Читать книгу Having Justin's Baby - Pamela Bauer, Pamela Bauer - Страница 7

PAIGE AWOKE with a start, hearing a pounding near her head. After only a couple of seconds, she realized that someone was banging on the metal door of her trailer. She sat up and a sharp pain shot through her neck. She’d been curled up like a pretzel on the narrow sofa and was now paying the price. She peeked through the louvered window and saw Stacy in the gold blazer that identified her as one of the managers at the lodge.

“Paige, are you in there?” she heard the woman call out.

Paige stumbled toward the door and unlocked it. “I’m here,” she said, rubbing her sore neck. “I’m sorry. I fell asleep after work.” She moved to one side and gestured for her to come in. “Why are you here?”

Stacy stepped into the small trailer. “You never came back for the key to the cabin.” She dangled a large diamond-shaped plastic key ring in midair.

“Oh. Thanks.” Paige took the key from her and stuck it in her jeans pocket. “Do you want something to drink? Some water or a soda?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. What about you? How are you doing?”

Paige suspected from the look of sympathy on the blonde’s face that she’d heard the news about Michael and Chelsea. “I suppose you know what happened.”

“I’ve heard nasty rumors, but all I know for certain is that Michael quit his job.”

“He quit? I thought he’d called in sick.”

“Apparently he left a resignation letter in his desk drawer.”

Paige sank back down onto the small sofa. “I guess he and Chelsea plan to stay out there for good.” She was surprised that she could even say the words without crying. But it was as if she was talking about someone else’s life, not her own, and they came out on a note of indifference.

“I’m really sorry, Paige. For what it’s worth, that girl has no shame when it comes to men. It didn’t matter to her if he was engaged or not.”

“You don’t need to make excuses for him,” Paige told her. “Any way you look at it, it’s still the same outcome.” She swallowed back the lump in her throat. It would have been so easy to break down and cry, but she was determined not to do that. Especially not in front of Stacy, who always looked so composed. “I’d rather not talk about any of it if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Stacy assured her. “I didn’t come here to talk about Michael Cross. I just wanted to bring you the key and to let you know that if there’s anything I can do to make your Bulldog weekend easier, I’m here.” She spread her arms in a welcoming gesture. “You are still having your reunion, aren’t you?”

“I don’t see any way out of it now.” Paige tried to keep her voice even, but it wasn’t easy.

“Do you want a way out? At this time of year I’d have no trouble renting the cabin at the last minute. You’d lose your deposit, I’m afraid but…”

“No…no…I can’t cancel.” She scrubbed her hands across her face as if the motion would clear her head. “Everything’s such a mess.”

“Maybe I can help clean it up.”

“I’m not sure there is a way to clean up this one.”

Paige was grateful Stacy didn’t give her any of the words of encouragement women usually got after being dumped by their boyfriends. Stacy looked around, her gaze landing on the snacks and beverages lining the table and counter. “Is that stuff for your reunion?”

“I have a small box of decorations, too.” Paige nodded at a box on the counter beside the food supplies. “Michael was going to help me get the cabin ready tonight.”

Stacy placed a hand on the box. “I’ll take his place. I may not be as tall as he is, but I’m not afraid to climb a ladder.”

“Michael’s not afraid of heights,” Paige stated.

“Ever seen him on the chair lift at Lutsen?”

“No, but he doesn’t like to downhill ski. He does cross-country.”

“Has he hiked the Baptism River Trail with you?”

Of all the trails in the Superior National Forest, it had some of the steepest drops. She’d climbed it often with Justin and Kyle, but never with Michael. She tried to remember hiking to any of the breathtaking lookouts in the various parks along the shoreline, but most of their dates had been spent golfing. The one time they’d stopped at the Split Rock Lighthouse, he’d told her the reason he wasn’t going to climb the circular stairs to the top was he’d twisted his knee and wasn’t supposed to do stairs.

Stacy hoisted the box of decorations into her arms and said, “If you get the door for me, I’ll take this for you.” When Paige hesitated she added, “Look, there are some things you can control and others you can’t. You’ll feel better about the ones you can’t control if you take care of the ones you can.”

