Читать книгу Drive-By Daddy - Cheryl Anne Porter - Страница 14

“OH, LOOK…there she is. She’s so tiny and pink and sweet. I just love her so much.”

“I’ll bet you do.” Tom smiled at the pride evident in Darcy’s voice and longing expression. She’d make a great mother, he could tell. She had all the right attributes, ones he could admire. He felt qualified to draw that conclusion, too. After all, he’d observed Darcy with the baby from the first moment the little girl had come into the world. “She sure is a pretty little thing, with all that dark hair.”

Darcy sighed. “I know.” Then she leaned in toward him and whispered, “I think she’s the prettiest baby in the whole nursery, don’t you?”

Delighted with her whimsy, Tom whispered right back. “I sure do. I also think she’s the only baby in the whole nursery.”

Darcy gave a mock what-do-you-know roll of her eyes as she turned to once again stare longingly through the thick glass that separated her from her baby. “You do think she’s pretty, though, right?”

Tom turned his gaze from the pink-blanket-wrapped baby in the clear plastic crib to Darcy. Memorizing her profile, he said, “I think she’s beautiful.”

A big smile on her face, Darcy turned his way. “Yes, she—”

She caught him staring at her. He didn’t look away. He probably should have, he knew, but he didn’t. It was too late now. Darcy’s expression sobered, and became one of awareness. Intense awareness. She looked away first, lowering her brown-eyed gaze to the windowsill, where she rubbed a finger along its narrow ledge. Instantly, Tom felt bad. He’d embarrassed her. That hadn’t been his intention. “Darcy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No. It’s okay.” She met his gaze. “Really. I thought it was…nice that you’d look at me that way.”

Tom tried for humor to cover this embarrassing moment of possibly unrequited attraction. “Nice, huh? The next thing I know, you’ll just want to be my friend. And then I’ll have to go out and shoot myself.”

“Gosh, I hope not. Think of how bad I’d feel.”

How nice of her…and how noncommital. Tom decided he was right—she wasn’t attracted to him. He suddenly felt like the world’s biggest fool. Could he have made her any more uncomfortable? “Look, I shouldn’t have said anything like that, Darcy. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I shouldn’t be coming on to a woman who only yesterday—”

“No. It’s fine. Seriously. I’m very flattered.”

That only made him feel worse. “Great. I flattered you.” Tom shook his head. “I need to stick with horses and cattle. Or maybe that’s my problem. Maybe I’ve been around them too long, and I don’t know how to talk to a woman—”

Darcy pressed her hand against Tom’s lips, cutting off his words. “Hold on a minute, will you? Quit beating yourself up.” When Tom nodded, she took her hand away and smoothed it through her black hair. “I just meant I can’t believe you’d find me…attractive, is all. For heaven’s sake, look at me in this hospital garb. I must look a fright.”

“A fright?” Intensely relieved—all she’d been worried about was her appearance when here he’d been kicking himself for thinking he had his wires crossed—Tom folded his arms together over his chest and leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Not at all. Like I said, you’re beautiful.”

She smiled and still managed to look embarrassed. “Must be that new-mother glow, then.”

“Could be. But I doubt if that’s all it is.”

The wide-eyed, vulnerable look she sent him said she wanted to believe him…but couldn’t. Tom thought he understood, given her new single-mother status. The woman had enough on her plate without him adding to her woes. But still, and feeling disappointed somehow, as if the one moment in time for them to connect had slipped away, Tom silently watched her settle her gaze on the sleeping baby in the nursery. “Anyway, I think she looks like me.”

Still leaning against the wall, Tom turned to stare through the glass with her. “I guess I’d have to agree with you since her father’s not around for me to know what he looks like.”

The words were out before he could stop them.

Darcy jerked and Tom wanted to kick himself. Why had he brought up that man—the gutless son-of-a-gun who wouldn’t even acknowledge his own flesh and blood? Tom shook his head, as if to say he couldn’t believe his own stupidity. “Again, Darcy—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say something that jackass stupid.”

She waved her hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m getting used to it.” Then her eyes went big and round. “You know…everyone asks about my husband, what does he do, is he proud.” She looked down. “Things like that.” Then she raised her head and, dry-eyed, met his gaze. “So, it’s okay. Really.”

“No, it isn’t. How many times have I had to apologize to you already?”

She shrugged. “Almost as many as I’ve had to with you.”

“Well, thank God.” Tom offered a shy smile. “Want to start over—again?”

Her expression brightened. “Sure.”

Encouraged, Tom stuck his hand out for her to shake. “Howdy, ma’am. My name is Tom Harrison Elliott. From outside of Billings, Montana. My friends call me The Lone Ranger.”

