Jim snorted with laughter. “How many footballs do you think will go flying into their lake?”
“Probably more than the city budget can afford.”
“You gonna do it?”
“If I can fit it into my schedule.”
“Good. That’ll keep you around for a while longer. Give you some useful work to do.”
Ben only shrugged.
Jim clapped him on the shoulder. “Speaking of work, I’ve got things to do at home, son. I’ll talk to you later.” With a wave, Jim headed for his truck, then paused and glanced back. “Wild mustangs. I sure hope you know what you’re doing.” He climbed into the truck’s cab and drove away.
Ben gazed after his dad and knew that, physically, at least, he was looking at himself in forty years. But he was determined to have a different focus in his life. His dad had raised cattle, bought and sold land, operated a construction company and a gravel-mining operation, and run a few other businesses. He’d achieved his goal of financial comfort long ago but still worked nonstop.
Ben knew his mom wanted to travel, see something of the world before old age came calling. She was only sixty but saw life passing her by because Jim wouldn’t slow down long enough to have any fun. Ben had taken his mother to Europe and to Thailand. Even though she’d enjoyed the trips, she’d really wanted her husband there to share it, but Jim had insisted he had to work.
His dad was the reason Ben had long ago made the decision that work wouldn’t rule his life.
Ben’s goal was to enjoy life, to travel, meet new people and make friends all over the world, start businesses, fund projects. He’d done a good job of investing the money he’d made playing professional football. Now he considered his job to be to spend it wisely but in fun ways. He knew his reputation around his hometown was that he was something of a squanderer, but he didn’t care. It was his life and his money. Anyone who cared to look carefully could see that he spent his money to benefit others, but he wasn’t going to advertise the fact.
As he walked back to the house, he took out his phone and checked his calendar. His attention was caught by the sound of tires crunching on gravel. A dark red, sporty sedan was heading toward him. He frowned for a second as he tried to see who was driving, then grinned.
So his visit to Lisa’s office had paid off. But he was surprised she’d come out to his ranch.
He watched as Lisa pulled her car to a stop and looked up to meet his eyes. Her solemn expression, the twin of the one she’d given him earlier in her office, made him pause before he walked over to open her door and hold out his hand to help her out.
She stood, somewhat unsteadily, smoothed the short, black wool jacket she wore with matching slacks, and braced herself in the door opening. Finally she looked at him. Her lips flickered in the faintest smile. “Hello, Ben.”
“Hey, Lisa. Thanks for coming over. I would have called, headed back to your office. You didn’t need to come all the way out here.”
“It’s okay. I wanted to,” she said, stepping aside so that he could close the door behind her.
Something about her complete shift in attitude made his words stumble. “Um, yeah. I wanted to see if you were okay after your aunt’s death...and...well, you know...everything that happened.” Ben felt embarrassed heat climb his throat. “But you didn’t respond.”
“I know.” She glanced away, apparently distraught. Her face was as pale as it had been earlier and her eyes seemed sunken. “I was hoping we could start this conversation again.”
“Yes, sure, but are you okay?” he asked, reaching to take her arm.
At last she met his gaze. “Can we go inside, Ben? I have something...important to tell you.”
CHAPTER THREE
“PREGNANT?” BEN STARED at her, swallowed, then stared some more. “And...it’s mine?”
“Of course it is!” Lisa fought down a burst of hysteria. “You don’t think I go around sleeping with—”
“Of course not. Of course not,” he answered hastily, holding up his hands, palms outward. “But...we used protection.”
Hearing him say exactly what she’d said to Gemma and Carly a few days ago didn’t make her feel any better. “I know.”
He sat forward, as if all the strength had been drained from him, and rested his forearms on his thighs. Looking down, and then up, he seemed to struggle to form a sentence.
Lisa knew this wasn’t at all the conversation he’d expected to be having when he’d come to her office. She wondered if that was the last lunch invitation she’d ever receive from him.
Unable to meet his shocked gaze anymore, Lisa looked away, taking in the shabby living room she’d last entered late in September when she’d handled the sale of the ranch to him. The house looked as bad as ever, but she’d been so agitated when she’d driven up today, she hadn’t even noticed if he’d done anything to improve the outbuildings or acreage, although she’d noticed a small herd of horses in the pasture.
She looked around, feeling her mind drifting from the subject at hand. This time, she didn’t try to stop it as the Realtor in her assessed the positive aspects of the house.
This room had beautifully carved crown moldings that could easily be returned to their original beauty if touched up and painted, maple floors with a buildup of grime around the edges that could be cleaned with refinishing, and dingy mint-green paint on the walls. She didn’t think any upgrades would happen. Ben had brought in two new-looking chairs, a sofa and a couple of floor lamps, but she had no idea if he intended to make it any more homey.
Ben looked as though he’d been working hard since he’d returned from town, if his worn, dirt-streaked jeans and blue flannel shirt were any indication. She hadn’t noticed earlier, but his dark auburn hair needed a cut, or maybe it only looked disastrous because he’d been repeatedly running his hands through it, exactly as she’d done when she’d first learned of this news.
