Читать книгу Her Baby's Father - Anne Haven - Страница 11

JENNIFER BROUGHT IN the bare minimum: her toiletries and a few clothes. She’d allowed Ross to talk her into staying at his house but knew she shouldn’t get too comfortable. This was just for one night. It would save her fifty bucks, but tomorrow she would still have to find an apartment.

And Ross’s offer of a place to sleep didn’t mean she was now one of the people he cared about and protected. All it meant was that he was a gentleman, a considerate host, or perhaps that he felt he owed her a small favor due to their past acquaintanceship.

The room he’d given her was at the back of the house, directly over the kitchen, with windows that looked down into the garden. It had pale-peach walls. A cream-striped duvet covered the double bed and the spindled headboard wore the soft patina of age. Summer evening light slipped in the window and warmed the eastern side of the room.

Much better than an anonymous motel, she admitted.

Jennifer took a quick shower in the attached bathroom, which also connected to another guest room. She dried off with a butter-soft towel and dressed in fresh clothes, feeling a lot more human without the layer of dust and grit from her drive up from San Francisco. After running a comb through her still-damp hair, she joined Ross in the kitchen.

He stood at the island, snapping the ends off a pile of green beans. “Feeling refreshed?” he asked.

“Mmm-hmm.” She walked over and took a seat. The dog, Frank, was curled up on a cushion by the back door. She wagged her stumpy tail at Jennifer and then put her head down on her paws.

“I overestimated the contents of my pantry,” Ross said. “I need to run out to the store for some tomato sauce. Do you want to come along? You’re welcome to stay here if you don’t.”

She slipped off her stool. “I’ll come.”

He was her child’s uncle. To spend some time with him, to learn more about his life, wouldn’t be so bad, right?

Ross wiped his hands on a tea towel and led her to the front door, where he grabbed his keys and let them both out. He glanced over as she descended the steps beside him, not offering to help but seeming alert to the possibility of her needing it. She wasn’t so pregnant that her movements had become that difficult, but she knew the day would arrive.

He opened the passenger door of his Camry for her. As she settled herself in the seat and fastened her safety belt she studied his hospital ID card, which was clipped to the dash. The photo was a few years old. His dark hair was longer and he wore a haggard expression. He had deep bags under his eyes. It looked as if it had been taken in the middle of the night, partway through a grueling shift.

She watched him for a minute as he drove down the hill, leaving the residential area and entering the outskirts of downtown Portland. “Is being a doctor what you expected?”

Ross smiled a little ruefully, perhaps remembering things he’d said to her a long time ago. “I was an idealist, wasn’t I?”

“Reality is different?”

“Reality is always different. Especially from what you imagine it’ll be when you’re barely out of your teens.”

“So, what’s it like?”

“Harder. Sometimes more boring. You wouldn’t think so, but even emergencies can feel routine sometimes. And I can’t say I like the business aspects of medicine.”

“But helping people?”

“Oh, that’s gratifying,” he said. “Especially at the free clinic my friend Kyle runs.”

“Where’s that?”

“Old Town. We get lots of patients who are homeless. Also people with low incomes who can’t afford any other kind of health care.”

He talked about it in a matter-of-fact tone, and answered several more questions. She sensed he wouldn’t want her to make a big deal about his volunteer service there, but she was, actually, impressed. Impressed he’d found a way to follow through on some of the ideals he’d professed nine years ago.

“How do you have time to do that?” she asked as they pulled into the little grocery store parking lot. “I thought doctors worked eighty-hour weeks.”

“I worked that much as a resident. Now it only feels that way. I spend less than fifty hours a week at the hospital, though I have to do a bit more at home. Paperwork and keeping up on my reading.”

Ross explained how the shifts were set up at Northwest Hospital. He had day shifts for a few weeks and then a series of night shifts, with a break in between to adjust his internal clock. She’d caught him at the end of a night series, so he had a few days free.

