Читать книгу His Twin Baby Surprise - Patricia Forsythe - Страница 13

CHAPTER THREE

“PREGNANT?” BEN STARED at her, swallowed, then stared some more. “And...it’s mine?”

“Of course it is!” Lisa fought down a burst of hysteria. “You don’t think I go around sleeping with—”

“Of course not. Of course not,” he answered hastily, holding up his hands, palms outward. “But...we used protection.”

Hearing him say exactly what she’d said to Gemma and Carly a few days ago didn’t make her feel any better. “I know.”

He sat forward, as if all the strength had been drained from him, and rested his forearms on his thighs. Looking down, and then up, he seemed to struggle to form a sentence.

Lisa knew this wasn’t at all the conversation he’d expected to be having when he’d come to her office. She wondered if that was the last lunch invitation she’d ever receive from him.

Unable to meet his shocked gaze anymore, Lisa looked away, taking in the shabby living room she’d last entered late in September when she’d handled the sale of the ranch to him. The house looked as bad as ever, but she’d been so agitated when she’d driven up today, she hadn’t even noticed if he’d done anything to improve the outbuildings or acreage, although she’d noticed a small herd of horses in the pasture.

She looked around, feeling her mind drifting from the subject at hand. This time, she didn’t try to stop it as the Realtor in her assessed the positive aspects of the house.

This room had beautifully carved crown moldings that could easily be returned to their original beauty if touched up and painted, maple floors with a buildup of grime around the edges that could be cleaned with refinishing, and dingy mint-green paint on the walls. She didn’t think any upgrades would happen. Ben had brought in two new-looking chairs, a sofa and a couple of floor lamps, but she had no idea if he intended to make it any more homey.

Ben looked as though he’d been working hard since he’d returned from town, if his worn, dirt-streaked jeans and blue flannel shirt were any indication. She hadn’t noticed earlier, but his dark auburn hair needed a cut, or maybe it only looked disastrous because he’d been repeatedly running his hands through it, exactly as she’d done when she’d first learned of this news.

Ben cleared his throat, bringing her attention back to him. His dark gray eyes, the color of a winter storm, looked at her. “Is that why you’ve refused to talk to me?”

“Not at first. I was...embarrassed.”

“Because you never do what you did? What we did? I get that. But you don’t have anything to be ashamed of.” When she didn’t respond, he asked, “How long have you known?”

“Only a few days, but I’ve known something was...different for a while.”

“Have you...thought about...what you’re going to do?” His expression was that of a man going down for the third time, grasping at any twig of hope for a different outcome. There wasn’t going to be one.

She scooted forward in her chair, sat straighter and gave him a hard look. “I’m having it and I’m keeping it.”

“Of course. I wasn’t suggesting anything else, I swear. Listen, it’s your choice.” He stood and paced around the room, his boots thumping on the hardwood. “I’ll do my part, of course. I’ll pay child support.”

She waited, wondering what he would say next. Would he want to be part of the baby’s life? That wasn’t what she wanted. Did most men say they wanted to help when they were handed a bombshell like this one? Other than a name on her birth certificate, she didn’t know who her father was and doubted he knew of her existence.

Ben swung back to look at her. His face worked for a minute before he went on, his voice strangled. “I have to tell you, though, Lisa, I never intended to be a dad. I like kids, but I’ve got the life I always worked for—money to do what I like, go where I want, deals working, projects and businesses all over the world.” He shook his head and frowned. “I just had this conversation with my father. I never saw myself with a family because I thought it would be unfair to a kid for me to either be gone all the time or to drag it around the world with me.”

“You don’t ever want anything to impinge on your freedom.”

He barely seemed to think about his response. Throwing his hands wide, he asked, “Would you?”

Lisa started to answer but a wave of nausea rose in her throat. She stumbled to her feet and ran to where she recalled the downstairs bathroom was located. Desperately hoping the ancient plumbing worked, she lurched into the room and shoved the door closed behind her.