Darcy laughed…a warm, throaty sound that went all over Tom…and grasped his hand. “Hi. Pleased to meet you. My name is Darcy Jean Alcott. From Buck-eye, Arizona. My friends call me Damsel in Distress.”

“Is that so? Well, Damsel, that’s a mighty fine baby girl you have yourself there.” Without releasing Darcy’s hand, which felt small and warm clasped within his, Tom nodded toward Montana Skye, who was now awake and crying heartily.

Darcy instantly sobered, pulling her hand away. A uniformed nurse came out of a backroom inside the small nursery and hurried over to pick up the baby and soothe her. Next to Tom, Darcy pressed herself against the glass and made a mewling sound that said she wanted to hold her child herself. Tom’s heart went out to her, but he didn’t know what to do. Just then, the nurse looked up and saw them there. Immediately she came to the window with the baby and held her up, so they could see her. Tom felt pride well in his chest and sudden emotion clog his throat. The redfaced baby’s clenched fists shook with her squalling displeasure.

Darcy grabbed Tom’s sleeve. “What’s wrong with her?”

Tom covered her hand with his own. “I don’t rightly know, Darcy. But the nurse doesn’t look too worried. See? She’s smiling. It must be okay, then, wouldn’t you think?”

Darcy relaxed her grip on his sleeve. “I guess you’re right.” She slipped her hand out from under his and stuffed it in her robe pocket. Then she turned her frightened gaze his way. “What am I going to do in a day or two when you’re not around to tell me these things?”

Tom put an arm around her shoulders. “You’ll do fine, Darcy. It’ll all come to you. You’ll see. A mother’s instinct, they say.”

She looked unconvinced. “Oh, the famous they, huh? Well, then, will you leave me their phone number, please? Because they’re going to get the night shift.”

Tom didn’t know what to say. And considering the amount of apologizing he’d already done, he settled now for patting her on the shoulder and saying, “That’s the spirit. You’ll be fine.”

A tap on the thick, sound-insulating glass made Tom and Darcy turn toward the nurse on the other side of the window. With a puckered Montana Skye now perched in the crook of one arm, the blond nurse held up a clipboarded form, which she waved at Darcy. Then she placed it on a ledge just inside the room, and pointed to it, making writing motions with her bunched fingers.

Confused about what was going on, Tom glanced Darcy’s way…and saw her grow pale under her tanned skin. He grabbed at her arm, fearing she’d faint. “You need to sit down?”

Without looking at him, Darcy shook her head. “No. I wish that’s all it was. It’s just that…well, here we go again. That form she has is Montana Skye’s birth certificate. The nurse wants to know the father’s name.”

Newly enlightened, Tom bristled in Darcy’s defense. “I don’t rightly believe that’s any of her business.”

“Well, actually it is. It’s a legal thing.” Darcy exhaled, sounding tired. “I suppose she’s just being nice and thinks I overlooked it earlier.” She looked up at Tom. Her flat brown eyes upset him. “I didn’t overlook it. I just didn’t know what to do. So I left that space blank.”

Tom swallowed, uncomfortable with the situation. “Oh.”

Then Darcy’s expression became pleading, begging for understanding. “I can’t put that man’s name on her birth certificate, Tom. I can’t. He doesn’t want her. But I don’t want Montana to get hurt, years from now, if she should see it blank. I don’t want to lie to her, but—”

“Hold on, Darcy.” On impulse, Tom reached into his back pocket. “Wait just a minute.” He pulled out his wallet. “I think I can help you.”

“What are you going to do—bribe the nurse?”

“No. I’m getting out my driver’s license.”

“Your driver’s license? What—oh, wait. No. You can’t.” She put a restraining hand on his, covering his wallet with her long, fine fingers. “No, Tom. It’s a very nice thing you want to do. But no. You’ve done enough.”

She was right. He knew she was. At least from her point of view. But from his, knowing that he already loved Darcy, Tom wanted nothing more than to claim this baby as his own. Because if he had anything to say about it, Montana Skye would be his. “Let me, Darcy. I want to.”

She pulled her hand back, looking earnestly into his eyes. “I know you do. And you’re a very sweet man. But you can’t do this. You’re not her father. And besides, there are about a million reasons—most of them legal—why I can’t allow you to do this. God knows, I won’t make any child support demands on you. But you just can’t. Don’t you see?”

He did, but that sense of urgency still had Tom in its grip. “The only thing I see right now is your face, Darcy. And it clearly says this is eating at you. Let me help. Please. I promise you I’m thinking clearly.” She didn’t look convinced. Tom continued. “Look, you can tell Montana whatever you want, and I’ll abide by it. In fact, I’ll swear to you right now that I won’t ever make any claims on her, legal or otherwise. Or on you, either.” None that you won’t want me to, he added to himself, all the while holding Darcy’s gaze.

