Maitland Maternity Christmas

by Judy Christenberry; Muriel Jensen; TINA LEONARD

  Normally, he'd wait and hope she'd confess whatever it was that had convinced her to make the decision to stop seeing him. But he only had five days. He'd have to force the issue, but he dreaded doing it.

  Claire wouldn't like it, but he was desperate. He might not be able to physically father children, but he had every intention of raising a family, and he wanted Claire by his side.

  He took one last look at Claire in her own little world, doing her best for the babies. Yeah, he wanted Claire, for all time. With or without babies. And he wanted her to want him, too.

  Claire loved her work. And she was pleased when a baby made such progress that it could go home with its mama. But she also hated saying goodbye. Today Snoopy was going home. His real name was Barry Lionel Richmond - such a big name for a little one, so the nurses called him Snoopy. He'd been born two months early weighing just over three pounds. Now he was fully developed and topped the scales at five pounds and one ounce.

  "You're going to be the best thing in your mommy's stocking for Christmas, Snoopy. I want you to keep growing, you hear? You're going to get lots bigger if you'll just keep taking your milk."

  She briskly wrapped him in his blankets, making sure his knitted cap was in place, trying to keep the tears at bay. The other nurses told her she was too emotional. Maybe so, but each of the babies seemed to become a part of her.

  "Here you are, Mrs. Richmond," she said as she placed Snoopy in his mother's arms. "Your healthy baby."

  "Thank you so much for your care of him."

  Her supervisor whispered, as the parents walked away, "Take your lunch break now. Cassie just came on."

  With a sigh, she nodded and left the preemie area to go down to the cafeteria. She wasn't feeling particularly hungry, but she knew better than to skip meals.

  After choosing from the cafeteria offerings, she settled down at a table by the windows and pulled her cell phone out of her purse. It wouldn't take but a minute to check her messages at the apartment.

  Within a minute, she'd snatched up her purse and walked away from a tray full of food, heading in a rage to Tom's law office.

  She couldn't believe he would leave a message like that on her machine, telling her she had no choice about seeing him that night. He thought he could make decisions for her? Tell her what she was going to do? Maybe she was overreacting, but even if she helped him with the party, that didn't mean he could control her life!

  Fortunately, when she arrived at his nearby offices, he was eating lunch at his desk. She wasn't prepared to wait. "How dare you?" she demanded as she burst through his door, his secretary hovering behind her.

  He acknowledged his secretary first. "It's okay, Carol. Close the door for me. Thanks."

  Once they were alone, he turned to stare at her, and she felt like an idiot with that dramatic entrance.

  "How dare I what?"

  "Think you can arrange my schedule. You could've asked if I was free. Just because I'm not your social equal doesn't mean you can take me for granted!"

  He frowned at her. "You know I don't buy into that social crap. But I only have five days to convince you we're perfect together. I want us to talk. I want to find out why you're intent on breaking my heart."

  He crossed the room to her side, wrapped his arms around her and whispered, "I'm sorry, sweetheart, if I came across as dictatorial."

  His embrace felt so good, the warmth and concern in his voice so healing, Claire had difficulty fighting the tears. She loved him so much. But he was right - she had a secret, and it was time she told him so he'd understand. With determination, she finally disclosed the truth. "I had a baby - when I was fifteen. He's almost that age now."

  "At fifteen? That's pretty young." He pulled her a little closer. "What happened to the baby?"

  "He - he was adopted. That's all I know."

  "I'm sorry, sweetheart. But I'm not sure I understand how this information affects us."

  She backed out of his embrace and stared at him. "Do you think your family and friends would want you to marry me if they knew about my secret?"

  He stared back at her, honestly surprised. "Why would it be any of their business?"

  "Because your family is part of the elite of Austin," she reminded him, thinking it was obvious.

  "Claire, I understand how losing your child would affect you. But other than knowing it caused you pain, it doesn't affect me. And I find it hard to believe that the woman I love would reject me because I can't have a baby with her. Especially not a woman who pours out all her love every day, to the babies in the hospital."