They did their shopping and returned home. Ross picked up the meal preparations where he’d left off. Half an hour later he presented a meal of chicken, pasta and green beans.

As they ate they ranged over many subjects, but stayed away, as if by mutual consent, from anything that had to do with babies or sleazy brothers or family illnesses. In the security and ease of Ross’s house, Jennifer allowed herself to imagine, briefly, what it would be like to have had a child the traditional way. The way she’d always fantasized about. To be married and live in a nice house. To plan to conceive a baby and enjoy the act of making it. To share in the expectations and fears of pregnancy, to raise a child together in a house like this one…

Dreams. Just dreams. As Ross had said, reality was always different. She shouldn’t waste her time when her life was so unlike the fantasy, when she had a meeting with her baby’s father in less than two hours—the father who was married to someone else and expecting another baby.

So she let herself enjoy the rest of the meal and even Ross’s company. But she didn’t fool herself that the interlude was anything other than a temporary glimpse into another person’s life.

Nine years earlier

I’ve heard all about Ross Griffin by the time he gets home from college. Drew calls him Mr. Perfect because he always gets a four-point, does tons of community service, was student body president in high school, excels at sports, speaks two foreign languages, gets his car’s oil changed every three thousand miles without fail, and never, ever leaves dirty dishes in the kitchen sink. You can tell Drew kind of resents him for it, but you can tell he worships him, too. He tries to be like Ross. Like, he’s into this weird band called The Others that nobody in high school’s ever heard of, and three weeks ago when we went into Ross’s room to check out his vintage skateboard I saw an old concert ticket sitting on his desk.

Molly and Heather think Ross is gorgeous. But I’ve seen pictures of him all over the Griffin house and I don’t see what all the fuss is about. Sure, he could pass for that British actor, what’s-his-name, but so what? Drew’s better looking. Plus he’s laid-back and fun, while Ross is probably an uptight prig.

We’re sitting on the deck, Brian and Heather and Drew and I, when Ross gets home from a shopping trip with Mr. and Mrs. Griffin. He flew back from Cambridge a couple of days ago, but I haven’t run into him yet.

They come out onto the deck to say hello and I try to stand up because I’ve been sitting on Drew’s lap, which seems a little trashy in front of his family, especially when I see his mom’s gaze go to his arms around my waist. But Drew tightens his grasp, so I’m stuck there, embarrassed, when I meet his big brother.

Ross greets Brian and Heather and then turns his attention to me. “Jennifer, right? Nice to meet you.” He actually offers me his hand.

I don’t know if college kids go around shaking each other’s hands when they meet, but I’m not used to that, at least not from anyone under thirty. Which is probably why I get such a funny, off-balance feeling inside, as if I just miscalculated where the ground was when I stepped off a ladder.

His hand is big and warm, his grip firm. He doesn’t hold mine any longer than necessary or seem particularly stirred by the experience of meeting me.

“How are you?” I say, trying to look as comfortable as I can while I sit on his brother’s lap.

We all chat for a moment. I ask a few polite questions about his trip back from college and he asks where I lived before Portland, and then Mrs. Griffin reminds Drew to keep the screen door closed so insects don’t get into the house—he’d left it open this afternoon—and she and her husband go back inside.

Ross sits down on one of the dark-metal deck chairs his mom special-ordered from Europe last month. Drew and Brian start to talk about their new game systems and nobody’s talking to me anymore, so I just stare at Mr. Perfect, curious to see if he’s as arrogant as I had expected.

“So, how was your semester?” Heather asks him.

From her voice and expression it’s obvious she’s got a crush on the guy. I hope he’s too self-absorbed to notice, because otherwise I’m going to feel embarrassed for her.

Heather gushes at him and he answers all her questions about Cambridge and Harvard and what his dorm was like. He’s perfectly nice about it, but I start to get the feeling he thinks she’s a ditz. That’s not really fair. Heather may not be a super-brain, but she’s not stupid. Plus, she’s nice.

