Читать книгу Prognosis: A Baby? Maybe - Jacqueline Diamond, Lori Copeland, Jacqueline Diamond - Страница 12

Pushing up on her hands and knees, the baby rocked her little body forward, lost her balance and plopped onto the carpet. Doggedly, she hoisted herself up again and began rocking once more.

“She’s trying to crawl,” Heather said in delight.

“Wait! I’ll get my camera.” Her daughter Olive ran for the digital apparatus, which was never far away. “I have to send John a shot.”

“He’s getting out of the marines next month,” Heather pointed out. “He’ll be able to watch her crawl and stand and walk before you know it.”

“I can’t bear for him to miss any of it. He’s miserable that he wasn’t here for her birth.” Crouching, Olive took aim and snapped a shot just as Ginger flopped onto her side and opened her mouth to bawl. “Oh, no. That’s going to look awful.”

“It’s cute,” Heather said. “Everything she does is cute.”

“Typical grandmother.” Her daughter smiled indulgently. “Even if you are ridiculously young.”

“You think she’s cute, too!”

“Granted, but I don’t dote on her the way you do.” With an arch look, Olive added, “Maybe if you could brag about her to your friends, you’d get it out of your system.”

“I do brag about her to my friends.”

“Only Natalie and Amy.” Olive stretched onto her stomach, keeping the baby in the frame. When it came to taking pictures, she had a lot of patience. “I know you’re not ashamed of us, Mom, but you need to get over being ashamed of yourself.”

That was perceptive for a twenty-one-year-old woman, Heather reflected. “Things have changed. When I got pregnant out of wedlock, people sneered at me. I was held up as a bad example.”

“Oh, come on! Even twenty years ago, nobody believed that old business about fallen women.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Olive clicked quietly as Ginger tried again. This time, the baby managed to move her arms and legs fast enough to keep her balance as she lurched forward. “She did it!”

“I’m going to get my camera, too,” Heather said. “Don’t let her grow up before I get back.”

She’d scarcely taken two steps before the phone rang in the kitchen. It was John, making one of his rare overseas calls to his fiancée. After they exchanged greetings, she went to get her daughter.

Olive vanished to take the call. In the living room, Heather indulged herself by shooting a series of photos as Ginger bumbled her way along the carpet, making a colorful splash with her yellow jumpsuit and carrot-colored hair.

Although Olive and Ginger had been staying here for five months, she still could hardly believe she’d not only been reunited with her daughter, she’d also gained a granddaughter. It was more than she’d ever dared hope for.

Heather had been a confused fifteen-year-old when she got pregnant by her eighteen-year-old boyfriend, Ned. A handsome young man with a tan complexion and dark hair like Olive’s, he’d sworn he adored her and wanted to marry her someday—until he discovered that she was with child.

The first words out of his mouth had been, “It’s not mine.” Shocked, she’d burst into tears. He was the only man she’d ever been with, she’d pointed out. They loved each other, didn’t they? Surely he was going to stand by her.

What a fool she’d been! For the next few weeks, Ned had avoided her. When Heather showed up at the auto repair shop where he worked, he’d ordered her off the premises.

She’d spent a miserable week confiding in no one, telling herself Ned would come to his senses. Finally she’d dropped by his house. His mother had fixed her with an angry glare.

“He’s gone,” the woman had said. “Don’t ask me where. It’s your fault. He should never have gotten mixed up with a tramp like you.”

Stunned and frightened by the thought of what lay ahead, Heather had cried until her eyes were raw, then gone home and confessed to her parents. Seeing the disappointment in their faces had been almost as bad as experiencing Ned’s betrayal.

Her father, a truck driver, and her mother, a supermarket checker, had always encouraged Heather and her brother to focus on their studies and aim for the stars. News of the pregnancy had hit them hard.

They hadn’t rejected her, though. Their love had made life bearable while she attended an alternative high school and suffered snubs from former friends. When the baby was born, Heather had known she wasn’t prepared to raise a child, so she’d tearfully given her up for adoption. At every point, her parents had delivered their support without question.

“I’ll never let you down again,” she’d told them, and she hadn’t. When she graduated from college, the first person in her family to do so, they’d been thrilled, and she’d been pleased when her brother followed in her footsteps.

Earning her medical degree, although it required financial sacrifices of everyone, had filled them with pride. So had Heather’s brother’s decision to become a police officer.

Over the years, she’d always wondered where her little girl was and hoped she was loved. Although Heather had never doubted the wisdom of her decision, she’d ached for the child she would never see.