She still didn’t budge. Tom firmed his lips together, eyed the waiting nurse—who now looked thoroughly bewildered—and turned back to Darcy. “Please. Let me. For Montana Skye’s sake.”

“Her sake? Do you hear yourself?” Before he could answer, Darcy turned to the nurse and raised an index finger, mouthing just a minute. The nurse nodded and smiled.

Darcy waved her thanks and then turned to Tom. “I want you to think of fifteen years from now, when she’s a troubled teenager and she comes looking for you. What will you say to her? How upset do you think she’s going to be with both of us when she discovers that you’re not her father? Or what if she’s sick and needs your blood or a kidney and hunts you down? What then?”

Tom’s frown matched his disbelief. “Where did you come up with that stuff?”

Darcy scrubbed her hands over her face. “From life, Tom. These things happen all the time. I’m just trying to be realistic.”

“Realistic? Sounds more like one of those soap operas. There’re good things that could happen, too, you know.”

Darcy planted her hands on her hips. “Like what?”

Tom cast around…he couldn’t reveal too much about his hopes for Darcy and her daughter right now…and then he had it. “Well, like she can come spend summers with me up at my ranch, when she’s old enough.”

“Oh, really? And what will you tell her about why we’re—you and I—not together? She’ll want to know.”

But they would be together, he knew that. Still, in this conversation, he was losing and had to think fast. “I’ll tell her it’s because her mama is the most stubborn and argumentative woman I ever met.”

He was proud that he could think fast in this situation…but not well, apparently.

Darcy’s expression soured. “Oh, thanks. Now it’s all my fault. So there she is, a troubled teen, and you’re going to belittle her mother to her. That will be helpful.”

Frustration ate at Tom. He wanted nothing more than to tell her his true feelings, but he knew that would send her scurrying off down the hall…or would, if she could scurry at this moment. “Me? You’re the one who had her for fifteen years and made her a troubled teen.”

Darcy’s mouth dropped and she poked a finger at his chest. “I did no such thing. Do you even know how hard it is to be a single mother and have to deal with a teenaged girl who—”

“Darcy.”

“Don’t you Darcy me. I am not through here—”

Tom grabbed her fingers, held on to them. “Darcy, look at me.”

She turned. “What?”

“Why are we fighting?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea.”

Amused now—especially since a skinny elderly gentleman had just shuffled by as fast as he could while holding his hospital gown closed with one hand and towing his IV stand along with the other…all while eyeing them as if he expected their argument to escalate momentarily into a duel with pistols…Tom said, “Montana is a tiny baby in a newborn nursery who needs a name and that’s all. It’s what I’m offering. Say no, if you want. But I’m still going to set up a trust fund for her because I’d decided earlier today to do that. Somehow, I feel responsible for her.”

“A trust fund? I don’t know what to say.”

“Then say yes. After all, think about it—I did help you bring her into the world, didn’t I? Doesn’t that make her even a little bit mine?” And you, too? You’re mine.

Darcy’s gaze never wavered from his. But finally she exhaled and nodded. “All right. I think it’s wrong. It’s against everything I believe in—or thought I believed in. And I hope you don’t live to regret this someday, but—” She gestured in a dramatic be-my-guest manner toward the waiting, smiling nurse. “Go ahead. Make her day.”

An unexpected thrill raced through Tom. He’d won the moment. It was a small step, but a first step. “Thank you, Darcy.” Quickly, before she could change her mind, he pulled his driver’s license from his wallet and held it against the glass, at the nurse’s eye level, so she could copy his name onto the form in front of her.

When the nurse signaled she was done, Tom stuffed his license into his wallet and repocketed it as he, along with Darcy, watched the nurse pantomime that she was going to change the baby’s diaper. Darcy waved at her and nodded…and turned away from the window, walking slowly, stiffly back down the hall toward her room.

Tom wondered if she’d forgotten he was here. He didn’t know what to do, what to say in the face of her silence. Suddenly his act of kindness seemed like just what it was—a rash one made on emotion. He never did things like this. Usually he was plodding and methodical, so slow to make a decision that he drew groans from his ranch hands and his family. Well, that certainly wasn’t his problem in this instance, was it? No, he’d made up his mind and had acted on it immediately. Because he was in love.

As Tom kept pace with Darcy, but respected her silence, he decided that maybe that’s what being in love did to a man. Made him decisive. And made him do silly things. Like buy a big bunch of pink roses and a beautiful baby spray and then drive an hour to hand-deliver them…only to give a stranger’s child his name at the end of the trip. Tom looked over at Darcy, noting things now like her height, the shape of her nose, her general shapelessness under the hospital’s gown and robe. Yep. She was a stranger to him, and him to her.

