Anne Haven - Her Baby's Father

Ross picked up a pencil on his desk and tapped it against a yellow legal pad. Gazed distractedly around the study. Like the living room, it was missing its drapes.

Drew came on the line a minute later.

Ross did the small-talk thing, something he and his brother were good at, and then got down to business. “I need you to come over,” he said, keeping his tone casual.

“Now?”

“Yeah. That would be good.”

“Hey, I just got home.”

Ross didn’t feel too worried about his brother’s convenience. “I know. When can you make it?”

“Not right now. Lucy’s got plans.”

“Later tonight, then.”

“Maybe. What’s this about?”

“Nine o’clock?”

Drew covered the mouthpiece. Ross heard a murmur of conversation.

Drew came back on. “I can be there at nine. What’s so important?”

“Just something I want to get handled. In person.”

“A mystery, huh? Okay, big bro. See you in a few.”

Ross hung up. He closed his eyes and massaged his temples, momentarily giving in to the frustration that rose inside him. He would have liked not to deal with this. He would have liked… What? For Jennifer not to have come to him? For her to have struggled on her own, raised his niece or nephew in a lonely little apartment somewhere? Or for her and Drew not to have conceived the baby—for them not to have slept together in the first place?

Well, yes, definitely that, he admitted to himself.

But it couldn’t be changed. And feeling the baby move had elicited an aching tenderness in him—one that vied with the wish for her not to be pregnant with his brother’s child.

Ross reached for the phone again. He needed to call someone from the free clinic who’d invited him to see an action flick with a group of friends that night. “Sorry to do this, Barbara, but I have to beg off.”

The nurse practitioner made an indignant sound. “Again?”

“Something came up.”

“Huh. That’s pretty convincing.”

“Seriously. Something did. Family stuff.”

“It’s not your mom, is it?”

“No, she’s fine.”

Barbara let a moment of silence go by. “Oh, I see. Jackie told you, right?”

“Told me what?”

She sighed. “That I invited my sister-in-law to come along.”

“Barbara…” he said, trying to sound stern.

“I know, I know. But she’s really cute. You’d like her. I know you would.”

Judging from the two other women Barbara had set him up with, he probably would. They were both nice. Both attractive. But neither had done anything for him romantically.

Nevertheless, it was good to stay in circulation—something he’d found difficult after his divorce four years ago.

Ross sighed. “This isn’t about your sister-in-law,” he said. “Jackie didn’t tell me anything. I’d come out if I could, but I can’t.”

“Okay, okay. I believe you.” Her voice softened. “Good luck with whatever’s going on.”

When Ross walked back into the kitchen, he found Jennifer still sitting quietly at the table. Her feet were propped up on a chair now, clad only in white socks, her sneakers on the hardwood floor below.

“Nine o’clock,” he told her.

“He’ll see me?”

Ross selected an apple from the basket of fruit on the counter, washed it and took a paring knife from the drawer by the sink. “He doesn’t know it’s you.”

“Oh.”

“I thought it would be best that way.” He sliced the apple in half and then in half again before coring the quarters.

“Where are we meeting?”

“Here.”

“Okay…” Briefly she closed her eyes.

Ross arranged the apple slices on a plate and set it on the table within her reach. “Help yourself,” he said, taking a seat.

He ate and she ate, and while they chewed they didn’t make eye contact. His gaze passed over the swell of her belly. She was six months pregnant with no family and not much money. He couldn’t help but feel compassion. He saw the courage it must have taken to come here and the strength of purpose that kept her here despite what he’d told her about her baby’s father.

Jennifer turned her head, looking around the dining area. He saw her gaze settle on a formal portrait of his mother and father, taken several years earlier, which hung on the wall.

“How are your parents?”

A standard social question. Basic politeness. He would have loved to give the standard polite answer—that they were well, thank you. “My dad’s fine. Mom just had a double bypass.”

She looked as surprised as he’d felt the day they’d discovered the blockage in his mother’s arteries. “Did she have a heart attack?”

“Yeah. Right on the tennis court. Luckily the ambulance got to her quickly.”

Katherine Griffin had always been trim and active, but her diet hadn’t been the healthiest and she wasn’t the most relaxed person. Still, Ross hadn’t seen it coming. And should have. But he’d allowed his schedule to get too hectic this spring, and had only visited his parents once, briefly, during the month before Katherine’s attack.

“How long ago?”

“Four weeks. She’s been home about three.”

Jennifer frowned. “And…is she going to be okay?”

Ross raised his shoulders in a helpless shrug. These things were hard to predict. “She came through the surgery well. Her heart sustained some damage, though. How much is hard to tell at this point.”

She sat silently. Maybe thinking about his mother. Maybe about her own.

“I suppose stress isn’t very good for her,” she said finally.

“No.” The cardiologist had felt stress was a major factor in Katherine’s disease. During the recovery period, Ross wanted to keep her mind on pleasant topics. Drew’s illegitimate baby didn’t qualify. “You can see why this whole situation is complicated.”

Jennifer reached for another slice of apple. He watched her eat it in three slow and deliberate bites. “I’m sorry about your mother. And I’m sorry the timing’s so bad.”

He nodded. After another pause he said, “I’m not trying to stop you from talking to Drew, but tell me—if it’s money you need, what’s the difference whether you get it from me or from him?”

She glanced up at him, then away. “You’re not the father.”

Of course he wasn’t. Naturally she wanted the father to take responsibility for his actions, but no matter which of them helped her, the result would be the same: financial security for her and her child.

“It’s that important?” he asked.

“A child should have a father. Not a stepfather. Not a series of stepfathers or a series of stand-ins who don’t particularly want the role. Not an absentee benefactor, either.”

He opened his mouth to say that a benefactor was better than nothing. Her look stopped him. It said she hadn’t forgotten Drew had another family. I know he won’t want me or his child, but I have to do this.

Yet he didn’t understand why she did. Was it masochism? Pure stubbornness? A self-destructive love for his brother despite everything he’d done?

Ross was glad, though, that it wasn’t just about the money. Irrationally. Because it shouldn’t make a difference to him. And he shouldn’t care, either, that she would probably be disappointed.

He tried to imagine how Drew might be a father to her child, but couldn’t. Drew paying visits every Saturday afternoon? Drew cherishing him or her, taking an active part in his or her life? That wasn’t how the world worked and it wasn’t how Drew worked. It certainly didn’t seem like something Lucy would be able to accept.

Jennifer slipped her feet into her shoes. She pushed back from the table and stood. “Well, thank you for calling Drew.”