Baby on Board

by Lisa Ruff

  With a muttered curse, Patrick leaped back down the steps and headed for the studio. He reached the door and tried the handle. It was unlocked. Pushing the metal panel open, he stepped inside and closed it behind him, expecting to see Kate at work. But the furnace stood cold and silent. The light that bounced off the glass globes was the only thing moving in the room.

  Then he heard the low hum of machinery, faint at first. He followed the noise to the room behind the ovens. There, Molly was hunched over a spinning potter’s wheel. Dressed in faded green coveralls liberally smeared with clay, she was too intent on her creation to hear Patrick enter. Her elbows were braced on her knees while her hands smoothed and molded a whirling brown lump on the wheel. Occasionally, she would dip one hand into a pot of water next to the wheel, adding more liquid to the mess.

  As Patrick watched, she plunged her thumbs into the center of the clay and drew them outward. A pot was created right before his eyes. She shaped the opening until it was the size of a silver dollar. Patrick moved closer for a better view. Molly looked up, startled. Her fingers slipped and the pot collapsed in on itself.

  “Oh, Patrick, it’s you.” She flicked a switch with her foot. The wheel slowed and came to a stop. “You startled me.”

  “I have a bad habit of doing that. Last time I came in unannounced, Kate broke some glass.”

  Molly rose and wiped her hands on a brown-caked towel. “If you’re looking for her, she’s not here.”

  “When will she be back?”

  “I have no idea. I’m not sure I’d tell you if I did.”

  Patrick could feel his temper fray. His day had not gone well and Molly’s obstruction made it worse. “I need to talk to her.”

  Molly threw the towel aside and leaned against a table at the side of the studio. She folded her arms and looked him over. “What happened? Why weren’t you at the doctor’s office?”

  “I got delayed.”

  “Then why didn’t you call?” She pursed her lips, cocking her head to one side. “Maybe you just forgot about her again.”

  “I didn’t forget!” Her sarcasm snapped something inside him. “My cell phone is at the bottom of the god-damned Chesapeake. Jimmy didn’t bring his along and I couldn’t get the radio to work, so I couldn’t call.”

  “Hmm. Sounds plausible.” She eyed him up and down. “I think I almost believe you.”

  “Just tell me where Kate is. Please.”

  Molly looked at him, her face expressionless. “She went out for a drive with Steve Craig.”

  The words hit Patrick like a punch in the stomach, sucking all the air from his lungs. He closed his eyes for a moment. “Why?”

  “Why? Let me give you the short answer—because he showed up. You didn’t. Steve came by right after we got home and asked her, so she went.”

  Patrick tried to stare at Kate’s aunt, but his head was spinning almost as fast as her pottery wheel. He sagged against the wall and leaned back onto the brick, then took a few deep breaths. Molly didn’t say another word, but he saw pity in her eyes. It felt like a handful of salt in his wounds.

  “She was very upset when you didn’t come to the doctor’s office, Patrick.” Molly sighed. “Maybe it wasn’t your fault, but you really blew it.”

  “The engine broke down.” He lifted his head and pleaded his case with the older woman. “Again. I had to sail the boat in. There wasn’t any wind. I called when I got to shore, but she didn’t answer.”

  “No. It was too late. She refused to.”

  They stared at each other for a long silent minute, then Patrick asked, “So what do I do now?”

  “Give her time.”

  “And let someone else take my place? I don’t think so.”

  “Patrick, you haven’t got a place right now. Kate doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

  “But I can’t just let her go!” He straightened and paced the shop. “She has to let me explain. I would never have—”

  “Whatever you say, she won’t listen,” Molly interrupted. “Do you know what you missed today? The first sonogram. The first time Kate saw her baby. I was honored to be there. It was a wonderful moment. She cried during the procedure. She cried afterward, too. But not because she was so happy. She cried because you weren’t there to share that moment with her.” Molly stopped and looked at Patrick, compassion warring with anger in her eyes. “Today, you confirmed every fear she has about you. By not showing up, you acted exactly like her father. He was never there for anything in that girl’s life.”

