The Chisholm Brothers:Friends, Lovers... Husbands?

by Janis Reams Hudson

  “And how might that be?” She would dearly love to know how this was supposed to work, this pregnancy, this parenthood that she did not feel at all prepared for.

  “Well, first you go out to dinner with me and we maybe get to know each other a little better. Maybe, if we’re lucky, we can be friends.”

  She swallowed. “Friends? Is that what you want?”

  “I think it’s a good place to start. Look,” he said. “I know you said you don’t need or want anything from me. Maybe you don’t, but I think you will. Need, at least. I want us to be friends so that if you do need something, you’ll feel comfortable enough with me to ask for it.”

  This time she was the one who was quiet for several minutes. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

  “Not as much as you have, I’m sure, since I only found out yesterday.”

  That, she felt, was a criticism of her, for not telling him sooner about the baby. She would give him that one, because she felt guilty for having kept quiet once she’d had her pregnancy confirmed.

  But how was a woman supposed to tell a man she’d been out with only a few times that she carried his child? Oh, excuse me, but remember that night at the motel?

  She hadn’t been up to the challenge of telling him. That would have to stop. She had a child on the way. She couldn’t afford to chicken out on things anymore. She had to take charge, first of her own life, then of her child’s.

  He said he wanted to be friends. She could offer him that, couldn’t she? Perhaps polite acquaintances would do. It wasn’t her job to provide him with what he wanted. She had to look out for herself and the baby.

  “By the way,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “Something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Yesterday at the feed store, when I overheard your parents talking about…you and the baby and all, your mother said something about you knowing about the baby because your watch quit, or some such nonsense. Your dad seemed to know what that meant. What was she talking about?”

  In the darkness of the cab, Blaire felt her left wrist, where she used to wear her watch. “My watch quit,” she told him. “That night we spent together. It stopped running right after the first time we…had sex.”

  “Made love.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Made love,” he insisted. “Had sex sounds too impersonal for what we shared. So your watch stopped. It happens.”

  “Yes. It happens to the women in our family, my mother, and my grandmother before her. And now me. When we conceive, something weird happens to our body’s electricity or electrical current or whatever, and a watch won’t run when we wear it on our wrist. My grandmother swears the antique watch she wore on a chain around her neck wouldn’t run.”

  “You don’t believe that, do you?”

  “I have to.”

  “Maybe being pregnant makes you forgetful, so you don’t remember to wind the watch,” he offered.

  “O ye of little faith. You probably don’t remember, but I put your watch on that night for a few minutes, after mine quit running. When you put yours back on when we left, it was a few minutes slow. It quit while I wore it.”

  “The battery probably needs replacing.”

  “Mmm,” was all she said.

  “Look,” he said. “You can’t tell you’re pregnant by whether or not your watch keeps time.”

  “It was verified with a few home test kits, and a follow-up visit to my doctor. I’m not making it up, Justin.”

  “I never thought you were. It’s just, I don’t know, weird. The watch thing, I mean.”

  “You’re telling me. Now I never know what time it is, and I’m a person who likes to know.”

  “How about if I get you a new watch?”

  “That would be nice, but it won’t keep time on my wrist until after the baby is born.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying. From conception to birth, a watch isn’t going to work on my arm. Don’t ask me to explain it. That’s just the way it is. The same thing happened to my mother, and to her mother. Feel free to ask them.”

  “No, no. I believe you. I think.”

  They fell silent for a time, and Blaire wallowed around in her own thoughts, buried so deep in them that she didn’t notice when he left the interstate and hit city traffic. Then he was pulling into a parking lot at the restaurant. It was the sudden silence from his killing the engine and cutting off the radio that finally got her attention.

  “Earth to Blaire,” he said, waving a hand before her face.

  Embarrassed, she offered a smile. “Sorry. I was lost in thought.”

  “Well, come on, let’s go get lost in enchiladas.”

  Before she could gather her purse from the seat beside her and reach for the door handle, he was out of the pickup, around the hood and opening her door for her. Playing the gentleman again.

  She wondered how hard he had to remind himself to do the gentlemanly thing, or if it came naturally.

  From what she knew of the way he and his brothers were raised, by their grandmother, Blaire thought maybe such behavior might be ingrained in them. Cherokee Rose Chisholm was a legend in the state of Oklahoma. She was known for her strength of character, her integrity and her livestock.

  Blaire wondered what the woman would have to say about the feed-store owner’s daughter ending up pregnant by her youngest grandson.

  She wondered if the woman already knew.

  She wasn’t ready to face Rose Chisholm. Good heavens, she could barely face herself in the mirror each morning. Facing her parents had been a nightmare, Justin almost that bad. But facing Justin’s family? No way. She couldn’t do it. Not yet.

  So much for her bravery, she thought as they stepped into the blasting warmth and rolling noise of the restaurant.

  The food was hot and spicy, just the way Blaire liked it. The restaurant was crowded, the music loud and fast. The decor consisted of sombreros, serapes and piñatas. It was not an atmosphere for relaxing.

