Tara Quinn - Somebody's Baby

“I had this insatiable need to know. Not what other people in town were doing, or who was marrying whom, but why the sun rose and how. And where air came from. I wanted to know who was in national office and I cared about every major decision out of Washington.” Her grin was a little sad. “My poor parents. They were worried about having enough fertilizer for the field and finding ways to make the equipment last another year while I went on about global warming. I’m sure I drove them crazy.”

Mesmerized, John didn’t move. He didn’t want to do anything that might remind her he was still there, make her aware that she was opening up to him after just telling him he could play no part in her personal life. He didn’t want to lose this glimpse of her.

When he’d first met Caroline Prater he’d found her an interesting enigma. And—not that he allowed himself to dwell on that night—she’d been a pretty decent lover, as well. Now he was just plain intrigued. He’d never known anyone with so many facets. All of them different. And all of them sparkling in their own way.

“Anyhow, one day when I was about seven, I yelled at my mother in a fit of frustration, telling her I couldn’t possibly be her kid because she didn’t care that a popular hamburger chain—I’d only eaten out twice in my life and both times it had been there—was being accused of stealing characters from my favorite television show, H.R. Pufnstuf.”

A quick grin accompanied her words before her focus turned once again to the desert. “You can imagine how surprised I was—and how little I suddenly cared about the company’s ad campaign—when my mother yelled back that I wasn’t her child. I was adopted.”

Shit. What a way to tell a seven-year-old kid something as earth-shattering as that. John didn’t know what he could possibly say that would make any difference. So he said nothing.

“I’d already been considering that I’d been planted in Grainville by aliens.” She laid her cheek on top of her knee. “From that point on, I quit fighting. I’d already been rejected by one set of parents. What would happen if the second set decided I was too much trouble?”

John, not detecting even a note of self-pity in her tone, wondered for a split second what it would’ve been like if he’d met her at a different time. Say fifteen years before, when they were both starting out.

He had a feeling he’d have liked her. A lot.

“I spent the next ten years of my life feeling like I didn’t belong anywhere. In a town as small as Grainville, where everyone belongs to everyone else, feeling that way wasn’t easy.”

He wondered what had happened to her at seventeen to change that but didn’t ask.

She stood up, brushed herself off, gave a shaky laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on like that,” she said, heading back the way they’d come. “Put it down to overprotectiveness. I just don’t want any child of mine feeling that way. Not if I can help it.”

Propelled by something he didn’t dare analyze, John caught up to her, grabbing her hand only long enough to pull her to a stop. She turned, facing him. “I may not have chosen these circumstances,” he said, his eyes locked with hers. “But that baby will always know I love him and want him in my life.”

Tears pooled in her eyes before she blinked them away, nodded and began walking again.

“NOT TO KEEP HARPING on it, but I’d really like to know what you’re planning to do about medical care,” John said as they sped down the highway toward Shelter Valley. Caroline had said that Bea Howard served dinner at five-thirty sharp and they’d stayed longer in the desert than he’d intended.

“I’ve called the clinic in Shelter Valley. The obstetrician there can take me.”

“Do you have insurance?” She didn’t answer immediately and he continued. “Because under my insurance, the baby will be covered completely, but the pregnancy won’t. I’m prepared to handle that with cash.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Caroline,” John said, taking his eyes from the road for just a second and glimpsing the bland look on her face, “we’ve already established that I’m going to carry at least half the burden over the next seven or so months. Obviously we can’t divvy up the physical challenges, so I’ll have to do my share on a more, shall we say, detached level. Expenses would fall nicely into that category.”

“Okay.”

Another glance showed him that her expression hadn’t changed. More than ever, he wanted to know what went on behind that unrevealing look. He suspected it was the result of a lifetime spent hiding her curiosities and opinions.

In any event, there was nothing for him to do about it.

“So, when’s the first appointment?”

“I haven’t made it yet.”

“I’d like to be there.”

And at the instant shake of her head, he quickly added, “Not for the examination part.” He didn’t want to embarrass her. “Just to sit in on the talk with the doctor afterward.”

She hesitated too long. “Okay.”

“You’ll let me know as soon as you have an appointment?” he pushed, not sure whether she’d acquiesced or was merely placating him.

“I’m hoping to get in sometime during the next week, before school starts.”

Okay, then, she’d meant it. Good. They were getting somewhere. “I can go any day but tomorrow.”

“Fine.”

“A large group of us are going to Phoenix tomorrow,” he explained when it occurred to him that she might think he was putting her off for a golf date or an appointment at work. “One of our young women is a witness in a court case and Shelter Valley plans to be there in full support.”

“Ellen Moore’s rape case,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear her. “I’m glad you’re all going.”

Having just come off the ramp from the freeway, John kept his foot on the brake and stared. “How did you know about that?”

“It was in the papers,” she said. “There was a lot of coverage, probably because someone rich and powerful is involved. Anyway, I’ve been following the story on the Internet and knew it was set for trial.”

And she remembered the date? Impressive. John’s heart was pumping a little faster than normal as he pulled into town. He couldn’t afford to feel anything for this woman. Especially considering the responsibilities they were going to be sharing for the next eighteen years. Raising a child would be hard enough without personal tension between them.

But damn, it wasn’t fair that a woman as intelligent and pretty and downright interesting as Caroline Prater—a woman almost thirty-five years of age—was still so desperate for a place to belong that she was developing bonds with people she’d never even met.

SHELTER VALLEY WAS probably quieter on that second Thursday in January than any of the other days Caroline had been there. But as she walked downtown midafternoon, learning her way around, window-shopping for things she might never be able to afford, she certainly felt as though the town was drained of life. She didn’t need to turn her head to catch a glimpse of her sister or any of the other people she knew only from grainy newspaper photos. The town’s mayor, Becca Parsons, and her husband, Will, who was the president of Montford University. Or Cassie Montford, the vet who’d been in the news with her innovative pet-therapy program. Caroline had followed the story avidly, as Phyllis had collaborated with Cassie in the therapy portion of the program.

There was no point in thinking the dark-haired woman on the corner was Bonnie Nielson, owner of the local day care, who’d made various Arizona newspapers because she’d developed a nationally known program for children and seniors together.