BEVERLY BARTON - His Woman, His Child

“I suppose you mean things like mowing the lawn and cleaning the storm windows and—”

“Yes, of course that’s what I mean.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” He paused momentarily and then said, “How about going out to dinner tomorrow night? We could drive over to Marshallton.”

“How about my cooking dinner for us here?”

“I’ll stop by for dinner first and then you can show me the apartment. Will six o’clock be okay?”

“Yes. Six will be fine.”

Susan made her way up the wooden stairs that led to the rooms above the garage. One by one, she closed the windows she had opened early this morning to air out the place, and quickly turned on the wall heaters. She breathed in deeply and smiled. The place smelled fresh and clean. She had swept, mopped, vacuumed and dusted this morning before she’d driven to Marshallton for her first doctor’s appointment.

Carrying the bed linen, she entered the bedroom, then dropped the quilts and spread on top of the dresser and tossed the bottom sheet onto the bed. When she finished making the bed, she stood back and inspected her handiwork. This was going to be Hank’s bedroom for the next year, only a stone’s throw away from her. He was going to sleep in that bed every night—so close and yet so far away.

She could picture Hank in this room, in this bed. Did he sleep in his underwear? In pajamas? In the nude? The thought of Hank lying naked across the bed sent shivers through Susan’s body. He was tall and muscular, a big man, yet lean in his hips and belly. She could remember how he’d looked as a teenager wearing nothing but a pair of cutoff jeans when he’d washed his old car or mowed the lawn. Even then his body had been breathtakingly gorgeous. How many times had she stared at him so long and hard that Sheila and Tallie had dragged her away? As she grew older, she’d hidden her obsession with Hank more easily, until by the time he got out of college, she’d been able to see him and talk to him without showing the least sign of interest.

Aunt Alice had warned her that men like Hank Bishop weren’t the marrying kind. That smart, good-looking, ambitious boys like Hank were the love-’em-and-leave-’em type. And Aunt Alice had known from personal experience. She’d given her heart to such a man and he’d given it back to her in broken pieces.

“Don’t trust passion, Susan,” Alice Williams had said. “When a man makes you want him so badly that you’d sell your soul to be with him, stay away from him. He’s dangerous. He’ll wind up breaking your heart and tossing you aside like yesterday’s trash.”

She had fought her feelings for Hank Bishop for as long as she could remember. She’d shied away from him, knowing her aunt had been right. Even if she could’ve made Hank notice her, even want her, he never could have offered her the life she wanted—marriage, children and happily-ever-after contentment. With Hank, she might have known passion, might have soared to the heavens in his arms, but at what price? She hadn’t been willing to risk everything for an affair with Hank. Marrying Lowell had been the right thing to do—or so she’d thought.

Marrying Lowell, loving Lowell, hadn’t made her forget Hank. Hadn’t made her stop wanting him. Every time Lowell had made love to her, she’d wanted him to be Hank. She had cheated the dearest, kindest man in the world out of his rightful place in her heart. And she’d felt guilty the entire two years they were married. But guilt was a useless emotion. She couldn’t change anything—not then and not now.

The funny thing was, Lowell would want her to be happy. And if Hank Bishop was what made her happy, then Lowell would bless their union.

What union? She wasn’t married to Hank and she wasn’t likely to ever be. That’s the shy, meek Susan talking, she told herself. She knew she shouldn’t listen to her. She was tired of listening to her. After all, she was carrying Hank’s baby. Hank, the man she loved. The man she’d always loved. Wasn’t it about time she grew a backbone and took a chance? Maybe she wasn’t the most beautiful, exciting woman he’d ever known. Maybe he truly believed he didn’t want to get married and have children. But she could change his mind. She could make him love her. She could...

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