“I suppose everyone at the resort knows what’s happened by now.”

“Paige, you can’t worry about what people think. You did nothing wrong. Michael is the one who should be feeling ashamed, not you. Now, is there anything else you want to take over to the cabin besides what’s here?”

“The rest of the stuff is already in my trunk.”

“Why don’t we put everything in my Escape and you can ride with me,” she suggested. “There’s no reason for both of us to drive.”

A few minutes later Paige was in the front of Stacy’s SUV heading for the Cascading Waters Resort. The Pinecone was the largest of nine cabins that formed a horseshoe behind the main lodge at the resort. She took comfort in knowing that each cabin had a private parking area, which meant it was unlikely they’d run into any of the other employees.

Tires crunched on gravel as Stacy parked next to a towering white pine. Because of the wooded setting, the evening sun was but a flicker through the foliage.

Paige appreciated the fact that Stacy made no mention of Michael or the broken engagement as they hung the few decorations from previous years and stocked the refrigerator and cupboards with beverages and food. While they worked they talked mostly about the changes Stacy had seen throughout her lifetime as a resident on the North Shore. As they were hanging the last of the posters, Paige’s stomach growled.

“I bet you haven’t had any dinner, have you?” Stacy asked.

Paige shook her head. She hadn’t eaten lunch or dinner but she hadn’t exactly been hungry, either.

“We’ll go over to the Birchwood when we’re finished here,” Stacy offered. “My treat.”

“That’s really thoughtful of you, but it would probably just be a waste of money,” she said, shoving her tape dispenser and scissors back in her tote bag. “I don’t feel much like eating. You know what I mean?”

“Oh yes, I do,” she acknowledged with a nod. “I’ve had my heart broken. I know where you’re at tonight and it’s not a good place to be.”

“No, it isn’t, which is why I think I’ll just go home and go to bed.” Paige turned off the lights on their way out of the cabin.

“No, no, no.” Stacy wagged her finger. “You most certainly will not go home and have a pity party for one. I have a better idea.”

Stacy’s better idea was to stop and pick up a couple of sandwiches at a local deli on the way back to Paige’s trailer. When she pulled up to a liquor store, Paige said, “Unless you want something, you don’t have to stop for me. I get headaches from alcohol.”

“I’ll just be a minute,” was all Stacy said before disappearing inside. She returned carrying a couple of brown bags. As she set them on the bench seat between them, the contents rattled.

Seeing Paige’s wary glance, she said, “It’s mostly fruit juices. I’m going to make us some punch.”

“You don’t need to spend your night off babysitting me,” Paige said.

“Who said anything about babysitting? I know we haven’t had a lot of time to get to know one another, but you’re still a girlfriend and girlfriends don’t let other girlfriends have pity parties for one. So consider tonight an opportunity for me to show someone in the sisterhood how to look at the positive side of breaking up. And there is a positive side. You just can’t see it yet, but believe me, it’s there.”

Paige tried to smile, but she didn’t think that anything Stacy could say or do would dull the pain of losing Michael. All of her life she’d been a “glass is half-full” person, weathering breakups with guys better than most women she knew. But never had she expected that getting jilted could hurt so badly.

When they arrived back at the campground, Stacy insisted it was too nice out to eat indoors. She instructed Paige to build a campfire in the fire pit next to the trailer while she mixed the punch.

A short while later Paige found herself on an Adirondack chair in front of a crackling fire with a sandwich in one hand and a concoction Stacy called her “men are pigs” punch in the other. Paige wasn’t sure just what it was she was drinking. While she had been gathering wood, Stacy had been inside the trailer pouring a variety of liquids into her blender. The result had been a surprisingly delicious fruit drink that had Paige wondering if it contained much alcohol.

“You make a pretty good fire, Paige,” Stacy told her as a birch log popped and sizzled in the dancing flames. “One thing I’ve learned over the years is that there is nothing that a man can do for you that you can’t do for yourself.”

