The Daddy Verdict

by Karen Rose Smith

  The child poked her finger into her mouth and tentatively smiled back, mumbling, “Okay.”

  “What’s your name?” Sierra asked.

  “Trisha.”

  “Trisha, you look almost as pretty as the bride today. Were you chasing your brother?”

  Trisha nodded again. “He wants to play tag.”

  “Maybe you could tell him tag would be a better game outside.”

  Trisha pointed to the table where the boy had run. A woman who looked to be in her thirties was gesturing to the chair beside her. “Mommy’s probably telling him that.”

  “Probably,” Sierra agreed.

  “I’ll tell Mommy you said I’m as pretty as Camille.” Trisha quickly walked toward her mom, looking back at Sierra and waving.

  Sierra waved back.

  Ben tilted his head and studied her. “Have you had much experience with kids?”

  “I was one,” she teased.

  He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. You don’t have brothers or sisters. You weren’t around family growing up.”

  “No, but I did make friends wherever we went. There were two ways to handle each situation when we moved. I could either be on my own so that when we left again, leaving friends behind wouldn’t hurt, or I could just jump right in and get involved, make friends and hope someday we’d see each other again. I jumped in. I didn’t like being lonely.”

  Ben looked thoughtful. “Did you see any of your friends again after you moved away?”

  “Unfortunately, no. But it was the hope of seeing them again that mattered, and I have a lot of years left to still do it. Who knows? I might return to Brazil or Africa.”

  The violinist and guitar players, instead of just playing background music, had launched into a rendition of “Endless Love,” one of Camille’s favorite songs. She and Miguel moved to the middle of the dance floor, ready for their first dance as newlyweds. They looked so happy.

  “Next dance we’re going to have to go out there,” Ben reminded her.

  The second dance would also be for the parents, Ben and Sierra and any of the guests who wanted to join in. The idea of being held in Ben’s arms again sent a tremble up her spine.

  When the love song ended, the instrumentalists began an up-to-date slow melody.

  Ben motioned to the dance floor. “Ready?”

  She was as ready as she was going to be. She nodded.

  He didn’t touch her—she could still recall too vividly the feel of his fingers on her cheek—until they reached the dance floor. He didn’t hesitate then, just opened his arms in the usual ballroom position. She took his hand and laid her arm on his shoulder. His arm went around her and rested lightly on her waist. The room around her with its pale stucco walls and Native American wall hangings faded into nonexistence.

  Ben’s cologne was subtle and very masculine. His bolo tie was straight…his shoulders so very wide. The Western-cut jacket fit him perfectly. She wondered about the man inside. What did he really think about her pregnancy? How did he actually feel? When she’d spoken to him the night of the engagement party, she’d known he was a guarded man. That guard covered his emotions.

  Sierra could feel Ben’s fingers through the chiffon. Her dress was two pieces, a long flowing jacket with long sleeves, ruffles on the cuffs, and a slip of a dress underneath. Now it seemed almost like a second skin as the dance floor grew more crowded and Ben pulled her a little closer. She looked up and became immobilized by his stormy gray eyes.

  She almost tripped when they moved, and he caught her even tighter. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.” This near, she couldn’t help thinking about their bodies joining seven weeks ago.

  He must have been thinking about it, too, because he said, “I want you to understand something, Sierra. What happened at the engagement party wasn’t an everyday happening for me, either. I have never slept with a woman without protection before.” His voice was low, his face close to hers.

  “Even when you’re in a relationship?”

  His brow furrowed, and she knew he wasn’t going to confide in her about any of those relationships. “Even in a relationship. A relationship isn’t a marriage. A child deserves two parents who are committed to each other.”

  In a way, his statement was reassuring. But in another way, that intensity she sensed in Ben would be directed toward his child, toward fathering, toward custody.

  He went on, “I don’t usually sleep that soundly, either. I hadn’t gotten much sleep that week or I would have heard you when you left. I wouldn’t have let you leave.”

  “What would you have done?”

  For a moment he was silent and she guessed he was trying to find diplomatic words. “I would have gotten your number in case anything happened. I take my responsibilities seriously. This baby, if it’s mine, will be my responsibility.”

  “I’m the one who’s carrying this child. I’ll be primary caregiver. I’ll be making decisions for me and the baby.”

  When he stiffened, she knew she might have been too blunt. But they might as well set their boundaries now. She wasn’t going to take directives or follow orders. If he wanted to be involved, this was about both of them being parents, not one or the other taking control.

  After a few more seconds of their bodies not being as relaxed as they were a few moments before, Ben said, “I should break in on Camille and Miguel. That’s the tradition. Let’s move that way.”

  She couldn’t tell if he’d had enough close contact or was really concerned about tradition. But she let him lead her toward the newly married couple.

  Ben tapped his friend on the shoulder. “I think it’s my turn. You’ll have her for the rest of your life.”

  “And I’ll even miss these few minutes with her,” Miguel complained. But then he looked at Sierra. Smiling, he offered her his hand. “Dancing with you will be my pleasure.”

