Читать книгу His Woman, His Child - BEVERLY BARTON, Beverly Barton - Страница 9

Two

Lowell had been dead ten days. Ten of the worst days of her life. All their plans for the future had died with him—the happy family life that they had envisioned when their baby was born. But Lowell would never see their child—the child he had so desperately wanted. A child that he had known she wanted more than anything on earth.

When the doctors told them that it was unlikely, if not impossible, that Lowell would ever impregnate her, he had been the one to embrace the idea of artificial insemination. She had been reluctant at the thought of a stranger fathering her child, but she’d become even more reluctant when Lowell had suggested asking Hank Bishop to donate his sperm.

“Hank’s said more than once that he’s not the marrying kind,” Lowell had told her. “He doesn’t want a wife and kids.”

“What makes you think Hank would agree to—to donate his sperm so that we can have a baby?”

“Because Hank thinks he owes me for saving his life when we were kids. Besides, he’s the only man I know I’d want to be the biological father of our child. Hank’s smart, a real man’s man and the best friend I’ve ever had.”

At first she had refused to even consider Hank as the donor, but eventually Lowell had worn down her resistance. Lowell and your own foolish girlhood dreams! an inner voice taunted.

“Need any help in here, Mrs. Redman?” Deputy Nancy Steele asked as she poked her head inside the door.

“No, thanks, Nancy. I’ve got just about everything packed away.”

“Well, when you’re ready to put the boxes in your van, let me know and some of us will take them out for you.”

“All right. Thank you.”

“Sure thing.”

“Oh, Nancy?”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to leave a message for Hank Bishop.”

“Certainly. We’re expecting him sometime this afternoon,” Nancy replied. “Do you want to leave a written message or a—”

“Verbal. Please tell Hank that I wish him well and that I appreciate—” Susan’s voice cracked. She appreciated what? That he was going to be in Crooked Oak for the next year? That he had promised her quite vehemently that he was going to be around to look after her and the baby? His baby! He’d let her know in no uncertain terms that, with Lowell dead, he intended to take over Lowell’s responsibilities for her and the child.

“I understand, Mrs. Redman.” Nancy looked at Susan with pity in her eyes. “But I’m sure Mr. Bishop...er, Sheriff Bishop will be stopping by your house to check on you.”

Dear God, that’s what I’m afraid of, Susan thought. No one knows that this child I’m carrying isn’t Lowell’s biological child—no one except the doctors in Nashville, Hank Bishop and Sheila. Would the townspeople believe Hank’s attention to her was nothing more than a good friend looking out for his buddy’s widow?

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right. After all, Hank was Lowell’s oldest and dearest friend. It would be only natural that he’d keep an eye on me, especially...”

“We’re all so sorry about Lowell. He was the best man I ever knew. But you have his child and that should be a comfort to you.”

“Yes, it is.” Susan almost choked on the lie. But this isn’t Lowell’s baby, she wanted to scream. Don’t you see, that’s the problem?

“I’ll go so you can finish up in here. Let me know when you’re ready to leave.” Nancy exited the office and closed the door behind her.

Susan sat in Lowell’s big, swivel desk chair and glanced around his office. No, not Lowell’s office any longer. Not after today. Appointed by the governor, Hank Bishop would be sworn in as the new Marshall County sheriff tomorrow morning.

She should have cleared out Lowell’s things days ago, but somehow she hadn’t been able to bring herself to face the task. To clean out his desk, to remove his certificates and pictures from the walls, to remove his books and magazines from the small bookshelf in the corner.

She lifted the silver frame that lay atop one of the open boxes on the desk. A smiling couple looked back at her from the photograph. Her wedding picture. Lowell and she had been very happy that day, the first day of their married life together. Lowell had loved her deeply and had been completely devoted to her. He’d been the kindest, most considerate lover, and her wedding night had been a prelude to many nights of gentle lovemaking.

Susan caressed Lowell’s image with her fingertips. “Oh, you sweet, sweet man. What am I going to do without you? You were my protector. My shield against the world. You kept me safe and secure. As long as I had you, I didn’t have to be afraid of...”

She couldn’t say it out loud. Couldn’t voice her greatest fear. But the secret she’d kept buried in her heart for so long could no longer be ignored. Lowell couldn’t save her from herself anymore. He couldn’t save her from the wild, illogical passion she’d always felt for Hank Bishop.

She clutched the picture frame in her hands, laid her forehead on the glass and wept.

