Robyn Carr - Paradise Valley

Then Jack, caution drawing every word, said, “Now, why in the world would she say something like that to you?”

“I can’t imagine,” Cameron said, pouting.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better about things, Vanessa called me a dimwit for asking just about the same question.” He took a drink. “Apparently we have ourselves a situation. Dad.”

“Whoa,” Jack said, straightening up. He reached for another glass and tipped the bottle over it. Jack usually waited until closing to partake, but it seemed appropriate to commiserate with these two. “Was everything all right with the ultrasound?” he asked warily.

“Fine,” Cameron said, sipping. “Babies look great.”

“And at least one’s a boy,” Paul said, picking up his drink. After a swallow he found Cameron glaring at him again. “What? I wasn’t told not to tell that.”

“You are a dimwit,” Cameron patiently pointed out.

“Yeah? Well, I’m a dimwit who was going to get lucky once the baby was tucked in, until you got Abby all upset and crying and—” He stopped suddenly. He shook his head dismally.

“Gentlemen, I propose a toast,” Jack said, lifting his glass. “Let’s drink to silence. If this conversation ever leaves this bar, we’re all going to die. Skinless.”

“Silence,” the other men agreed.

“All right,” Jack said, “since there’s a pact of silence, I just want to know when this could have happened. How this could have happened.”

Cameron put down his glass. “The weekend of Joe Benson’s wedding in Grants Pass. And, in the usual way.”

“You weren’t at that wedding,” Paul pointed out.

“I had dinner at the hotel restaurant that night. I met her in the bar. Now, that’s all I’m saying about it. And if you let on to Abby that I said that much, my situation is only going to get more impossible. You follow me here, Paul?”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“Do about it?”

“Well,” he said, looking over each shoulder to make sure they weren’t being overheard, then leaning close to whisper. Jack, of course, leaned down to not miss a word. “She’s pregnant. You’re the father. Anything come to mind there, bud? Like maybe marriage?”

Cameron put down his drink impatiently. “Pay attention, Paul. I couldn’t even get her to go to Fortuna to eat at a restaurant with me. She hates me. I was a perfect gentleman, back then and tonight, but she hates me. She called me a sperm donor.”

“Whew,” Paul said.

“Whew,” said Jack.

All three men lifted their glasses in misery.

Vanessa put water for tea on the stove for Abby and while it heated she put little Matt down in his bed with his bottle. When she got back to the kitchen, Abby was blowing her nose, wiping her eyes. While Vanni let the tea steep, she put some leftover roast beef, potatoes and carrots on a plate and warmed it in the microwave. She put the tea in front of her friend and left the dinner in the microwave. Vanni pulled herself a beer out of the refrigerator and sat down opposite Abby. “Done crying yet?” she asked.

Abby nodded. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Well, I do. My emotions were so crazy when I was pregnant, I don’t know how anyone could stand to be around me. I was a complete wreck.”

“I should be so ashamed,” Abby said with a sniff. “You had it so much worse.”

“That has nothing to do with it,” Vanni said. “You’ve got a good bit of stress right now. Between being unmarried and having all those bills and that horrible prenup, it’s small wonder you’re a bit…reactive.”

Abby blew her nose. “I complain about having no control, then I lose control. It makes no sense.”

“Abby, I’m not known for wisdom, I’m best known for having the worst goddamn temper. Direct quote from my husband who has no temper at all. I want you to know, I’ll stand by you and support you, no matter what your next move is. But, here’s what I think you should do. I think you should go to the clinic first thing in the morning and apologize to Cameron. I think you should have a frank talk with him about how you two are going to manage parenting these children. You two only have to make one commitment—that’s to them. This can’t go on. You’re not going to let them go, and neither is he. You have to find a way to work together, whether you’re friends or not. But so much better if you’re friends. For them. Huh?”

“It just makes me so furious!” Abby got out, another tear rolling down her cheek.

“What makes you so furious?”

“That he ended up here! That he found me out! That now, in addition to everything else, I have to find a way to deal with him! I just wanted to have my babies, take them to my mother’s and get on with my life.”

“Yeah? Well, Abby, you have no right.”

Abby looked up, eyes wide and glassy, a tissue scrunched in her hand.

“Listen, I told you I knew Cameron before Paul finally stepped up to the plate and told me how he felt about me. Well, I can’t say I knew him all that well back then—we had two very platonic dates. But we did a lot of talking and I learned that he really expected he’d be married with a family by now. He wanted a wife, children. He loves kids so much that he did a second residency in pediatrics. He—”

“Yeah, I know all that….”

“Abby, just listen to me. We’ve been good friends for a long time, you and me. We flew together, partied together, cried over the miserable losers we’d hooked our hearts on together. When I think of some of the jackasses we thought we could turn into husbands…God, it makes me shudder.

“As your friend, I can be honest with you. And as my friend, you owe it to me to hear me out. Abby, you have no right. You have as much responsibility as he does for this situation you’re in. And he has as much right as you to be a parent here. I think it would have been a tragedy for Cameron if you’d succeeded in disappearing with his children. He deserves to be able to tell his family he’s going to be a father. His mother deserves to know she’s going to be a grandmother. It might be complicated and imperfect, but I bet it’s one of the best things in his life right now. I think that if a problem arises in working this out so you can parent your children together, the problem will be you. Not him.”

Abby was speechless for a moment. “Wow,” she finally said.

“That’s harsh, I know. But, Abby, that’s the truth as I see it. You don’t have to marry him, you don’t have to love him, but you do have to let him be a father to his children. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He doesn’t deserve your rage. Kid Crawford, your sleazy ex-husband, you go ahead and hate him if you want. But I can’t sit quiet while you punish Cameron. He’s a good soul. And if he hadn’t turned up here, running into you by the sheerest accident, I would consider it your responsibility to find him and tell him the truth.”

Abby leaned across the table toward Vanessa. “Listen,” she said pleadingly, “are you sure you’d be so sane and logical if you were in this mess?”

“Eventually,” Vanni said easily. “It might be hard to get to sane and logical, but I’m not worried—you’ll eventually get there, yourself. Because Cameron won’t ever do anything to hurt you. You’ll at least share parenting, and he’s so great with children, he’ll be a wonderful father. Do you have any idea how many women wish they had parenting partners that wonderful? Get it together, Abby. You’re stuck with this and it’s not a bad deal to be stuck with. What if they were Kid Crawford’s babies?” She stood up and went to the microwave, giving it another forty-five seconds to rewarm the dinner. “Let’s get some decent food in your stomach, a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow you can start mending your fences.”