Читать книгу That's My Baby! - Vicki Lewis Thompson - Страница 8

JESSICA FRANKLIN’S STOMACH gurgled with anxiety as she waited at JFK for the 5:45 flight from London. After seventeen months apart, she had to meet Nat Grady, the man she’d loved—still loved, damn it—disguised as a bag lady. Then she had to tell him about Elizabeth, the baby he had no idea they’d conceived, the baby she’d left in Colorado to keep her safe.

The embarrassing truth was, Jessica had picked up a stalker. She thought of it like that, as if she’d contracted a deadly disease and was no longer fit to be a mother. Growing up, she’d felt stifled by her wealthy father’s attempts to protect her from kidnappers. She’d left home, spurning a life of bulletproof cars and bodyguards, insisting she could live quietly and anonymously without all that. It infuriated her to be wrong.

About ten feet away, a woman clucked and cooed at the baby in her arms. Jessica ached every time she saw a mother and child. For her own good she shouldn’t watch them, but she couldn’t seem to stop torturing herself. Babies drew her like magnets. When she spotted one, she’d stare shamelessly as she tried to guess the child’s age and wondered whether Elizabeth would look anything like that, act anything like that.

This one looked to be around eight months old, Elizabeth’s age, and he was a boy, judging from the outfit. Jessica couldn’t imagine her baby this size. When she’d left her at the Rocking D Ranch, Elizabeth had been so tiny, just barely two months old. Jessica had never imagined that their separation would be this long. But now that Nat was home, she would see her baby again. Soon.

The little boy laughed and Jessica counted four teeth. Elizabeth would have teeth by now. She would be crawling, getting into everything, learning to make noises that were the beginnings of speech.

Like ma-ma.

Jessica endured the pain. At least Elizabeth was safe. She’d known she could count on her friends Sebastian, Travis and Boone to keep her baby that way until Nat came home and they could all decide what to do.

Weary passengers trudged into the gate area from customs and Jessica’s pulse raced as she anticipated the meeting to come. She still hadn’t decided on her approach. The thought of Nat Grady brought up so many emotions she had to ask them to stand in line and take turns being heard.

Usually the first feeling to shoulder its way to the front was anger. She’d fallen head over heels in love with the guy, but for the year they’d been involved, he’d insisted they keep their relationship secret from everyone but his secretary, Bonnie, a woman who had invented the word discreet. Even his best friends, the three men she’d left in charge of Elizabeth, didn’t know she and Nat had been seeing each other.

She should have recognized the secrecy thing as a warning signal, but love was blind, and she’d accepted Nat’s explanation that his friends were a nosy bunch and he didn’t want outside interference in their relationship until he and Jessica knew where it was going. All the while he had jolly well known where it was going, she thought bitterly. On a train bound for nowhere.

If only she could hate him for that. God, how she’d tried. Instead, she kept thinking of what he’d said the night they’d broken up. I shouldn’t have let you waste your time on me. I’m not worth it.

Then he’d left her, his real estate business and his friends to head for a tiny, war-torn country where he’d worked as a volunteer in the refugee camps. Along with her other emotions connected to Nat, Jessica battled guilt. If she hadn’t pushed him to end the secrecy and marry her, he wouldn’t have left the country. She was sure of it. He’d have stayed in Colorado, making love to her, the sweetest love she’d ever known.

Instead, to get away from her and the demons she’d demanded that he face, he’d plunged into a violent place where the lines of battle blurred and changed every day. As a civilian he had no weapons and no military training to protect him. He’d spent seventeen months in danger on account of her, and if he’d been killed or hurt, she would have blamed herself.

She was also to blame for the baby, after he’d told her flat out he never wanted kids. A woman her age should have known antibiotics canceled the effect of birth control pills. But she had some gaps in her sexual education, thanks to growing up shadowed by her own personal bodyguard. She hadn’t known.

She needed to tell him it was her responsibility. Still, she thought he should know about the baby, in case the stalker got lucky. But before she told him anything, she’d have to convince him who she was. The dark wig, the baggy clothes and the thick glasses wouldn’t look familiar to him. But once he’d figured out it was her, what would she say first?

Nat, we have a baby girl named Elizabeth. Too abrupt. A man who’d said he never wanted children might need to be eased into that kind of discussion. Nat, I’m disguised like this because I have a stalker on my trail. Too much, too soon. He’d just returned from dodging bullets. He deserved a little peace and quiet before she gave him that bad news, coupled with the information that if anything happened to her he’d need to watch out for Elizabeth, whether he cared to or not.

