Nine

“Whose baby is it?” Carol repeated, stunned. She couldn’t believe Steve would dare to ask such a question when the answer was so obvious.

“That’s what I want to know.”

His face was drawn extremely tight—almost menacing. She moved into the room and sat across from him, her heart ready to explode with dread. She met his look squarely, asking no quarter, giving none. The prolonged moment magnified the silence.

“I’m three months pregnant. This child is yours,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even.

“Don’t lie to me, Carol. I’m not completely dense.” The anger that seeped into his expression was fierce enough to frighten her. Steve vaulted to his feet and started pacing in military fashion, each step precise and clipped, as if the drill would put order to his thoughts and ultimately to his life.

Carol’s fingernails dug into the fabric on the sides of the overstuffed chair and her pulse went crazy. Her expression, however, revealed none of the inner turmoil she was experiencing. When her throat felt as if it would cooperate with her tongue, she spoke. “How can you even think such a thing?”

Steve splayed his fingers and jerked them through his hair in an action that seemed savage enough to yank it out by the roots. “I should have known something was wrong when you first contacted me at Christmastime.”

Carol felt some color flush into her cheeks; to her regret it probably convinced Steve she was as guilty as he believed.

“That excuse about not wanting to spend Christmas alone was damn convenient. And if that wasn’t obvious enough, your little seduction scene should have been. God knows, I fell for it.” He whirled around to face her. “You did plan that, didn’t you?”

“I … I …”

“Didn’t you?” he repeated, in harsh tones that demanded the truth.

Miserable and confused, Carol nodded. She had no choice but to admit to her scheme of seducing him.

One corner of his mouth curved up in a half smile, but there was no humor or amusement in the action. The love that had so recently shone from his eyes had been replaced by condemnation.

“If only you would let me explain.” She tried again, shocked by this abrupt turn of events. Only a few hours before, they’d lain in each other’s arms and spoken of a reconciliation. The promise that had sprung to life between them was wilting and she was powerless to stop it.

“What could you possibly say that would change the facts?” he demanded. “I was always a fool when it came to you. Even after a year apart I hadn’t completely come to terms with the divorce and you, no doubt, knew that and used it to your advantage.”

“Steve, I—”

“It’s little wonder,” he continued, not allowing her to finish speaking, “that you considered me that perfect patsy for this intrigue. You used my love for you against me.”

“Okay, so I planned our lovemaking Christmas Eve. You’re right about that. I suppose I was pretty obvious about the whole thing when you think about it. But I had a reason. A damn good one.”

“Yes, I know.”

Carol hadn’t realized a man’s eyes could be so cold.

“What do you know?” she asked.

“That cake you’re baking in your oven isn’t mine.”

“Oh, honestly, Steve. Your paranoia is beginning to wear a little thin. I’m doing my damnedest to keep my cool here, but you’re crazy if you think anyone else could be the father.”

He raised his index finger. “You’re good. You know that? You’re really very good. That fervent look about you, as though I’m going off the deep end to even suspect you of such a hideous deed. Just the right amount of indignation while keeping your anger in check. Good, very good.”

“Stop that,” she shouted. “You’re being ridiculous. When you get in this mood, nothing appeases you. Everything I say becomes suspect.”

His hand wiped his face free of expression. “If I didn’t know better, I could almost believe you.”

She hated it when Steve was like this. He was so convinced he was right that no amount of arguing would ever persuade him otherwise. “I’m going to tell you one last time, and then I won’t say it again. Not ever. We—as in you and I, Steve—are going to have a baby.”

Steve stared at her for so long that she wasn’t sure what he was thinking. He longed to believe her—she could recognize that yearning in his eyes—and yet something held him back. His Adam’s apple moved up and down, and he clenched his jaw so tightly that the sides of his face went white. Still the inner struggle continued while he glared at her, as if commanding the truth—as if to say he could deal with anything as long as it was true.

Carol met that look, holding her gaze as steady and sure as was humanly possible. He wanted the truth, and she’d already given it to him. Nothing she could say would alter the facts: he was her baby’s father.

Steve then turned his back on her. “The problem is, I desperately want to believe you. I’d give everything I’ve managed to accumulate in this life to know that baby was mine.”

Everything about Steve, the way he stood with his shoulders hunched, his feet braced as if he expected a blow, told Carol he didn’t believe her. Her integrity was suspect.

“I … my birthday—I was thirty,” she said, faltering as she scrambled to make him recognize the truth. “It hit me then that my childbearing years were numbered. Since the divorce I’ve been so lonely, so unhappy, and I thought a baby would help fill the void in my life.”

He turned to look at her as she spoke, then closed his eyes and nodded.

Just looking at the anguish in his face was almost more than Carol could bear. “I know you never believed me about Todd, but there’s only been one lover in my life, and that’s you. I figured that you owed me a baby. I thought if I invited you to spend Christmas with me and you accepted, that I could probably steer us into the bedroom. None of the problems we had in our marriage had extended there.”