A few minutes later Hank Bishop found her weeping when he opened the door to Lowell’s office. He’d gotten an early start this morning and arrived in Crooked Oak before noon. When Deputy Steele told him that Susan was clearing out Lowell’s office, he walked right in, hoping to offer his help.

He stood in the doorway and watched her as she cried. He wanted to go over and take her into his arms. Dammit, why was it that Susan Williams Redman was the only woman on earth who affected him this way? He had always liked the ladies, although he’d never been a ladies’ man like his brothers Caleb and Jake. And the ladies liked him. They had often commented on his gentlemanly treatment of them before, during and after an affair. But only his best friend’s widow brought forth all the possessive, protective, caring instincts within him.

It’s because she’s carrying your child.

Damn! He’d been a fool to agree to Lowell’s request. But he had owed Lowell. And when he’d agreed to donate his sperm for the artificial insemination, he’d never considered the possibility that Lowell wouldn’t be around to be a father to the child.

Lowell would have made any kid a great dad. The best father in the world. Unlike himself, Lowell had been raised in a normal, middle-class family and had inherited his own father’s wonderful parenting instincts. He, on the other hand, would make a lousy father. As lousy as his own had been before he died.

Hank had always known he wasn’t cut out to be a husband and father.

So, how the hell was he going to handle being a father to the child Susan was carrying? Taking responsibility for that child was the last thing he wanted—but take responsibility he would. Hank Bishop didn’t shrug off his obligations—he never had and he never would.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” he asked, his voice low and calm.

She jerked her head up and glared at him. “Hank!”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I didn’t think you’d be getting in until this afternoon.” Standing on shaky legs, she smoothed the wrinkles out of her skirt and nervously eyed Hank. “I was trying to get everything cleared out before you got here.”

“There’s no rush about that,” he said, glancing at the three filled boxes on the desk. “Looks like you’re about finished.”

“Yes, I am. I was just about to start putting things in my minivan.”

The moment Susan lifted one of the boxes, Hank rushed forward and took it away from her. Gasping, she stared at him with wide, surprised eyes.

“You shouldn’t be lifting anything heavy, should you?” He glanced meaningfully at her still flat stomach. “I mean, since you’re pregnant.”

Instinctively she laid her hand over her belly. “The boxes aren’t that heavy.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he told her. “I’ll take them out to your van for you.”

“Thanks. I really should be going.” She glanced around the room. “Being here in Lowell’s office makes me sad. Just thinking about the fact that he’ll never—” She choked back a sob.

“Yeah, I know.” Carrying the box under his arm, Hank opened the door and stood back, waiting for Susan to exit. “I promise you that we’ll bring Carl Bates in to see that he stands trial for what he did.”

Susan walked past Hank, accelerating her steps so that she wouldn’t be near him any longer than necessary. He followed her out to her Dodge Caravan, lowered the back hatch and loaded the box inside.

“I’ll get the other two boxes,” he said. “You go ahead and get inside out of the cold.”

She nodded, got in the van and waited. When Hank had the other two boxes of Lowell’s belongings loaded, he knocked on the window. Susan lowered the window and looked directly at him.

“I’ll follow you home and help you store Lowell’s things.”

“That isn’t necessary, I’ll—”

“We need to talk, Susan.” He scanned the sidewalk, noting that several passersby had slowed their gaits and were staring at Susan and him. He nodded and smiled and the onlookers returned his smile. “We need to talk, privately.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

He slid behind the wheel of his Lexus, backed out of the parking place and followed Susan’s silver-gray Caravan down Main Street and onto the highway leading out of town.

He had thought long and hard about what he wanted to say to Susan—what he had to say to her. He just hoped she would listen to reason and accept the help he intended to offer her. No one in this town ever needed to know that the baby was his, but he had every intention of making sure his son or daughter was well taken care of. After he fulfilled Lowell’s term as sheriff, he planned to return to the Bureau and resume his career. But he could be a godfather to his child, even if he had to do it long distance most of the time. He’d visit Crooked Oak occasionally, and when the child grew older, he or she could stay with him in Alexandria from time to time.

Hank pulled into the driveway directly behind Susan, got out and helped her from the van. “Why don’t you go on inside? I’ll get the boxes.”

“I’m going to store most of the things in the basement,” she said. “I’ve already cleared off a shelf down there.”