  He floated her away comfortably, not at all awkwardly the way she and Ben had danced. On second thought, the tension had been awkward, but their bodies had fit together all too well.

  “So,” Miguel said, studying her carefully. “Camille tells me you and Ben arrived together. Are we supposed to read something into that?”

  “There’s nothing to read. Why should both of us drive up separately?”

  “That’s what I told Camille. But you know her, she has a suspicious nature. She maintains you two disappeared the night of our engagement party and we’re seeing the results of that now.”

  “The results of what?” she asked.

  “That’s what Camille wants to know.”

  “You have no interest, of course.” Sierra gave him a rueful smile.

  “Let’s just say, not many women turn Ben Barclay’s head.”

  “How long have you been friends?” Sierra asked, eager to know more.

  “Camille never told you our history?”

  Sierra had avoided asking Camille questions about Ben. She hadn’t wanted to seem too interested. Actually, she hadn’t been interested. Not until they’d started talking, not until—

  “No, she never told me.”

  “Ben went to college with my brother.” A look of pain settled on Miguel’s face, pain that was always in his heart.

  Sierra had known that Miguel’s brother, Pablo, had been killed in a drive-by shooting when he was home from college one summer.

  “Ben was with Pablo when he was shot.”

  Miguel never talked about his brother and Sierra had never asked. Camille had told her the basics and she hadn’t pressed for more.

  Continuing, he explained, “Ben had come home with Pablo for a vacation before they both went to Tennessee to work on Habitat for Humanity homes. I really think what happened to my brother was the reason Ben decided to be a prosecutor, why he came here to Albuquerque instead of going back to his home in Minnesota.”

  Miguel gave her a sad smile. “He has two brothers back home, but he’s become the brother to me that I lost. That’s why he’s m
y best man, and…” Miguel paused for effect. “That’s how I know there’s a spark in his eye when he looks at you. I haven’t seen that for a very long time.”

  If Sierra asked Miguel more questions about Ben, he might answer her. For instance, when had he last seen that spark? Yet she knew if she wanted the answer, she would have to ask Ben herself. She needed to see his expression, learn to know him on her own.

  “Ben doesn’t give much away, does he?” she asked.

  “Think about his job, Sierra. Think about what he does every day, the criminals he has to question. Think about the juries he has to convince, the trials he has to win to make everyone safe. He’s practiced hard at giving nothing away. You’ll be good for him. You wear your heart on your sleeve. That’s a compliment, by the way, so don’t be offended. That was one thing I liked about you as soon as Camille introduced us—your lack of pretense.”

  As the song ended, Miguel guided Sierra to where Camille and Ben were standing. Miguel took his new wife into his arms again. “How about one more dance before we start mingling?”

  Camille gave him a kiss in reply.

  Ben said to Sierra, “I’m going to step out on the balcony for some fresh air.”

  She didn’t know if it was an invitation or not, but she took it as one. “That sounds like a good idea.”

  They walked side by side to the French doors that led to a long balcony. He opened the door for her, and when they stepped outside, she realized they were alone. Although Sierra took in a deep lungful of the crisper night air, pleasant after the stuffiness inside, the breeze made her shiver.

  “Cold?” Ben asked as a loose strand of her hair brushed against her cheek with the breeze.

  “A little, but it feels good.” They were standing at the wrought-iron railing looking up at a magnificent night sky.

  Ben reached over and touched her hand. “You are cold.” He shrugged out of his jacket and settled it around her shoulders.

  She could feel his body heat still warming it and sank into the scent of his cologne. She asked, “Have you ever ridden a cable car up to the top of Sandia Peak at night?” She often took advantage of the tourist attraction when she needed to go to the top of the world and think.

  “I’ve been up there a couple of times, but not at night.”

  “You have to go. With the lights of Albuquerque below, the stars and the moon up above, it’s like being suspended in space where anything’s possible.”

  They were silent again for a few minutes and then Ben turned to look at her. The light from inside the inn played over him, casting half his face in shadow. “You said you hadn’t been with a man for a long time. How long?”

  “Since I was twenty.”

  If he was surprised, he didn’t let on. Instead he asked a perceptive question. “What happened when you were twenty?”

  She didn’t want to go there, she really didn’t, but she’d already sensed Ben wouldn’t give his trust easily. She wanted him to trust her. How else could they be parents together? “It’s still difficult for me to remember.”

  When he kept quiet, she had no idea what he was thinking. Concerned he’d mistakenly believe she’d been assaulted or worse, she quickly said, “After high school I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. So I returned to Africa where my parents were then to help reestablish our relationship. I hadn’t seen them much over those four years. I thought if I acted as their secretary or assistant, maybe we could finally connect now that I was an adult.”

  “Did that happen?”

  “No. They really didn’t need me. I volunteered at a medical center. I was drawn to the children there and got to know the doctor who set up the clinic.”

  “Got to know him?”

  “Fell in love with him. Six months later we were planning our wedding. A week before the ceremony, he learned of an epidemic in one of the villages. He was determined to go and save lives and wouldn’t let me go with him. The reason was, there were guerrillas in the area, guerrillas who don’t care about sick children or the doctors who help them. All they cared about was stealing supplies and taking what they needed. Travis went because saving lives came first before any personal considerations. I knew if he was needed there, we’d postpone the wedding. I understood that. I understood his need to help.”