Paige really didn’t want to talk about the value of men and changed the subject. “Thank you for stopping and getting these sandwiches. I guess I was hungry after all.”

“They’re are not as good as Tony’s, but they’re not bad,” Stacy said.

Tony was the chef at the Birchwood and a good friend of Stacy’s. Paige felt a bit guilty that she’d refused Stacy’s offer to eat at the resort restaurant. “You understand why I didn’t want to go to the Birchwood, don’t you? I don’t think I could have taken one more person glancing at me with that pitiful look that says, ‘Oh, you’ve been dumped, you poor thing.’”

“If they’re looking at you with pity they’re making the assumption that you’ve lost something of value,” Stacy said in between bites of her sandwich. “You haven’t.”

“You’re right. He’s worthless. So is Chelsea.” Paige lifted her glass toward the starry sky. “To the worthless Michael Cross and his worthless bride, Chelsea.”

“Uh-uh, the toast should be to Michael and Chelsea for saving you from making the biggest mistake of your life.” Stacy raised her glass to Paige’s.

Paige took another sip and suddenly realized that there indeed was plenty of liquor in the fruit drink. She felt a warmth spread through her, tickling her insides.

“A friend of mine tried to warn me that Michael would be trouble,” she said, gazing up at the stars.

“All men are,” Stacy stated with authority.

“Tell me the truth. Was I the only one who didn’t know he was still seeing Chelsea?”

“I don’t think anyone knew for sure, but it was hard not to notice how she was always hanging around him. And they did have a history.” Stacy got up and reached for Paige’s empty glass. “You need a refill.”

“Better only make it a half.” She giggled. “I think I’m getting a little tipsy.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Stacy said, and disappeared into the trailer, only to return with another full glass.

“I know one thing,” Paige said after taking another sip. “I will not get involved with someone who works at the same place as I do. Today had to be the most humiliating day of my life. I used to think the people who worked at the resort were nice, but now…”

“Hey—they are nice, but like everyone else they talk,” Stacy said in defense of her coworkers. “If you’re going to be mad at someone, it should be Michael. He’s the one who gave them something to talk about.”

“Ever since I got his letter I’ve been trying to figure out what I could have done differently in our relationship, but he acted as if he was really happy.”

“Paige, this is not your fault.”

“Then why do I feel like it is?”

“Because you’re a woman and men want us to feel that way…like we’re to blame for everything that goes wrong in a relationship.”

“Well, it doesn’t help that some women buy into that crap. Maybe our problem was about sex. But if sex was so important to our relationship, he shouldn’t have told me he understood my reasons for wanting to wait until we were married to sleep together.”

“You never had sex with Michael!” It was a statement, not a question.

Paige gasped. “I can’t believe I told you that.”

“It’s okay. I’ll treat it as a confidence. You have my word.” Stacy made a cross over her heart with her right index finger.

“I’ve always believed that I would only have sex with one man—the one I married. It was a gift I wanted to give my husband on our wedding night. That’s why Michael and I were waiting until we were married…or at least I was waiting. He was obviously doing it with Chelsea.” Paige took another sip of her punch then asked, “Do you think if I had been sleeping with Michael, he would have still run off with her?”

“Now you’re starting to sound like one of those women who believe the crap men are peddling. You and Michael had an agreement. He broke it. It’s that simple. Case closed.”

“You’re right. Even if we did have sex, he might have still run off with Chelsea.”

“Exactly.” Stacy lifted her glass in acknowledgment. “There’s no excuse for his behavior.”

“I can’t believe he dumped me like that. He could have at least told me face-to-face. He’s chickenshit. And pig shit, too.” She giggled.

“He’s afraid of heights,” Stacy reminded her.

“And bees. He runs like a girl when he sees one. He told me it’s because he’s allergic to them, but I think he’s just afraid.”

“He’s vain. Have you noticed how he can’t pass a mirror without admiring himself?”

With each sip of the fruit drink Paige found it easier to find fault with her ex-fiancé. By the time she was on her third glass of Stacy’s special concoction, she was convinced she’d been unhappy with him.

“Now aren’t you glad you’re not going to marry the man?” Stacy asked.

