarily from the garage. She hadn't understood that as a child. But now she did. Sometimes you had to do something really hard in the name of love. She was doing this for Jake. And she knew from the huge ache in her chest that it hurt her a lot more than it would him.

  She folded the paper and put it in an envelope, then turned off the lamp on his desk.

  The crayoned scribbles on the wall of the dining room brought back horrible memories of her babysitting fiasco. Yet as she laid the letter on the table, she also saw Grace and Hope, stained with pizza, sitting in their booster chairs.

  A tear slipped down her cheek, and she dashed it away with the back of her hand. She paused in the archway to the living room. Outside, the sky was just beginning to lighten. The Christmas tree cast a faint silhouette in front of the window.

  There were too many memories, she couldn't linger here.

  The need to see him one last time warred with the need to turn tail and run, to put as much distance between them as possible. To begin to salvage her shattered heart.

  He won.

  She tiptoed across the room and down the hallway, cautiously avoiding floorboards that creaked. His bedroom door stood ajar, and she quietly swung it open.

  Pepper and Benji lifted their heads to look at her curiously. She waved a hand at them, and they shifted but stayed put.

  She could make out his form on the bed. The covers had fallen aside, exposing his muscular back. Her fingers knew every inch of that back. She drank him in, resisting the overwhelming desire to move closer, to touch him. To kiss him farewell.

  "I love you, Jake Manning." She mouthed the words, then caught her lower lip between her teeth to quiet its trembling. She fingered
the necklace he'd given her for Christmas. If nothing else, she'd always carry a new appreciation for her name. He'd taught her what it meant to love.

  And sacrifice was part of it.

  Time to go. Before she lost the courage to do the right thing.

  She turned away from his door, bolting for the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled, and she could feel the baby move. "Not now, Peanut. I'll get us something to eat later." She grabbed the bottle of prenatal vitamins from the counter and stuffed them in her shirt pocket.

  Toenails clicked on the linoleum behind her. She whirled to find the two dogs staring up at her. "You guys go back to bed," she hissed at them.

  They both sat instead.

  "Obedience never was your strong point," she whispered, reaching for the box of Milk-Bones. She took a handful and squatted down, dropping them on the floor. The dogs each grabbed one, chomping and crunching. Harley ran her hands over Benji's wiry fur and Pepper's sleek head. "You guys take care of him for me, okay?" She patted them again. "I'm still afraid of dogs, you know. Just not you two. Don't tell anybody."

  Harley rose to her feet and slipped out the door while they were still occupied with their snack.

  By the time she'd backed the truck from the garage, closed the door and pulled into the street, the sky had lightened and a gray Erie winter dawn had commenced. She allowed herself the luxury of a final, lingering examination. The little white house where her child would be raised glistened cozily, frosted with snow.

  She stepped on the clutch and put the truck in gear, driving away without another backward glance.

  * * *

  A cold, wet sensation in the middle of his back jolted Jake from sound sleep to totally awake in one rude leap. He groaned and swatted blindly at the offending dog nose. "Pepper, cut it out."

  The dog whined.

  Jake rolled over and opened his eyes.

  The Labrador danced in place next to the bed and whined again.

  "I take it you have to go out?"

  Pepper woofed in response.

  "All right, hold on." As Jake slid out of bed, cool air caressed him. He moved to his dresser, pulling out a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Harley had taken his robe several days ago and hadn't returned it yet. Not that he minded. There was something powerful about the sight of her in his clothes, something that brought out his possessive instincts.

  How would she feel this morning? Last night's nightmare would surely remain in her mind. Dusty's harsh words rang out in his memory and Jake clenched his hands. His brother was begging for a kick in the ass, and if he didn't straighten out with regard to Harley, he was going to get it.

  Pepper whined from the doorway.

  "I'm coming." He strode from his room. Benji lounged on the living room sofa. Jake snapped his fingers. "Come on, Benji, let's go out." The little dog scampered down and both animals ran for his office.

  Jake followed more sedately, still clearing the remnants of sleep from his body and his brain. He let the dogs out via the back deck. The frigid winter air rushed in, and he slammed the door behind them.

  He laced his fingers together and stretched out his arms, first in front of him, then up over his head. That done, he rotated his head to get the kinks out of his neck and shoulders. He ran through a quick series of additional stretches, finishing just as Pepper scratched at the door.

  The dogs back in the house, he wandered into the kitchen. "Morning, Irving." He ran his hands over the cat's sleek black fur, then patted his rump. "Now, get off the counter." The cat jumped to the floor. Jake set a pot of decaf to brew and filled the animals' food and water bowls, then glanced at the clock. Normally Harley was up by now.

  He walked rapidly through the house, then knocked on her door. "Harley?"

  No response. Maybe the night's horrors had worn her out more than he'd thought. He pushed the door open.

  She wasn't in bed. The afghan had been folded and replaced at the bottom, the comforter carefully smoothed out. The sweatshirt lay across the pillow. Her clothes from the previous day were heaped on the floor in front of the dresser.

  A cold chill ran down Jake's spine. The urge to yank open her drawers and check for her clothes spread through him, but he squashed it quickly.

