Читать книгу Because Of The Baby - Anne Haven - Страница 10

ONLY MELISSA.

Only Melissa, Kyle thought, could have kept her pregnancy secret for so damn long. Only she could have maintained the fiction that nothing had changed, could have managed not to reveal anything through words or expressions or actions. It was simply a logical extension of her business-as-usual performance after they’d made love.

Oh, Mel.

The woman was purely herself. She didn’t try to act like anyone else.

He knew some people considered her inhuman, even cold. She wasn’t. She might be more subtle, less immediately accessible. But the depth and the feelings were there. Only people who had no patience for subtlety had a hard time with her. People who needed everything to be simple and easy and obvious.

Kyle changed into sweats and shoved on his court shoes. It was Thursday afternoon and he’d made plans to meet his friend Jerome down at the park for some hoops. He needed the physical activity and the diversion of athletic competition. Badly.

His keys sat on his dresser, next to a framed photo of Felicity and him. He grabbed the keys and stuffed them into the zippered pocket of his sweat-pants, then jogged down the stairs and left the building at an easy run, warming up his body slowly. The October air felt cool and refreshing against his skin. The change to standard time hadn’t occurred yet, so a few more hours of daylight remained this afternoon.

He tilted up his face to the sun, briefly closing his eyes as he ran along the sidewalk, and thought, How could this have happened? This impossible, incomprehensible situation. How can Melissa and I be having a baby together?

Neither of them had expected to have children—let alone with each other.

How strange and terrifying…

Not that either of them had something against kids. No, they both liked them. They’d enjoyed the times when Kyle’s brother and his wife—now his ex-wife—had come to visit, bringing little Danny and Mira. They often volunteered to baby-sit for friends.

But to take on parenthood themselves?

Kyle reached the park, saw Jerome and waved as he jogged toward him.

“Hey,” the other man said, clasping his hand in a quick man-to-man shake when he reached the court. “How’s it going, Kyle?”

He shrugged. “You know.”

I’m going to be a father.

The thought resounded in his head like the echoing announcements in a sports arena. He tried to ignore it and said, “Ready to be the old farts who kick some seventeen-year-old butts?”

Jerome laughed. “You bet, man.”

Within a couple minutes they’d found more players and started a game. Kyle worked up a sweat. As the only white guy this afternoon—and one who was only five-eleven at that—he had to work extra hard to prove himself. And then there was the age thing. He and Jerome were thirty-two and thirty-six respectively. The teenagers here really did see them as old farts.

I’m going to be a father.

He jumped up and aimed for the hoop. The ball made a satisfying whoosh as it slid cleanly through; unlike some public courts, this one had nets hanging.

Jerome tagged him on the arm as they moved back out. “Good shot, buddy.”

“Thanks.”

I’m going to be a father. They played another thirty minutes before taking a break. Kyle walked over to the water fountain, breathing hard. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his forearm.

A few yards away children laughed and shouted as they pumped back and forth on the swings and climbed all over the brightly painted jungle gym.

Hell.

I’m going to be a father.

Jerome caught up with him as he leaned down for a drink. “Hey, old man,” he teased. “Too much for you?”

Kyle swallowed a mouthful of water. “I’m not the one who was gasping and wheezing on the court back there,” he said, and took another long gulp.

His friend laughed.

Kyle felt dizzy and weak. And it wasn’t because of the basketball game.

ANITA LOPEZ did not look forward to seeing her sister. She loved Melissa and usually enjoyed spending time together—but sometimes the tensions in their relationship were more than she wanted to deal with.

And sometimes her perfect, overachieving sister could be a royal pain.

This Friday morning, Anita feared, was going to be one of those times. Especially after she told her the news. Without a doubt Melissa would flip.

Oh, she wouldn’t shout and wave her arms in the air, or swear, or do any of the things most people did when they flew off the handle. No, Melissa would stay completely calm. Her very noticeable lack of a strong response would signal her flipped-outedness.

Through the kitchen window of her ground-floor apartment Anita saw her sister’s white Honda pull up in the parking lot.

She’d been washing dishes from breakfast. She rinsed the last plate and wiped off her hands.

Melissa had almost reached the front stoop when Anita opened the door. They greeted each other with the genuine affection they shared—despite the issues between them—and Anita ushered her inside.

“I made some herbal tea to take with us,” Anita said, “since I noticed you stopped drinking coffee last month.”

“Thanks, that sounds great.”

“Just let me get a wool sweater. It’s a bit nippy out today, isn’t it?”

When she returned from the bedroom, Melissa had retrieved the two insulated travel mugs from the kitchen counter. She handed one to Anita. “What’s Troy up to this morning?”

“Working for his brother at the hardware store. Didn’t I tell you?” She grabbed her backpack and keys from the dining-room table and they headed outside. “He started working there to pick up some extra cash.”

“Mmm. I don’t remember hearing about it.”

They passed Melissa’s car. They were going to shop at a little commercial area a mile or so away, and Melissa had suggested walking in order to get some exercise.

Anita shrugged as they reached the street and started off down the sidewalk. “I probably forgot to mention it. I’ve been…distracted lately.”

“Painting a lot?”

“No, it’s just…” She swallowed. How did you tell your younger sister, who’d never made a mistake in her life, that you’d gotten yourself knocked up? “Anyway, um, Troy had to leave before you got here. He said to say hello and he’ll see you on Sunday at Dad’s.”

Melissa glanced at her. “He’s going to be there?”

So far Troy hadn’t made a lot of appearances at the Lopez family dinners. Their old-fashioned father hadn’t quite accepted the man who was living in sin with her. She and Troy had decided to take it slowly instead of forcing the matter.

But now everything had changed.

