“NO!” INCREDULOUS, Grant gaped at Pam. How could she suggest telling Andy the truth about the baby’s parentage? About their agreement?
Pam sat calmly on a chair in the coach’s office where she’d tracked him down over the lunch hour. He paced the narrow confines of the room, before finally coming to a halt. “This is not negotiable.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Where did you come up with such a nutty idea, anyway?”
Pam gathered her skirt, crossed her leg, then neatly arranged the folds of material. “That doesn’t matter. Trust me, though, Andy needs to know.”
“Trust you? What is this? Another of your ‘confidential’ pieces of information about my son?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Well, what is it like? Have you forgotten I’m the boy’s parent, not you?” He couldn’t believe this was happening.
“That’s exactly why we have to tell him.” When she looked up at him, he averted his gaze from her plaintive hazel eyes. “He’s had enough manipulations and half-truths in his young life. How can he trust either one of us if we aren’t honest with him?”
“Why now? Just when I feel as if I’m getting close to him? The boy’s been desperate for family. Why destroy his illusions?”
“He’ll find out in September anyway.”
Grant slumped against the edge of his desk. Her words had robbed his lungs of oxygen. Apparently he’d been fooling himself to think about a future with her. “Can’t we give him this one year, at least?”
“And then what? Is it going to be any easier in September when he believes he has a half brother or sister and a real home?”
She had him there. All his rationalizations couldn’t negate the fact that he’d lied to his son, by his words and by his actions. They both had—and the facts would eventually come out. Pam leaned forward in her chair. “It’s important, Grant.”
His anger faded, replaced by overbearing weariness. “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“We’ve managed to keep the secret of the baby’s parentage pretty well.”
She lowered her eyes. “I told Dad.”
That was news to Grant, but he wasn’t terribly surprised. “I’d trust Will with my life. But do you really think we can burden a fifteen-year-old boy with such a momentous secret? It would take only one slip and it would be all over school.”
“I’ve thought about that, but if we trust Andy, it’s a risk we need to take. Whatever agreement the two of us may have made, I care for him. I don’t want my personal situation to create any further barriers to your relationship with him.”
“He’ll be devastated.”
“Yes, at first I imagine he will. But we can’t go on living a lie. Your son needs to be able to trust you completely. He’s your family.” She stood slowly, one palm making small, nervous circles on her amply rounded stomach. “He needs to know he always has come first with you and always will.”
He folded his arms across his chest and studied her face. In it he read concern, sadness, but above all, conviction. She’d been right about Andy in the past. Hell, her instincts had always been better than his. But this was asking too much. “Let me think about it,” he said.
Never taking her eyes off his, she nodded. “Fair enough.”
THERE WAS NO MORE CUDDLING in bed. After her conversation with Grant in his office, Pam hadn’t expected there to be, but she desperately missed both their physical and emotional closeness. Despite their accuracy, his words had cut her. Have you forgotten I’m the boy’s parent, not you? Somewhere along the way, the lines had blurred. At times they had felt so much like a family.
Not anymore.
Even her father had noticed, but she’d passed off his concern by saying Grant was intensely focused on basketball. Which was true. The team played a minimum of two games a week, above and beyond practices. Andy had become an integral part of the team, and his pride and satisfaction were evident. He was happier, more confident.
Ten days had passed since she’d broached the subject of telling Andy. Finally one evening, when Grant came to bed, he fluffed the pillows and sat, half reclining, his hands folded on his chest. “Okay,” he said, as if carrying on from their original conversation. “I’ve thought about it.”
Barney was tight against her rib cage, making it hard to breathe. “And?”
“I’d like to wait until after the season. Andy’s got enough on his mind now with school and basketball. That’ll still give him a month or more to get used to the idea before the baby comes.”
They’d waited this long, what difference would another few weeks make? The main thing was that Andy would know he, and he alone, was his father’s son. “That sounds reasonable.”
“There’s one more thing.”
Even though the double bed was narrow, the distance between them seemed to grow exponentially. “What’s that?”
“Could we wait until summer to tell him…about September? The baby’s enough news to lay on him at one time. Anyway, by summer, he’ll be thinking about going back to Florida and maybe the marriage thing won’t seem so monumental to him.”
Pam closed her eyes. Was this to be the never-ending drama? This final act would be even harder to carry off, because she stood to lose so much—a son, a father for her baby and, most important, her best friend, the man she loved. “All right. One piece at a time.” She rolled on her side, hoping the baby would reposition himself. “You pick the time.”
“Fine.”
Regret for what might have been kept her wide-awake. Beside her, she sensed that Grant, too, lay sleepless.
At first, she wasn’t sure he’d spoken her name. But then he went on in a tight, controlled voice. “About the childbirth classes. Do you still want me to go?”
Was he opting out? Or did he suppose she’d reject him now? She thought about the alternatives. Connie or Ginny would do it, but they’d wonder why her husband wasn’t her birth coach. Going through the emotional experience of the classes and the birth with Grant would break her heart.