A few seconds later she had emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl and stood trembling, holding on to the washbasin as she rinsed her mouth and splashed water on her face. She spotted a roll of paper towels beneath the sink and used one to pat her face dry. Staring at her miserable reflection in the mirror, she took several deep breaths and then scooped more water into her mouth.

She could hear Ben pacing to and fro outside, which meant it was time for her to leave. She had done what she was supposed to do. After stewing about it for days, choosing exactly the right words, even writing out what she planned to say so that her sudden onslaught of brain burps wouldn’t hijack her thoughts, she had told Ben he was going to be a father. Shock and surprise were what she’d expected, but she hadn’t counted on his adamant statement that he’d never wanted to be a dad.

She should have guessed, though. He’d had legions of girlfriends over the years, some in Reston, others scattered around the country, maybe even the world. If he’d wanted to stay with one woman and start a family, there probably would have been at least one of them who would have been happy to accommodate him.

“Lisa?” he called from the other side of the door. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

“No. I’m fine.” She pulled on the knob but nothing happened. She looked to see if she’d locked it, but the old-fashioned door had only a slightly rusted bolt. She tried the knob again but the door wouldn’t budge.

“I think it’s stuck,” Ben said in an apologetic tone. “Let me try.”

The knob twisted and she heard a thump and a grunting sound. She stepped back hastily, but not fast enough. The door flew open and Ben shot through, slamming her against the edge of the sink, knocking the breath out of her in a whoosh.

Ben made a grab for her, his arms going around her shoulders to keep her on her feet as he said, “Sorry! Are you okay?” He held on to her as he looked her up and down.

“Yeh...eh...hess,” she wheezed, fighting for her breath. She managed to loosen one arm and surreptitiously rub her hip where she knew she would have a bruise.

He took the hint and stepped back, his worried gaze still on her. “Sorry about that door. Every single one in the place sticks, but I guess that one’s the worst. I’ve never closed it before.”

“What?”

He shrugged. “I’m here alone. No need to shut the bathroom door.”

“Oh.” She lived alone, too, but always closed the door to the bathroom. In fact, she closed her bedroom door every night, too. She paused, considering it. Growing up, those were the only two doors in the house that would close because everywhere else was so stuffed with her hoarder grandparents’ things. She frowned at Ben.

“Come on,” he said, ushering her into the hallway. “Let me get you something to drink. You want some coffee?” He looked around helplessly. “Or tea?”

“No thanks. No caffeine.”

As if he couldn’t help himself, he glanced down at her belly and then up. “Oh, of course. Um, I’ve got soft drinks. Lemon-lime soda, maybe?” Suddenly his worried expression cleared. “And crackers! I’ve got some saltine crackers.”

Before she could respond, he helped her back to her chair and strode into the kitchen. As he rustled around, she twisted in her chair and rubbed her hip again. She could ask for an ice pack but doubted that he had one. A dripping bag of ice cubes wouldn’t do her wool slacks any good, although she wasn’t sure why she was worried. Her waistline would soon expand so much that she wouldn’t be able to wear this beautifully tailored outfit, anyway.

A few minutes later he returned with a glass and a bowl of saltine crackers. She considered turning down the snack, but her lurching stomach told her she’d better not.

Since there was no table on which to set anything, she placed the bowl in her lap and held the soft drink in one hand. As she nibbled and sipped, Ben roamed the room and turned up the thermostat. The old-fashioned wall heater rattled and groaned to life and soon had the room at a stifling temperature.

With a sound of annoyance, he turned it off once more. “I’ve got to do something about that.”

After an awkward silence had stretched far too long, Lisa set her empty glass on the floor, knowing any condensation from the glass wouldn’t harm the already-warped boards.

Ben finally sat opposite her and cleared his throat. “I guess we should talk about...financial arrangements...for the...”

“Baby. It’s called a baby.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. You’ll need money for...”

As his words trailed off, Lisa watched him try to think of what an expectant mother might need. She didn’t yet know much about it, but he knew even less than she did.