A few years ago, she’d signed up with a service that matched parents and birth children, in case her daughter ever wanted to find her. About a year ago, she’d received a call.

Olive’s beloved adoptive parents had died in an accident while she was in college. Engaged to a marine, pregnant and temporarily alone while he served overseas, she’d sought to connect with the woman who’d given birth to her.

As soon as they met, they’d become best friends. From her flashing brown eyes to her sense of humor, Olive seemed like a younger sister. Even the parts of her that came from Ned, like her dark hair and slim build, were a gift, in Heather’s opinion. The man was a fool who’d lost much more than he’d taken.

She could never regret having this daughter and granddaughter, no matter how much they’d cost her. And she knew her parents, who’d met them at Christmas, no longer regretted it, either.

There’d been plenty of speculation at Doctors Circle last fall when Heather, without explanation, took two months leave to coach Olive through the birth and spend time with her afterward. Office gossip attributed her absence to pique at Jason’s appointment, and she’d done nothing to correct the impression. It made as good an excuse as any, since she had no intention of subjecting her painful past to the scrutiny of others.

Afterward, the pair had come to live here while John wrapped up his service. Olive, who’d grown up only an hour’s drive away in Los Angeles, had finished earning her degree at nearby Serene College. This month, she’d taken her last final and completed her work. Soon, John would be returning.

Heather didn’t want to think about how much she was going to miss living with her daughter and granddaughter. Strange as it seemed, she enjoyed having her once-tranquil living room crammed with a playpen and toys and she loved being called Mom, an honor Olive had spontaneously bestowed upon her. She hoped the new family would settle nearby so she could watch every step, literally and figuratively, of Ginger’s development.

“Mom!” Olive sprinted into the living room. “I’m so excited! John wants to get married as soon as he arrives. He can’t bear to wait, and neither can I! We’re going to have our wedding next month.”

“I’m pleased for you.” Relief was Heather’s first reaction. She’d never met her future son-in-law in person, and until now had had only Olive’s assurances that he was loving and rock-solid. Thank goodness John hadn’t turned out to be a cad like Ned.

“It’s been so lonely with him gone, and now we’ll be together all the time.” Joy made Olive shimmer as she sang, “Here comes the bride! Big, fat and wide! Not!”

Despite Heather’s happiness for her daughter, reality intruded. A little less than three weeks. That was all the time they had until John returned.

“How will we ever be able to put a wedding together?” she cried. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a spoilsport and I know Amy managed hers in a week, but I have no idea where to begin.”

Amy and Quent Ladd had married quickly in order to gain custody of his orphaned niece and nephew. They’d been assisted by Amy’s highly capable Aunt Mary, who’d offered the use of her large home for the ceremony and reception. This town home, despite its vaulted ceiling and graceful design, wasn’t nearly big enough, in Heather’s opinion.

“You’re such a worrier,” chortled her daughter. “We’re going to get married at a Las Vegas wedding chapel. The only guests will be you and John’s parents from Texas. You’ll bring the baby home and watch her for me during our honeymoon, won’t you? We’re going to celebrate right there in Vegas.”

“Of course,” Heather said.

Olive performed an impromptu dance that made Ginger laugh. “Your daddy’s coming home! I’m going to be a bride!”

“You need a dress,” Heather said.

“John told me to pick out a ring, too.” Olive started for the kitchen again.

“Where are you going?”

“To call my friend Julia to help me shop. I know how impatient you get in stores,” her daughter said. “Don’t argue. I’ll let you see what I choose before I make the final decision, okay?”

“All right.” Despite her sense that the mother of the bride ought to have a finger in every pie, Heather knew that after one hour in the mall, she’d start tapping her foot and biting her nails. “Leave the baby with me while you shop.”

“Julia would have a fit. She’s always complaining that she doesn’t get to spend enough time with Ginger.”

“Babies don’t make good shopping companions. She’ll get restless,” Heather warned.

“We’ll take lots of breaks,” Olive said. “Don’t fuss over me, Mom. Not that I really mind. Gosh, you’re so much like my mama used to be, I almost feel like she’s here.”

“I’m sure she is.” Heather felt a deep gratitude to the woman who’d raised Olive. “She’ll always be here in your heart.”

Her daughter’s eyes got suspiciously bright. She hurried to stuff supplies into the diaper bag. By the time she whisked Ginger out the door, Olive was dry-eyed and eager to look for a gown.

After the door closed, the two most precious people in Heather’s life were gone, if only for a little while. The sparkle vanished from the air.

“So this is what empty-nest syndrome feels like,” she told the silent house. “It’s not as if I’d spent twenty years being a mother. I shouldn’t make such a big deal of it.”