Finally I open my mouth to get into the conversation, just because I’m feeling left out. “What’s your major?”

Heather answers before he can. “He’s going to be a doctor,” she says, as though he’s already asked her to marry him or something.

Ross frowns, and I’m not really sure why. He’s hard to figure out. I can’t tell if he’s annoyed with Heather and me or just distracted.

A couple of minutes later he catches Drew’s attention. “Sorry to break this up, but we should be ready to go in about ten minutes.”

Drew gives him a blank stare.

“Grandma,” Ross prompts.

“Oh, man. I totally forgot.”

I give Drew a “huh?” look over my shoulder—I’m still sitting on his lap—and he says, “We have to go visit my grandma. Mom promised her we’d both come by this afternoon. I completely forgot about it.”

Ross says, “Can you be ready?” His gaze takes in Drew’s swimming trunks and faded Martha’s Vineyard T-shirt with the black dog on it. He’s already dressed appropriately, of course, in gray pants and a crisp white shirt.

Drew grimaces. “I’ve got to run Jenny home.”

His brother doesn’t seem to like this, and now I feel as if he’s annoyed directly at me. I’m going to make him late for his visit to his grandmother.

“I could ride the bus,” I say, scooting off Drew when he lets go of me to check his watch. I stand up.

Drew looks relieved, but I’m a little bummed. It’s less than ten minutes to my apartment by car, but a lot longer than that on the bus, especially since the stop is several blocks away. But I don’t want him to get in trouble.

Ross shakes his head, sighing. “Drive her home,” he tells Drew. “It’s not that big a deal. I’ll just call Grandma and let her know we’ll be late.”

“Thanks,” I say. But I don’t feel he’s being all that nice and I can tell he really is annoyed with me. “I’m ready to go right now.”

Drew grabs his keys and we take off, walking out to the cars with Brian and Heather, and I’m happy to see the last of his brother for a while.

The present

DREW HAD A BAD FEELING as he drove from his home in Vancouver across the Columbia River, down I-5, across the Willamette and up to Ross’s house—a feeling this wasn’t going to be a social call.

He pulled into the driveway and parked behind a battered station wagon with California plates and a San Francisco neighborhood parking permit. It took him a second, then he remembered seeing it at Jennifer Burns’s apartment and wondering how anyone could drive such a hunk of junk.

Glancing in the windows, he saw what appeared to be all her worldly possessions. Jesus. Was she moving here or simply stopping by on her way somewhere else?

She’d better not be the reason for this little visit. He’d expected her to figure out their night together was a one-time thing. Not that he would object to a repeat, but that started to smack of complications. And he didn’t like complications.

He knocked on the door, realizing that if this was about her, it would hardly be about starting up a relationship. Ross wasn’t exactly the type to act as a broker for his brother’s extramarital affairs. Hell, if he even realized there were affairs he’d go ballistic.

Ross opened the door, his features tense, his eyes cool. Drew realized instantly that he knew about San Francisco.

Shit, Drew thought. Just what he needed today—to be called on the carpet by his saintly older brother.

Ross stepped back to let him enter. A small brown dog shot into the front hall on three legs. The crazed-looking Chihuahua spent more time moving in circles than going straight forward.

“Yours?” he asked. It would be just like his brother to take on a crippled dog.

“Kyle and Melissa’s.”

Drew didn’t spend a lot of time socializing with Ross’s friends. No time at all, in fact. But he’d heard Ross talk about these particular friends and their daughter. They seemed to have a perfect life. Drew wouldn’t be surprised, though, if one of them walked into his law office someday seeking a divorce. Love was fun, but life was real. He didn’t have a lot of illusions left about human nature, his included.

“So what’s this all about?” he asked, pretending he didn’t know.

“Jennifer Burns.”

“Yeah? I saw her car. How is she?”

“She’s in the study. Why don’t you go see for yourself.”