  “But I tried. You don’t know how hard I tried.”

  “I believe you,” Molly said softly. “And maybe Kate will, too. In time.”

  “But I don’t have time.”

  “Yes, you do.” Molly came to him and laid a hand on his arm. “Please, Patrick. Leave Kate alone for a while. She’s very fragile right now. She likes to think of herself as strong and tough, but her heart is like her glass. It shatters easily.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

  Molly shrugged. “Maybe not. But you did. Take my advice, let her heal. Then try again.”

  “You’re asking too much from me.”

  “Believe it or not, Patrick, I’m rooting for you. At least most of the time.”

  Patrick squeezed Molly’s hand in thanks, then turned and walked out of the studio without another word. He got in his truck and sat for a long while, deciding whether to wait for Kate or take Molly’s advice. However right Molly might be about Kate’s fragile heart, it was not the only one breaking. Eventually, Patrick stuck the key in the ignition and started the engine. He put the truck in gear and slowly drove home.

  Chapter Nine

  “How about if we stop for something cold to drink?”

  “Sure, that would be great. It’s really hot today.” Kate winced as she unintentionally repeated her words of five minutes ago, but Steve seized on them like a lifeline tossed to a drowning man.

  “I’ll say. I’ve been working on a house out in Jessup. The air-conditioning isn’t in yet and we’ve been roasting.” He darted a glance at Kate. “Yep, pretty hot this year.”

  She was relieved to see the coffee shop ahead. Steve pulled the car up to the curb. They got out, walked across the sidewalk and up the steps in silence. She felt his hand hovering at her back for a moment as if he wanted to touch her, but then it dropped away. Instead he held the door for her. Inside, the cool air raised a rash of goose bumps on Kate’s arms with tingling relief. She felt the heat more, the further her pregnancy advanced.

  Only one table was occupied by a young man hunched over a laptop. Telltale cords led from the computer into his bushy hair. His head nodded rhythmically as his fingers tapped the keys. He sipped from a large mug that had a bright red glaze swirled with wide yellow curlicues—one of Molly’s designs.

  Behind the counter, a tall, lanky woman in black capri pants, bright blue hair and red clogs rooted through a large refrigerator. She muttered to herself as she shifted plastic containers from one shelf to another.

  “Good afternoon, Suzanne,” Kate said.

  The woman spun to face them, a wide grin splitting her face. “Kate, dear! How have you been?”

  “Good. Love your ensemble. The apron almost matches your shoes.”

  The apron that encircled Suzanne’s trim waist was pastel pink with a strawberry appliquéd on the front and stiffly starched ruffles. Suzanne held it with her fingertips for an exaggerated curtsy. “Direct from Milly Addison’s garage sale. Her grandma made a bunch of them. I thought they added a touch of class to the joint,” she said in a supercilious tone, then spoiled her act by giggling.

  Her laughter was infectious, as always. Kate shook her head and Steve chuckled. “Milly’s grandma is probably proud as peacock.”

  “She might be if she hadn’t died about five years ago,” Suzanne said. “So, what can I get you today?”

  “Something cool. I’ll have a glass of herbal iced tea,” Kate said. “What’s today’s
brew?”

  “Chamomile and rose hips. You’ll love it.”

  “And a large iced coffee for me.” Steve handed her a ten.

  Suzanne returned his change, then grabbed two glasses. “Have a seat. I’ll bring them out to you.”

  Steve followed as Kate led the way to the table farthest away from the head-bopping man. The café was filled with an eclectic mix of furniture. Like Suzanne’s apron, most were castoffs from garage sales. A bright chrome-and-pastel-pink dining set—complete with gold sparkles in the laminate—sat next to a scarred wooden table with mismatched chairs. Kate chose a table by the windows, this one sea-green with a lace pattern around the edges, and pulled out her chair.

  Steve hastily grabbed the back of it from her. “Allow me.”

  Kate smiled her thanks and sat down, scooting forward as he pushed. Steve sat opposite her and folded his large hands on the table between them. Dusted with light blond hair, they sported several nicks and cuts from work. He laced his fingers together tightly as if he were nervous.