“Melissa,” she began, “Troy and I have some news…” Damn it. Her voice sounded high-pitched and shaky, but she had to go on. “That’s why he’s coming to dinner on Sunday—so we can tell Dad together.”

“What kind of news? Do you mind telling me now or did you want to wait?”

“No, I don’t want to wait.”

Melissa watched her for a moment as they walked along the busy street. “So…?”

“So, it’s just that—well—I know you’re not going to like this,” she blurted, “but I’m—I’m going to have a baby.”

Silence met her announcement. She was afraid to meet her sister’s gaze, which was silly.

Anita flipped up the spout on her travel mug and took a long gulp of tea. She kept waiting for Melissa to say something in that composed, even voice of hers but the silence continued, stretching out between them. They crossed an intersection and walked half a block.

Finally she risked a glance.

Good Lord, she thought. Her sister’s face had gone pale. All the blood had drained out, giving her a deathly look. She was really upset. It was even worse than Anita had expected.

“Mel?” Anita asked.

Her sister cleared her throat. “Um, this is a surprise,” she said. Her voice sounded funny.

“I know, but it just happened.”

“It…wasn’t a planned pregnancy, you mean?”

“No, it wasn’t.” Anita heard the defensive edge in her voice, but she couldn’t help it. Cripes. She wished this didn’t have to be such a huge, awful, upsetting thing. She wanted it to be no big deal—if not a wonderful, joyous, exciting thing…

“And Troy is the father?” Melissa asked.

She crossed her arms. “Of course he is. I’m only a few weeks pregnant.”

“I’m sorry,” Melissa said. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I just wanted to be sure I understood.”

“Well, you can be sure.” She sounded petulant. Stupid to let herself get like this, she thought. Hadn’t she wanted to convince Melissa she could be a mature adult? “Look,” she said, sighing, “I didn’t mean to say it like that. But I’m positive Troy’s the father. I haven’t been with anyone else since early spring.”

“I see.” Melissa stared down at her insulated mug, still sealed shut. “How does he feel about it?”

“Very good, actually. He’s happy. So am I, for that matter.” And I wish you were, too, she thought. Jeez, Melissa, why can’t you just be happy for me?

“What are your plans?” Melissa asked.

“Well, I’m not having an abortion, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Are the two of you going to get married?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, but later. I don’t want to have a hasty wedding just because I’m pregnant.”

Melissa didn’t reply. She took a sip of tea, her movements a bit too precise as she opened the spout and raised it to her lips. “Mmm,” she said. “This is good.”

“Thanks. It’s my own recipe. Helps with the morning sickness.”

“You—have morning sickness?”

“Yes. Doesn’t everyone? At least the first trimester, I mean?”

Melissa paused, her expression unreadable. “Actually, no.”

“Oh.” Anita shrugged. “Well, I’m one of the lucky ones, I guess.”

“They say it helps to eat several small meals. And to take your time getting out of bed in the morning.”

“Okay, I’ll try that. Someone also suggested those wrist bands for motion sickness.”

“I’ve heard that, too.”

Why on earth, Anita thought, were they talking about something as unimportant as morning sickness right now? Especially when Melissa still looked as if she’d been attacked by a bloodsucking vampire.

How inane.

“You know,” Melissa said, “if you and Troy got married, that might be the best thing for the baby.”

And it would certainly be easier on Dad.

Of course she didn’t say it, but Anita heard the unspoken message. Though he didn’t attend church every Sunday, their father was still very Catholic. His beliefs remained traditional. It had been bad enough when Anita announced she was moving in with her boyfriend. For her to have a baby out of wedlock…

She inhaled deeply. “Look, I know it’s going to be hard for everyone to adjust to this. But I’m not ready to get married. In the long run I think it will be better for everyone, including the baby, if its parents don’t rush into a premature commitment.”

She braced herself to hear Melissa’s excruciatingly logical, well-measured, intelligent concerns. To hear her point out how poorly timed—how very premature—this pregnancy was. And, after all, if she and Troy were going to keep the child, to accept this sudden change in their lives and raise their son or daughter together, then why not go ahead and marry?

Anita knew she couldn’t explain why she felt the way she did. She wasn’t even sure she wouldn’t be ready to marry Troy before the baby came. She just knew she didn’t want to do it right now.

And she wasn’t going to do it just because society said she should.

Surprisingly, though, Melissa didn’t say a thing. Her face was still bloodless and pinched—attesting to her ongoing freak-out—but she made no attempts to reason with her.

Anita frowned. She’d also expected Melissa to ask how she’d gotten pregnant in the first place.

She’d dreaded that moment, dreaded the censure she would see in her sister’s eyes, because she and Troy hadn’t used contraception that night.

They’d been careless. They’d run out of condoms and forgotten to buy a new box, and they’d foolishly decided to take the risk.

But Melissa didn’t ask about that, either. She seemed, in fact, to have shifted to a different plane of reality. Her eyes had a glazed quality Anita had never seen before and she walked like an automaton.

“Jeez,” Anita said. “Are you okay?”

Melissa blinked and slowly focused on her.

“Hello? Is my sister in there?”

“I’m fine. Sorry, Anita. I’m just…I’m just…”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“No, probably not,” Melissa murmured. “All right, it isn’t true. I’m not fine. It’s just so complicated.”

“I know it is. But you have to trust me to work it all out—on my own. I can handle it, Sis. Please believe me.”

“You don’t understand.” Melissa shook her head. She stared straight ahead and when they reached another intersection she groped for the crosswalk button without looking at it.

“What is it that I don’t understand?”

“It’s not just because you’re pregnant. It’s more than that. Oh, Anita. I’m pregnant, too.”