“Ben, I’m...I’m glad you’re willing to provide financial support, but we should have a legal agreement.” She studied his face, unsure how he would react to that statement.

“That makes sense, and I can pay for...for your before-baby care, too.”

“It’s called prenatal care. Thanks, but I don’t need your help. I’ve got health insurance, a good hospital, a good doctor. And Gemma will help deliver the baby when it’s time.”

He nodded. “And the time will be...September?”

“That’s right.”

“I’ve been invited to help establish an American-style football league in India. I have to be there in August, but sometimes there are delays. I might be in town in September,” he said.

Lisa dropped her head forward in surrender. Leaning down, she set the bowl beside the glass and stood. “I’m so glad you think you might be able to fit the birth of your child into your schedule, but I don’t expect you to be there.”

He surged to his feet. “I didn’t mean it like that. I want to help—”

“Yes, as long as it corresponds with what you already have planned and doesn’t interfere with your freedom.” Turning, she stomped to the door.

“Be fair,” he insisted, following her. “I don’t know anything about kids.”

Unwanted tears sprung into her eyes as she said, “And that’s the way it’s going to stay, isn’t it, Ben?” She waved a hand in dismissal. “You can be whatever kind of father you want to be.”

Eager to escape a situation that had gone from uncomfortable to unbearable, she grasped the doorknob. Of course, the door wouldn’t open. Ben reached around and gave it a tug, but this time she was quick enough to move aside and avoid injury. She hurried out and down the steps to her car with him following.

As she slid behind the wheel, he leaned in and said, “We can talk about this later, when we’ve both had time to process it a little.”

“You’ll be hearing from my attorney,” she responded, jerking the door shut.

Ben called after her, but she started the car, turned in a big circle and slammed on the gas pedal, shooting up gravel that had him scrambling backward. Blaming overactive hormones for her out-of-control emotions, she wiped away her tears, took a breath and concentrated on driving.

She had done what she was supposed to do. Ben now knew he was going to be a father, a role he obviously didn’t want. She didn’t know exactly what she’d expected to happen, but this was worse than she’d imagined.

Now that she’d had time to come to terms with her impending motherhood, she felt exhilarated but also terrified. She had to remember that she had friends, a support system that would help her every step of the way. Her baby would have honorary aunts in Gemma and Carly and uncles in their husbands, Nathan Smith and Luke Sanderson—even a cousin in Carly and Luke’s adopted son, Dustin. Her child wouldn’t have a father. But then, Lisa had never had one, either.

* * *

LONG SHADOWS WERE stretching across the road as Lisa gratefully headed for home. She couldn’t wait to go inside, put her feet up, eat dinner and try to come to terms with what had turned out to be an emotionally wrenching day. She’d known it would be hard telling Ben about the baby, but she hadn’t expected the overwhelming disappointment she’d felt in the charming, winsome Ben McAdams.

She wanted to talk to Gemma and Carly about it, but it was dinnertime and they had family responsibilities, so the lengthy talk she would need to put this into perspective would have to wait.

As she approached her home, she glanced over in surprise to see an ancient compact car parked out front. Her stomach quivered nervously when saw the Illinois license plate. The car appeared to be stuffed with bags and boxes.

Cautiously, she parked in her carport, grateful for the automatic lights that flipped on as soon as she pulled in. Looking around as she stepped from the car, she reached into her pocket for her cell phone, prepared to call for help. She was two miles out of town, though, so she didn’t think assistance would arrive as quickly as she might need it.

“Hello?” she ventured, her gaze darting around. She kept the car door open in case she had to leap in and make a fast getaway. Fortunately the carport was open at both ends and no longer obstructed by the broken-down tractor that had once barred the way.

At the sound of a hesitant step behind her, she spun around. She had her keys in her hand, the tips protruding from between her fingers—the only weapon at her disposal.

“Oh, hello,” a woman’s voice said as she stepped into the light.

Lisa blinked, astonished. “Maureen?”

