Chapter Five
Justin had told Blaire he would call her the next day. But when the next day arrived, he knew he couldn’t simply call her on the phone. That would make it too easy for her to say no. He had to see her in person. To look into her eyes when she gave her answer.
Good God, he had asked a woman to marry him. He couldn’t believe he was even remotely calm about it. Proposing marriage had not been in his plans when he’d picked Blaire up yesterday evening. At least, he hadn’t consciously thought about it.
But as the evening wore on, the idea just sort of seeped in a little bit at a time until it was just… there. A whole idea, as if it had always been there. Nothing startling or surprising or scary about it. Merely the most logical, practical thing for all concerned.
The few times in his life when he’d looked ahead and imagined himself married, logic and practicality had played no part in it. Nothing sounded more boring or deadly to him than a logical, practical marriage.
Wasn’t there supposed to be love? Respect? Passion?
He and Blaire had the passion. Or they’d had it, a couple of months ago. But he couldn’t imagine it not being there the next time he touched her. Last night he had deliberately kept his mind off such things, but the wanting had been there, under the surface, waiting to be let loose.
Respect? He respected what he knew of her. She’d gone to college, taught school, come to her parents’ rescue when they’d needed help. She had sacrificed her job for them. And upon finding herself single and with an unplanned pregnancy, she was not demanding Justin marry her or support her or anything else.
There was a lot to respect in her.
But love? Justin had never been in love, so how would he know? There was no getting around the fact that she was right about them not knowing each other well.
They knew each other well enough to make a baby, but then, that didn’t take much knowing, outside the biblical definition of the word.
But he liked her. Liked her a great deal. They were good together, on the dance floor and in bed. They were both adults. Surely they could figure out a way to make a marriage work, even if they weren’t madly in love. Maybe not having all that steamy emotion clouding the issue would be a benefit, helping them see their way more clearly.
He wanted to talk with her. If she hadn’t made up her mind yet, maybe he could convince her. Because the one thing he knew beyond doubt was that he wanted to be a part of his child’s life. No child of his was going to grow up without a father.
He wanted to talk with her, and he wanted to do it now.
But he couldn’t walk out on Sloan when there was work to be done. It had been he, himself, who had mentioned that the livestock would need hay. He’d even loaded the trailer. It was time to distribute it.
And so they set out, he and Sloan, with Sloan driving the pickup, pulling the trailer Justin had loaded with hay. Creeping along like an arthritic turtle because there were no paved or gravel roads heading into the back pastures, only rough tire tracks left by countless trips just like this one.
Sloan was driving the best he could, trying to keep the pickup from bottoming out in the potholes.
“Can’t you drive this thing any faster?”
“Oh,” Sloan drawled slowly. “I probably could if I put my mind to it.”
“Then do it, would you? Some people have other things to do today.”
“Next time one of us runs out of things to do, we need to hook up the box blade and grade this damn road,” Sloan said.
“Grade it so we can call it a road, you mean.”
“Whatever. Anyway,” he said, keeping the rig to the same slow, lumbering pace, “what’s your hurry? The cattle and horses aren’t likely to starve to death before we get to them.”
It was all Justin could do to keep from bouncing his knee up and down. He hated doing that, because he hated it when other people did it around him. It indicated impatience with the current situation, a nervous desire to do something else. Made him feel…superfluous. Worse, in the way.
“No particular hurry,” he said, forcing a slow, deep breath.
“How’d your date go last night? Who was the lucky lady?”
He was going to have to tell the family, and soon. They had a right to know that the youngest Chisholm was about to produce the youngest Chisholm.
Before he told them, however, he would warn Blaire of his intentions. She had a right to know that he was about to share their private news with his whole family.
“The date was fine. Mexican food up in Norman. I took Blaire.”
“Blaire Harding? No fooling?”
“Why?”
Sloan shrugged. “I don’t know. Seems like you’ve been hot after her for months. I remember you hooked up with her a couple of times a while back, but you haven’t mentioned her in weeks. Are you two back on?”
“More or less. Maybe. We’ll have to see.”
It was the middle of the afternoon before Justin could legitimately shake loose and head to town. He didn’t see Blaire’s car in the driveway of the feed store parking lot, but he didn’t worry about it. It could be in the garage.
He skipped the store and went straight to the house. Blaire’s mother answered the door.
“Justin, hello. Come in.” With a big smile, she stood back and motioned for him to enter.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“I think you better start calling me Nancy, don’t you?”
“If you say so. Nancy. I’d like that.”
“Me, too,” she said, patting him on the arm.
“I came to see Blaire. Is she here?”
Nancy Harding’s smile tightened. “Oh, dear. Well, to be completely honest, Justin…”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry, but, no, she’s not here.”
“Oh, okay. I can go get a cup of coffee at the café or something. When do you expect her back?”
“I’m afraid she won’t be back for a day or two. Maybe even a week.”
Justin felt his gut clench. “Did something happen? Where’d she go?”
“You have to understand, Justin, she’s under a great deal of stress these days.”