  He headed for the bathroom. "Harley?"

  No running water—not a sound—but he entered, anyway. "Harley?"

  He already knew she wasn't in his office, the living room or the kitchen, and that didn't leave very many options. He raced for the garage and threw open the door.

  For several minutes he stared at the empty spot beside the Mustang where her truck had stood. "She's gone out, that's all."

  Eventually he forced himself to descend the stairs and examine the garage more carefully, knowing from previous experience that he could confirm his worst fears by seeking out her most prized possessions. With his first wife it had been her jewelry and the stereo. With Harley, it would be … her tools. And they were gone.

  Which meant she was gone.

  It could not, could not, be possible.

  Jake's body went numb. He forced his feet to carry him back into the kitchen. Mindlessly, he dumped the fresh pot of decaf down the sink and unplugged the coffee machine. He slogged into the dining room, where a white envelope with his name on it caught his attention.

  At least this one left a note.

  Jake pulled out the paper, ripping it in his haste to unfold it. He could hear the words as clearly as if she spoke them aloud in that sultry voice of hers.

  "Damn it to hell." He crumpled the letter and tossed it onto the table. "Fine time to tell me you love me, Harley!" He stalked to her bedroom. "Very nice!" He poked through her closet. She'd left her prematernity clothes behind. He yanked her black jeans from the hanger and hurled them to the floor. "You use love as an excuse to walk out on me?"

  Jake wrenched open a dresser drawer so hard it fell out, landing beside his foot. He kicked it, and grabbed the next one. "You're all the same, damn it! None of you ever stay." Shirts and sweaters flew into the air, some landing on the bed, some on the dresser, others in heaps on the floor.

  The dogs poked their heads in the doorway. Jake stamped his foot. "Get out of here! Next thing I know, you'll be leaving me, too."

  He turned his rage on the dresser, sweeping a pile of her textbooks onto the floor with his arm. He latched onto the bottle of perfume, cocked back his arm and hurled it against the wall. The resultant shattering mirrored the breaking of his heart. The room filled with the fragrance of jasmine—her scent. He blinked back tears. "Damn you, Harley," he whispered. "How could you do this to me?"

  * * *

  The front door opened, then slammed shut. Jake quelled the small hope that rose within him. She wasn't coming back. Her note made that clear.

  "Go away!" he snarled. He reached for the beer bottle on the end table and slugged back the last swallow. Placing the bottle on its side, he sent it into a lazy spin with a flick of his finger.

  "Hey, Jake, I forgot…" Dusty's voice trailed off into a string of muttered curses. "What the hell happened here?"

  "Christmas is over, I was taking down the tree."

  "Looks more like you were mutilating the tree."

  "Why are you here?"

  "I forgot Matthew's pacifier in the confusion last night." His brother's expression grew sheepish. "He's fine, by the way. And I think I overreacted. I owe your wife another apology."

  "Good luck delivering it."

  "What?"

  Jake's fingers sought out the balled-up note lying beside him on the sofa. He tossed it at Dusty, catching his brother in the chest. "Read it and rejoice, little brother. You certainly got your wish."

  Dusty stooped to retrieve the paper from the floor near his feet, then uncrumpled it and read aloud.

  "Dear Jake,

  First, let me tell you I love you. I know I never said it to you. I couldn't. I hope you'll understand when I say I'm truly sorry for all the mess I've caused. You've got a big heart, and you're t
he most wonderful man I've ever met."

  Dusty glanced at him over the paper. "I'm not sure I like where this is going."

  "Keep reading—it gets better."

  "I embarrassed and humiliated you in front of the Spandlers. I'm sorry. I hope everything works out with them.

  "You and the baby deserve far better than me. Your brother was right about that. An ex-con who can't ensure the safety of three small children is not someone you need in your life.

  "I love you and Peanut with all my heart, but I know you'll both be better off without me. I'll let you know when it's time, and you can come and get the baby.

  "Whatever you tell her about me, please leave out the part about my record. Don't let Dusty tell her, either."

  His brother coughed, then continued reading.

  "And don't tell her I was willing to have her in exchange for a piece of paper. Tell her I loved her—and her father—more than anything. That much won't be a lie. Protect her from this cruel world with everything you can, and love her enough for both of us.

  "Take care of yourself.

  Love always, Harley."

  Dusty cleared his throat. "Exactly what does she mean by 'have her in exchange for a piece of paper'?"

  "What the hell difference does it make?"

  "Plenty. I don't know exactly what's going on here, but if she offered to have your baby for money, that's illegal and—"

  With a roar of outrage, Jake launched himself off the couch and tackled his brother. They thudded to the wooden floor. Jake reared back and slammed his fist into Dusty's face. "Enough!"

  Dusty squirmed beneath him, wrapping one leg around Jake's and rolling to the top. Panting, he leaned all his weight onto one arm pressed across Jake's shoulders. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

  "Wrong with me? You hammered the final nails into my coffin with your words last night, little brother!" Jake drove his fist into Dusty's side. "Thanks to you, she's gone!" His hand slammed into his brother again.