But without him?
Unthinkable. She wanted to share this special time with the man she loved, whether or not he could reciprocate her feelings. “Yes, Grant, I do.”
GRANT HAD THOUGHT basketball practices were difficult. They were nothing compared to these childbirth classes. Bad enough were the graphic descriptions and films, but cradling Pam, breathing with her, torturing himself about the baby and the end of their marriage? It was like riding the bench with a career-ending injury.
No matter how hard he tried, two things Pam had said led him to the unmistakable conclusion that, for her, their marriage always had been nothing more than a mere arrangement. He’ll find out in September anyway. As if it was a foregone conclusion. But the clincher was He’s your family. So much for his grandiose visions of the four of them—Andy, the baby, Pam and him—coming together as the family of his dreams.
The chipper voice of the birth instructor intruded into his thoughts. “Next week we’ll be showing some basic infant-care procedures. Feeding, burping, bathing, changing diapers. You fathers ready for that last one?”
Some of the other men managed hollow laughs, but all Grant could think was that he wouldn’t even be around long enough for the baby’s first tooth.
On the way home, both he and Pam were silent. What was there to say? Where was the happy anticipation? “Have you picked out the new wallpaper?” he asked. A safe, neutral topic.
“Yes, but it’s your house. You should make the final decision.”
His house. His son. “That’s not necessary. I trust your taste.”
“I’ll call the paperhanger, then.”
“Next week’s our last game. Unless we get into the play-offs, which looks doubtful.”
She looked sharply at him. “But if you’d had Beau Jasper?”
“Don’t go there.” He worked on mellowing his tone. “Watching Andy blossom has been worth a play-off berth.” That didn’t necessarily pacify the other team members, but it was funny how things had a way of working out. Some things, he added bitterly.
“How do you want to go about telling Andy?”
He didn’t want to think about it. Things were so great for Andy right now. “I’ll be there, but the way I figure it, the baby’s your show.” He cleared his throat. “Besides, you have a better touch with him than I do.”
“It’s not a competition.”
“Right.” But it sure felt like one.
SAYING GOODBYE to her father was harder than Pam had anticipated. He’d been such a comfort—and a much-needed buffer—but he had almost fully recovered, getting around with only a cane, and was chomping at the bit to get home. Until he saw with his own eyes, he said, he wouldn’t believe his neighbor could take adequate care of his horses.
That Saturday morning in early March after Grant and Andy had loaded Will’s suitcases in the car, they all gathered in the kitchen for the farewells. Will clamped his hands on Grant’s shoulders. “Take care of these two,” he nodded at Pam and Andy. “And lemme know as soon as that new young ’un makes his appearance.”
“Or hers,” Pam reminded him yet another time.
Then Will turned to Andy. “As for you? You have a happy birthday, hear? And just because you get that driver’s license doesn’t mean you have to act like a damn fool.”
“I won’t, Gramps.” Andy stood with his hands tucked in the back pockets of his jeans. “After the baby gets here, I wanna come visit you and Pepper.”
“I’m countin’ on it.”
Andy took a step forward. “Uh, thanks for everything. You know. The advice and all.”
Will cocked his head, studying the young man in front of him. “I’m right proud of you, son. Right proud.” He hesitated, then pulled Andy into a bear hug. “Aw, hell. I’m gonna miss you like the dickens.”
“Me, too,” Andy whispered raggedly.
When Will drew back, he pulled out his bandanna and wiped his nose. “Somebody musta spilled pepper in here.” Then he turned to Pam. “Come out to the car with me, dumplin’.”
She tucked her arm through her father’s and walked alongside him. At the car he paused, squinting at her as if she were a specimen under a microscope. “One day you’re gonna have to tell the man.”
“What?”
“That you love him. Don’t like to say this about my own kind, but men are dense. If you don’t tell him, how else is he gonna know? No self-respecting male’s gonna risk his pride if he thinks he’ll be rejected. Or worse yet, laughed at.”
“But he could just as easily reject me.”
Her father put his arm around her, rubbing her back as he continued. “Well, then, I guess you’ll always wonder what coulda been, won’t you?” He eyed her shrewdly. “Never knew you to be a coward, though.”
“Oh, Daddy.” She threw her arms around him, aware, with a wonderful intimacy, that his grandchild was sheltered between them. “I’ll miss you.”
“Take care, honey.” He drew back. “And call me the minute you have that baby.”
She stood, hugging herself against the strong early March wind, as his car disappeared from sight.
Now it was just the three of them.
And the moment of truth.
GRANT SAT on the sofa after lunch, hands clamped on his knees. Waiting. Dreading. Pam entered from the kitchen, trailed by Andy, who paused awkwardly in the door. “So whaddya wanna talk to me about?”
