Marie Ferrarella - A Bachelor and a Baby

Rick turned and walked toward his car. Behind him, the firefighters hurried about the business of trying to stave off the fire before it ate its way down the block and up the hillside.

There was no doubt about it, Rick decided. He should have his head examined.

After he’d gone out to look over the proposed site for the construction of the new corporate home office, instead of returning to the regional office he was temporarily working out of, he’d taken a detour. Actually, it had been two detours.

He’d gone to see just how much damage there’d actually been to Joanna’s house. He was hoping, for her sake, that it wasn’t as bad as it had looked last night.

In the light of day, the charred remains of the last house on the block—a call to the fire station had informed him that the fire had started there with a faulty electrical timer—looked like a disfigured burned shell. But the firefighters had arrived in time to save at least part of Joanna’s house. Only the rear portion was gutted. The front of the house had miraculously sustained a minimum of damage.

Still, he thought, walking around the perimeter, it was going to be a while before the house was livable again.

With a shrug, Rick walked back to his car and got in. Not his problem. That problem belonged to her and her significant other, or whatever she chose to call the man who had fathered her baby.

As far as he was concerned, he’d done as much as he intended to do.

For some reason, after Rick had gone to what was left of Joanna’s house, he’d found himself driving toward Blair Memorial Hospital, where the paramedics had taken her last night.

Joanna didn’t look surprised to see him walk into her room.

The conversation was awkward, guarded, yet he couldn’t get himself to leave.

He had to know.

“You said last night that you weren’t married.”

He’d promised himself that if he did go to see her, he wasn’t going to say anything about her current state. The promise evaporated the moment he saw her.

“I wasn’t. I mean, I’m not.”

“Divorced?” he guessed.

“No.”

“Widowed?”

She sighed, picking at her blanket. Had he turned up in her life just to play Colombo? “No, and I’m not betrothed, either.”

She was playing games with him. It shouldn’t have bothered him after all this time, but it did. A great deal.

“So, what, this was an immaculate conception?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice. “What’s the baby’s father’s name, Joanna?”

She took a deep breath. “11375.”

He stood at the foot of her bed, confusion echoing through his brain. “What?”

“Number 11375.” She’d chosen her baby’s father from a catalogue offered by the sperm bank. In it were a host of candidates, their identities all carefully concealed. They were known only by their attributes and traits. And a number. “That’s all I know him by.”

Trying to be discreet, Joanna shifted in her bed. She was still miserably uncomfortable. No one had talked about how sore you felt the day after you gave birth, she thought. Something else she hadn’t come across in her prenatal readings.

She raised her eyes to Rick’s. His visit had caught her off-guard, but not nearly as much as his appearance in her bedroom last night had. All things considered, it was almost like something out of a movie. A long-ago lover suddenly rushing into her burning bedroom to rescue her. After that, she doubted very much if anything would ever surprise her again.

What kind of double talk was this? “I don’t understand. Is he some kind of a spy?”

“No, some kind of a test tube.” She saw his brows draw together in a deep scowl. He probably thought she was toying with him. This wasn’t exactly something she felt comfortable talking about, but he’d saved her life last night. He deserved to have his question answered. “I went to a sperm bank, Rick.”

If ever there was a time for him to be knocked over by a feather, Rick thought, now was it. Maybe he’d just heard her wrong. “Why?”

“Because that’s where they keep sperm.”

This was an insane conversation. What are you doing here, Rick? Why are you eight years too late?

She ran her tongue over her dry lips. “I wanted a baby.”

For a second, he couldn’t think. Dragging a chair over to her bed, he sank down. “There are other ways to get a baby, Joanna.”

Suddenly, she wanted him to go away. This was too painful to discuss. “They all involve getting close to a person.”

Memories from the past teased his brain. Memories of moonlit nights, soft, sultry breezes and a woman in his arms he’d vowed to always love. Who’d vowed to always love him.

Always had a short life expectancy.

“They tell me that’s the best part,” he said quietly.

She looked away. “Been there, done that.”

Her flippant tone irritated him. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if there’d been money involved in this transaction, as well. But the question was too cruel, even if she deserved it. He let it go.

Rick rose, shoving his hand into his pockets as he looked out the window that faced the harbor. “So there’s no one else in your life?”

“My baby.” Her baby would make her complete, she thought. She didn’t need anyone else.

Rick looked at her over his shoulder. “Someone taller.”

She knew she should be fabricating lovers, to show him that she could go on with her life, that it hadn’t just ended the day they parted, but she was suddenly too tired to make the effort.

“Not in the way you mean, no.”

Funny, whenever he’d thought of her in the last eight years, he’d pictured her on someone’s arm, laughing the way he loved to see and hear her laugh. It had driven him almost insane with jealousy, but he’d eventually learned how to cope.

Or thought he had until he’d seen her last night, her body filled out with the signs of another man’s claim on her.

He turned and looked out on the harbor again. The sky was darkening, even though it was only two in the afternoon. There was a storm coming. Unusual for April. Boats were beginning to leave. “I went by your house this morning.”

Her house. Her poor house. Joanna held her breath. “And?”

There was no way to sugarcoat this, but he did his best. “It was only half destroyed by the fire.” Rick turned to look at her. “But it’s not habitable.” He saw the hopeful light go out of her eyes.

“Damn, now what am I going to do?”

He approached the matter practically. “Well, it’s not a total loss. It might take some time to rebuild—you do have coverage, right?”

Yes, she had coverage, but that wasn’t why she was upset. Fighting back tears, she sighed. “That’s not the point. I was going to take out a home loan on it.” The appointment had been postponed from last week. She fervently wished she’d been able to keep it. Now it was too late. “Nobody gives you a loan on the remains of a bonfire.” Joanna struggled against the feeling that life had just run her over with a Mack truck. She’d been counting on the money to see her and the baby through the next few months until she could go back to work and start building their future. “Now I don’t have the loan or a place to live.”

Rick studied her face for a long moment. And then he said the last thing that she expected him to say. The last thing he must have expected himself to say.

“You can come and stay with me.”

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