“You said we could talk later,” Maureen said with a hesitant smile, running a hand through her short, dark hair. She shrugged one shoulder in a way Lisa thought looked vaguely familiar. “Hello, Lisa.”

“Um, hi. I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I’ve had...a crazy day and...” Her voice trailed off. The drama with Ben had made her forget about Maureen.

“It’s okay. I know it must have been a shock for me to come strolling into your office that way. It’s a lovely place, by the way. Very neat and clean.”

“Thank you.”

“I was taking a look around while I waited,” Maureen said, her hands sweeping out to encompass the property. “I hope you don’t mind. The place is wonderful. What did you do with all that junk Dad had piled everywhere?”

“Um, uh, sold it, donated it, tossed it...” Lisa’s voice trailed off. She couldn’t seem to make sense of what was happening, couldn’t believe what her eyes were telling her. The mother she barely knew was standing in front of her, casually talking about how great the old homestead looked. “Were you looking for...something?”

Maureen answered with an awkward laugh. “No. It’s just that I’d never seen the place without piles of old tires, wrecked cars and various abandoned tasks all jumbled together.” She paused, glanced around and stuffed her hands into her pockets.

Good grief, Lisa thought. What should she say to this woman? The mother who’d left her when she was a month old?

Her curiosity overcame her trepidation. Stepping away from her car, she closed the door and said, “Would you like to come in?”

Immediately, Maureen’s shoulders relaxed and relief flooded her face. “Yes, thank you.”

Maureen waited while Lisa unlocked the door and held it open so she could precede her into the kitchen.

Once they were inside and Lisa had flipped on the light in the kitchen, she was able to get a better look at her mother. Maureen was examining the room, her mouth open in awe.

There was no denying who Maureen’s parents were. She had Grandma Lily’s dark blue eyes, which Lisa had also inherited, and her face was square-shaped like Grandpa Wesley’s. Her short dark hair was touched with gray and her face was free of makeup. Lisa thought she appeared drawn and thin, but she saw her mother so infrequently, she couldn’t be sure.

She attempted to see the kitchen as her mother did. It had been completely gutted, and where piles of books, boxes of odds and ends, and other detritus had once made it impossible to move without the danger of injury, the simplest of hickory cabinets, white-tiled countertops and stainless-steel appliances had been installed. A row of glass jars filled with rice, pasta and beans was the only item on the counter. A couple of antique signs advertising long-vanished brands of ice cream hung on the wall over the breakfast nook. The cozy little corner held a small wooden table and two chairs Carly had found and refurbished for her. Lace curtains on the east-facing windows let the sunshine in every morning, brightening the whole room.

Maureen pointed to the hardwood floor that gleamed a dark honey color. “Was this underneath that nasty old green tile?”

“Yes, quarter-sawn maple.”

“Unbelievable.” Maureen shook her head, moved into the small dining room and marveled at the polished mahogany table and chairs. “I’ve never seen the top of that table in my life.”

“Me, neither. I grew up thinking the natural color of the wood was nasty gray. Turns out that it was grime all along.”

Maureen answered with a pained look. “I remember. It’s beautiful now.”

“My friend Carly Joslin refinished it for me.”

And so it went throughout the remainder of the house—living room, three bedrooms and two bathrooms. As they moved through the house, Lisa cast surreptitious glances at Maureen, who now carried her coat over her arm. She thought her mother looked thinner than she had when in Chicago, and fragile, as if she’d been sick. But for all she knew, Maureen’s skin always had that paleness. Lisa doubted that she’d always worn such baggy clothes, though.

They ended up back in the living room. The floors had been stripped and refinished so that the wood gleamed. The walls had been painted a restful shade of soft cream and the built-in bookcases on each side of the fireplace had new, unbroken glass in the doors. Best of all, there were only a few cherished items on the shelves and on the mantel over the fireplace, including the one good photograph she had of Lily and Wesley Thomas. It had been taken in the sixties, when they were newly married and anything seemed possible.

Maureen stopped and turned to her, tears filling her eyes, her lips trembling.