“Carol, don’t—this isn’t necessary. I already know you were—”

“Yes, it is. Please, Steve, you’ve got to listen to me. You’ve got to understand.”

He turned away from her again, but Carol continued talking because it was the only thing left for her to do. If she didn’t tell him now, there might never be another chance.

“I didn’t count on anything more happening between us. I’d convinced myself I was emotionally separated from you by that time and all I needed was the baby …”

“You must have been worried when I didn’t fall into your scheme immediately.”

“What do you mean?” Carol felt frantic and helpless.

“I didn’t immediately suggest we get back together—that must have had you worried. After Christmas Eve we decided to leave things as they were.” He walked away from her, but not before she saw the tilt of righteous indignation in his profile. “That visit to my apartment … what was your excuse? Ah yes, a button you’d found and thought might be mine. Come on, Carol, you should have been more original than that. As excuses go, that’s about as flimsy as they get.”

“All right, if you want me to admit I planned that seduction scene, too, then I will. I didn’t get pregnant the way I planned in December … I had to try again. You had to know swallowing my pride and coming to you wasn’t easy.”

He nodded. “No, I don’t suppose it was.”

“Then you believe me?”

“No.”

Carol hung her head in frustration. “Naturally only one night of lovemaking wasn’t enough,” he said with a soft denunciation. “It made sense to plan more than one evening together in case I started questioning matters later. I’m pleased that you did credit me with some intelligence. Turning up pregnant after one time together would have seemed much too convenient. But twice … Well, that sounds far more likely.”

Carol was speechless. Once more Steve had tried and found her guilty, choosing to believe the worst possible scenario.

“Fool that I am, I should have known something was up by how docile and loving you were. So willing to forget the past, forgive and go on with the future. Then there was all that talk about us starting a family. That sucked me right in, didn’t it? You know, you’ve always known how much I want children.”

“There’s nothing I can say, is there?”

“No,” he admitted bleakly. “I wonder what you would have told me next summer when you gave birth—although months premature, astonishingly the baby would weigh six or seven pounds and obviously be full term. Don’t you think I would have questioned you then?”

She kept her mouth shut, refusing to be drawn into this kind of degrading verbal battle. From experience she knew nothing she could say would vindicate her.

“If you don’t want to claim this child, Steve, that’s fine, the loss is yours. My original intent was to raise her alone anyway. I’d thought … I’d hoped we could build a new life together, but it’s obvious I was wrong.”

“Dead wrong. I won’t let you make a fool of me a second time.”

A strained moment passed before Carol spoke, and when she did her voice was incredibly weak. “I think it would be best if you left now.”

He answered her with an abrupt nod, turned away and went to her bedroom to retrieve his shirt and shoes.

Carol didn’t follow him. She sat, feeling numb and growing more ill with each minute. The nausea swelled up inside her until she knew she was going to empty her stomach. Standing, she rushed into the bathroom and leaned over the toilet in a ritual that had become all too familiar.

When she’d finished, she discovered Steve waiting in the doorway, watching her. She didn’t know how long he’d been there.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded, not looking at him, wanting him to leave so that she could curl into a tight ball and lick her wounds. No one could hurt her the way Steve did. No other man possessed the power.

He didn’t seem to believe she was going to be fine, and slowly he came into the bathroom. He wet a washcloth and handed it to her, waiting while she wiped her face. Then, gently, he led her back into the bedroom and to the bed. Carol discovered that lying down did seem to ease the dizzy, sick feeling.

Steve took his own sweet time buttoning his shirt, apparently stalling so that he could stick by her in case she was sick a second time, although she knew he would never have admitted he cared. If she’d had the energy, Carol would have suggested he go, because for every minute he lingered it was more difficult for her to bear seeing him. She didn’t want him to care about her—how could he when he believed the things he did? And yet, every now and again she would find him watching her guardedly, his eyes filled with worry.

“When do you see the doctor next?” He walked around the foot of the bed and resumed an alleged search for his socks.

“Two weeks.” Her voice was faint and barely audible.

“Don’t you think you should give him a call sooner?”

“No.” She refused to look at him.

Steve apparently found what he wanted. He sat on the edge of the mattress and slowly, methodically put on his shoes. “How often does this sort of thing happen?” he asked next.

“It doesn’t matter.” Some of her energy returned, and she tested her strength by sitting up. “Listen, Steve, I appreciate your concern, but it just isn’t necessary. My baby and I are going to be just fine.”

He didn’t look convinced. His brooding gaze revealed his thoughts, and when he looked at her, his expression softened perceptibly. It took a moment for his eyes to drop to her hand, which rested on her abdomen.