Her stomach felt as if she’d swallowed a bagful of hot marbles.

A man in a business suit came toward the woman with the baby, and the baby bounced happily, reaching out for the man. When the father lifted the baby into his arms and showered him with kisses, Jessica had to look away.

She took off the glasses she was wearing as part of her disguise and brushed the tears from her eyes. She had to pay attention. Nat could be coming along any minute, and she didn’t want to miss him.

A tall man with a full beard and hair past his collar appeared in the stream of passengers. He wore a battered-looking leather jacket, jeans and boots. A scuffed backpack hung from one broad shoulder, a backpack not too different from the one she carried. Her gaze swept past him, then returned. He moved through the crowd with a familiar, fluid walk, as if he were striding along to a country tune. Nat walked that way.

She looked closer, past the rich brown of his beard, and her heart hammered. The mouth. She’d spent hours gazing at that chiseled mouth, classic as the mouth on one of her father’s prized Rodin sculptures. She’d spent even more hours kissing and being kissed by that mouth, and her tongue slid over her lips in remembrance. Nat. In spite of the anger and guilt, pure joy bloomed within her at the sight of him. Nat. He was here. He was okay.

Suddenly whatever she decided to say seemed unimportant. She just had to get to him, wrap her arms around him and give thanks that he’d returned in one piece. Her nightmares had begun the day she’d learned where he was, and CNN had been her lifeline ever since.

No matter how furiously she’d counseled herself to remain calm when she saw him, she was miles beyond calm. She was weepy with gratitude for his safe return. He was an oasis in the desert her life had become without him.

Drinking in the sight of him moving through the crowd, she sighed with happiness. Thank God he looked healthy, his skin tanned and his hair still lustrous, reflecting the terminal’s overhead lights. But she’d give him the herbal supplements she’d brought, anyway, and insist that he take them. He didn’t eat right under the best of circumstances, and no telling what he’d existed on over there.

He was so appealing that she couldn’t help wondering if he’d become involved with anyone while he was gone. A beautiful waif of a woman, perhaps, who spoke little English, but who had awakened his protective instincts. A woman who’d fallen deeply in love with the big, handsome American cowboy who’d come to help. Jessica knew how easily such a thing could happen, and her heart hurt.

But if he had found another to love, that wasn’t her business. He was free to do as he chose.

Seventeen months. That was a long time for a single man of thirty-three to go without sex. He might not have fallen in love, but he might have taken a woman to bed….

She wouldn’t ask. No, she definitely wouldn’t ask. But the thought made her want to cry.

Moving closer, she focused on his face, trying to meet his gaze. They’d had a magic connection between them, and maybe if she caught his eye, he’d see beyond her disguise and recognize her, heart to heart. He’d be startled, of course, and might wonder if she’d gone crazy while he was out of the country.

In a way she had. Crazy with worry…and love. Still love. But she wouldn’t let him know that she still loved him. She would be very careful about that, unless…unless he had gone a little crazy, too. Although she’d lectured herself to squash that hope like a bug, she’d let it live.

At last Nat glanced her way, and she opened her mouth to call to him. But instead of saying his name, she drew back in uncertainty. His gaze was so hard and uncompromising that it intimidated her. He’d changed.

For a minute she wondered if she’d been wrong in thinking this bearded man was Nat. No, she hadn’t been wrong. It was him. But his blue eyes, once so full of good humor, looked like chipped ice. She wondered what he’d seen in those camps that had put that grim look on his face.

He gave no sign of recognizing her as he turned and headed down the terminal. Her courage failed and she closed her mouth. But she had to catch him, had to let him know about the baby before he called anyone at the Rocking D in Colorado. Sure as the world someone at the ranch would tell him immediately that she’d left Elizabeth there, although she hadn’t named the father. But Nat would know, once he was told the baby’s age. She couldn’t let him find out that way.

She had to hurry to keep up with him. Dodging luggage, people and motorized carts, she kept him in sight as he followed the signs directing him toward ground transportation. She knew he planned to stay in the city for a few nights and take care of some business before flying back to Colorado. His secretary, the only person Nat had contacted before coming home, had said so.

Bonnie didn’t know about the baby or the stalker. She just thought she was helping Jessica create a romantic homecoming surprise for Nat. During the year Nat and Jessica had been secretly involved, Bonnie had set up many of their rendezvous locations, and she’d seemed to relish the role of matchmaker.

When Nat and Jessica had separated, Bonnie had called Jessica, urging her to try to patch things up. Jessica had refused, convinced that Nat had meant for the affair to end from the beginning, which was why he’d kept it such a secret. But when her pregnancy was confirmed, she’d called Bonnie and learned that Nat was out of the country and unreachable. Since then, Jessica had made use of her friendship with the secretary to find out exactly when Nat was due back.

