Ann Evans - Dream Baby

The waiter brought tall glasses of water to the table. He didn’t carry a pad to write down orders, and the small badge over his left breast said his name was Ben. Beneath it was a button that proclaimed, “Yes, I’ll remember what you want.”

“The special today is sliced turkey on mixed rye and pumpernickel,” he said with a genuinely friendly smile. “The soup is tomato bisque. Can I get you something to drink?”

Charlie swung his attention from the painting on the wall and scowled up at Ben. “A blind man could paint better pictures than these!”

“Charlie!” Jake snapped. “Apologize.”

He and Ben exchanged glances, and Jake had the oddest notion that the man knew the boy’s anger was not really directed at him. “No, that’s all right,” Ben countered. “Everyone’s an art critic. To tell you the truth, I’m not that crazy about them myself.” Then, with a wink, he added, “But you ought to see the artist.”

Charlie had subsided into sulky silence. Jake tried to fill the void. “Good-looking, huh?”

“Nora Holloway’s one of the prettiest girls the Springs ever produced. So what if she ought to be painting barns instead of beaches?”

“So the owner thinks he’ll win her over if he buys a few of her paintings?”

“I’m the owner,” the waiter said with a light laugh. “No, we tried a few years back, but it was plain as pudding we didn’t click. So what can I get you two?”

Jake ordered a rare burger, and Charlie asked for the special with instructions on just how much mayonnaise he wanted on his sandwich and a fussy inquiry as to the freshness of the lettuce. Was it possible to get alfalfa spouts instead?

Jake sat back in his chair and wondered when the little boy who had eaten mud pies in the dirt had become so picky.

Silence descended while they waited for their lunch. Charlie took out a pen and started doodling on the place mat—nesting circles with spikes along the edges. Jake hid his annoyance by studying NLH’s painting again. He hoped Ben was right about her looks, because she sure as hell had no gift with depth perception.

The meal came, and it looked delicious. Without a word, Ben went off to snag ketchup and mustard for Jake’s burger.

A layer of glistening hamburger juice covered the top of his bun, and Charlie’s lip curled in repulsion when his father made no attempt to pat it dry. “Gross.” Then he sighed heavily. “How long are we gonna stay in this place?”

“Just until we find the lady I told you about. I promised Uncle Bobby I’d find her, make sure she’s all right. I’m sorry the sitter fell through and I had to drag you down here with me, but as soon as I take care of this, we’ll be on the next plane out. Unless you’d like to have a little vacation. School’s over. We could kick back and do some fishing.”

Charlie looked horrified. “That’s your idea of a vacation? Fishing?”

“We’d do what you want to as well, of course. What did you do on your last vacation?”

“Mom took me skiing in Switzerland. We stayed with an Italian count.” Charlie’s mouth quirked. “In a castle.”

Jake didn’t care to admit that even though he could speak fluent Italian and had been around the world more times then he could remember, he’d never learned to ski.

Thankfully, Ben returned to the table, placed the condiments in front of Jake and then rocked back on his heels. “Everything look okay?”

Jake nodded around a mouthful of burger. With one hand, he motioned Ben to stay. Taking a swallow of iced tea, he asked, “I wonder if you’d know a woman in town named Isabel Petrivych? Not a full-time resident. Her friends at college say she comes up here quite a bit to work for some hotel during school breaks.”

“Hotel?” Ben echoed with a shake of his head. “There aren’t any once you get away from the interstate.”

“I only met her once, but she’s attractive—dark hair, dark eyes, a slight Slavic accent. By now she must be noticeably pregnant and—”

“You mean Izzie?” Ben interrupted with a sudden grin. “Yeah, I know her. And she’s more than ‘noticeably’ pregnant. She’s about six months gone.”

“Do you know where I can find her?”

“Anyone in Blue Devil Springs can tell you where to find her. She and Nora have got this town buzzing, what with their plans for the baby.”

“Nora?” Jake prompted. The inquiries he’d – made to find Isabel hadn’t mentioned the involvement of another woman.

Ben pointed toward the painting on the wall. “NLH. Nora Lyn Holloway. She and her brother own Holloway’s Hideaway about three miles down the road. Their cabins are built around the headwaters of Blue Devil Springs. Once it boils out of the ground, it feeds into three rivers. Cleanest in the state, and you’ve never seen prettier.”

Jake put down his burger to give all his attention to Ben. “And this woman is helping Isabel with her pregnancy?”

“More than that, from what I hear. The two of them have met with Nora’s lawyer and are ironing out the final plans.”

“Final plans for what?”

“Adoption.” Ben tossed a look over his shoulder, conscious of other diners waiting. “Can I get you two anything else?”

Charlie shook his head. “No, thanks,” Jake replied absently. Uneasiness clogged his throat, and he suddenly felt his appetite vanish.

Absently he watched his iced-tea glass sweat a water ring on his place mat. Adoption for Bobby’s child? Jake had never considered that possibility. As little as he knew of Isabel, he’d assumed she planned to keep the baby. That meant the child could be told about his father. Adoption, on the other hand, would effectively sever the link to Bobby. Jake didn’t like the sound of it at all.

The remainder of the meal passed without incident and in silence. Jake left a generous tip on the table and took the bill up to the register, where Ben was doing double duty as the cashier.

Ben handed Jake his change. “Thanks for coming in.”

“There is one more thing I need, if you don’t mind,” Jake said. “Directions.”

“Sure. Where you want to go?”

Jake inclined his head toward one of the paintings directly behind the cashier station. “NLH. Where do I find her?”

HALFWAY TO a sitting position. Isabel groaned and shook her head. She fell back on her elbows.

Nora smiled encouragingly, though she had just finished a punishing series of sit-ups herself. This would never do. Isabel had managed only ten easy crunches today, and if they were going to keep to Dr. Brewster’s recommended regimen of exercise for expectant mothers, they had to do better than this.

Drawing her legs up so that she could rest her chin on her knees, Nora eyed the girl speculatively. Isabel was a brilliant medical student. Someday she’d make a wonderful doctor. But she was one stubborn pregnant woman.

“Come on, Iz,” Nora pressed. “You can do it. One more time.”

They were seated on the huge Indian rug that lay in front of the resort’s registration desk. Throwing Nora one last sullen look, Isabel maneuvered backward until her spine was against the wall of the desk. “I don’t want to,” she replied, crossing her arms across her breasts.

“Of course you don’t. But you need to. Remember what Dr. Brewster said? Strengthening your abdominal muscles will—”

“—make the delivery easier,” Isabel finished for her. “Yes, I know, and I don’t care. No more crunches today.”

“It’ll also make it easier to get your figure back after the baby’s born. You want that, don’t you?”

Isabel cast a disgusted glance downward. “Too late. It will never come back.”

“I’ll do them with you.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better. You sit there looking like a model on a workout video, while I look like I’ve swallowed a basketball.”