“What did you do with it all?” she asked. She waved a hand. “The junk, the garbage, the years of crud that was more important to them than—” Her head slumped forward and she lifted a hand to her eyes. She hunched her spine as if weighed down by crippling sorrow.

Taken aback and filled with pity at Maureen’s distress, Lisa’s natural instinct was to draw her mother into a hug, but the defensiveness of her shoulders made her stop. Instead she stammered out the same thing she’d said before. “Sold it, tossed it...a bunch of people helped me and—”

“How long did it take?” The words seemed to be wrenched from Maureen.

“Six months and then another two to renovate the house. I’d had an apartment of my own until they got sick and I moved back in to care for them, but when we started the cleanup, I lived with my friend Carly until it was done.” She fell silent. Maureen couldn’t possibly be interested in her living arrangements while Rich Richmond’s construction firm had finished the renovations. Nor would she be interested in hearing of the emotional support she’d needed after losing the ones who had raised her within weeks of each other, and when she’d sorted through mountains and hills and piles of the worthless junk they had spent more than fifty years collecting.

A wave of nausea rose in her throat and she had to say, “Excuse me,” and hurry to her en suite bathroom where she couldn’t be heard. She threw up, rinsed her mouth and once again stood looking at her devastated face and stunned expression in the mirror.

This had been a day of shocks, and she had the horrible feeling they weren’t over yet.

“The hits just keep coming,” she murmured, rubbing her sore hip.

Her thoughts went to Ben and the shock he must have felt when she’d told him about the baby. The surprise of having Maureen show up made her a little more sympathetic about Ben’s reaction. But not much, she thought, pushing away from the sink and returning to the room where Maureen waited.

The older woman looked as though she had pulled herself together. She glanced up from where she’d seated herself on the sofa. “Are you all right?” she asked, her gaze swiftly taking in Lisa’s appearance from head to toe.

“Yes. I’m fine.” Lisa provided the automatic reassurance, although she didn’t feel fine. She took a chair opposite the sofa.

Maureen looked around, her face still dazed. “It’s so clean and beautiful. I can’t believe all you’ve accomplished.” She paused and then she met Lisa’s gaze. “I’m sorry I didn’t call first. I—” She shook her head again. “Honestly, it didn’t occur to me that you still lived here. When I drove up, I thought I was in the wrong place. I didn’t have to drive through head-high dead weeds or dodge a row of engine parts and a dozen old transmissions.”

“And a pile of wheels and axles,” Lisa added. “Grandpa started moving those to the front of the house in the year before he died. Not sure why he didn’t display that particular collection sooner.”

“It’s impossible to know how his mind worked.” Maureen’s lips tightened and she looked away, her attention going to a small brass statue of a pair of praying hands that stood on the end table. Reaching out, she ran her hand over it. Lisa had found it in the bottom of a box of papers, its surface unmarked from having been buried for half a century. The words Lily and Violet had been scratched on the bottom in childish carving, so it must have belonged to one of them as a child. “There was so much of it...everywhere, strangling everything.”

Lisa couldn’t tell if she was experiencing grief, sorrow, disgust or some other emotion. She didn’t know her mother well enough to read her expressions, know her thoughts. Sadness, fueled by her tiredness and expectant-mother hormones, had tears springing into her eyes. She quickly wiped them away and stood to go to the kitchen. Forcing normalcy into her voice she said, “I’ve got to get something to eat. Would you like to join me?”

“Yes, please.” Maureen sounded surprised at the invitation. “Do you need some help?”

“No, thanks. I’ve got it.” Lisa waved a hand. “Look around some more if you want to.”

Happy to escape and collect her thoughts, she went into the kitchen and pulled out a chicken stew she’d made on Sunday. She poured it into a pan and, while it heated, made a salad. The whole time her mind was frantically racing, trying to figure out why her mother was there. Maureen had only visited a handful of times since she’d left at the age of sixteen. She had never spent the night.

Lisa paused in her preparations, staring down at her hands. Did Maureen expect to stay the night? Or longer? If so, why?