“Yeeeesss! I’m happy he’s gone and I hope I never have to see him again!” she proclaimed in a loud voice as she stretched her arms toward the sky.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d get you to see the positive side of him leaving?”

“Yes, and thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said, bowing theatrically. “Oooh—look, our fire is going out.”

“Got anything you want to burn? Maybe some pictures?” Stacy asked, arching an eyebrow.

Paige snapped her fingers. “That’s it. I’m going to burn his pictures. Watch my drink for me.” She disappeared inside the trailer and returned with a handful of snapshots in one hand and a cardboard box in the other. She tossed the photos onto the fire and watched them burn. “Good riddance.”

“What’s in the box?” Stacy asked.

Paige removed the lid and a pile of papers floated onto the flames. “Scorecards from our golf games. He wanted me to save them. Nobody cares about your stupid golf scores, Michael!” she shouted into the fire.

“Feel better?” Stacy asked.

“I feel great!” She ran back into the trailer and came out waving a piece of paper.

“What’s that?”

“It’s my Top Ten list…you know, my list of the ten most important traits a guy needs to have to be a good boyfriend. I thought Michael had all ten, but it turns out he was missing the most important one.”

“Which is?”

“A guy should be trustworthy.” She tossed the paper into the fire and made several more trips into the trailer, each time coming out with more things to burn. But it was the last article that brought Stacy to her feet. Folded over Paige’s arm was her wedding gown.

“I have one last thing to get rid of. I just bought this today. Can you believe that? Today of all days. I buy my wedding dress and my fiancé runs off with another woman.”

Alarmed, Stacy rose to her feet. “You’re not thinking of putting that in the fire, are you?”

“Sure. Why not? I’m never going to wear it.”

JUSTIN’S ROAD TRIP went about as well as his day had gone. After being stuck in rush-hour traffic leaving St. Paul, he’d hit road construction that caused another delay and made him wish he’d ordered more than a super-size soda when he stopped at a fast-food drive-thru. Other than three Salted Nut Roll candy bars he’d found in the glove compartment of his pickup, he’d had nothing to eat since lunch, which was why as soon as he reached Paige’s he planned to take her out somewhere decent for dinner. She could pour her heart out to him just as easily over a thick, juicy prime cut of beef as she could over a burger. But if she wanted fast food, he would sacrifice the steak.

Thinking of being with her had him pushing the pedal a little closer to the metal. As the sun went down and the air cooled, he turned off his air-conditioning and rolled down the windows, loving the feel of the breeze rushing through the cab of his pickup. He turned up the volume on his CD player so the sounds of the Dave Matthews Band blared in stereo all around him. The music was so loud he didn’t hear the siren. It wasn’t until he glanced into his rearview mirror and saw the flashing red light that he knew he’d been a little too eager to get to see Paige. He cursed under his breath and pulled off onto the shoulder of the highway.

“Is there a problem, Officer?” he asked in his good-citizen voice.

“Know how fast you were driving?” the policeman asked.

“Sixty-five?” Justin ventured to guess.

“Eighty-two. Could I see your driver’s license, please?”

Justin didn’t miss the way the officer’s eyes scanned the cab of the pickup. Surely there was nothing suspicious about a guy’s having three empty candy wrappers and a super-size beverage cup from a fast-food restaurant on his front seat. So why was the man’s face wrinkling as if there was?

“Are those your shoes?” he asked, pointing to the pair of athletic shoes on the passenger-side mat.

“Yes.”

“You’re not driving barefoot, are you?”

“No. I have on sandals.”

“Step out of the vehicle, please.”

Justin climbed out, smoothing down the wrinkles of his khaki shorts as he unfolded his long legs. The officer looked at his feet, then back up at his shirt. Justin was grateful he wasn’t wearing a T-shirt with some irreverent saying on the front. It was only because experience had taught him it would be wise not to challenge the authority of anyone wearing a badge and carrying a gun that he managed to stay calm and wait for the officer to issue the ticket. As he pondered his situation, he thought it was a good thing that Michael Cross had left town or else Justin might have kicked his skinny little ass when he got to the resort.