The escalator foiled Jessica’s plans to catch up with him. People and wheeled carry-ons bunched onto the grooved metal steps between them and made it impossible for her to get close. But she didn’t really want to confront him here, anyway, she finally realized. Her news was upsetting enough without being delivered under harsh overhead lights with the din of people and the clatter of baggage to interfere with an emotional conversation.

He’d undoubtedly take a taxi from the airport to his hotel. She’d follow in another taxi and catch him in the lobby. Much better. Maybe they could go for a drink to discuss their options.

The chill of an October night cooled her overheated system as she bustled outside and followed him toward the taxi stand. She gained some valuable time as he convinced the cabdriver to let him ride in front. How like Nat to hate the idea of being chauffeured. She’d been drawn to his democratic instincts from the beginning.

She hated being chauffeured, too, but she didn’t have time to discuss that with the driver of the next taxi in line. With a quick no thanks, she brushed aside his offer to help with her backpack. “I’m in a big hurry,” she said as she hopped in the back seat.

“Right.” The driver hustled himself behind the wheel. “Where to?”

“Follow that cab,” she said, pointing to the one Nat had entered.

He swiveled in the seat to stare at her. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I am not kidding!” She panicked as the other cab pulled away from the curb. “That one! And don’t lose it!”

“You better have money,” the cabbie muttered as he started after Nat’s cab. “You better not be some nutcase who’s watched one too many James Bond movies, or I’ll drive you straight to the nearest precinct station and turn you over to the cops.”

“I have money.” Jessica watched Nat’s cab gain a little distance and clenched her jaw. “Just keep up with them. That cab has a vee-shaped scratch on the trunk. Did you notice that? That’s how you’ll know which one to follow.”

“I see the cab. I just wanna know what’s with the cops-and-robbers routine. I don’t wanna be a whatchamacallit—accomplice.”

“I’m not breaking the law.” Jessica was losing patience with the cabbie. She was pretty much out of patience, anyway, and being back in New York put her even more on edge. The closer they came to the jeweled city on the horizon, the more she felt the tug of her father’s influence.

“I don’t wanna get mixed up in anything,” the driver said. “I just wanna do my job, y’know?”

“In the movies, the cabdriver never complains about having to follow another taxi,” Jessica pointed out. “He just does it.”

“See? What did I tell you? You think you’re in a damn movie or somethin’! I’ll bet they just let you out of the nuthouse. Gave you a pack of meds and told you to have a nice life. And it’s my bad luck that you picked my cab to act out your delusions.”

“I’m perfectly sane.” Jessica might not like being chauffeured, but she was used to it, and she’d never had a driver question her the way this one was doing. Of course, she was used to limos. And this guy didn’t know who she was. He didn’t know the paper beside him on the front seat was the product of her father’s news empire. “Quick, he just changed lanes!”

The driver sounded highly insulted. “I can see that he changed lanes, lady. I didn’t start driving yesterday. Do you even know who’s in that cab?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, right. You probably think it’s Elvis.”

“I know who’s in the cab. I need to talk to him.”

“Why? Who is it?”

Many times as a child Jessica had watched her mother deal with questions she didn’t want to answer. Her mother would stiffen her spine and speak in what Jessica thought of as her to-the-manner-born voice. Jessica had never tried the technique, but she decided to give it a whirl.

Straightening in her seat, she lifted her chin and said, “I don’t believe that’s any of your business.”

Her effort seemed lost on the cabbie. “It sure as hell is my business! I’m transportin’ you in my cab! And I’d appreciate it if you’d lay off the high-and-mighty tone, unless you’re about to tell me you’re kissing cousins to the Rockefellers, which I sincerely doubt.”

Close, Jessica thought. But apparently she didn’t have the presence to carry it off. Then again, she did look like a bag lady. Maybe her mother’s success in turning aside impertinent questions had as much to do with her elegant clothes and her position in society as her tone of voice. Yet in her heart of hearts, Jessica believed that even dressed in rags with no fortune to command, her mother would make people do her bidding. She’d certainly kept her husband and daughter in line for years.

Jessica sighed. Barring a personality transplant, she’d need to give the cabbie some explanation for why they were tailing another cab into the city, or she was liable to be dumped by the side of the road. “The man in the other cab is an old boyfriend,” she said. “I’ve changed since we last met, and he didn’t recognize me, but I really need to talk to him.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Maybe not,” she acknowledged, “but I have some information he needs to hear.”