“I do understand that. I offered her a partial solution to help her out, and we were supposed to talk about it today. You mean she just took off?”
“She went up to Enid to her cousin Connie’s.”
“Enid?” He blinked, dumbfounded. “She went to Enid?”
“That’s right.” Mrs. Harding—Nancy—turned her head and gave him a sly look from the corner of her eye. “I could give you the address, if you’re interested. Something tells me you wouldn’t get very far by calling her.”
“Something tells me you’re right,” he muttered. “Okay, yes. I’ll take that address. Thanks.”
“I have it right here.” She picked up a piece of paper from the end table near the door, as if she’d known he would come and would need the information.
“You’re a peach, Mrs.—Nancy.” He leaned down and brushed his lips across her cheek.
Blushing to beat the band, Nancy beamed at him. “You go after my little girl, Justin, and you do right by her.”
“I’m trying, ma’am. Nancy. I’m trying.”
It was after dark by the time Justin reached Enid and located the address Nancy had given him.
He’d tried, very hard, to keep from losing his temper during the drive. First, because he tended to drive fast when he was angry, and second, he didn’t want to jump to any erroneous conclusions regarding Blaire’s sudden trip to Enid.
Maybe it wasn’t a sudden trip. Maybe she’d had it planned.
But she hadn’t said so, and her mother hadn’t indicated such. He was inclined to believe that either this was Blaire’s way of telling him she wasn’t interested in marrying him, or she planned to tell him no, but couldn’t face him. Or, he thought, she was running scared, not knowing what to do.
He hoped it wasn’t the latter, because that would mean his off
er of marriage had added more pressure than it had alleviated. Adding pressure to Blaire was the last thing he wanted to do.
The polite thing to do now would be to get a room for the night and come back to her cousin’s house tomorrow, around midmorning.
But there was every chance that her mother would tell her he’d been by to see her and was coming to Enid. If Blaire would leave town knowing he was going to call, that he was expecting an answer to his proposal, such as it was, she would surely disappear on him this time, too.
He parked his pickup in the street and walked up the driveway, then the short sidewalk to the front door, where he rang the bell.
Behind the door a dog barked, a child shrieked and giggled.
A man about Justin’s age opened the door with a wriggling, giggling toddler under one arm. “Yes?”
“I’m Justin Chisholm. I’m looking for Blaire Harding. Her mother said I’d find her here.”
The man eyed Justin carefully. “Her mother sent you, you say?”
“Yes. Her mother. Is Blaire here?”
“Hey, Blaire,” the man yelled over his shoulder.
“Annie Bare, Annie Bare,” squealed the child.
“That’s Aunty Blaire,” the man explained. “I’m the local interpreter. Somebody here to see you,” he added over his shoulder.
Blaire came through the doorway from the hall, wiping her hands on a dish towel. At the sight of Justin she stopped dead in her tracks. “Justin.”
“Hi.”
“What are you doing here? Go on, Billy, I’ll handle this,” she said to the man with the toddler under his arm.
“Are you sure?” he asked, eyeing the tight look on her face.
“I’m sure. It’s fine. Go help Connie in the kitchen. She’d appreciate that, you know.”
Billy rolled his eyes and hauled the kid down the hall.
Blaire rushed over to the door and practically pushed Justin back out onto the porch. It was cold enough that their breath came out in white puffs.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed.
Justin eyed her a minute and sucked on the inside of his jaw. “The more pertinent question, I’d say, is what are you doing here?”
“I came to see my cousin, if it’s any of your business.”
“Any of my business? Last night we talked about getting married.”
“You talked about it.”
“You said you would think about it. We agreed I was going to call you today for your answer. You’re not home for me to call you, so here I am. Waiting for my answer.” He wanted those last words back the instant they were out of his mouth. He had just as much as dared her to throw his suggestion of marriage back in his face.
Which was essentially what she did when she laughed. “You mean you were serious about that?”
If she thought she could hurt his feelings and send him running off with his tail between his legs, she was sadly mistaken. If she thought he was buying this casual woman-of-the-world act, she was deluding herself.
“I had no idea,” she added.
Justin folded his arms across his chest and shifted his weight. “Bull hockey.”
She laughed. “Bull what?”
“Hockey. I’m about to become a father in a few months. I’m cleaning up my language. Are you going to marry me, or do you need more convincing?”
Shaking her head, she held her palm out toward him and backed away until her back was to the door. “Justin, don’t.”
“Don’t what? I realize it’s a big decision, but don’t you think sitting down and talking about it would be more productive than running away?”
She snapped straight, as if a drill sergeant had just called attention. “I wasn’t running away.”
“Sorry. My mistake.” He moved in closer to her to shield her from the north wind. “But that’s what it looks like from my view.”
“I can’t help what it looks like to you.”
“Can’t help, or don’t care?”
She threw her hands in the air. “What do you want from me?” she cried. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t tell you about the baby. You’re just going to pester me to do things I don’t want to do. I won’t be pushed around, Justin. I won’t be pressured.”