The change that came over him was a shock. His face tightened and his mouth thinned. A surge of anger shot through her. “You don’t want to claim our daughter, then it’s your loss.”

“The baby isn’t mine.”

The anguish in his voice was nearly Carol’s undoing. She bit her lower lip and shook her head with mounting despair. “I can’t believe you’re actually saying that. But you’ll never know, will you, Steve? All your life you’re going to be left wondering. If she has dark eyes like yours and dark hair, that will only complicate your doubts. No doubt the Kyle nose will make you all the more suspicious. Someday you’re going to have to face the fact that you’ve rejected your own child. If you can live with that, then so be it.”

He twisted around and his fists were knotted into tight fists. “You were pregnant at Christmas and you’re trying to pawn this pregnancy off on me.”

“That is the most insulting thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He didn’t answer her for a long time. “You’ve insulted my intelligence. I may have loved you, but I’m not a blind fool.”

“They don’t come any blinder.”

“Explain the milk?”

“What?” Carol hadn’t a clue to what he was talking about.

“At Christmas, after we’d made love, we had a snack. Remember?”

Carol did.

“You poured yourself a glass of milk and I commented because you used to dislike it. We were married five years and the only time I can remember you having milk was with cold cereal. You could live your whole life without the stuff. All of a sudden you’re drinking it by the glassful.”

With deliberate calm Carol rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “Talk about flimsy excuses. You honestly mean to say you’re rejecting your own child because I drank a glass of milk an entire month before I was pregnant?”

“That isn’t everything. I saw your knitting Christmas Eve, although you tried to hide it from me. Later, I asked you about it and you claimed it was a baby blanket. It was the same piece you were working on at Christmas, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but …”

“That blanket’s for your baby isn’t it, Carol? There never was any friend.”

Frustration mounting in volcanic proportions, she yelled, “All right, it wasn’t for any friend—that’s what you want to hear.”

“And then there were the sweet potatoes. Good God, you had six containers full of yams that night … pregnant women are said to experience silly cravings. And that’s what it was, wasn’t it—a craving?”

Standing, Carol felt the weight of defeat settle on her shoulders. No amount of arguing would change anything now. Steve had reasoned everything out in his own mind and found her answers lacking. There was no argument she could give him that would change what he’d already decided.

“Well?” he demanded. “Explain those things away, if you can.”

She felt as if she were going to burst into helpless tears at any second. For six years she’d loved this man and given him the power to shatter her heart. “You’re the only man I know who can put two and two together and come up with five, Steve,” she said wearily.

“For God’s sake, quit lying. Quit trying to make me doubt what’s right before my eyes. You wanted to trick me into believing that baby is mine, and by God, it almost worked.”

If he didn’t leave soon, Carol was going to throw him out. “I think you should leave.”

“Admit it!” he shouted.

Nothing less would satisfy him. She slapped her hands against her thighs and feigned a sorrowful sigh. “I guess you’re just too smart for me. I should have known better than to try to fool you.”

Steve turned and marched to the front door, but stopped, his hand gripping the knob. “What’s he going to do about it?”

“Who?”

“Todd.”

It took every dictate of Carol’s control not to scream that her former employer had nothing to do with her being pregnant. “I don’t have anything more to say to you.”

“Is he going to divorce Joyce and marry you?”

With one hand cradled around her middle, Carol pointed to the door with the other.

“I have a right to know,” Steve argued. “If he isn’t going to help you, something should be done.”

“I don’t need anything—especially from you.”

“As much as I’d like to walk away from you, I can’t. If you find yourself in trouble, call me. I’ll always be there for you.”

“If you want to help me, then get out of my life. This baby is mine and mine alone.” There was no anger in her words; her voice was low and controlled … and sad, unbelievably sad.

Steve hesitated and his lingering seemed to imply that something would change. Carol knew otherwise.

“Goodbye, Steve.”

He paused, then whispered, “Goodbye.”

The pain in his voice would haunt her all her days, she thought, as Steve turned and walked out of her life.

* * *

The loud pounding noise disrupted Steve’s restless slumber and he sat up and glared at the front door of his apartment.

“Who is it?” he shouted, and the sound of his own voice sent shooting pains through his temple. He moaned, tried to sit up and in the process nearly fell off the sofa.

“Steve, I know you’re in there. Open up.”

Lindy. Damn, he should have known it would be his meddling sister. He wished to hell she would just leave him alone. He’d managed to put her off for the past week, avoiding talking to her, inventing excuses not to see her. Obviously that hadn’t been good enough because here she was!

“Go away,” he said, his voice less loud this time. “I’m sick.” That at least was the truth. His head felt like someone had used it for batting practice.

“I have my own key and I’ll use it unless you open this door right now.”