Pam gestured to the easy chair before taking her seat on the sofa beside Grant. She picked up an orange textured pillow and clutched it over her stomach, almost as if protecting the baby from the anticipated fallout from their discussion. Andy, looking warily from one to the other of them, perched on the edge of his chair, poised on the balls of his feet. Sensing the tension in the room, Grant rubbed his hands over his thighs and began. “We want to talk with you about trust.”
“What’d I do now?”
“Nothing,” Grant said. At the same time Pam murmured, “Not a thing.”
Pam caught Grant’s eye, signaling that she’d take the lead from here. “Remember when you asked me to keep your confidence about playing basketball in the park?”
Andy nodded, one leg moving up and down like a piston.
“And I did.” She toyed with the fringe of the pillow. “But honoring your request meant I betrayed your father’s trust.”
“How do you figure?”
“He is your parent. I’m not. He had a right to know what you were doing after school.”
“What’s the big deal? Everything turned out all right, didn’t it?”
“Yes, this time,” Grant interjected. “But Pam and I have been talking.” He looked at her to secure her support. She inclined her head slightly. “We’ve expected honesty from you, but we haven’t been totally honest in return.” He gulped, finding this whole scenario even more difficult than he’d imagined.
Andy threw up his hands. “I don’t get it. What the heck are you guys talking about?”
“The baby,” Pam said, her voice shaky.
Andy paled. “He’s all right, isn’t he?”
“He’s fine, son. What we’re about to tell you absolutely mustn’t go any further. If it did, it could hurt all of us, especially Pam and the baby. Only one other person outside this room knows. Gramps. And that’s the way it has to stay. Always. I guess the big question is, can we trust you to keep this confidence?”
Pam leaned forward. “I’m sure—”
Grant cut her off. “Son?”
Andy shrugged. “I guess so. Sure, I mean, if it’s that important.”
“It is,” Grant said quietly.
Pam laid aside the pillow. “There’s no easy way to say this, but the truth is—” Grant watched her falter, before going on “—your dad is not the father of my baby.”
Andy’s whole body stilled and his eyes widened in shock. Again he looked from Pam to his dad and back. “Wait a minute. I don’t understand. You guys are married.”
Pam hung her head. “I was pregnant before then.”
Grant could almost see the wheels turning in his son’s brain. “Oh, it was one of those artificial insemination things, right?”
Grant could hardly bear to watch his son sorting through all the explanations, desperately trying to find one that would make everything right. “No.”
Andy fixed him with a baffled stare. “You mean it’s someone else’s baby?”
Pam laid a hand on Grant’s leg. “Let me tell him.” She pushed her hair back and looked directly at Andy. “This summer I had a loving, intimate relationship with a man who wasn’t and isn’t in a position to be a father to this child. I wouldn’t consider adoption or…other options, even if it meant losing my job. I love this baby.”
“Jeez, Dad, you knew this? And you married her anyway?”
“I’d known Pam a long time. She was a good friend. She was in trouble.” He turned then and sought Pam’s eyes. “Besides, I cared for her.” If she only knew how much. “It’s not such a big deal to take on another man’s child. Babies can be pretty easy to love.”
“I couldn’t ask for a better husband or father,” Pam said, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. “But I…we…didn’t want you to wonder where you stand.”
“You are my son. My only son.”
Andy simply sat there, saying nothing.
Grant continued. “I hope it’s obvious how important it is to keep this in the, er, family. Pam is a great person. A wonderful teacher. Her reputation, her future, in a way, is in our hands. And, of course, the baby’s. I’m counting on you to be man enough to understand the ramifications.”
Andy stood. “Can I go now?”
Eyeballing his son, Grant got to his feet, too. “You will keep this to yourself?”
Grant sensed a smart remark coming, but then Andy looked at Pam, who was clutching the pillow again and simply said, “I told you already. Yes.” Glaring at Grant, he added, “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m leaving for the park. See? This time I’m telling you where I’m going.”
Andy whirled from the room, grabbed a basketball out of the hall closet and left the house. In the void Grant heard the cats playing tag in the upstairs hall, smelled the apple pie Pam had baked earlier, felt the churning of his stomach. When he turned to look at her, she was already on her feet. “I think I need to be alone,” she said, moving past him to the den.
With a jolt he remembered. Will was gone. No more sharing the room upstairs.
It was as if all three of them had retreated to their separate corners.
And it was anybody’s guess how Andy was reacting to the news.
SON OF A BITCH! Son of a goddamn bitch! Why’d they have to tell him that? It about made him puke. His legs churned, catapulting the bike down the street. Wind whipped his hair and his nose ran with the cold.
He couldn’t picture it. Pam—Ms. Carver, for God’s sake—getting it on with some dude and then turning around and snagging his dad. Was his dad so hard up for a woman that he’d take used goods? That was sick!