“Aw, jeez, I know where this is goin’. We’re talkin’ about the patter of little feet, right?”

Jessica couldn’t think of anything but the truth. “You might say that.”

“Poor bastard. But them that plays, pays. I learned that one the hard way. Do you have any idea where he’s goin’?”

“To a hotel in the city, I imagine.”

The cabbie heaved a sigh. “All right, then. I’ll catch him for ya.”

“Thank you.” Jessica settled back against the seat as the sparkling skyscrapers of Manhattan hovered ever nearer. Habit caused her to pick out the Franklin Publishing Tower dangling between sky and earth like one of her mother’s diamond chokers.

She spoke only briefly with her parents these days, stopping long enough in her flight to put in a quick call every couple of weeks. They thought she was “seeing the country.” None of her conversations with them in the past few years had been significant, anyway, and she hadn’t seen them since she’d left home.

They didn’t approve of her decision to abandon their world and try to create her own life, and their attitude toward her had been curt ever since she’d moved to Colorado. Her current predicament, having a child out of wedlock and a stalker on her trail, would only confirm what they’d always assumed—that on her own she’d make a mess of things. She didn’t want to give them a chance to say we told you so.

“How far along are you?” the cabbie asked.

Jessica blinked and tried to figure out what he meant.

“When’s the baby due?” he asked, clarifying his question.

“I, um, already had her,” she said. “I left her with friends.”

“Wait a doggone minute! You already had the kid, and you’re just now nailing the father? Are you sure he’s the father and this isn’t some kind of shakedown?”

“I’m sure. He’s been out of the country. I couldn’t contact him before.”

The cabbie’s gaze flicked into the rearview mirror. “Okay, I’m gonna believe you. The reason is that your voice sounded strong when you said that. After all these years of drivin’ cab, I can tell when a passenger’s blowin’ smoke. You can hear it in their voice. So what did you name her?”

“Elizabeth.” Speaking the name brought a lump to Jessica’s throat and she wondered if she’d cry when she talked to Nat about the baby. She hoped she wouldn’t cry. She didn’t want his pity, only his support.

“Pretty name. I got two kids. Both boys. Rory and Jonathan. I had to marry my wife on account of Rory, but it’s worked out okay.”

Worked out okay. The lukewarm comment made Jessica shiver. She’d never in a million years want a marriage that worked out okay. Even if Nat had a burst of responsibility and proposed marriage to give Elizabeth two parents, Jessica wouldn’t agree. But Nat wouldn’t propose. Marriage scared him to death. The only thing that scared him worse was fatherhood.

“Your guy doesn’t seem to be goin’ into Midtown, like you thought,” the cabbie said. “Looks like we’re headed for the Hudson Parkway. Still want me to follow him?”

“Absolutely.” The route made her nervous, though. She knew it only too well. But it was only a coincidence that the first time she set foot back in New York since leaving her parents’ estate, Nat would lead her back in the direction of the Hudson Valley, straight toward Franklin Hall.

“Like I said, I hope you got money,” the driver said. “For all we know, the guy’s headed for Vermont to see the leaves.”

“I doubt it.”

“You ever seen the leaves?”

“Yes.” She’d taken a trip through Vermont in the limo with her parents the October she turned nine. The long black car had seemed to take up far too much space on the narrow back roads, and it had looked ridiculous sitting parked on the village square in one of the hamlets where’d they’d stopped for hot cider.

She’d been aware of people staring, but she’d grown used to that. She’d ignored them and gazed longingly at three children playing in a yard full of red, yellow and orange leaves. They’d rake them into piles and then dive into them, scattering the leaves in an explosion of color before raking them up and starting all over. Their laughter had made her feel so completely alone.

Her memory clicked over to a crisp fall day in Aspen. Nat hadn’t really understood why she’d begged him to help her gather leaves into piles and jump with her right into the middle of them. But he’d helped her do it, anyway. The lonely child within her had loved every minute, and she’d loved Nat for being such a good sport about it.

“My wife’s after me to take her and the kids up there next weekend,” the cabdriver said, breaking into her reverie, “but I told her I do enough driving during the week. Besides that, it’s bumper to bumper on those little back roads. The word’s out about those leaves.”

“You should take her, anyway,” Jessica said, suddenly feeling sorry for the woman who had no passion in her life. “Get a sitter for the boys. There are some nice bed-and-breakfast places up there. It’s a good spot for couples.”

“You mean couples with bucks. Those cozy little inns aren’t cheap. My wife would probably rather have a new couch.”