  Justin had picked this restaurant deliberately so that Blaire wouldn’t think he was trying to seduce her, which, under other circumstances, he would most certainly do.

  But in order to have any chance at a conversation, he had to sit next to her rather than across from her, and that raised her eyebrows.

  “I just want to be able to talk,” he said, leaning toward her. “Without us having to yell at each other.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Your eyes did,” he told her.

  “If you’re going to read my eyes, then I don’t need to talk at all.”

  “I don’t remember you being this perverse.”

  “Like I said,” she told him with a wry smile. “We don’t really know each other.”

  “Oh, I know what that means. It means you were on your best behavior when we dated, and now this is the real you.”

  For an instant she looked startled, telling him he’d hit close to home with his comment.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Forget I said that. You’re right. We don’t know each other well enough. My favorite flower is the pansy. What’s yours?”

  Blaire blinked, then stared at him. “What?”

  “Your favorite flower. What is it?”

  “You’re crazy, you know that?”

  “I’ve been called that a time or two, but you don’t need to worry. I don’t think it’s genetic.”

  She chuckled for a moment, then frowned. “Is there anything genetic I should know about?”

  Justin twisted his head sideways, hunched one shoulder, and let his tongue hang out the side of his mouth. “Like what?” he asked.

  She laughed.

  He loved hearing her laugh. He didn’t mind making a fool of himself if it made the tension and nerves fade from her eyes.

  “As far as I know,” he said, straightening up, “there’s nothing genetic from my family that should cause a
problem. The kid will be part Cherokee, of course. I assume that’s no problem.”

  She pursed her lips. “If it was, we wouldn’t be in this situation, would we?”

  “Good point. So maybe you don’t have a favorite flower. What’s your favorite color?”

  She shook her head. “You really are crazy.”

  “You said we didn’t know each other. I’m trying to fix that. Come on. Give.”

  She rolled her eyes. “All right. Purple.”

  “Now we’re making progress. It’s mine, too.” He rubbed his hands together. “Here’s something we never talked about before. Why didn’t we ever know each other in school? I’m only three years older than you. As small as Rose Rock is, seems to me we should have run into each other a long time ago instead of just the last year or two.”

  “We really are strangers, aren’t we?” she said. “We didn’t move to town until I was a junior. You would have graduated by then.”

  “That’s right,” Justin said. “I remember when your dad bought the feed store. How did I miss seeing you there?”

  “I don’t know. I remember seeing you.”

  The news surprised him. “Do you, now?”

  “I do.”

  Those words…. They rang over and over in his head. Something about them filled him with both anticipation and apprehension.

  “I bet things have changed a lot out at your ranch since both your brothers have gotten married in the past few months.”

  “Yes and no,” he said. “The work hasn’t changed, it’s just been redistributed. We’ve taken on another hand, and Sloan and I have taken on more work, since Caleb’s over at the Pruitt Ranch now. Plus we have Pedro. He takes up some of the slack, too. And he does a lot of the things that just weren’t getting done. But the house, now that’s different.”

  “You mean without Caleb?”

  “Yeah, and with all the females.” He grinned. “We’ve got Emily and her two girls, Libby and Janie. And then there’s Maria, our new housekeeper, and her little baby Rosa. A man can’t turn around anymore without running into a female. And no, ma’am, that is not a complaint.”

  “You like women.”

  “All ages, all kinds. I just like people. Don’t you?”

  She munched on a salsa-dipped chip and thought for a moment. “Not particularly. I guess I’m most comfortable with my own company.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” he said. “In fact, as much as I love my family, I’ve had my eye on one particular spot on the far side of the ranch where I’d like to build a house of my own.”

  “And not live with your family?”

  “This would be for a family of my own, eventually. It’s a little spot along a side road that doesn’t get much traffic. I’d build a house right between an old buffalo wallow and this little persimmon grove where the deer come in the fall to eat the ripened fruit.”

  “For their sake, I hope they wait until it’s truly ripe.”

  Justin laughed. “No kidding. You ever taste a green persimmon?”

  She puckered her lips and made a face.

  He laughed again. “You must have had Mr. Bollinger for Biology.”

  “Yes, and it was hideous. That man should be shot for making us all take a bite from one of those things. I bet I walked around school with my mouth all puckered up for hours afterward.”

  “You and me both,” he said with a shudder. “I’ve never tasted anything so sour before or since. Did he laugh at your class the way he did us?”

  “Like we were all idiots for doing what he told us?”

  “Yep.”

  “Yes,” she said, laughing. “He did.”

  They took their time with the meal, enjoying the food, the atmosphere, and, Blaire had to admit, the company.

  Oh, she had certainly enjoyed his company in the past. That much was impossible to deny. But from what she saw of the world, once a guy got what he wanted out of a girl, he had no more use for her. It was time to move along in search of fresh game.

  Such a thing had never happened to her, but she’d seen her friends and cousins treated that way time and again. She had no particular reason to trust men.

