Patricia Forsythe - His Twin Baby Surprise

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

“No thanks. No caffeine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby. It’s called a baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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