He didn’t know any of the things about her a man would normally know about a woman whose child bore his name. Things like…what it felt like to hold her, what it took to make her laugh, to make her smile. Or cry. Or to make her mad. He didn’t even know her favorite flavor of ice cream. Or her favorite TV show or book. Where she’d gone to school? How would she raise Montana Skye? Where would she raise the little girl?

No, he didn’t have any of those answers. But he did know that he had the rest of his life…and Darcy’s…to find them out.

BACK IN HER room, having climbed slowly, sorely back into her bed—again with Tom’s help—Darcy sat with her bottom half covered with a light blanket, her hands folded in her lap, and stared at the man who’d just…well, fathered her child, in essence. Looking away from him to the end of her bed where his white Stetson still rested, Darcy exhaled sharply.

The sound made him glance at her. “You okay?”

She nodded haltingly. She’d come to the decision as she’d walked back to her room that she needed to give him a way out. “Look, if you’ve already thought better of putting your name on Montana’s birth certificate, I can—”

He raised his hand. “No. I’m not sorry.”

Darcy brightened. He wasn’t? Then she remembered she didn’t dare fall for him—not from a maternity ward bed, at any rate. This just was not good timing. So, she raised an eyebrow, trying for skeptical. “You look to me like you are.”

“And how’s that?”

She looked him up and down. The man was perfect. “Well, you’re a little pale under your tan,” she lied.

His gaze shifted away from her, to the roses he’d brought. Then he resettled his gaze on her. “Look, I admit that what I did back there is a big thing. Huge. But it doesn’t scare me, Darcy. I won’t run. And I won’t change my mind. I did it, and I’m glad.”

Pricked to her very core—could this man see all the way into her frightened soul?—Darcy stuck to her guns. She couldn’t afford to like him any more than she already did. Her first priority now was her daughter. She just didn’t need to keep thinking of him as good and noble and fine. But most of all, she didn’t want to let him hurt her first. And that, regrettably, gave her only one course of action. “Fine.” The one word sat him up in his chair. She snatched up the nurse-call button.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to call the nurse.”

Concern edged his sky-blue eyes. “You hurting somewhere?”

“Not anywhere it shows.”

Tom slumped back against the chair. “Then let me guess. You’re going to change the birth certificate, aren’t you?”

Darcy shrugged, adopting a bravado that hid her pain for her child’s sake. Montana Skye was about to lose another father. “If I can. There might be a law or something that says I can’t.”

“But you’re sure going to try, right?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, pressing wrinkles into his crisply ironed white shirt.

Well, she’d done it now…he was angry. Still, believing she was doing the right thing, Darcy looked him up and down, trying desperately to find fault with him. “Is white the only color you wear? I mean, are you really all that good all the time?”

His eyes narrowed. “You trying to pick a fight with me, Darcy? You think that’ll make me go away?”

Here was the opening she needed. She stabbed a pointing finger at him. “See? That’s what I don’t get. Make you go away? Tom, we don’t have a relationship. We’re essentially strangers. I shouldn’t have to make you go away—because you shouldn’t even be here. I mean, I’m thankful and all for everything you’ve done for me.” Her heart cried out for her not to continue, but as always, she didn’t listen to it. “But your work here is done, Lone Ranger.”

There. She’d done it…given him nowhere to go. No way to argue. A heavy silence filled the air between them. As she held his gaze, Darcy felt triumphant…and about ready to burst into tears. Why had she been so hateful? What was wrong with her?

Tom stood up slowly. Darcy figured she was about to find out exactly what was wrong with him. “All right. You’ve made your point. I’ll go.” He walked over to the foot of her bed and snatched up his Stetson, which he carefully fitted to his head, tugging it low over his brow. Then he looked her in the eye. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

Darcy didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. She raised her chin a notch and tried to swallow past the knotted emotion in her throat. Her heart screamed for her to stop him…but she refused to open her mouth. And so, he turned and walked out of her room. And out of her life.

He was gone. Darcy sat staring at the opened doorway to her hospital room…and listened to his every booted footfall out in the hallway until they faded. She sniffed and looked all around her at the flowers and the balloons and the cards that congratulated her and wished her well. They suddenly blurred. Darcy blinked back the tears. She’d never felt more alone.

Just then, the air-conditioning came on, blowing cold air from the vent directly onto her. As if that were the final insult, Darcy’s chin dimpled and quivered. Releasing the nurse-call button, she slid down a bit in the bed and turned on her side, away from the door, drawing her knees up as much as her soreness would allow. Pulling her covers close around her, clutching a twist of the blanket in her hand, she put her other fisted hand to her mouth and bit down on a knuckle…so no one would hear her cry.