Anne Haven - Her Baby's Father

He knew what it meant. The knowledge came swiftly and effortlessly. Like a needle stick. Not so much painful in itself, but a single, simple moment containing a world of consequences.

The wave of anger surprised him. Anger at her. At his brother. At himself, for caring even the slightest, when he hadn’t seen her in almost a decade.

She fidgeted under his gaze. “I need to talk with you. May I come in?”

Ross didn’t trust himself to speak. He stood back, let her enter, then motioned through the archway between the front hall and the living room.

Frank’s mess on his floor and a pregnant Jennifer Burns in his house. Not what he’d planned for the evening.

“Excuse me,” he managed to say. He left her in the living room and went to the hall closet for a whisk broom and a hand-held vacuum, then to the kitchen for the trash can. Frank’s mess, at least, could be fixed.

Rejoining her, he set to work on the fern’s remains without offering an explanation. The brown glazed planter had broken into several pieces and he swept it up along with the fern and potting soil.

He felt torn between wanting Jennifer to walk back out the front door and never return—walk away as she had nine years ago—and wanting her to stay. Wanting to be around her again.

She’d slept with his brother. She carried his brother’s child. What would make her become involved with Drew again? What the hell did she see in him? And why did he, Ross, feel even the least bit of interest in someone capable of such bad judgment?

“It’s been a long time,” she ventured. She stood awkwardly in a corner, watching him at his task. “How are you?”

He shrugged. “Not bad. You?”

“Okay,” she said. “Fine.”

“And pregnant.” He didn’t look up as he said it.

“Yes.”

After a brief silence, Ross switched on the vac to suck up the last of the dirt. When he was finished, Frank slipped out from under the sofa and trotted across the room to sniff at the visitor’s toe. Jennifer knelt to let the dog smell her hand. Frank darted her tongue out, licked once and scooted backward as fast as her three feet could take her. She disappeared down the hall.

“Congratulations,” he said, as Jennifer rose. Meaning her pregnancy.

“Thank you.”

The conversation stopped again. Ross gathered his cleaning supplies and stood up.

They both knew where this was headed. He didn’t want to ask the question but forced himself.

“Do I know the father?”

Jennifer faced him squarely. She opened her mouth but couldn’t seem to find the words. Finally she nodded.

Nine years earlier

This is what it’s like to be the new girl in school: first and foremost, you pretend not to notice people staring. You don’t look at anyone because then they might see how lonely and uncomfortable you feel. Instead you pretend to have something important on your mind—much more important than anything that could possibly be going on around you. Alternatively, you bury your nose in a book. Books are very helpful when you don’t want to look like an anxious wallflower.

I know because I’ve been the new girl a lot. It’s only my junior year and this is the fourth high school I’ve attended. I love my mom, but when it comes to staying in one place, she sucks. You can’t imagine how many different towns we’ve lived in.

By the time I meet Drew I’ve totally given up on making new friends. He doesn’t seem to understand that, though.

He sits in the noisy cafeteria with his group, in the designated corner. A sign might as well hang above them: Beautiful People Only. As I walk by, something whizzes past me and lands in the soup on my tray, splattering overcooked vegetable bits all over my favorite sweater, the grayish blue one Mom and I found at a garage sale in Seattle. I hear snickers.

One of them isn’t laughing, though. His gaze is sympathetic, and before I can make myself scarce he’s beside me, taking the tray and offering me a napkin.

“You’ve got to forgive my friend Brian. He thinks throwing French fries around is amusing. Typical jock, right?”

I accept the napkin and dab at my shirt, not meeting his eyes. Wishing I didn’t have to turn bright red like a complete moron.

“Your name’s Jennifer, right? We sit next to each other in Spanish. I’m Drew Griffin.”

I hazard a glance at him. He’s pretty tall so I have to tilt my head up. It’s like raising my face to the sun. His eyes are bright blue. His smile is warm and encouraging and ever so slightly goofy, as if he has no idea half the school is madly in love with him. I, on the other hand, figured it out right away, when I heard the girl with the locker next to mine gossiping with a friend.

“Look,” Drew says, “I’m sorry about this. Let me buy you a new lunch.”

And so he adopts me. At first I’m suspicious because my self-confidence isn’t exactly soaring and I can’t imagine why he would pay me so much attention. But I’m also pretty star-struck so it’s hard to resist. Soon I forget all about my aversion to cliques and popular kids. When I spend time around Brian, Kurt, Molly and Heather—and, wonder of wonders, they accept me, too—I feel as if I finally belong somewhere.

It’s all so seductive—going to parties, constantly getting phone calls, hanging out with kids who have their own Saabs and BMWs and more spending money in their pockets than my mom earns in a week. Molly and Heather share their clothes and makeup with me, and I’m amazed when they figure out a new style for my hair—layered and blow-dried with a ton of gel—that makes me look about ten years older and a million times more sophisticated. Drew takes me out all the time and before long we’re an item. He’s drawn me out of my shell, helped me to become a new person—one who’s self-assured and carefree and fun.

But then school gets out for the summer and Drew’s older brother, Ross, comes home from college. And life gets a lot more complicated.

The present

THE CONFIRMATION that Drew was the baby’s father made Ross feel as if he had a bad case of acid reflux. He realized he’d hoped Jennifer would say no. That somehow he’d been wrong.

Damn it, Drew. Not right now. So many people would be affected by this. Lucy. And their mother had barely left the hospital. She was recovering fairly well, but she needed to keep her life as stress-free as possible until her health was back to normal. She wasn’t the kind of person who would greet the news of Jennifer’s baby—and Drew’s paternity—with equanimity.

Ross stifled the curse that formed on his lips. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

He stashed the broom and handheld vac back in the hall closet. In the kitchen he put the trash can under the sink, washed his hands and poured two glasses of water from the filter pitcher in the fridge. He hated that this wasn’t easy, that he actually felt something for her after all this time. That some crazy part of him was actually happy to see her again despite the circumstances. Their past should just be a dim memory. He shouldn’t care anymore. All he should care about was protecting the innocent bystanders.

When he returned, Jennifer stood by the bay window, looking out at the view of downtown Portland. The curtains were at the cleaners’, due back next week. Without them the windows seemed raw, the curtain rods and cords a stark frame for the view.

He offered one of the glasses of water and she thanked him for it.

An unfamiliar white station wagon sat across the street from his house, crammed with stuff. He saw a lamp, cardboard boxes, a cactus plant and what appeared to be a bunched-up comforter. California license plate.

She sipped the water. “It’s a lovely view,” she said into the silence, her gaze on the city. “I like your house.”