  Claire sniffed and turned her back to him to wipe away the tears that had insisted on running down her cheeks. "I - I promised myself when I had to give up my little boy that one day I'd have a baby, my husband and I, and provide the perfect home...to make up for giving him away. That dream became so important to me. When I met you I thought - " She broke off, unable to keep going.

  He drew her back into his arms, as if he knew she needed to borrow his strength. She nestled against him, knowing it was unfair to do so, when she didn't plan a future with him, but somehow she couldn't stop herself.

  He moved them to the sofa. She relaxed in his arms, recuperating from the adrenaline that had kept her going. "What are you doing here, by the way? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

  "Yes, I was having lunch. But I was so upset after getting your message, that I couldn't think about food and left the tray behind on the table." She regretted that now as her stomach gurgled in protest.

  He got up and crossed to his desk, bringing back the sandwich and chips he'd been eating. "Fortunately, I didn't get too far with this sandwich before you got here."

  It was a roast beef sandwich from a deli around the corner.

  "I can't eat your lunch!" she protested.

  "Don't be silly. I'll order another one later. You can't order in from the nursery."

  Unable to resist, she took a bite. And another.

  Tom introduced the subject of the Friday night party, taking her mind off what had brought her there. Soon he had her laughing at his fears and protesting his ridiculous plans. As was his intention.

  The man could lift the spirits of a bear with a thorn in its paw. She sighed as she leaned against him. "You're too good to me, Tom. But now you understand why I said I wasn't good enough to - to be a part of the group you socialize with."

  "No, why?"

  "Oh, come on, Tom. An unwed mother at fifteen? I don't think so."

  "Megan Maitland was an unwed mother, too. Her father told her her baby died and then sold it to her future sister-in-law."

  Claire stared at him in horror. "No! No one could be so cruel!"

  "It's the truth. Now me, I'm perfect, of course, but the rest of that social crowd have all kinds of secrets!" he assured her with a grin. She poked him in his ribs.

  "Ow! I'm a sensitive guy. Be careful."

  She laughed as she returned her head to his shoulder. "You are a wonderful person, Tom Blake. And I adore you," she added in a soft whisper.

  His arms tightened around her. "Good. That's exactly what I want. A woman who will forgive me anything. Fortunately, I feel the same way about you."

  "I shouldn't have said that! I was thinking out loud. Really, Tom, you should find someone who'll fit in better."

  "I can't think of anyone who would fit me better." He pulled her tighter against him, his lips covering hers and his hands stroking her body beneath the crisp nurse's uniform.

  "Damn! Couldn't you wear a soft nightie to visit me? It would make life so much simpler," he teased when he finally released her.

  Almost breathless with passion, she sat up and put herself in order. "I think you need to move on, find someone more - more accommodating, Tom."

  He kissed her again, a brief hard kiss to punctuate his words. "I'm not moving on, Claire. We belong to each other."

  "But - "

  "Nope, no arguments. By the way, I have a question for you." "What?'
<
br />   "Would you like to adopt Whitney's babies?"

  CHAPTER THREE

  "We can't do that!" she exclaimed, her face pale.

  Tom watched her closely. "Why not?"

  "We're - we're not even married. We'd have to be married before anyone would consider letting us adopt any baby."

  "That's true," he said consideringly, as if he'd never thought of that problem. Then he grinned at her. "But I know a judge. We could get married this afternoon."

  "But I just said I was going to break up with you! Did you forget?"

  "How can you break up with me, sweetheart, when you just said you adore me." His smile changed from teasing to loving and he kissed her gently.

  "Tom, I don't know what to do," she suddenly wailed, jumping up from the sofa.

  "You don't have to do anything, Claire. I wasn't trying to put pressure on you. And if we don't take Whitney's babies, there will be other babies needing homes. There always are. But I admire Whitney. She's got guts."

  "That's just it. I'm not sure she should give them up!" "Fair enough."