But he didn’t want to waste time thinking about the weasel. Paige was the one he worried about. He hoped she was all right. Knowing her, he expected to find her at home cleaning her tiny trailer. That’s what she usually did when she was stressed—organized her cupboards and drawers. She loved to put things in order, especially when her mind was in turmoil.

Paige wasn’t like most women he knew. She got angry and got over it. She didn’t dwell on the bad stuff. She couldn’t. It just wasn’t in her nature. And she rarely resorted to tears. That’s why today when he’d heard her voice crack with emotion he knew that this breakup was different from others. And that was the reason he had immediately jumped in his pickup and hit the road. She needed him.

Yes, it was only as a friend, but that was the way it had always been and he’d accepted it could be no other way a long time ago. Even if Paige had given him any indication that she wanted to take their friendship to the next level—and she hadn’t—he wouldn’t have been able to follow through on it. The reason they’d been able to stay close for so long was because early on in their friendship they’d agreed that no matter how tempting it might be to test the waters of romance, they were first and foremost friends. It was why Kyle hadn’t acted upon his adolescent crush on Paige. And why neither of them would ever know of his love for her.

Justin couldn’t risk losing her. If she were to ever find out that he had feelings for her, she might withdraw emotionally. It was the kind of revelation that once it was out there, you could never take it back. He’d been friends too long with Kyle and Paige to take such a chance.

So Justin’s was the shoulder Paige cried on when she needed one—which was seldom. More often she simply used him as a sounding board. Although he knew she had a soft center, she’d spent most of her life showing the world how tough she could be. She’d get angry, talk about the problem, then get over it and move on. It was one of the things he loved about her. Her resiliency. That and the fact that she wasn’t the kind for emotional outbursts. He could use some of that self-control himself as the officer handed him a speeding ticket.

By the time he reached the campground where she was staying it was dark. He’d only been to her place once—when he and Kyle had helped her move. He followed the dirt road that wound through the campground, looking closely at the numbers that identified the different sites.

But he didn’t need a number to point out where Paige lived. She was standing on a lawn chair swinging a wedding dress around as if she was getting ready to toss it into the campfire. “What the…” he mumbled to himself as he scurried out of the truck.

“That better not be the dress that nearly cost me a client this morning,” Justin said as he approached the campfire.

Both women turned at the sound of his voice. “Justin! You’re just in time. Get it? Just-in?” She giggled and he raced over to swoop her off the chair.

“Hey—what are you doing?” she protested.

“Bringing you down to my level so you can give me a proper welcome and thank me for coming to you in your hour of need, although it looks as if you’ve been doing all right without me.”

With the wedding dress still in her arms she pulled him to her and gave him a hug so that he nearly got a mouthful of satin.

“You came all the way up here to make sure that I was okay?”

“Yup, once again Justin to the rescue.” He looked over his shoulder at her companion. “I have a habit of doing this.”

“What a good friend you are,” Paige gushed as she released him. “I am so glad you’re here. You’re just in time to see me burn the last reminder of the chickenshit.”

When she moved to toss the dress into the fire, he stopped her. “You’re not burning that thing. It has a history.”

“Oh, you mean the schoolteacher and the soldier.” She sighed. “They were so in love.”

“That’s why you shouldn’t burn the dress.” He took the gown from her hands.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her,” the blond woman said, and suddenly Paige found her manners.

“Justin, you remember Stacy, don’t you? She’s in charge of customer relations. Stacy, this is Justin, my best friend and maid of honor.”

“Maid of honor?” Stacy lifted her eyebrows inquisitively.

“It’s a long story,” Justin said. They made small talk, and Justin told her that he was one of the Bulldogs and would be staying for the weekend.

Stacy finally said, “I really should get going.” She turned to Paige. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“You don’t have to go because Justin came,” Paige told her.

“No, but it’s late and I do have to work tomorrow.”

Paige covered her mouth. “Oh, I forgot. Thanks for all your help tonight,” she said, giving the other woman a hug.

