Vicki Thompson: Her Best Friend's Baby

“Tell me about the moonlight towers,” Morgan said.

“I’ll show you one on the way to the video store. They were put up more than a hundred years ago, a whole bunch of them, to light the city. Before that I guess it was black as pitch once the sun went down. The type of light in the towers has changed, of course, but a lot of them are still up and working, even though they aren’t really needed anymore. It’s one of our claims to fame.”

“I know another one.”

“I’ll bet you’re going to say the National Wildflower Research Center. Lots of people have heard of that.”

“Except me. You have such a thing?”

“You bet. Around here we take our wildflowers seriously.”

“So I’m learning. But that isn’t what I was going to say.”

“Town Lake? The capitol building? UT?”

He shook his head. “I was going to say that one of Austin’s biggest claims to fame is that Mary Jane Potter lives here,” he said quietly.

The extravagant compliment caught her by surprise. Heat burned in her cheeks, and her heart started to race. “You only say that because I gave you an extra turn rowing the boat.”

He gazed at her with the heart-melting smile that made mincemeat out of every defense she tried to throw up. “Yeah,” he said, his voice husky. “That’s what turned the trick, all right.”

She swallowed. “Time to go get Toy Story.” She hopped into the car and started the engine. She hoped he hadn’t noticed that her hands were shaking.

Once he was buckled up, she headed off, concentrating on the road and not the very appealing man sitting in the seat next to her. Her determination not to glance in his direction might have been why she noticed the For Sale sign on the gate of the small ranch adjoining Garrett’s place.

Apparently his neighbors, the Slatterys, had finally decided to move closer to their children in California. Lana had told her the house was a real gem, solidly constructed and nestled away from the road. The property included a pecan orchard, a small pond and plenty of room for horses. It was more than Mary Jane ever expected to be able to afford, but maybe she’d go if they had an open house, just to dream a little.

“You’re upset with me,” Morgan said.

“No.” His gentle voice did things to her. Nice things. Dangerous things. She cleared her throat. “But you really shouldn’t pay me compliments like that.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “But somebody should be saying them. You are a rare and wonderful woman, and somebody should be holding your hand, bringing you flowers, taking you dancing. When I think of how you’ve interrupted the natural flow of your life in order to have this baby, I’m humbled by your generosity and ashamed that I never saw it before as the incredible sacrifice that it is.”

She shook her head. “You’re making me out to be more noble than I am. When Arielle proposed the idea of me being a surrogate mom, I remember being incredibly relieved.”

“Relieved?”

“I owed her so much. She got me through those years after my mom died and my dad became a zombie. But as a kid, even as a teenager, what could I ever do to pay her back? And then she handed me the one way I could. I knew that if I could produce a healthy baby and give it to her, I’d finally have settled the score.”

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