Ten minutes later, Hank came up from the basement and found Susan in the kitchen. She had remained upstairs while he stored Lowell’s things. He suspected that she couldn’t bear to see those items banished into storage. The only thing she had removed from the boxes before he’d taken them to the basement was the wedding picture Lowell had kept on his desk.

Hank remembered that day. A beautiful autumn day. A simple church wedding with friends and family. A deliriously happy groom. A lovely, shy bride. And a best man who had thought, more than once, about kidnapping that innocent bride.

“I’ve made coffee. I’m afraid it’s decaf,” Susan said. “You take yours black, don’t you? No sugar.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Thanks.” He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat, waiting while she poured the coffee into a bright red ceramic mug.

She poured herself a cup, added sugar and then sat across from Hank. “Thank you for putting away the boxes for me. I wonder if you would do something else for me while you’re here?”

“Anything. Just ask.”

“Lowell’s clothes.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t think I can bear to—”

“I’ll do it. Just tell me what you want done with them.”

“The homeless shelter in Marshallton can use them.”

She sipped the hot coffee.

“I’ll take them over there myself.”

“I don’t know what to do with his uniforms.” She surveyed Hank’s big body. “They’re too small for you.”

“Do you want me to take them with me, too?”

“Yes. Everything. Please. Even his underwear and socks and... Lowell would have wanted them to go to someone who could use them.”

“Lowell was a kindhearted man.”

“I was very lucky to have him for my husband.” I wanted you, she wanted to tell him, not Lowell. But I was too afraid of you to ever pursue you. I knew instinctively that I wasn’t strong enough for a man like you, that you’d devour me whole. I settled for a safer, tamer man. A man who worshiped the ground I walked on. You never would have loved me the way Lowell did. And I couldn’t wait forever for another Prince Charming.

“He told me more than once how lucky he was that you had married him.” Hank laid his hands flat on the table, palms down. And every time he told me how wonderful you were, I wanted you all the more.

“I loved him,” Susan said, her voice soft and low.

“I’m sure you did. And you must know how much he loved you.”

“I tried to be a good wife to him.”

“You were.”

“He wanted to be a perfect husband,” she said. “It almost killed him when the doctors told us that he could never...that he was sterile.”

“He wanted to give you a child. That’s why he came to me.”

Susan lifted her head and looked Hank directly in the eye. “You aren’t going to tell anyone that my baby isn’t Lowell’s, are you?”

“You don’t want anyone to know the child is mine, do you?”

She shook her head. “No. What would people around here think if they knew? As Lowell’s friend, you and I can have a friendly relationship and you can be my child’s favorite Uncle Hank. But if people knew you were my baby’s father, they’d watch us and judge us and—”

“I’m going to tell Caleb,” he said. “No one else.”

“Promise?”

It took a great deal of strength not to reach across the table and grab her small, delicate hands, but Hank resisted the almost overwhelming urge.

“Susan, why are you so afraid of me? Don’t you know that I’d never hurt you?” Every time she looked at him, he saw the fear in her eyes. Was there something more to her fear than not wanting anyone to know the truth about their child? If so, what was it?

“But you could hurt me,” she said, gazing into her lap, letting her long lashes shade her eyes. “If you don’t keep my secret...our secret. Yours and mine and Lowell’s.”

“I want to tell my brother, but I promise no one else will know.”

Susan gulped in a large swallow of air and nodded her head affirmatively. “All right. Tell Caleb. Sheila has been my one confidante, so...”

“This isn’t what I wanted, either.” Hank shoved the untouched mug of coffee away from him, scooted back his chair and stood. “I never planned on being a father. The last thing I need in my life is a child. The plan was for that baby—” he glanced at her stomach “—to be Lowell’s and yours. Not mine.”

“I haven’t asked you to take responsibility for this child,” she told him, her cheeks flushed with emotion. “I don’t expect you to be a father to—”

Hank slammed his fist into the palm of his hand, creating a loud smack. Susan jumped.

“Dammit, don’t you see? Without Lowell around, that kid isn’t going to have a father unless I step in and do the right thing.”

“And just what is the ‘right thing,’ Hank?” She watched him pace the floor in her kitchen, his big, lean body stalking back and forth like an animal trying to escape a captor’s trap. And that had to be the way he saw her and her baby—a threat to his much-loved freedom.

“I don’t know.”

Yes, you do, some inner voice urged.

The right thing to do would be to marry Susan and for the two of them to raise their child in a family unit. But heaven help him, he wasn’t willing to put his head in that particular noose—no matter how desirable he found Susan or how determined he was to not abandon his child.