As Stacy prepared to leave, Paige said, “What about the stuff you bought for the men are pigs punch?”

Stacy dismissed her concern with a flap of her hand. “Keep it.”

“Men are pigs punch?” Justin repeated.

“It’s really good,” Paige told him. “You have to try it—even though you’re not a pig.”

Justin looked at Paige. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, I am. You’re my best friend.” Then she turned to Stacy and gave her a hug. “Thank you so much for teaching me how to see the positive side of getting dumped.”

Justin was at a loss for words. He’d expected to find Paige angry and hurt, but he hadn’t expected to find her drinking. He asked Stacy if she needed a ride home, but she assured him she’d had only one glass of the punch a few hours earlier, so she was fine. As she drove away, he knew the first thing he had to do was put the wedding dress out of sight.

“What are you going to do with that?” Paige asked as he started walking with the dress toward his truck.

“Put it away so you can return it and get your money back.”

“I don’t care about the money. I want to burn it. Bring it back here,” she ordered him.

He ignored her and kept walking. He was fairly certain that come tomorrow she’d be glad the satin gown wasn’t among the ashes of the fire pit. “You may feel differently tomorrow.”

She followed him. “No, I won’t. I don’t ever want to see that stupid dress again. I don’t want any memories of Mr. Michael ‘I’m a chickenshit’ Cross.”

“Then I’ll return it for you.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Because you said there’s a story behind it,” he said, draping it across the seat of his pickup.

“Yeah, and it’s a nightmare. You can take it back to the consignment shop but no one’s going to want to buy it now. Everyone in town knows what happened.”

He could see it would do no good to argue with her as to the worth of the dress so he simply said, “Then we won’t return it. Why don’t you go inside and get me a beer.”

“I don’t have any beer but Stacy left the punch and it’s really good. You can drink it even though you’re a guy.”

“Maybe we should have some coffee.”

“Coffee? You don’t drink coffee.” She gave him a puzzled look before saying, “Ah, I get it. You think I’m drunk.” She giggled. “I’ve only had two glasses, Just-in.” She stressed each syllable of his name. “Enough to make me realize I’m better off without Mr. Chickenshit.”

“You just made my point. You’re swearing, which means you’ve definitely hit your limit of alcohol.”

“You’re sounding like a big brother again, Just-in. I don’t need a big brother tonight. I need a friend. And if you are my best friend you will help me celebrate the end of my engagement.” She held up her left hand and wiggled it in the air. “See. No ring.”

His eyes widened. “You didn’t throw that in the fire?”

“Nope. I flushed it down the toilet.” Seeing the expression on his face, she laughed. “I’m kidding. It’s inside. Now, are you going to join me in a glass of punch or not? Stacy made it extra weak because she knows it doesn’t take much to give me a headache.”

“Why don’t you just bring me a soda.”

She shoved her fists to her waist. “Did you or did you not drive all the way up here a day early to help me make it through the nastiest day of my life?”

“I did,” he assured her.

“Good, because that’s what friends do—they’re there for each other when you need them, and right now I need you to be my best friend, not my big brother. Nothing bad is going to happen to you or me just because we have a couple of glasses of men are pigs punch.”

He thought about it briefly and decided if sitting around the campfire drinking made her forget about her broken heart, who was he to say she should stop? “Okay, go inside and get us some punch.”

As she climbed the steps to the trailer she called out over her shoulder, “If you’re not going to burn the dress, we’re going to need more wood for the fire. There’s a pile of it on the other side of my car.”

While she was inside he gathered several birch logs and added them to the fire. It was quiet on her campsite. A small awning extended from the trailer under which she had a bistro-size table and chairs. Although the campsites were fairly close together, trees afforded a privacy that made it feel as if they were in the middle of the wilderness.

Justin leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of nature all around him. The steady chirping of the crickets, the buzz of insects. He smiled to himself. Paige loved the outdoors and didn’t mind the bugs. It was one of the many things he found attractive about her. She wasn’t given to princesslike behavior. If a spider crawled up her leg she wouldn’t run screaming in circles.