Reaching the park, he plunked down the bike, relieved to find the basketball court empty. He bounced the ball savagely several times, as if he could pulverize it, then hurled it at the backboard, again and again. He’d thought they were a family. Oh, he’d noticed how Pam and his dad sometimes kept their distance, but he’d figured all parents were like that. But hell! They’d been keeping a secret. A big one.
He ran in under the hoop, made a layup, then dribbled the key and arched a twenty-footer. Catching his own rebound, he repeated the pattern over and over. How could his dad have gotten married like that? To somebody already pregnant?
When sweat dripped from his face, he tore off his jacket and kept shooting, not even caring whether the ball went through the stupid hoop. It didn’t sound like Pam, either. He liked her. He’d almost felt closer to her than his own mother. She didn’t nag and she did neat things for him like help get Angie’s present.
Finally he stopped the frantic activity and stood staring into the distance, idly bouncing the ball. Slowly, inevitably, a thought formed in his head. Maybe he would never have found out except for that journal entry. The one about being jealous of the baby.
Well, Pam and his dad had certainly given him a solid reason not to be jealous any longer. The baby wasn’t his father’s.
But that meant it wasn’t his brother or sister, either.
He didn’t need to be jealous at all. He should be relieved.
But he wasn’t. He felt like total crap!
THE WEEKS SPED BY. The warmer days of early spring were redolent with earthy smells. The upstairs bedroom, now papered in bright blue and white ticking with a border of teddy bears, was ready. The tiny onesies, booties and sleepers from the faculty baby shower were stacked neatly in the drawers of the recently acquired changing table. And thanks to the cheery new kitchen decor, making casseroles to freeze for after the delivery had been more pleasant.
At school, the Thespian Society had initiated its new members, spring-break tales were old news and Pam was working diligently on lesson plans for her substitute. Andy was busy with the tennis team, Brittany Thibault had been admitted to the college of her choice and Randy Selves had talked with Pam about subleasing her condo again for the upcoming school year. She’d put him off, of course, because by September everything would be different.
When the tulips in the backyard bloomed, she knew the time was close when Barney would make his—or her—appearance. The tulips. Her tulips. Would she ever see one again without thinking of Andy? Of Grant?
Was it any wonder Andy’s wonderfully personal journal entries had dried up after they’d told him the truth? Now he confined himself to discussing movies, musical groups, current events. Anything except his feelings. He spent all the free time he could at Angie’s or Chip’s house and retreated to his room when he was at home. She and Grant didn’t seem to have much to say to each other. They had never spoken about Andy’s reaction to their news, largely, she felt, because it was hard to interpret how the boy really felt.
At least they’d pulled off one successful event— Andy’s sixteenth birthday celebration. He’d invited the basketball team and their dates to a dinner party before they all went to a movie. Grant grilled hamburgers and Pam had made two chocolate sheet cakes, which were completely devoured. The isolated, uninvolved boy from the school year’s beginning now had a host of friends who accepted him. That was something. And he had more freedom. He’d passed his driver’s test.
Maybe, given the tension among them, it would be a relief when she and Grant told Andy the rest of the story.
It seemed almost surreal that at one time she’d thought she could tell Grant she loved him.
But Andy’s disappointment in her made that impossible. Grant would never enter a relationship now that his son was so disillusioned about her.
Until the baby came, her only true companions in this home were Viola and Sebastian.
She found herself envying the unencumbered life of a housekeeper.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Andy, his hair sleep tousled, stood shirtless and barefooted on the back stoop, watching Pam string clothesline between two trees.
“It’s such a beautiful morning. I love the smell of air-fresh sheets and towels. I’m bypassing the dryer today.” Pam had awakened early full of energy that belied three nocturnal trips to the bathroom. She’d already done two loads of wash and cleaned the refrigerator. “Want to bring me the basket and help?” She nodded at the wicker container on the first step.
“What are these?” he asked, setting the basket down and picking up a clothespin.
“This, my young friend, is an ingenious device for hanging clothes. See?” Selecting a hand towel, she demonstrated.
“Isn’t it easier to use the dryer?”
“Easier, maybe, but not nearly as satisfying.”
The look he gave her told her that he thought she was certifiable. “Where’s Dad?”
She gestured expansively. “It’s a lovely April Saturday. A man needs to be on the golf course.” She didn’t add how awkward weekends were when Grant stuck around the house—pure Kabuki theater of avoidance.
Holding a washcloth at arm’s length, Andy fumblingly attached it to the line. “You really think this stuff’s gonna smell better?”
“I know it. And if you’re smart, you’ll run upstairs and bring me the linens from that cave you call a room. I’ll pop them in the washer and pretty soon your lair will smell like flowers.”
“Yuck.”
She giggled to herself as he left, unaccountably feeling more optimistic than she had in weeks. As if to remind her not to get too cocky, Barney did a tour jeté, nearly knocking the breath out of her.
After frying bacon and eggs for a ravenous Andy, she cleaned up the kitchen and started his wash. Reluctantly he slouched out to the garage, unearthed the lawn mower and began cutting the grass, as Grant had instructed him to do the night before.