“That’s fair,” he told her. “I don’t make a habit of pushing people around, and I don’t intend to start with you. If taking you to dinner puts pressure on you, I’m sorry. If asking you to marry me to give our child legitimacy and the Chisholm name puts pressure on you, I’m sorry. You won’t be pushed around, I won’t be brushed off or ignored.”
“Hmph.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Ignoring you would be about like trying to ignore a mountain lion in your living room.”
“I don’t know,” he said, slipping off his leather bomber jacket and putting it around her shoulders. “You seem to be doing a pretty good job of it.”
“Don’t.” She slid his jacket off and pushed it back into his hands. “I’m going back inside.”
“All right. That’s probably a good idea. I don’t want you catching cold, and I don’t want you blaming me if you do.”
“Why would I blame you?”
“Because you’re not too happy with me right now, I’m guessing.”
“I don’t like the idea of your following me all the way here.”
“Why did you leave without telling me?”
She gave a toss of her head, but spoiled the gesture of defiance by sniffing and rubbing the end of her nose. “I don’t answer to you.”
“No, you don’t answer to me. But I wish you would answer me about us getting married.”
“All right, look. If you must know, I came up here so I could spend a couple of days not thinking about it.”
He gave her a small smile. “I guess I ruined that, huh?”
“I guess you did.” She shivered in an icy gust of wind.
Justin reached out and rubbed her arms, which were clad only in the thin cotton of her blouse. “Go inside before you freeze to death. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She swallowed and looked at him a long moment, then nodded. “All right. But I don’t think I’m going to be ready to talk about any of this tomorrow.”
“I’ll call you. You can tell me then if you’re ready or not. Fair enough?”
She gave him a reluctant nod. “Fair enough.”
Against his will, Justin stepped back and watched her go back into the house. The door closed softly but surely in his face.
On his way to find a motel room for the night, he tried to decide if he’d made a mistake in coming after her like this. There were no promises between them, no ties, other than the baby. She wasn’t answerable to him or he to her.
But dammit, he wouldn’t have left town knowing she expected to talk with him without letting her know he was going. She should have had the courtesy to at least tell him she didn’t have an answer for him yet.
Instead, she had fled.
He knew she hadn’t left him a message on his cell because he had checked. When he’d called home to tell them he wouldn’t be home tonight he’d asked if there were any messages for him, and they’d said no.
He found a motel and checked in. The night passed slowly for him. He was tired, but his mind would not shut down. He kept remembering the last time he’d stayed in a motel. He hadn’t slept that night, either. But that had been because he’d been too busy making love with Blaire Harding. Busy creating their child.
A baby. She was having his baby. The thought left him awed. As if no man in the world had ever sired a child before.
When Justin had left Blaire at her cousin’s, Blaire had closed the door behind herself and leaned against it, closing her eyes for a moment to regain her mental balance.
She wondered if it was normal to feel like the only woman in the world to conceive a child outside of wedlock. Shouldn’t she feel guilty? Ashamed?
She felt neither of those things.
Instead, this sharp sense of anticipat
ion, mixed with enough nerves to keep her careful and attentive, permeated her from head to toe.
“Was that him?”
Blaire gave a start at the sound of Connie’s voice a scant few inches away. In fact, she was right next to Blaire, peeking between the blinds on the living room window next to the front door.
“Wow.” Connie let out a low whistle. “Looks like a keeper to me.”
With a half snort, half laugh, Blaire gave her cousin and best friend a slight shove. “He’s not a damn fish.”
“Maybe not, but he still looks like a keeper to me. What’s he like? Oh, never mind. Sit down first, before you fall down. He really gets to you, doesn’t he?”
Sitting down seemed like the thing to do, so Blaire sat. It would have been too embarrassing to slide down the door and end up on the floor.
“What am I going to do, Connie?” Blaire buried her face in her hands and strove for calm. She could tell Connie anything.
There were four of them. They called themselves the Four Cousins. Or sometimes just The Four, or the Four Musketeers, or the Four Stooges. Whatever the occasion called for.
Connie, Sherry, Gayle and Blaire. They were all about the same age, and their mothers were sisters. The Four knew each other’s secrets, heartaches, triumphs. And phone bills, because they called each other all the time and ran up ridiculous charges.
Connie rubbed Blaire’s shoulder and made a humming sound in her throat. “What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. How am I supposed to know? I can’t think straight around him. I can’t even think straight about him. When I think about him or get near him my heart starts pounding, my palms sweat, my lungs don’t want to work.”
“You’ve got it bad, don’t you.”
“I guess I do, whatever it is. When I’m with him and all these stupid things are going on inside me, he can ask me a reasonable question and I get all defensive and stubborn and stupid, and I know he must think I’m an idiot, but I can’t seem to help myself. What’s wrong with me?” she wailed. “Is this what I have to look forward to until the baby comes? Is this what it’s like to be pregnant? Raging hormones and all of that?”
The Chisholm Brothers:Friends, Lovers... Husbands? Page 46