Judy Christenberry - The Nine-Month Bride

He stared at the old man. Doc must’ve lost his mind. “I can’t do that, Doc, and you know it!”

“’Course you can.”

He jerked away from Doc’s touch. “No, I can’t. I can’t let myself—I loved Beth!”

“I know you did, son. But that doesn’t mean you can’t marry again. Lots of men do.” Doc moved back to his chair. “Come sit down and let’s talk about it.”

“No! When I lost Beth and my baby boy, I vowed I’d never—I can’t do that, Doc!” He clenched his jaw. A man didn’t cry, especially not where someone else could see him.

“You took a few hits that year,” Doc said calmly. “After all, your father had been dead only a few months. And your friend Billy died in that car crash in Denver. A rough time.”

Lucas shook his head and stared out the window. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. But it was easier than facing Doc’s pity.

“But that doesn’t matter, because I’m not asking you to love Miss Langston. Just to marry her.”

Lucas turned to stare at Doc. If he’d thought him crazy before, now he knew it. “Come on, Doc. She wouldn’t even consider what I offered today. If I tried that idea on her, she’d slug me.”

“Why?”

“Why? No woman would consider that kind of marriage proposal! It’s an insult.”

“It’s my belief there are a lot more marriages based on practical reasons than there are based on love. And if you look at it from a practical angle, it meets all of your and her requirements.”

“I don’t see how,” Lucas said, but he took the chair in front of Doc’s desk, listening intently.

Doc raised his hand and began counting off his reasons. “You get your son and someone to take care of him. And no gossip. She gets her baby and someone to support both of them. And no gossip.”

Put that way, Doc’s idea seemed simple. But Lucas didn’t think a female would think the same way. “I don’t believe Miss Langston would agree with you. In fact, I’m sure she wouldn’t. She hasn’t agreed with anything I’ve said!”

“Maybe you haven’t approached her right. You gotta give her a little romance, take her out to din—”

Before he could finish, Lucas jumped up from his chair. “Wait a minute! You said no romance!”

“Nope. I said no love. Women set a lot of store by romance. You know the things—flowers, gifts… All that takes is a little money and a little thinking.”

“I’m not going to mislead her,” Lucas muttered as he stared at the calendar on Doc’s desk. He didn’t realize his mistake until he looked at Doc and discovered a big grin on his face. “I haven’t agreed to it!” he hurriedly said.

“Just think about it, son. Just think about it.”

Susannah pulled herself together after a few minutes. It was foolish to wish for what she couldn’t have. She’d learned that lesson a long time ago when the petite, pretty blondes, girls like Beth Boyd, took the roles of cheerleaders, homecoming queens and popular dates, while the tall, gawky, plain girls sat home, waiting for the phone to ring.

It was no surprise that Lucas Boyd still loved his dead wife. And mourned his baby boy. His pain had touched her again. She could understand why he wanted a baby, even if he didn’t comprehend her reasons.

But she couldn’t give up her baby any more than he could.

She squared her shoulders and picked up the phone. She was going to have her baby.

She dialed the number written on the pad. After a conversation with the fertility clinic in Denver, she felt a little better.

Life was strange. Lucas Boyd had had all the things she wanted. Now, he was no better off than she was. Indeed, he was worse off, because he couldn’t have his child.

She emerged from her office and Abby immediately searched her face.

“I’m fine.” She even added a smile.

“If Luke insulted you, or hurt you, you tell me, girl. I love that boy, but I won’t tolerate him not treating you with respect.”

Susannah chuckled. Abby’s normally serene eyes were agitated and her lips were pressed together. It would be fun to see her take on Lucas Boyd. But Susannah couldn’t lie. “He didn’t hurt me, Abby. It was a misunderstanding, and he came to offer his apology.”

“An apology that made you cry?” she asked skeptically.

“I—I felt sorry for him. It’s so sad that his wife and child died.”

Abby didn’t look convinced but she didn’t ask any more questions. Unfortunately she turned to the one subject Susannah wanted to avoid more than Lucas Boyd. “What are you going to do about this baby thing?”

“Exactly what I planned to do. I called the clinic in Denver and I have an appointment next Friday for my initial examination.”

“You’re going to close the library?”

Friday was their second busiest day, but Susannah didn’t want to postpone the appointment. “No, I’m hoping to talk you and another volunteer into covering for me. Would you, please, Abby? I don’t want to wait.”

Since today was Friday, she already had to wait seven days. Seven long days. What if she discovered she couldn’t have children? Then she’d be just as bad off as Lucas Boyd.

Stop thinking about that man.

Easier said than done. He would be many a woman’s dream of Prince Charming. Prince Charming with an attitude. He was one of those men who thought women should be barefoot and pregnant.

“I still think you could find a man around here interested in settling down if you’d just make a little more effort,” Abby insisted. “Are you coming tomorrow night?”

“I don’t think so, Abby. I don’t know how to dance, and I won’t have time to bake something.”

“I’ll bake double. You promised me you’d come to the next social.” Abby had the determined look of a dog after a bone. “It seems a fair trade for keeping the library open for you next Friday.”

“That’s blackmail, Abigail!”

“Yep. Well? Is it working?”

She had promised. And she did need Abby’s help. “Yes, I suppose so. But I’ll do my own baking.”

“Just as well. The only thing I ever bake is a pecan cake. If you brought one, everyone would know I made it. Then folks would think you couldn’t cook. Can’t catch a man that way!”

“Abby! I’m coming to be sociable, not to find a man. I’ve already made my decision.” She stared at her friend, trying to make her position clear.

Abby turned limpid hazel eyes on her and said with a sugary voice, “Why, of course, Susannah. Just what I had in mind.”

Patting her gray hair, Abby slid off the stool behind the counter. “I’d better hurry home if I’m going to get my cake made tonight. Don’t you work late, either.”

“No, I won’t.” She had too much to do, what with baking a dessert for the church social and preparing herself, mentally at least, for next Friday’s date.

“Oh,” Abby said as she paused by the front door, “wear your prettiest dress, too.”

“Abby!” Susannah warned, but her friend was out the door with a wave.

Abby never gave up. At least she believed someday a man might be attracted to her friend. That was more than Susannah believed. But Abby’s faith was comforting.

Lucas surveyed himself in the mirror. Since he’d made his decision, he’d spent more time looking at himself than he had in years.

Was he dressed all right? His jeans were clean, his shirt pressed. The sports coat, kind of tweedy, still fit, though it wasn’t new. Beth had picked it out for him.

He ran his fingers over its lapel, his mind turning once more to his wife. They’d only been married a little over a year. She had been ten years younger than he, just a kid, when he’d fallen for her. Her folks lived on a farm close to town. She’d loved the ranch, the big house, lots of money to spend.