Pam crossed items off her To-Do list, noting that only cleaning the oven remained. But it was too pretty a day to undertake that chore. She’d check the bag she’d packed for the hospital one more time. On her last weekly visit, Dr. Ellis had said the baby could come anytime. Pam was still teaching, although she desperately hoped her labor would begin at home, not at school, where a cast of hundreds would be involved in her private drama.
On her way to her room, she peered in Grant’s, smiling at Viola snoozing on his bed. Apparently the contented feline had never gotten the message that she wasn’t the master’s favorite animal. Or else they’d achieved détente.
When she reached the den, Sebastian, who lay sunning on the windowsill, raised his head and licked his chops in acknowledgment. She’d given Grant and Andy strict instructions about the care of the kitties and had stockpiled cat food, just in case. Other than the oven, she couldn’t think of a thing she’d forgotten to do.
Again Barney performed an amazing acrobatic feat, but then settled down. Pam lowered herself into the rocker, caressing her stomach, humming softly. Focusing on her baby made it easier to avoid thinking about the dreams that had died. Of being truly married to Grant. Accepting and loving Andy as a son. Creating a real family. Giving this precious infant a wonderful father and brother.
On the light breeze from the open window wafted the fragrance of newly mown grass. Birds chirped. Springtime. Renewal. Rebirth.
With bittersweet longing, Pam recognized the tune she’d unconsciously been humming. “What I Did for Love.”
THERE. The stupid lawn was done. He’d even used the edger. Mowing was about the last thing he’d wanted to do today. The baseball team was playing in Dallas at one o’clock and he’d wanted to see Cale Moore pitch. He checked his watch. Too late now.
There was one other thing. Pam looked like a blimp and he’d noticed how she kept rubbing her stomach. Dad was playing golf. He didn’t feel right leaving her home by herself. A shiver of dread coursed through him. But what help would he be if something happened? Like if she went into labor? Not that it was his problem. Or his dad’s. This kid had nothing to do with him. Still he felt weird. The most he knew about having babies was what he’d learned in that dorky film they’d showed in fifth grade—the one where they separated the boys and the girls. It had some dumb title like Becoming a Man.
After lunch maybe he’d read the new Tom Clancy. Chill out. Call Angie about their date tonight. He stowed the mower in the garage, and when he went in the house, he found Pam pulling a big old casserole of macaroni and cheese out of the oven. It was hard to stay mad at her when she cooked so good.
He’d just finished his first helping and she’d gotten up to get him seconds when he heard her say something like “Woof.” When he turned around, she was clutching her stomach and peeing all over the floor.
He was paralyzed. What the hell was happening?
“Towels, Andy. Get some towels quick.” She was panting like a dog and leaning against the counter.
Towels. Think towels. He raced outside and grabbed four off the line, barely registering that they did smell kinda good. When he got back inside, she was still supporting herself at the counter. In a calm, scary voice, she said, “I’m okay. My water just broke.” Whatever that was. He guessed it had something to do with the baby. “Call the golf course and leave word for your father to meet us at the hospital.”
Us? Hospital?
He turned his head away. She was wiping between her legs with the towel. “Then hand me the phone to call Dr. Ellis.”
His tongue wouldn’t work to get the words out. “You’re…you’re having the baby? Now?”
She threw towels onto the floor to sop up the mess. “Not now, exactly. But soon. And I need your help, Andy.”
“Mine?”
“Can you drive me to the hospital?”
Whoa. He loved to drive. But taking her to the hospital? What if she had the baby in the car, like in those movies where they don’t make it to the emergency room? What if he had an accident?
“Andy?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. Okay. I’m calling the golf course now.”
He was scared shitless. But when she let out another breathless moan, he knew he had to be the man. There wasn’t anybody else.
ANDY DROVE, white-faced, in a manner that would bring an approving smile to any driving instructor but that caused Pam to bite her lip in frustration. Couldn’t he go any faster?
By the time they reached the hospital her contractions were about four minutes apart and she had a new appreciation for the word travail. A sweet-faced nurse, who looked like one of her students—what could she know about childbirth?—settled her in the labor room, decked out to deceive her that she was in a luxury hotel. She could see Andy hovering anxiously in the hall. Finally the nurse finished her ministrations and nodded to Andy. “You can come on in now and keep your mother company.”
Pam momentarily shut her eyes. If only that were true.
Andy peered nervously around the room, studying every detail except her mounded stomach. “What are those things?” he said, pointing to the fetal monitor apparatus.
She explained to him about tracking the baby’s heart rate as well as the length and strength of the contractions. He leaned over to study the erratic scratches on the paper feeding through the machine. “Cool.” Then he stuck his hands in his pockets and stared over her head. “That a boom box?”
“Yes. There are some CDs in my bag.” Just then a contraction tightened her stomach, and she concentrated only on the crescendoing sensation.