  Suzanne brought their drinks over and set them on the table. “I added a little simple syrup. It brings out the flavor of the rose hips,” she said, patting Kate’s shoulder. “Anything else?”

  “No, thank you. This is perfect.”

  Suzanne left the table.

  Kate took a sip of her iced tea. “That feels so good. I think the heat’s starting to get to me a little bit.”

  Steve’s brow furrowed and his bright blue eyes took on a worried gleam. “That must be a problem in your studio.”

  “I think it’s more the humidity. That’s not a problem around the furnace.”

  Steve stirred his coffee, rattling the ice in the mug, and kept his eyes on his drink.

  Finally, Kate could stand the silence no longer. She cleared her throat. “You surprised me today, Steve, when you stopped by. I guess I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”

  His eyes flew up to meet hers. “I—” He looked out the window as a red tide of color washed up his neck and into his cheeks. At last, he brought his gaze back to her. “Kate, I want to marry you.”

  She blinked at him in astonishment. “What?”

  “I was an idiot that day, Kate.” His hands reached out to clasp hers across the table. “I was just so surprised. I never expected something like that and I…” He squeezed her fingers in a hard grip as he swallowed. “I never dreamed you’d want me. I hoped, but…” He smiled slightly and shrugged as he let the words trail off.

  This time, Kate was the one to look away. As she gazed through the window and across the street, she tried to make sense of the whirling emotions inside her. Was this what she wanted? One of the men she had picked to be her child’s father was volunteering. She ought to say yes. She ought to be thrilled.

  So why wasn’t she?

  She slipped her hands from his and put them in her lap. “I’m still pregnant with another man’s child,” she said quietly, keeping her eyes on his.

  Steve curled one hand around the other. He rubbed his knuckles as he spoke. “I know that. And I’m willing to raise your baby just like it was my own.”

  She searched his eyes and saw only earnest determination. “Why?” She studied him intently. “Why the change?”

  “Bottom line, Kate, I love you.” His cheeks were red again, but his voice was steady. “I have since I first met you.”

  Kate hesitated before she spoke. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she had to be honest. “I like you very much, Steve, but I don’t love you. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “I know.” He looked down, then back at her. “But who knows, maybe someday you’ll feel the same way about me that I feel about you. That’s enough for me.”

  His soft words brought a sting of tears. He was so kind, more kind than she deserved. Kate felt a wry sense of satisfaction. She may have failed with Patrick, but she had picked a good man this time.

  The thought brought another possibility she had to warn him about. “Patrick may still try to be involved.”

  Steve shrugged again. He reached out for his glass, but didn’t lift it to his lips. “He’s the father. He’s got a right, I guess.” His jaw jutted stubbornly. “But you would be my wife.”

  Kate opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. A lump in her throat kept her silent. She sipped at her tea, trying to wash it away. Yes, she would be Steve’s wife. Why didn’t that idea give her any comfort? Patrick should be the one. She closed her eyelids tightly, banishing the foolish wish from her heart. Just today, he had proved once again that, whatever he said, she and the baby took a distant second in his life. Still, she somehow couldn’t simply say yes to the kind, generous man who sat across from her.

  “I have to think about this.”

  “You do?” A line appeared between Steve’s brows. “Why?”

  “I just need some time.”

  “I thought you wanted me to marry you, to be your husband and a father.” His eyes narrowed as he gazed at her. “Did I miss something? Has something changed?”

  “I haven’t asked you to do anything, Steve.” Kate’s voice was tart. “Either now or the last time I saw you. Remember that day? You were off the porch and gone before I could say a word.”

  Steve had the grace to look abashed. He sat back and raised his hands, palms out. “I know, I know. But I kind of got caught between you and Patrick that day. He tried to shock me, and he succeeded.”

  “I have to be certain you really want to be a father to another man’s child.” Kate held her hands out and he took them in a tight grip. “I don’t want to make a mistake about this. I don’t want you to, either.”

  “I’m not making a mistake.”

