BEVERLY BARTON - His Woman, His Child

He shook her hand, then released it and stepped away from her. “I’ll come back over tonight and pack up Lowell’s clothes.”

“All right. Thank you.”

“If you need me, I’ll be in the sheriffs office this afternoon, and later, I’ll be out at Caleb and Sheila’s. I’m staying with them temporarily, until I find a place to live.”

“I’ll see you to the door.”

When he turned around, she followed him. He didn’t pause until he stepped out on the front porch, then he faced her briefly, smiled weakly and nodded farewell. She stood in the open doorway and watched him as he drove off down the road.

Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes, dampening her cheeks in their descent. Life was unfair. So terribly unfair. She’d taken every precaution to keep her unrequited love for Hank Bishop from becoming an obsession. She had loved him from afar when she’d been a teenager, mooned over him the way some girls mooned over rock stars. But he had never noticed her, except as Tallie’s little friend, and deep within her she had known it was for the best. As much as she adored Hank, she was afraid of the way he made her feel.

Aunt Alice had insisted she always be the perfect little lady. No vulgar displays. No immoral thoughts or feelings. “Sex” was an unspoken word—a strictly taboo subject in her aunt’s house. What she felt for Hank had been wrong, and probably sinful, and had certainly frightened her. So, she had dated the safe boys—the ones who didn’t make butterflies soar in her stomach or create tingling sensations in the most intimate parts of her body.

Hank had left Crooked Oak and she had prayed for Prince Charming to come along and sweep her off her feet, to make her fall in love with him and give her a happily-ever-after life. And she had been sure that she wouldn’t feel ashamed of or frightened by the way Prince Charming made her feel.

At thirty, she’d given up hope of this sweet and safe Prince Charming and settled for sweet and safe Lowell Redman. She had loved Lowell. And her feelings for him had never scared her, never frightened her, never consumed her to the point of madness.

No, those emotions had been reserved for Hank Bishop. The man whose child was now growing inside her body.

Three

“T hat’s the last box,” Hank said as he closed the car trunk. “I’ll take these things over to the shelter in Marshallton tomorrow.”

Susan stood on the front porch, the last rays of sunlight streaking her light brown hair with gold. She looked so small and fragile and alone, like a drifting soul seeking a safe haven. He wanted to open his arms and tell her to come to him—that she could find sanctuary there, within the boundaries of his protection. He could offer, but would she accept?

He hesitated by the car, watching her as she waited for him, her head bowed and her eyes downcast. Two cats curled about her legs and two fat little dogs stood guard on either side of her. Sweet Susan, with a heart as big as all outdoors. He’d never known anyone who loved animals the way she did. And every critter on earth took to her as if she were one of them.

How was he going to be around this woman—this kind, gentle, loving woman—let alone take care of her for the next year, without making love to her?

Women came and went in his life. He had deliberately steered clear of long-term relationships and women who would expect more of him than he was willing to give. He liked women—hell, he loved women. And they seemed to not only like him, but to be drawn to him. Jake had once told him that the fairer sex was attracted to Caleb because he was so damn pretty and later because he was a superstar athlete. And they were attracted to Hank because he was such an old-fashioned, Southern gentleman, with a hint of danger to pique their interest.

Susan Redman was different. She was absolutely nothing like the women he had dated. She was quiet and shy and a little naive. And she made him want her in a way that shook him badly. He was a man who took pride in always being in control of his actions and his emotions. But his attraction to Susan undermined his iron will.

“Is there anything else I can help you with today?” he asked, not wanting to leave. Not yet

She lifted her head and focused her gaze on him. Even at a distance, he could see the sheen of tears misting her eyes. God, honey, don’t cry, he wanted to tell her. Lowell wouldn’t have wanted you to be in so much pain. And I can’t bear seeing you like this.

“No. There’s nothing else to be done. Not today.” She smiled weakly and the sight of her sad little face unnerved him.

“Well, then, I guess I’ll go.” Don’t let me leave, he silently pleaded. Ask me to stay. Think of a reason to keep me here. He turned his back to her.

“Wait!” She took several hesitant steps forward, then halted at the edge of the porch.

He snapped his head around and walked up the brick walkway. “What is it?”

“I—I need to talk to you.” She held her hands together in front of her, as if she had to restrain herself from reaching out for him.

“Sure.” He walked up the steps and stopped directly in front of her, only a couple of feet separating them. “What do you want to talk to me about?”

His gaze followed hers as she glanced around, noticing that Mrs. Dobson, whose house was across the street, was thoroughly cleaning the glass in her front door and that Mrs. Brown, whose house was on Susan’s right, was sweeping her porch. Small towns were full of curious people and busybodies who couldn’t keep their noses out of other people’s business. No doubt both Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Dobson would take note of his presence and report to their friends and neighbors. Personally, he didn’t give a damn what people thought or what they said, but he knew Susan probably cared. After all, she had to live and work in Crooked Oak and would be raising her child here.

“Let’s go inside.” She eased backward and opened the front door.

Hank followed her, but before he stepped inside the foyer, he turned and waved at Mrs. Dobson across the street. She waved back and smiled.

Then he called out, “How are you, Mrs. Brown?”

The gray-haired woman blushed, but smiled warmly. “Just fine, Hank. Good to see you’re looking after our Susan.”

Hank waved. “You’ll be seeing a lot of me around here.”

“Glad to hear it,” Mrs. Brown said.

Hank entered the foyer where Susan waited, hands in front of her, head bowed and eyes glancing up shyly.

“They’ve been hovering over me like mother hens ever since Lowell died. They’re nosy, but their hearts are in the right place.”

“Yeah, I know. I grew up in this town, remember?”

“Close the door, please.”

He did as she asked. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”

She rubbed her hands together repeatedly. “While you’re here in Crooked Oak, finishing up Lowell’s term as sheriff, you’re going to need a place to stay.”

“That’s right.” What was she getting at? What was she trying to say. “I’m going to contact a Realtor tomorrow. Sheila’s told me that I’m welcome to stay with them as long as I’d like, but I really need a place of my own.”

She looked at him uncertainly. “Hank, I—I...”

She turned from him. Her small shoulders trembled. With his heartbeat pounding in his ears, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. Shivering uncontrollably, she breathed in a gasping sob.

“You’re not alone, Susan,” he whispered as he lowered his lips to her ear. “I know how difficult it’s going to be for you without Lowell, but I promise I’m going to be here for you during your pregnancy. I want to help make things as easy for you as possible.”