“Pam?” Andy’s voice sounded strained.
The pain ebbed. She smiled. “It’s okay. Just a contraction.”
“Isn’t there something I’m supposed to do?”
“Not a thing, except cross your fingers all goes well.” She studied his drawn face, his clenched hands. “You don’t have to stay with me. Maybe you’d be more comfortable in the waiting room.”
“No!” He seemed shocked at his own strong reaction. “I’m responsible. Until Dad gets here.”
Pam smiled, then held out her hand. “Thanks, Andy. I’d like you to keep me company.”
And, for the next forty minutes, that’s exactly what he did, putting on some soothing CDs and holding her hand until Grant, face flushed, burst into the room. “Thank God, I made it in time.”
Pam had never been so glad—or so sad—to see somebody. The moment was here. But what she had was a birth coach, not a husband.
THE NEXT COUPLE OF HOURS WERE a blur of reassuring voices, intermittent examinations and the inevitable surges signaling contractions. Dr. Ellis had arrived, checked her and given Pam a big thumbs-up. “You’ve slowed down some, but we should have a baby before this youngster’s bedtime.” The doctor winked at Andy, who had steadfastly refused to leave Pam’s side, except when the nurse asked him to step into the hall while she did some tests. About four in the afternoon, he picked up the bedside phone. Grant was feeding her chipped ice and stroking her forehead. They couldn’t help overhearing.
“Angie, yeah, uh, I’m not gonna be able to make it this evening. My stepmom’s having her baby, and I gotta be here…. What’s it like? Well, it’s not the easiest thing in the world, you know?” He listened, then grinned. “You’re right. I guess that is why they call it ‘labor.’… You, too. Yeah, I’ll call you as soon as he comes.”
“She,” Pam murmured just before another contraction crested.
“Deep breaths,” Grant coached. “Atta girl. Just a little longer.”
When the pain passed, she gazed into his eyes, arrestingly blue and heartbreakingly full of concern. She clutched his warm hand. “Thanks for being here.” Then she looked over at Andy. “Both of you.”
“You’re going to have a beautiful, healthy baby. Keep focused on that.” Grant’s voice was like a lullaby. He projected calm, confidence. No wonder he was an effective basketball coach.
A beautiful, healthy baby. Tears welled and splashed down her face.
Grant leaned over. “Are you all right?”
She tried to smile through the tears. “Yes.” Except for the fact my baby will never know you as a father.
AT DINNERTIME the nurse suggested Grant and Andy get something to eat. “You have a long night in front of you. Best to be fortified.”
Grant didn’t like the sound of that “long night.” Labor was supposed to come more quickly when a mother’s water broke. What was taking so long? Watching Pam’s struggle was pure agony. He ached with love each time she endured a contraction, each time she gripped his hand in concert with her body’s upheaval.
“Do we have time to run home?”
When the nurse learned they lived close by, she told them to go on, saying nothing much would change in the next hour or so.
“Dad, are you sure we should leave?”
“We won’t be long. There’s something I need to get at home. We’ll grab a bite at the drive-through and be back in a jiff.”
“What’d you forget?”
“Never mind. It’s between Pam and me.”
Andy shot him a strange look, but didn’t question him further. Grant concentrated on his driving. And on thinking.
He’d missed Pam these past few weeks. Oh, sure, they’d occupied the same space, but the old intimacy was gone. Until today. Logic told him this wasn’t his wife. Wasn’t his baby. But with each contraction, each heartbeat ticking away on the monitor, he kept thinking, “I love you, I love you.”
He left Andy in the car and raced to his desk in the den and pulled out the envelope. Maybe this was a crazy idea, but it was no crazier than his idea of getting married in the first place.
It was a desperate game plan, but winning meant putting everything on the line.
And, God, how he needed—wanted—to win!
DAD LOOKED SO SERIOUS, so worried, Andy figured he’d better say something. Help get his dad’s mind off Pam. But that was hard ’cause that was all he was thinking about, too. About how tinkly her laugh was, about how she made him feel good about himself, about the way his dad stared at her when he thought nobody was looking. He’d been pretty much an ass about learning the baby was somebody else’s. You had to look at it from the kid’s point of view. He’d need a family. And it wasn’t like Andy had any other siblings. Besides he couldn’t believe he was actually going to be there when the baby came. Well, not there, like in the delivery room, but right outside. Like a regular brother. Andy gazed out the window. They were only a few blocks from the hospital. “Dad, I’ve been thinking.”
“What about?”
“I’d like to stay.”
“Well, sure, son. Pam and I want you at the hospital.”
“Uh, that’s not what I meant.” Andy cracked his knuckles, desperate to make his dad understand.
“I’m listening.”
“I want to stay in Fort Worth, go to Keystone, be part of your, uh, our family.”