“The right thing is for me to do what I can to take care of you while you’re pregnant and then to take financial responsibility for my child.”

“I see.” Susan eased back her chair, stood and faced Hank. “You’ve undoubtedly given this a great deal of thought.”

“Look at it from a logical standpoint. You’re a pregnant widow, without parents or brothers and sisters to help you. As Lowell’s best friend, no one is going to think it odd that I’ve elected myself as your guardian or the child’s godfather.”

“Yes, you’re right, of course. And I know I should be grateful that you’re willing to give up a year of your life, to take a leave of absence from the FBI and—”

“I don’t want your gratitude,” he told her. “I want your cooperation.”

He infuriated her with his cool logic. So calm and controlled. So unemotional. She was sure he hadn’t shed one single tear for Lowell. Hank wasn’t the kind of man who cried. Not ever. No matter how much he was suffering.

Tallie had told her once that of her three brothers, Hank was the most bitter and resentful about having been raised poor and parentless. Where Tallie had no memory of their parents and Caleb only vague memories, Hank and Jake did remember. Their father had been a gambler and a drinker and they’d moved from pillar to post and had often been run out of town by the local authorities. When their parents had been killed in an accident, the four Bishop children had come to Crooked Oak to live with their paternal grandfather, a good man but not a warm and loving parent by any stretch of the imagination.

“Hank won’t ever marry and have kids,” Tallie had told her. “He’ll never take the chance that he might not be as perfect at fatherhood as he is at everything else.”

Remembering her friend’s words, Susan sighed. “All right, Hank. I’ll cooperate.” She held out her hand, pretending that she was as unemotional and in control of the situation as he was. “You’ll watch over me until the baby’s born and then you’ll be his or her godfather, doting ‘Uncle Hank.’ But no one, other than Sheila and Caleb, will ever know Lowell isn’t the father of my child.”

The thing Hank wanted most at that very minute was to touch Susan, to take her hand and pull her close. And it was the last thing on earth he should do. He stared at her proffered hand—a gesture to seal the bargain.

She waited, shifting uncomfortably several times before he reached out and took her hand in his. The moment his skin touched hers, she felt an electrical current zing through her body. She closed her eyes momentarily and prayed for the strength to not succumb to the desire she felt for this man. How could she be so wanton? Lowell hadn’t been dead two weeks!

Hank held her hand and gazed into her big blue eyes. He should be damned to hell for what he was thinking—for what he was feeling. If he acted on his desire, he’d scare her to death and offend her so grievously that she’d never forgive him.

He shook her hand, then released it and stepped away from her. “I’ll come back over tonight and pack up Lowell’s clothes.”

“All right. Thank you.”

“If you need me, I’ll be in the sheriffs office this afternoon, and later, I’ll be out at Caleb and Sheila’s. I’m staying with them temporarily, until I find a place to live.”

“I’ll see you to the door.”

When he turned around, she followed him. He didn’t pause until he stepped out on the front porch, then he faced her briefly, smiled weakly and nodded farewell. She stood in the open doorway and watched him as he drove off down the road.

Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes, dampening her cheeks in their descent. Life was unfair. So terribly unfair. She’d taken every precaution to keep her unrequited love for Hank Bishop from becoming an obsession. She had loved him from afar when she’d been a teenager, mooned over him the way some girls mooned over rock stars. But he had never noticed her, except as Tallie’s little friend, and deep within her she had known it was for the best. As much as she adored Hank, she was afraid of the way he made her feel.

Aunt Alice had insisted she always be the perfect little lady. No vulgar displays. No immoral thoughts or feelings. “Sex” was an unspoken word—a strictly taboo subject in her aunt’s house. What she felt for Hank had been wrong, and probably sinful, and had certainly frightened her. So, she had dated the safe boys—the ones who didn’t make butterflies soar in her stomach or create tingling sensations in the most intimate parts of her body.

Hank had left Crooked Oak and she had prayed for Prince Charming to come along and sweep her off her feet, to make her fall in love with him and give her a happily-ever-after life. And she had been sure that she wouldn’t feel ashamed of or frightened by the way Prince Charming made her feel.

At thirty, she’d given up hope of this sweet and safe Prince Charming and settled for sweet and safe Lowell Redman. She had loved Lowell. And her feelings for him had never scared her, never frightened her, never consumed her to the point of madness.

No, those emotions had been reserved for Hank Bishop. The man whose child was now growing inside her body.