Ben cleared his throat, bringing her attention back to him. His dark gray eyes, the color of a winter storm, looked at her. “Is that why you’ve refused to talk to me?”
“Not at first. I was...embarrassed.”
“Because you never do what you did? What we did? I get that. But you don’t have anything to be ashamed of.” When she didn’t respond, he asked, “How long have you known?”
“Only a few days, but I’ve known something was...different for a while.”
“Have you...thought about...what you’re going to do?” His expression was that of a man going down for the third time, grasping at any twig of hope for a different outcome. There wasn’t going to be one.
She scooted forward in her chair, sat straighter and gave him a hard look. “I’m having it and I’m keeping it.”
“Of course. I wasn’t suggesting anything else, I swear. Listen, it’s your choice.” He stood and paced around the room, his boots thumping on the hardwood. “I’ll do my part, of course. I’ll pay child support.”
She waited, wondering what he would say next. Would he want to be part of the baby’s life? That wasn’t what she wanted. Did most men say they wanted to help when they were handed a bombshell like this one? Other than a name on her birth certificate, she didn’t know who her father was and doubted he knew of her existence.
Ben swung back to look at her. His face worked for a minute before he went on, his voice strangled. “I have to tell you, though, Lisa, I never intended to be a dad. I like kids, but I’ve got the life I always worked for—money to do what I like, go where I want, deals working, projects and businesses all over the world.” He shook his head and frowned. “I just had this conversation with my father. I never saw myself with a family because I thought it would be unfair to a kid for me to either be gone all the time or to drag it around the world with me.”
“You don’t ever want anything to impinge on your f
reedom.”
He barely seemed to think about his response. Throwing his hands wide, he asked, “Would you?”
Lisa started to answer but a wave of nausea rose in her throat. She stumbled to her feet and ran to where she recalled the downstairs bathroom was located. Desperately hoping the ancient plumbing worked, she lurched into the room and shoved the door closed behind her.
A few seconds later she had emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl and stood trembling, holding on to the washbasin as she rinsed her mouth and splashed water on her face. She spotted a roll of paper towels beneath the sink and used one to pat her face dry. Staring at her miserable reflection in the mirror, she took several deep breaths and then scooped more water into her mouth.
She could hear Ben pacing to and fro outside, which meant it was time for her to leave. She had done what she was supposed to do. After stewing about it for days, choosing exactly the right words, even writing out what she planned to say so that her sudden onslaught of brain burps wouldn’t hijack her thoughts, she had told Ben he was going to be a father. Shock and surprise were what she’d expected, but she hadn’t counted on his adamant statement that he’d never wanted to be a dad.
She should have guessed, though. He’d had legions of girlfriends over the years, some in Reston, others scattered around the country, maybe even the world. If he’d wanted to stay with one woman and start a family, there probably would have been at least one of them who would have been happy to accommodate him.
“Lisa?” he called from the other side of the door. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”
“No. I’m fine.” She pulled on the knob but nothing happened. She looked to see if she’d locked it, but the old-fashioned door had only a slightly rusted bolt. She tried the knob again but the door wouldn’t budge.
“I think it’s stuck,” Ben said in an apologetic tone. “Let me try.”
The knob twisted and she heard a thump and a grunting sound. She stepped back hastily, but not fast enough. The door flew open and Ben shot through, slamming her against the edge of the sink, knocking the breath out of her in a whoosh.
Ben made a grab for her, his arms going around her shoulders to keep her on her feet as he said, “Sorry! Are you okay?” He held on to her as he looked her up and down.
“Yeh...eh...hess,” she wheezed, fighting for her breath. She managed to loosen one arm and surreptitiously rub her hip where she knew she would have a bruise.
He took the hint and stepped back, his worried gaze still on her. “Sorry about that door. Every single one in the place sticks, but I guess that one’s the worst. I’ve never closed it before.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “I’m here alone. No need to shut the bathroom door.”
“Oh.” She lived alone, too, but always closed the door to the bathroom. In fact, she closed her bedroom door every night, too. She paused, considering it. Growing up, those were the only two doors in the house that would close because everywhere else was so stuffed with her hoarder grandparents’ things. She frowned at Ben.
“Come on,” he said, ushering her into the hallway. “Let me get you something to drink. You want some coffee?” He looked around helplessly. “Or tea?”
“No thanks. No caffeine.”
As if he couldn’t help himself, he glanced down at her belly and then up. “Oh, of course. Um, I’ve got soft drinks. Lemon-lime soda, maybe?” Suddenly his worried expression cleared. “And crackers! I’ve got some saltine crackers.”
Before she could respond, he helped her back to her chair and strode into the kitchen. As he rustled around, she twisted in her chair and rubbed her hip again. She could ask for an ice pack but doubted that he had one. A dripping bag of ice cubes wouldn’t do her wool slacks any good, although she wasn’t sure why she was worried. Her waistline would soon expand so much that she wouldn’t be able to wear this beautifully tailored outfit, anyway.