He’d thought his dad would break out one of those world-class grins. Instead, he looked pained. Didn’t he want him? “Nothing would make me happier, Andy. It’s been great having you here. But—”
“I know. Mom.”
“I have no sense of how she would react.”
“Couldn’t we try?” Looking down at his lap, Andy realized he’d crossed his fingers.
His father’s features relaxed and, with a sigh, he smiled. “Yes, son. We’ll try.”
“YOUR HUSBAND’S HERE,” Dr. Ellis announced, peeling off her rubber gloves. “I’d say he’s just in time. You’re dilated to eight.” When the doctor stood aside, Grant hastened to Pam’s bedside. She was so relieved when he returned. His presence soothed her in a way back rubs and foot massages never could.
He picked up her hand and held it against his chest. “How’re you doing?”
“I just want it over,” she moaned. “Why can’t this baby hurry up?”
“I guess he takes after his mother. Wants to make a grand entrance.”
She couldn’t hear the rest of what Grant said. She closed her eyes and screwed up her face. Through the red mist of a strong contraction, she made out his one word. “Breathe.”
From the foot of the bed, a nurse said, “It won’t be long, now, honey. But you’ve got to work with me.”
Her body felt as if a battering ram had taken up residence in her pelvis. No sooner would one wave crest and break than another would take its place. The only constants were Grant’s deep voice and his gentle hand tenderly wiping the damp hair off her forehead. “Please!” she heard herself call out.
Time stood still, yet rushed past with a fury, bringing with each movement of the clock hand another spasm.
“Don’t push,” the nurse admonished.
Dr. Ellis swept into the room, gowned and masked, her eyes dancing. “Show time, Mama.”
“Thank God,” Pam managed to say before becoming aware the room had suddenly been transformed into a brightly lit surgical theater.
“Breathe, then hold it,” the doctor said.
Pam felt herself lifted and cradled in Grant’s strong arms.
“Now—” the obstetrician’s voice was emphatic “—Push.”
Pam gripped the sheet and bore down with all her might. She felt tears on her cheeks as she slumped against Grant, helpless to deliver the massive weight pinning her to the bed.
“Rest.” The nurse sponged her face.
“One or two more,” the doctor intoned.
Again the cataclysm—cramping, exploding.
“Okay, okay,” Dr. Ellis murmured. “The head is crowning.”
Pam knew she couldn’t possibly do anything more. They’d just have to take the baby some other way. “I can’t.”
Suddenly Dr. Ellis stood over her. “Stay with me, Pam. Your baby wants to meet you.”
Then Pam was filled with a fierce urge, magical in its intensity, followed by a rapturous kind of pain.
“Push!” the doctor ordered.
Then, as if a huge hole had been blown in the dam of her body, she felt release, and almost before she could process the change, the doctor held up a tiny, perfect infant, bawling its head off in greeting.
“You have a beautiful baby girl,” Dr. Ellis said, beaming. “Would you like to hold her?”
Would I like to hold her? Pam held out her arms. “Thank you, thank you all.” Then she welcomed her daughter, wrapped loosely in a warm blanket. A miracle. Amazingly, the baby quit crying while Grant cut the umbilical cord, and then through unfocused deep blue eyes studied her mother.
The medical personnel were busy doing something at the other end of the bed, but Pam didn’t care. Her precious baby was here. Safe and sound.
Then she looked up at Grant, intending to thank him. The words died on her lips. He made no attempt to wipe away the tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’re so beautiful,” he said to her, his eyes awash with love. Then he looked at the baby. “You both are,” he whispered.
Holding her daughter, gazing at the man she loved—a man who’d stood by her even through this miracle—she knew that her dad was right. She could no longer risk the pain of not knowing.
She offered him her daughter. “Here, you take her.”
His eyes clouded with uncertainty. “You’re sure?”
“Oh, yes.” She placed the baby in Grant’s arm, tucking the blanket around the tiny form. Then she found his eyes. “I’m sure, because I love you so very much.”
For one heartbeat, she thought he was going to drop the baby, but he recovered, nestling her even closer to his chest. His voice caught. “Does this mean what I think it does?”
Her eyes never left his. “What do you think it means?”
Cradling the baby like a football, he reached into his pocket and withdrew an envelope. “I hope it means that I can tear this up.” It was their written agreement. “That we don’t have to wait till September to decide about the rest of our lives.”
Gently he placed the baby in her arms, catching one of her hands and kissing it reverently. “I love you, Pam. I’ve loved you from the beginning, all along, and most especially right now.”
She felt a warm glow radiating throughout her body. She sighed contentedly, pointed to their contract, and then smiled into his dear face. “Tear away, beloved.”
ANDY COULDN’T BELIEVE IT. They were letting him in the delivery room. Right away. “Is it a boy or a girl?” he asked the smiling nurse.
She winked. “Why don’t you come see?”
He opened the door carefully, peering around the edge. He didn’t wanna walk in on, well, yucky stuff.