  "That doesn't mean I wouldn't want to - I'd love to - but we'd have to marry at once and I'm not sure that's what we should do!" She began pacing the floor.

  "I've been sure for weeks," he said calmly, still watching her.

  That stopped her in her tracks. "How can you say that? We've only known each other about eight weeks."

  "I was sure after two." He smiled.

  "This is not a contest, Tom! We're talking about our lives." She put her hands on her hips, as if she were scolding him.

  He stood and crossed to her, looping his hands around her waist. "I know. I'm a quick study."

  She gave him a look of disgust. "I think you're crazy."

  "Just think about it for a while. So, about tonight...I'll pick you up from the hospital this afternoon. We can run by your place so you can change. Then we'll go to my dad's, so you can get some ideas about the decor."

  "The decor? I thought I just had to come up with a menu and - I'm not good with decor," she assured him, trying to back away.

  He chuckled. "Don't worry about it. We'll hang mistletoe. Come on, I'll run you back to the hospital so you won't be late."

  A quick look at her watch chased all the other thoughts from her head. She was never late.

  Before he picked Claire up that afternoon, Tom did some thinking. He had a question or two to ask her, but he thought he'd figured out the problem. She thought it was because she had a baby when she was only a child herself. That wasn't what he thought.

  As much as Claire had told herself having another baby would take away her pain of losing her first child, Tom didn't believe it. He wanted Claire, but most of all, he wanted Claire to be happy. Even if she decided to walk away, he thought she'd need to resolve the issue of her first child. Not try to replace him with another baby.

  But that would have to be her decision, not his. And who knew how long it would take, even if she decided this evening to find her baby.

  In the meantime, he warned his father that he and Claire would be there that evening. By the time he went to get Claire, the evening had turned into a tree-decorating party. His father had ordered a large Scotch pine to be delivered. Mrs. Dee, the housekeeper, would provide a buffet so they could mix decorating with eating, and both his sisters would be on hand. They never missed decorating the tree.

  Sometimes it was hard to get into the Christmas spirit in Austin what with sunshine and no snow in sight. But Tom felt it coming on. He was pretty sure this Christmas was going to be a spectacular one.

  Claire had just come out of the hospital when he stopped the car. "Want a ride, lady?" he asked in his best snake oil salesman voice.

  She fluttered her eyelashes and cooed. "Why, how gentlemanly of you, but my mama said never to accept rides from strangers."

  "Ah. I'd introduce myself but the cops are after me and I'm short of time. Jump in!"

  "Okay!" she agreed and did so. They both broke into laughter as he pulled away from the curb. Her sense of the ridiculous was one of the things he enjoyed most about her.

  He picked up her hand and carried it to his lips. "You're going to have to do a better job teaching our daughters about such things."

  "How true. We wouldn't want them - Tom, we haven't agreed - never mind."

  He grinned. He was getting to her. Tonight should help his cause. He and his dad talked about a lot of things that afternoon, changes he needed to make if he was about to become a husband and father. He couldn't wait.

  At Claire's modest apartment, he followed her in and paced her small living room as she dashed back to her bedroom. "I'm assuming casual, right?" she called.

  "Yeah, casual. Mrs. Dee will fix eats and we'll decorate the tree and the house and eat while we're doing it."

  "What a luxury! How long has Mrs. Dee been with your family?" The disembodied voice floated into the room. Tom hesitated, because he hadn't intended to tell her now, but the opportunity seemed right.

  "About twenty years. She's wonderful. I thought maybe she'd work for us once we're married."

  No response came floating back. Instead, Claire, her short blond hair all ruffled from pulling a knit shirt over it, walked to the door to stare at him. "What did you say?"

  "I said I thought maybe Mrs. Dee, whose real name by the way is Detrosky, might work for us when we're married."

  "Why, if we got married, would I need a housekeeper? That's ridiculous."

  "Is it? Do you think we could move into your apartment or mine?''

  "Why couldn't we move into my apartment?"

  "With twins? If Whitney should agree to our adopting her twins, where would we put them?" He smiled and watched her realize what he was talking about.