“Ask her. I’ll bet she’d rather have the weekend.”

“I’ll bet she’d rather have the couch. You’re gonna have that for a good ten years or more. The weekend’s over and done, and you’ve got nothin’.”

“You have memories!” Jessica protested, battling now for this unknown woman’s right to be romanced, at least once in her life. “They’re worth more than anything.”

“I don’t know. You can’t sit on memories. Listen, we’re headed out of the city entirely. You sure you want to keep going? This is turning into an expensive ride.”

“That’s okay. Keep going.” As they left Manhattan behind, she could hardly believe the direction they were taking. They’d left the Hudson Parkway to follow the familiar route that wound along beside the river. If they kept going like this, they’d drive right past her parents’ estate.

“High-priced real estate up here,” the driver said. “But what I always think about, especially this time of year, is that story about the Headless Horseman. Sleepy Hollow, and all that. That story scared the daylights out of me when I was a kid.”

“Me, too.” She hadn’t thought about it before, but now she realized that when she allowed herself to think about the person stalking her, she felt sort of like Ichabod Crane trying to escape the Headless Horseman.

“My boys love that story, but kids today don’t scare so easy, I guess.”

“I guess.” Jessica wondered if Elizabeth would grow up braver than she was. Her self-image of strong independence grew shakier the closer they came to Franklin Hall.

Less than a mile from her parents’ gate she told the driver to slow down. At last she’d allowed her instincts to take over, and they had told her exactly where Nat was going. By the time the left-turn signal on the cab ahead of them flashed in the darkness, she was prepared for it. For reasons she couldn’t begin to imagine, Nat was going to Franklin Hall.

“Pull over under that tree,” she told the cabbie. “I’ll get out here.”

“What are you gonna do?” He pulled off the road as she’d asked, but gone was the camaraderie they’d established. He sounded nervous and suspicious again. “I can’t let you get out here, in the dark. And you sure as hell can’t follow him into that place. They got one of those automatic gates, and there are probably Dobermans running around or something. I should never have agreed to this. You’re some psycho or something, aren’t you?”

Jessica’s teeth chattered from the adrenaline rush of being so close to Franklin Hall again, but she tried to stay calm. “I can follow him into that place,” she said. “I used to live there. I know the gate code.”

“No way!”

“Look, I’ll prove it to you. First let me pay you what I owe.” She glanced at the meter and handed him some bills, along with a generous tip.

He looked a little happier upon seeing the money. “Just let me take you back to Manhattan, okay? I won’t even charge you. But I can’t leave a woman on a lonely country road like this. If I was to read about you in the papers, I’d never forgive myself.”

Jessica watched the taillights of the other cab disappear down the winding lane leading to the main house, which was obscured by trees. “Okay, you can pull over to the gate now. I’ll show you I can open it.”

“I’ll pull over there.” He guided the car across the road and stopped, his headlights shining on the ten-foot-tall gates with the scrolled letters FH worked into the intricate design. “But you’re not opening that gate. I know the kind of people who would live here, and you’re not that kind.”

“Appearances can be deceiving.” She opened the car door. “You can stay here until I open the gate, and then go on back. That way you’ll know I’m inside the protection of the fence.”

“What if you’re attacked by dogs?”

“There aren’t any dogs. At least not the last I heard.” She opened the door and got out, hefting her backpack onto her shoulder. “Thanks for bringing me out here,” she said. “And do ask your wife about taking that weekend trip to a bed-and-breakfast.” She closed the door.

He rolled down the window and stuck his head out. “You just show me you can open that gate. When you can’t, I’ll take you back to town, no questions asked. You can stay at the Y.”

She turned to smile at him. “Thanks. You’re a nice man. But I won’t need to do that.” She still wasn’t sure what she would do once she was inside the gate, but that was her first step. The code came back to her the minute she stepped up to the keypad, and she punched it in without hesitation. The gates swung slowly open.

“I’ll be damned,” the cabbie said. “Who are you, anyway?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She gave him another smile. “Goodbye.”

“This’ll be one to tell the guys.”

A chill passed over her. “Please don’t. Don’t tell anybody about this.” She had no idea how close her stalker might be.

“Look, if the police question me, because somethin’ bad happens, then—”

“They won’t. I’m just asking you not to gossip to the other cabdrivers. Can you promise that?”

“Yeah, I can promise that. Better get in there. The gates are closing again.”

“Right. Bye.”

“Take care of yourself.”

She turned and ran through the gates before they clanked together with a sound that brought back that familiar feeling of claustrophobia. Once again she was a prisoner of Franklin Hall.