With a sigh, she bent to pick up the scattered toys that had accumulated on the carpet along with bits of lint and shreds of paper. They must be transporting themselves here from an alternate universe, because Heather had never figured out where all this stuff came from.

The doorbell rang. Olive had forgotten something, which wasn’t surprising in view of her rush. Pushing a flyaway strand of hair from her forehead, Heather went to answer the door.

The dark-haired man who filled the doorway regarded her with amused curiosity. “Just getting up, at this hour?” he asked.

Uncomfortably, Heather realized what a picture she must make. After rising early to feed Ginger while Olive slept, she’d showered and thrown on a sweatsuit that resembled pajamas. Although she’d brushed her hair, that was many hours and diaper changes ago.

Jason, by contrast, looked as if he’d strolled out of a magazine ad. It was positively indecent the way his polo shirt stretched across his broad chest and his jeans hung low across his hips. It looked as if one tweak would be enough to make the snap give way.

Stop thinking like that! “I’m getting a head start on my spring cleaning,” Heather improvised. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m house-hunting and got curious about where you lived.” With a swift motion, he plucked a wisp of paper from her hair. “Did you hold a confetti parade through your premises this morning?” He peered past her into the entryway.

With a jolt, Heather realized that if she opened the door any further, he’d see the playpen in the living room and the high chair visible through the doorway in the kitchen. Not to mention assorted toys and parenting magazines.

“Yes, I had a parade, and that’s why you can’t come in,” she said tartly. “There’s horse poop everywhere.”

Jason’s smile turned into a grimace. “That’s the weirdest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

“For what?”

“For keeping me out.”

“Women make a lot of excuses for keeping you out, do they?” Heather said. “The truth is, as you can see, I’m in no shape to receive company.”

He composed his features into a semblance of injured innocence. “I’m simply looking for ideas about what kind of place to rent.”

“That’s easy. Don’t rent, buy,” Heather said. “That’s what I’m going to do as soon as I save the down payment.” If she hadn’t been repaying student loans until the previous year, she’d have purchased a house long ago.

“If you’re planning to close the door on my foot, it won’t work,” Jason said. “I’m wearing heavy shoes.”

“Why would I need to close the door on your foot, since you’re going away?”

He edged closer. “I just want to take a look at the layout of your town house. I’ve been thinking of renting here in the development.”

Dismay squeezed the air from Heather’s lungs. Jason, living in her complex? That would mean running into each other at the mailboxes and the pool. He’d see her in her bikini. What was worse, he’d see Olive and Ginger.

“You’d hate it,” she said. “It’s noisy.”

“It seems quiet today.” Sure enough, the only sounds were birds twittering in a tree and the hum of a car passing on the street. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Dropping the noise angle, Heather shifted to a more promising topic. “You should check out the area where Amy and Quent Ladd live, near the beach. It’s much more suitable for a single person.”

“Why don’t you live there?” he asked.

“Because I’m stuffy and conventional.” This wasn’t working, she could tell by his stubborn stance. “I’ll tell you what. Wait out there while I change, and I’ll take you to meet the manager. I’m sure she’d be happy to…”

He’d leaned a bit too far toward her. Even a strong guy like Jason could only challenge gravity so far before he lost his balance, and at the merest bump from his strong shoulder, Heather staggered backward. The door swung wider.

“I’m sorry.” Jason grabbed her arm in time to prevent a tumble. “I’m not usually this clumsy.” His head came up as he took in the contents of the room. There was a long, contemplative pause. “When did you start running a day-care center?”

“Believe it or not, one baby created all this mess. My niece and her daughter are visiting.” Heather hated to lie, but if there was anyone she didn’t choose to bare her soul to, it was Jason Carmichael. Especially after that comment about how Cynthia should have known better than to get pregnant out of wedlock.

“Great architecture.” Apparently accepting her explanation, he indicated the high ceiling and open staircase. “How’s the construction?”

On the verge of praising it, she remembered her goal of discouraging him from renting in the complex. “The upstairs bathroom tilts. There are cracks in the walls, too.” That was true, more or less. Practically every wall in Southern California had a few cosmetic cracks, thanks to the occasional earthquakes.

“There’s got to be some reason you chose to live here,” he said.

Darn the man, why did he insist on questioning her so closely? He took far too great an interest in Heather’s home for her comfort.

“I’ll show you,” she said, deciding openness was the only way to satisfy his curiosity. “Follow me.”