  “I want to be that certain.” Kate squeezed his hands. “That might take time, but I’m not going to rush this. Let’s spend some time together and we’ll see.”

  A broad smile spread across Steve’s round face. “We’ll make it work, Kate.” His eyes were sparkling with excitement. “You’ll see. I’ll be a great father for your baby.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Kate said, while she ignored the pang of sadness in her heart. It had been wrong about Patrick so far. From now on, she was going to listen to her head.

  HOURS LATER, Kate was tired and irritable, locked in a tussle with her emotions. When Steve had brought her home, she had politely declined his dinner invitation. She promised to go out with him soon, kissed his cheek and shut the door behind him. It had been a long, stressful day and she wanted to lie down and decompress. Trying to nap proved fruitless, her thoughts too busy for rest. Now, unable to lose herself in a book or in mindless television, she sat eating ice cream, trying not to cry for the umpteenth time that day.

  She had nearly polished off a bowl of chocolate-marshmallow swirl when a knock on her door startled her. She set the bowl down on the glass coffee table and rose to answer it. Kate peeked through the door to see her porch light illuminating Ian Berzani’s face. She unlocked the door and pulled it open.

  “Ian! What are you doing here?”

  “Hey, Kate.” He smiled and put his hands in his jeans pockets, shifting from one foot to the other. “Can I come in?”

  “Sure. Why not?” Kate stepped aside. “Come in.”

  Ian followed Kate into the living room and looked around casually at the white walls dotted with colorful paintings. Then he examined the intricate blown-glass bowl in swirls of red and amber that stood on a pedestal between the two windows. “Wow, this is amazing. Yours?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the bowl.

  “Yes, I just finished it a few days ago.” She paused. “Your brother inspired it.”

  Ian stared at it for another, silent minute. “It’s gorgeous, but you must have been really pissed at him.”

  Kate laughed, remembering the day she had made the bowl. “A pretty accurate assessment, I’d say.”

  With one last look at the piece, Ian turned to face her. “So he’s good for something then.”

  Kate chose not to c
omment. “Have a seat.” She gestured to one of the blue-denim sofas that faced one another across a tan-and-cream Oriental rug. “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got iced tea or lemonade. There might even be a beer in the refrigerator.” His eyes lighted on the bowl of melting ice cream and she smiled. “Or you can join me in some chocolate swirl.”

  “No, thanks, I don’t need anything.”

  Kate took a seat facing Ian and pulled a throw pillow into her lap like a shield.

  “I suppose you can guess why I’m here.” He leaned back into the cushions, one foot propped on the opposing knee. He looked relaxed, certainly more so than Kate. She set the pillow aside and tried to mimic his insouciance.

  “You’re here because of Patrick. I knew that when I saw you on the porch.” She bit her lip, but couldn’t keep from asking, “How is he?”

  Ian’s voice was quiet, his eyes direct. “He’s drunk.”

  Kate blinked, not sure she had heard him right. “Patrick? Drunk?”

  “Evan found him on his boat curled up with an empty bottle of whiskey.” Ian’s lips lifted in a wry smile. “You obviously know that’s not like him. He may be a sailor, but he’s never been a drunken one.”

  “Why come to me about it?”

  “Because even though Patty was pretty incoherent, Evan got enough out of him to lead me here.” Ian’s foot dropped and he leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees. “What happened today, Kate?”

  She rubbed her forehead, suddenly feeling weary and annoyed. “Look, if Patrick is drunk, it’s his own fault.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, drawing the pillow onto her lap again and hugging it to her stomach. “I don’t know what happened. Why don’t you ask him after he sobers up?”

  Ian’s expression sharpened. “Did you have another fight?”

  “No.” Kate felt a blush climb her cheeks as the memory of their morning lovemaking swept over her. There was no pleasure left in it for her, only sadness and pain.

  “How did Patty screw up this time?” Ian asked in a low voice.

  The tears she had been fighting all day sprang up in her eyes again. One slipped down her cheek before she could wipe it away. Ian rose, came across to her and sat down. He put one hand over hers where she was tugging at the gold fringe on the pillow.