  “Even if you didn’t move to town until I was out of high school,” Justin said as if the conversation had never lulled. “Why didn’t I know you until the past couple of years? Mostly the past few months, really, unless you count the few weeks you were in town summer before last, and now and then at holidays.”

  She arched a brow. “Been keeping tabs on me?” The idea thrilled her.

  “Now and then,” he offered with a grin. “Why didn’t I know you better before this summer?”

  “Probably because I went away to college right after high school. I got my teaching degree and a job teaching in Oklahoma City.”

  “But you’re not teaching here, are you? In Rose Rock?”

  “No.” She shook her head and pushed the last few grains of refried rice around on her plate. “No, last June my mother fell and broke her arm. It was pretty bad. It took three surgeries to fix it. I came home to take over the office at the feed store for her and daddy. But she wasn’t well enough by the end of summer for me to leave, so I had to stay.”

  “Will you be able to get your job back next year?”

  She shook her head. “They’ve already said no.”

  “Because of all the budget cuts statewide.”

  “You got it in one try.”

  “Do you miss teaching?

  “Like I imagine you would miss your favorite horse.”

  He winced. “That much, huh?”

  “That much. But I’ll get over it. We do what has to be done, right? I’ll teach again someday.”

  Justin decided they had tiptoed around the subject du jour long enough. He took a deep breath and dived in. “It’s not going to be easy being a single mother.”

  “Believe me,” she said with feeling. “No one is more aware of that than I am.”

  “You don’t have to do it alone, you know.”

  “I think the term ‘single parent’ indicates one is parenting alone.”

  “I mean,” he said with a quick smile, “that you don’t have to be a single parent.”

  She looked at him warily. “What—no. No way. Don’t even—”

  “Hear me out,” he said before she got any further in her rejection. “Just think about it, will you?”

  “Think about what?”

  “About you and me getting married.”

  She pushed back in her chair and made ready to rise. “You’re out of your mind.”

  “I am not. It’s a good idea, if you’ll just give it a chance.”

  “Why on earth would you think it’s a good idea, when we’ve been agreeing all night that we barely know each other?”

  “I want my child to carry my name and not be a bastard.”

  She opened her mouth to retort, then shut it before saying anything.

  He had to give her credit for that. But he would add more to the deal, to tempt her. “You wouldn’t have to work at the feed store or anywhere else if you didn’t want to. You wouldn’t have to worry about money or health insurance or a place to live or climbing up and down those damn stairs to your apartment when you’re nine months along. Unless you wanted us to live there together after we’re married.”

  She stared at him as though he’d suddenly grown a wart in the middle of his nose.

  “Is it my words you don’t understand?” he asked, “or my meaning?”

  “You really are out of your mind. Of course I’m not going to marry—”

  “Wait.” He stopped her before she could finish. “Don’t answer me yet. Think about it. Will you? Please? Just think about it. We like each other well enough, and I’m pretty easy to get along with. If it doesn’t work out, at least we should be able to hold it together long enough to get you and the baby on your feet, so to speak. Unless you want me to raise the baby.”

  “What?”

  “I said—” “He
ll and damnation, I heard you! You can just get that thought out of your mind right this minute, Jus tin Chisholm. Nobody’s raising this baby but me.”

  “I didn’t know, wasn’t sure how you felt about it.”

  “How I felt?” she nearly shrieked. “How do you think I feel?”

  “I don’t know. You’ve acknowledged that you’re carrying my child, but you’ve never indicated whether or not you want the baby.”

  She crossed her forearms protectively over her abdomen. “Not want it? How can I not want my own baby?”

  “Because you don’t know me very well? Because you don’t trust me at all? Because being a single parent doesn’t fit in with your plans? A lot of women aren’t too happy to end up in your shoes.”

  “I’m not a lot of women,” she said hotly. “I would never give my child over to someone else to raise.”

  He was starting to get a little steamed himself. “You say that like I’m some bum on the street. Like having me raise him would be like giving him to some stranger. I’m not ‘someone.’ I’m the baby’s father.”

  “You think I can’t be a good mother? Is that it?”

  “No, that’s not it,” he denied. “Of course that’s not it. If we get married we won’t have to argue over who raises the baby. We’ll both raise him.”

  “Or her.”

  “Or her. Just think about it. Don’t say no right off. Think about all the advantages. Sleep on it tonight, and I’ll call you tomorrow. If you need more time than that, just say so, but I’ll call you tomorrow anyway.”

  Blaire wanted to tell him not to bother, because there was no way on God’s green earth she was going to marry a man who didn’t love her, a man she didn’t love, simply because doing so might make her life a little easier.

  But she held her tongue. Still feeling guilty for his having to find out about the baby by accident, she felt she owed him. She would think about it.

  She would say no, but she would think it through first.

  She wasn’t sure where she would find the nerve to look him in the eye and turn him down, but she would have to manage. If she couldn’t do that, how did she think she could raise a child?