She led him through the living room. The angles and sightlines felt different when she tried to regard them from Jason’s point of view. Or perhaps it was his thoroughly male, keenly inquisitive presence that changed everything.

He radiated a subtle energy, a vibration that filled the town house. Heather battled the instinct to touch him. In spite of herself, she knew where that could lead and wasn’t absolutely certain she’d be able to stop.

In the kitchen, Jason’s eyebrows rose at the sight of the high chair. “Your niece brought a lot of equipment for a visit.”

“She’s staying with me while she finishes college,” Heather clarified. On the point of mentioning that Olive was getting married next month, she stopped. Guilty people gave themselves away by prattling too much, and the more she talked, the more suspicious he was likely to become.

“You’re a gracious aunt to put up with all this mess,” he said.

Heather’s gaze traveled across the unwashed dishes on the counter to a bib smeared with breakfast food. She supposed it was disorderly from the point of view of a man who had only himself to care for. Until this moment, she’d hardly noticed. “I don’t mind. It’s only temporary.”

“At least the kitchen is a good size,” he said approvingly.

Heather tried to find some flaw to point out, but failed. Reaching the glass door, she slid it open and stepped onto the enclosed patio. “This is the reason I rented the place.” She indicated a small flowerbed bursting with cool-weather flowers suitable for a Southern California winter.

“It’s very pretty. You like to garden?” Jason asked.

“I’d love to have a whole yard full of flowers.” Heather’s mind painted the scene as she spoke. “Rose bushes in every corner and climbing on a trellis. I want enough blooms for cutting and the air filled with old-fashioned perfume.”

“You’ve got it planned out, I see.” Jason edged away, or perhaps he was turning to examine a potted coleus. “I can’t imagine where you find the time.”

“Gardening’s restful,” Heather said. “Digging in the dirt settles my mind.”

His teasing manner of a few minutes ago disappeared. “It looks to me like a lot of effort for a place you’re going to leave behind eventually.” Heather could have sworn she saw disapproval in the way he regarded the rioting flowerbed.

“Sticking a few bedding plants into the ground isn’t exactly a lifetime commitment,” she said. “Besides, these are annual flowers. They have to be replaced a couple of times a year in any case.”

“Suit yourself,” Jason said.

She couldn’t resist teasing him. “If you decide to lease a unit, I’ll be glad to offer you tips. You might become a real aficionado.”

“I can’t imagine investing that much effort in something I’m going to leave behind,” Jason answered. “It’s a waste of effort.”

“How soon are you planning to move on?” Heather leaned down and yanked a weed.

In the midday light, Jason’s green eyes took on a hard emerald gloss. “Not soon, of course, but let’s be honest. Although heading this clinic is a terrific opportunity, I don’t picture myself sticking around forever.”

“No roses and no roots,” Heather said. “How sad.”

Jason shrugged. “A house is just a place.”

She imagined him as an old man, living in Spartan quarters, still refusing to commit himself to anything beyond his profession. Feeling a pinch of regret, she conceded silently that, without meaning to, she’d begun to picture Jason in a romantic light. The man was so darn handsome, and the way he moved sent shivers down her spine.

She ought to know better. Thank goodness he’d brought her up short today. There were good men in the world, such as her friends’ husbands, but they were few and far between. Too many were like Ned, quick to promise the moon and ready to run when a woman needed them.

Or like Jason, who valued only the professional side of himself. There was no point in arguing with him. The man was as set in his ways as concrete.

After dusting off her hands, Heather took him back inside. “I’d show you the bedrooms but they’re in worse shape than the kitchen.”

A subdued Jason didn’t press the point. “Thanks for the tour. I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

“Good luck finding a place to live.” Although it might be unwise, she found herself adding, “Did you decide against renting a town house?”

“It’s a bit large for a single guy. I wouldn’t want to inadvertently encourage any relatives to move in with me, particularly ones with babies,” he said, and let himself out.

Maybe he was joking, but Heather didn’t find the remark funny. She was tempted to throw one of Ginger’s toys at his retreating back.

She couldn’t imagine why she’d ever allowed herself to be attracted to that stuffed shirt. Okay, Jason could be charming when he turned the frost level down to low, but with him, as with most men she’d met, you never knew when you were going to get a blast of arctic air in the face.

Well, Heather had better things to do with her Saturday than stand here hurling mental insults at Jason Carmichael. Even a woman with a limited attention span for mall shopping could help her daughter get married.

She switched on her computer, logged on to the Internet and cruised the wedding-related websites, bookmarking pages with gowns she thought Olive might like. Being the mother of the bride provided a lot more satisfaction than she’d ever found or ever expected to find with a man.