  “What happened?”

  “Travis was killed by fanatics who didn’t care who they murdered.” Her voice shook and she could hear the quiver. Tears burned in her eyes, and because she didn’t want Ben to see them, she stared up at the sky again.

  “It seems like yesterday?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Sometimes. Other times, it feels like a lifetime ago.” She slipped his coat from her shoulders, suddenly needing to be away from him, away from a man who stirred up feelings she hadn’t experienced in a very long time, away from a man who had wiped Travis from her memories for an evening.

  She blinked a few times and found a smile and handed him his jacket. “Thanks. I think I’ll go in now.”

  He didn’t stop her as she opened the door and stepped back into the reception.

  Sierra mingled for a while, wanting to forget about her discussion with Ben on the balcony, not wanting to stir up memories of Travis or even the electrically charged feeling she experienced whenever she was with Ben. After speaking for a while with Miguel’s parents and then Camille’s, she noticed Ben on the other side of the room talking to a man who looked to be about his age. At the dessert table the wedding cake just didn’t tempt her, so she picked up one of the other selections, a cup of crème brûlée, and carried it to her table. She took a few bites.

  Camille slipped onto the seat beside her. “Did you and Ben have a good conversation out on the balcony? It’s a romantic night out there.”

  Sierra could see her friend was teasing her. She should tell her about her pregnancy. “We talked.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Camille, this is your wedding night. Why would you care what we talked about? You should be thinking about later, leaving tomorrow morning on your honeymoon.”

  “Oh, I am, but you know me, I can multitask.”

  Knowing her friend deserved the honesty with which they usually spoke, Sierra said, “I told him about Travis.”

  Camille studied her. “There’s more going on here than two people who just met each other.”

  That was an opening, so Sierra took it. Leaning close to Camille, she murmured in her ear, “I’m pregnant. Ben’s the father. I wasn’t going to tell you now, but you’re pushing.”

  Camille tried to recover from her astonishment. “You are going to tell me when, where, how and why.”

  “Not now, not here. I just told Ben last week. I want you to forget about it until you get back from your honeymoon.”

  Camille laid her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  Although the crème brûlée was lying heavy in her stomach, she assured Camille, “I’m fine. I’m going to figure it all out.”

  “With Ben’s help?”

  “We’ll see.”

  Camille whistled through her teeth. “Ben Barclay. Who would have thought?”

  Sierra’s quelling look didn’t intimidate Camille. “So that’s why you told him about Travis. Was that so you could get closer to him or push him away?”

  Her friend never ducked the hard questions and Sierra had to think about that one. “I’m not sure.”

  Her stomach felt even queasier. To distract both of them, she swiveled in her chair to face Camille. “So describe this resort where you’re staying in Aruba.”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “You bet I am.”

  “It’s supposed to have everything, but Miguel and I probably won’t be seeing the outside of our room. I can’t wait to have nine whole days with him, without interruptions, without hi-and-goodbye schedules. I’m glad I quit my job last month to help with the wedding details. I know it will help us get a good start on our marriage.”<
br />
  As an art history major, Camille had been working in one of the galleries in Santa Fe since she graduated from college. “Do you think you’ll go back to work?”

  “Miguel doesn’t want me to. We’d really like to start a family, but I think part-time work might be nice. We’ll see how things go until after the New Year.”

  Miguel was vice president at one of the Santa Fe banks. He’d also inherited a trust fund from his grandmother, so if Camille didn’t want to go back to work, they didn’t have to worry. But if Camille didn’t get pregnant quickly, Sierra suspected she’d tire of being a stay-at-home wife.

  The nausea Sierra experienced was increasing, becoming more intense.

  Camille studied her. “You’re looking a little green.”

  Suddenly Sierra knew she needed to make an exit to the bathroom and fast. “Be right back,” she managed to mumble as she hopped up from her chair and made a beeline toward the ladies’ room. She just made it in time into one of the stalls and lost her supper when Camille rushed in after her.

  “Are you okay? Ben’s right outside, he’s worried.”

  Sierra stood and took a deep breath. Actually she felt much better. Pushing the door open, she told Camille, “I’m fine now, really,” and went to the sink to wash her face.

  There was a knock on the ladies’ room door.

  Camille’s brows arched just as the door opened an inch and one very masculine voice demanded, “Sierra? Are you all right? Can I come in?”

  Seeing Ben right now was the last thing Sierra wanted.

  Chapter Four

  It had been a very long time since Ben had worried about anyone besides his brothers and his father, took care of anyone or even wanted to. But he found himself wanting to take care of Sierra.

  Because she might be carrying his baby?

  That was it, of course.

  “Don’t let him in!”

  Ben heard Sierra’s plea to Camille as he stood outside the ladies’ room door. Her words ratcheted up his concern.

  Opening the door a little wider, he asked calmly, although he wasn’t feeling calm, “What’s wrong, Sierra?”