She set the table and called Maureen in.

“Oh, this smells wonderful,” her mother said as she sat. “Did Mom teach you how to cook?”

“A few things. Mostly I taught myself.”

Maureen gave her a thoughtful look. “Forgive me, Lisa, but I have to ask. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. After they...died, why did you stay here? Fix it up? You could have simply walked away.” She gave a laugh. “Or set a match to the whole thing.”

Lisa’s lips wavered in a smile. “Don’t think I didn’t consider that, but arson is against the law.”

She hadn’t answered the question but Maureen didn’t push her. In truth, Lisa had cleaned up and refurbished the place because she was hoping it would give her some answers about why her grandparents had been the way they were. Why Maureen had left. She hadn’t found any of those things and had frequently questioned her own sanity while sorting through and disposing of the mess. She didn’t want to say such a thing quite yet, though.

She knew that if Maureen felt free to ask why she’d stayed, Lisa could ask why her mother had left. She didn’t want to hear the answer tonight, though. She’d had enough.

Dinner conversation was awkward. Lisa knew it was because the only things they had in common were the unlivable home in which they’d grown up and the two people whose lives could best be described as dysfunctional.

As they were finishing their meal, Lisa made them each a cup of tea. Maureen took a sip, then played with the handle of the cup. She jerked in a deep breath and said, “Dinner was delicious. Thank you. I guess you want to know why I’m here.”

“Yes, I’d like to know. I mean, if you want to talk about it.” Lisa lifted her hands helplessly. “I’ve only seen you a few times. This past hour has been the longest conversation we’ve ever had.”

“I know.” Maureen looked down at her hands, which Lisa could see were scarred and work-worn. “Did you ever read a poem by Robert Frost that has a line in it about home being where they have to take you in when you go there?”

“Well, yes. I studied American literature. It’s called ‘Death of the Hired Man.’” Lisa drew in a sharp breath. “Maureen, are you dying?”

Horror flooded Maureen’s face. “No, no. I’m sorry. I would never burden you with that. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I’m saying this all wrong. I’m not dying, but I’ve been sick with an antibiotic-resistant infection. Even though I had health insurance, the hospital bills and treatments wiped out most of my savings. I lost my job and my apartment. I had to get away from the weather in Illinois, so I thought I’d come here.” Shame filled her face. “I know it’s a lot to ask. You probably think I’ve got a lot of nerve.”

“I don’t know what to think,” Lisa admitted. Her brain and her emotions were on overload. She desperately wanted to go to bed and pull the covers over her head. She could see that Maureen was as exhausted as she was, her eyes drooping and her face set in grim lines.

“When I drove up tonight, I planned to ask the new owners of this place if they knew where you lived, but then you came home—”

“And...you want to stay?”

“Only a little while, until I can find a job, get back on my feet.” She gave Lisa a desperate look. “I promise it’ll only be for a little while.”

Through the swirl of her emotions, she mostly felt curious. “Why, after all these years?”

“Several reasons, but mostly unresolved history, and I decided I had to return to my hometown and quit being a coward. When I...ran away, I went to Aunt Violet in Chicago.”

“Yes, Grandma told me.”

“Before she died, she told me I had to come here, make things right, or I would never have peace.” She tilted her head and gave another little shrug.

With a start, Lisa remembered that her grandfather had made exactly that gesture. Lisa’s heart ached. She had been dealing with her own problems all day, but she knew this woman had a much bigger one. Lisa might be expecting a baby that would change her life in ways she couldn’t yet imagine, but she had security, friends and her own business. Maureen had nothing except a daughter she barely knew—and consequences for actions she’d taken thirty-three years ago.

Lisa wanted to know more, much more, about Maureen’s motivations, reasons, life, but she couldn’t handle one more thing tonight.

In her mind Lisa could hear Gemma and Carly warning her to be careful, that it might all be a scam, but she met Maureen’s hesitant gaze and said, “Of course you can stay. You can have my old room—your old room, or the smallest bedroom, whichever one you want.”