A few minutes later he returned with a glass and a bowl of saltine crackers. She considered turning down the snack, but her lurching stomach told her she’d better not.
Since there was no table on which to set anything, she placed the bowl in her lap and held the soft drink in one hand. As she nibbled and sipped, Ben roamed the room and turned up the thermostat. The old-fashioned wall heater rattled and groaned to life and soon had the room at a stifling temperature.
With a sound of annoyance, he turned it off once more. “I’ve got to do something about that.”
After an awkward silence had stretched far too long, Lisa set her empty glass on the floor, knowing any condensation from the glass wouldn’t harm the already-warped boards.
Ben finally sat opposite her and cleared his throat. “I guess we should talk about...financial arrangements...for the...”
“Baby. It’s called a baby.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course. You’ll need money for...”
As his words trailed off, Lisa watched him try to think of what an expectant mother might need. She didn’t yet know much about it, but he knew even less than she did.
“Ben, I’m...I’m glad you’re willing to provide financial support, but we should have a legal agreement.” She studied his face, unsure how he would react to that statement.
“That makes sense, and I can pay for...for your before-baby care, too.”
“It’s called prenatal care. Thanks, but I don’t need your help. I’ve got health insurance, a good hospital, a good doctor. And Gemma will help deliver the baby when it’s time.”
He nodded. “And the time will be...September?”
“That’s right.”
“I’ve been invited to help establish an American-style football league in India. I have to be there in August, but sometimes there are delays. I might be in town in September,” he said.
Lisa dropped her head forward in surrender. Leaning down, she set the bowl beside the glass and stood. “I’m so glad you think you might be able to fit the birth of your child into your schedule, but I don’t expect you to be there.”
He surged to his feet. “I didn’t mean it like that. I want to help—”
“Yes, as long as it corresponds with what you already have planned and doesn’t interfere with your freedom.” Turning, she stomped to the door.
“Be fair,” he insisted, following her. “I don’t know anything about kids.”
Unwanted tears sprung into her eyes as she said, “And that’s the way it’s going to stay, isn’t it, Ben?” She waved a hand in dismissal. “You can be whatever kind of father you want to be.”
Eager to escape a situation that had gone from uncomfortable to unbearable, she grasped the doorknob. Of course, the door wouldn’t open. Ben reached around and gave it a tug, but this time she was quick enough to move aside and avoid injury. She hurried out and down the steps to her car with him following.
As she slid behind the wheel, he leaned in and said, “We can talk about this later, when we’ve both had time to process it a little.”
“You’ll be hearing from my attorney,” she responded, jerking the door shut.
Ben called after her, but she started the car, turned in a big circle and slammed on the gas pedal, shooting up gravel that had him scrambling backward. Blaming overactive hormones for her out-of-control emotions, she wiped away her tears, took a breath and concentrated on driving.
She had done what she was supposed to do. Ben now knew he was going to be a father, a role he obviously didn’t want. She didn’t know exactly what she’d expected to happen, but this was worse than she’d imagined.
Now that she’d had time to come to terms with her impending motherhood, she felt exhilarated but also terrified. She had to remember that she had friends, a support system that would help her every step of the way. Her baby would have honorary aunts in Gemma and Carly and uncles in their
husbands, Nathan Smith and Luke Sanderson—even a cousin in Carly and Luke’s adopted son, Dustin. Her child wouldn’t have a father. But then, Lisa had never had one, either.
* * *
LONG SHADOWS WERE stretching across the road as Lisa gratefully headed for home. She couldn’t wait to go inside, put her feet up, eat dinner and try to come to terms with what had turned out to be an emotionally wrenching day. She’d known it would be hard telling Ben about the baby, but she hadn’t expected the overwhelming disappointment she’d felt in the charming, winsome Ben McAdams.
She wanted to talk to Gemma and Carly about it, but it was dinnertime and they had family responsibilities, so the lengthy talk she would need to put this into perspective would have to wait.
As she approached her home, she glanced over in surprise to see an ancient compact car parked out front. Her stomach quivered nervously when saw the Illinois license plate. The car appeared to be stuffed with bags and boxes.
Cautiously, she parked in her carport, grateful for the automatic lights that flipped on as soon as she pulled in. Looking around as she stepped from the car, she reached into her pocket for her cell phone, prepared to call for help. She was two miles out of town, though, so she didn’t think assistance would arrive as quickly as she might need it.
“Hello?” she ventured, her gaze darting around. She kept the car door open in case she had to leap in and make a fast getaway. Fortunately the carport was open at both ends and no longer obstructed by the broken-down tractor that had once barred the way.
At the sound of a hesitant step behind her, she spun around. She had her keys in her hand, the tips protruding from between her fingers—the only weapon at her disposal.
“Oh, hello,” a woman’s voice said as she stepped into the light.
Lisa blinked, astonished. “Maureen?”
“You said we could talk later,” Maureen said with a hesitant smile, running a hand through her short, dark hair. She shrugged one shoulder in a way Lisa thought looked vaguely familiar. “Hello, Lisa.”
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