“Son? Come in.”
His dad sat on the edge of the bed, his arm around Pam. Cradled in her arms was this round-faced baby with squinty eyes, rosy-red cheeks and lots of black hair. Andy edged closer. “Jeez, he’s kinda little.”
Both his dad and Pam chuckled like they were in on some big joke. “What’s so funny?” He didn’t know crap about babies. Had he said something wrong?
“She, Andy, she,” Pam said with one of those laughs like warm butter.
“You mean it’s a girl?” That was weird. He’d all along figured it was a boy. He hung his head for a minute, remembering all that energy he’d wasted being jealous of a brother.
His dad’s eyes danced. “Do you need to check the equipment?”
“That’s okay.” He took another step closer. “She’s got lotsa hair, doesn’t she?”
“She’ll lose most of it,” Pam told him. “The main thing is she’s eight healthy pounds of baby.” She motioned toward a chair. “Pull that over here and sit down. Then I’ll let you hold her.”
“That’s all right. I don’t know any thing about—”
His dad muscled the chair into position. “Nonsense. Every man’s got to do it sometime. She won’t bite.”
The next thing he knew he was sitting there with this warm, squirming baby in his arms. She smelled good, like talcum powder or something. And she kept moving these rosebud lips and making little kissing noises. A girl. He still couldn’t get over it. Just let any creeps try going out on a date with her. He’d show ’em. “She’s awesome. It feels kinda like she’s our baby, you know, Dad?”
“Yes, son, I do know.”
“What’s her name?”
Dad looked at Pam like he didn’t have a clue. But she didn’t seem perturbed at all. “She doesn’t have one yet.” Andy watched Pam gaze up at his dad with these really goo-goo eyes. Then she reached over and held his dad’s hand. Andy might as well not have been in the room. Finally she turned back toward him. “That’s your job.”
For a minute he thought the baby would slip through his fingers. He held her tight. “My job? Whaddya mean?”
There it came again. The laugh that made him feel warm all the way through. “I want you to name your sister.”
Sister. How could that be? This wasn’t Dad’s child. Maybe she’d made a mistake. But then like the sun rising after a stormy night, it came to him. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”
“What?” His dad seemed really interested in what he was going to say.
“It’s not biology that does it. It’s love.”
“That does what?”
Andy leaned down and nuzzled the baby’s cheek. When he raised up, he had the answer. “That makes us a family.”
“YEAH, GRAMPS, she’s got all this fat, wrinkly skin and waves her hands kinda funny, like she’s lookin’ for something she can’t find.”
Pam lay back in her bed, gazing fondly at Andy, who stood at the foot of the bassinet, the phone at his ear while he studied his sister. She was exhausted, but she’d never been so happy in her entire life. Grant had already made a list of the people at school they needed to call and you’d have thought Andy had, in a matter of hours, become an expert on infants.
“It was really cool to be at the hospital. I drove Pam here, you know.”
There was no mistaking the pride in Andy’s voice. “You prob’ly wanna talk to her.”
Andy handed her the phone. “Hi, Dad.”
“A girl, huh? You hornswoggled me. I just knew it was a boy. But if she’s half the little girl you were, you’ve got a genuine winner.”
“She’s a miracle, Daddy.”
“How’s Grant doing?”
She turned her gaze to her strong, handsome husband. “He’s quite a man.”
“Are you tryin’ to tell me somethin’?”
“I sure am.”
He chortled. “Got yourself a reg’lar little family there, then?”
“As regular as love can make it.”
“Goldurn, dumplin’, I couldn’t be happier.”
“Me, either.”
“Say, I got the full physical description from Andy. But you’ve gotta register a name for that foal, don’t you?”
“That’s up to Andy.”
“Andy? Put that young ’un back on the line.”
Pam held out the phone. “I don’t think Gramps is going to let you off the hook. It’s name time.”
Grant looked first at her, then at Andy. “This is special,” he said as he moved to the bassinet and picked up his daughter, who grabbed his finger in her fist and held on tight.
Andy took the receiver. “It’s me again…. Her name? That’s easy.”
Pam held her breath. Anything was possible with Andy.
“Ready?” Andy was playing the moment for all it was worth. “I figured she needed a name from both our families, since she’s kinda the, whaddya call it—” he glanced at Pam as if for corroboration “—the symbol of our new family. My middle name is Paige. So I decided we could name her Pamela Paige Gilbert and call her Paige.”
Andy looked at Pam again, a question in his expression.
“It’s lovely, Andy. A beautiful…symbol.”
Andy expelled a sigh of relief. “I did good, Gramps. They like it.” Then he paused, before adding a comment. “But next time I’m gonna ask if they can try for a boy.”
Pam’s eyes welled with tears as she took in the scene, inscribing each one in her heart. Dear Andy. Precious Paige. Loving Grant.
Best of all, she knew that, at last, they were a family. A real one. The forever kind.