Muttering under his breath, Steve weaved across the floor until he reached the door. The carpet seemed to pitch and roll like a ship tossed about in a storm. He unbolted the lock and stepped aside so Lindy could let herself in. He knew she was about to parade into his apartment like an angel of mercy prepared to save him from hell and damnation.

He was right.

Lindy came into the room with the flourish of a suffragette marching for equality of the sexes. She stopped in the middle of the room, hands placed righteously on her hips, and studied him as though viewing the lowest form of human life. Then slowly she began to shake her head with obvious disdain.

“You look like hell,” she announced.

Steve almost expected bugles to follow her decree. “Thank you, Mother Theresa.”

“Sit down before you fall down.”

Steve did as she ordered simply because he didn’t have the energy to argue. “Would you mind not talking so loud?”

With one hand remaining on her hip, Lindy marched over to the window and pulled open the drapes.

Steve squinted under the force of the sunlight and shaded his eyes. “Was that really necessary?”

“Yes.” She walked over to the coffee table and picked up an empty whiskey bottle, as though by touching it she was exposing herself to an incurable virus. With her nose pointed toward the ceiling, she walked into the kitchen and tossed it in the garbage. The bottle made a clanking sound as it hit against other bottles.

“How long do you intend to keep yourself holed up like this?” she demanded.

He shrugged. “As long as it takes.”

“Steve, for heaven’s sake be reasonable.”

“Why?”

She couldn’t seem to find an answer and that pleased him because he wasn’t up to arguing with her. He knew there was a reason to get up, get dressed and eat, but he hadn’t figured out what it was yet. He’d taken a week of leave in order to spend time with Carol. Now he would give anything to have to report to duty—anything to take his mind off his ex-wife.

His mouth felt like a sand dune had shifted there while he slept. He needed something cold and wet. With Lindy following him, he walked into the kitchen and got himself a beer.

To his utter amazement, his sister jerked it out of his hand and returned it to the refrigerator. “From the look of things, I’d say you’ve had enough to drink.”

He was so stunned, he didn’t know what to say.

She pointed her index finger toward a kitchen chair, silently ordering him to sit. From the determined look she wore, Steve decided not to test her.

Before he could object, she had a pot of coffee brewing and was rummaging through the refrigerator looking for God knew what. Eggs, he realized when she brought out a carton.

She insisted he eat, which he did, but he didn’t like it. While he sat at the table like an obedient child, Lindy methodically started emptying his sink, which was piled faucet-high with dirty dishes.

“You don’t need to do that,” he objected.

“Yes, I know.”

“Then don’t … I can get by without any favors from you.” Now that he had something in his stomach, he wasn’t about to be led around like a bull with a ring through his nose.

“You need something,” she countered. “I’m just not sure what. I suspect it’s a swift kick in the seat of the pants.”

“You and what army, little sister.”

Lindy declined to answer. She poured herself a cup of coffee, replenished his and claimed the chair across the table from him. “Okay,” she said, her shoulders rising with an elongated sigh. “What happened with Carol?”

At the mention of his former wife’s name, Steve’s stomach clenched in a painful knot. Just thinking about her carrying another man’s child produced such an inner agony that the oxygen constricted his lungs and he couldn’t breathe.

“Steve?”

“Nothing happened between us. Absolutely nothing.”

“Don’t give me that. The last time we talked, you were as excited as a puppy about her being pregnant. You could hardly wait to see her. What’s happened since then?”

“I already told you—nothing!”

Lindy slumped forward and braced her hand against her forehead. “You’ve buried yourself in this apartment for an entire week and you honestly expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t care what you believe.”

“I’m to blame, aren’t I?”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have said a word about Carol and the baby, but she’d been so sick and I’ve been so concerned about her.” Lindy paused and lightly shook her head. “I still am.”

Steve hated the way his heart reacted to the news that Carol was still sickly. He didn’t want to care about her, didn’t want to feel this instant surge of protectiveness when it came to his ex-wife. For the past week, he’d tried to erase every memory of her from his tortured mind. Obviously it hadn’t worked, and the only thing he’d managed to develop was one hell of a hangover.

“I shouldn’t have told you,” Lindy repeated.

“It wouldn’t have made one bit of difference; I would have found out sooner or later.”

Lindy’s hands cupped the coffee mug. “What are you going to do about it?”

Steve shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? But Steve, that’s your baby.”

He let that pass, preferring not to correct his sister. “What’s between Carol and me isn’t any of your business. Leave it at that.”

She seemed to weigh his words carefully. “I wish I could.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Carol looks awful. I really think she needs to see her doctor. Something’s wrong, Steve. She shouldn’t be this sick.”

He shrugged with feigned indifference. “That’s her problem.”

Lindy’s jaw sagged open. “I can’t believe you. Carol is carrying your child and you’re acting like she got pregnant all by herself.”

Steve diverted his gaze to the blue sky outside his living-room window and shrugged. “Maybe she did,” he whispered.