  "Well, I - It might not happen. We could - " She put her hands on her slender hips and stared at him, frustration filling her. "Things don't happen overnight, Tom."

  "They could for us. It would just take two stubborn ladies saying yes, you and Whitney."

  "Good heavens," she said, sinking into a nearby chair. "It could happen, couldn't it? Not that I think Whitney is stubborn, but it's a big decision. She wants to do the right thing."

  "As do I. So I talked to Dad about buying his house," he added, hoping she wouldn't notice that piece of news, but he wanted to say it before she saw the house. "That's why you'd need Mrs. Dee."

  She picked up on it at once. "Buy your father's house?"

  "Yeah, you'll see it tonight. It's old, but Dad's maintained it well."

  "Why isn't Mrs. Maitland moving into the house?"

  Tom grinned. "Because hers is bigger and she's happy there."

  She frowned and stood. "I'll finish getting ready." Then she disappeared back into her room.

  Tom drew a deep breath. That had gone better than he'd feared. Of course, she hadn't seen his dad's house. He hadn't lived at home in ten years, but he knew it was a great house for kids. He'd grown up there. Lots of yard to play in, plenty of space for every child, and a huge kitchen. He hoped Claire agreed with him.

  She reappeared, a serious expression in her eyes.

  Finally, she asked, "When are we supposed to be there?"

  "Whenever. My sisters will be over around seven, but we've got to get the lights straightened out and organize the decorations. I'll have to do that because sometimes they don't get separated before they're put up."

  "Separated from what?"

  He grinned. "You were an only child, weren't you? Every year we each added to our collection of ornaments. And death to anyone but us who hung our ornaments. Now, they're supposed to be packed in separate boxes, but sometimes one goes astray."

  "Really?" She seemed in shock at such behavior.

  "Yeah. Every one of the ornaments holds a lot of memories. The year after Mom died, we cried the entire time we decorated the tree, but our memories brought her alive for a few hours." He sighed. "It was wonderful."

  He discovered Claire in his arms, burying her face
in his chest, and he hugged her close. Clearing his throat, he said, "Yeah, and that's the kind of Christmas I want us to have every year, sweetheart. One that celebrates the gifts we've been given."

  "That sounds wonderful," she whispered, lifting her lips for a kiss that he gladly bestowed on her. In fact, he became so enthusiastic about it, he almost forgot they had to go.

  "Damn, never the time and place," he muttered, leaning his forehead against hers. "We'd better go," Claire whispered, but she didn't pull away.

  "We could forget the Christmas tree and - "

  "That would be a terribly rude thing to do to your family. They'd never like me." "They already adore you, even Dad who's never met you. He didn't think anyone would take me on."

  She pushed away from him. "Oh, right. Poor Thomas Blake. No one wanted him. He's so ugly, so broke, so degenerate. Right!"

  He grinned. "Yes, you've saved me," he exclaimed, using his high school drama techniques.

  With a sigh, she ordered, "Let's just go. And be glad you don't have to rely on your acting ability to make a living."

  Conversation disappeared again until he pulled into the drive that circled in front of his father's house.

  "This is your father's house? The one that you offered to buy?" she asked, her eyes wide.

  "Yeah," he said carelessly, hoping to offset the awe in her voice.

  Instead of getting out, she turned and stared at him. "Just how rich are you, Thomas Blake?"

  Claire didn't expect an answer, didn't even want to know the details of his financial situation. But the house was enormous...and gorgeous. She fell in love with it at once, but it would be a pipe dream to think that she might ever be mistress of such a place.

  Or that she'd know what to do with it.

  "I need to return home, Tom. I can't stay," she muttered, staring straight ahead.

  "Oh, no, you don't. No backing out on me now."

  "No, I'm serious. This whole - whole situation is beyond my means, my capabilities." She stubbornly remained in place.

  He got out of the car and came around to open the door. Then he said, "You can either walk in or I'll carry you, little lady. If I carry you, they'll think you've accepted my proposal. What will it be?"