Barbara Boswell - The Brennan Baby

“We have to move!” She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, her face flushed, her knees suddenly weak and wobbly.

“Bite your tongue!” drawled the tall, blond young man, deeply tanned with sculpted muscles, who was sprawled across the sofa, sipping from a bottle of flavored iced tea. “We just moved you and the baby and all your stuff in here yesterday. Your next move isn’t supposed to occur until the end of the millenium.”

Ashley bucked and wriggled, and Gillian set her down on the floor. The baby stood alone for a moment, then took a few unsteady steps before deciding that good old-fashioned crawling provided the fastest means of locomotion. She took off on all fours at an impressive speed, heading for the small kitchen.

A voluptuous olive-skinned young woman with a thick mane of raven-black hair stood peeling carrots at the sink. She kept one eye on the approaching baby while studying Gillian. “What’s the matter, Gilly? You look shook.”

“Devlin Brennan is moving in across the hall, Carmen,” Gillian managed to choke out the words in a tight little voice. “I can’t stay here.” She appealed to the young man for support, her blue eyes anguished. “Mark, you know I can’t.”

“But, sweetie, you’ve been on the waiting list for this place for nearly two years and you finally got in. The rent is right, the location is right.” Mark’s tone was a mixture of sympathy and practicality. “You can’t just up and leave, not even if Satan himself is living next door.”

“I agree with Mark,” Carmen put in. “You can’t leave the day after moving in, Gilly. Where will you go? All the decent places are taken by now and you know that rents anywhere else are a lot higher than what you’ll pay here.”

“After all, this building is subsidized housing for hospital employees,” Mark reminded her. “And since you are one, you deserve to be here. Much more than Dr. Swoon across the hall,” he added with a disdainful sniff. “That rich yango could live anywhere else. Why doesn’t he?”

“He—he’s not rich” Gillian automatically defended Devlin, without knowing why. “He’s a resident doctor in orthopedics, still in training, and they get paid, but not all that much. Plus, he has loans to pay off from med school”

“My heart bleeds for him!” Mark exclaimed, giving his long blond hair a melodramatic toss. “After he finishes his residency, it will probably take one entire ski season, fixing bones broken on the slopes, for him to pay off his loans. Then he can start accumulating the typical yango props. The glam car, the ritzy golf club memberships, the palatial house. And let’s not forget—”

“I want to forget everything about him, Mark,” Gillian cut in. “Past, present and future.”

Mark sighed. “That won’t be easy with him right next door Uh-oh, Carmen, watch out. Ashley is almost under your feet.”

“Hi, Ashley! Did you come to see Aunt Carmen?” Carmen scooped up Ashley, who’d arrived in the kitchen and was circling her ankles. “What was Devlin Brennan’s reaction when he saw the baby?” she asked, turning curious dark eyes toward Gillian.

“He wondered why every mother seems to name her daughter Ashley these days,” Gillian said flatly.

“Not even a flicker of some kind of primal recognition?” asked Mark, his lips tightening in disapproval. “Honestly! The man has all the sensitivity of a Neanderthal.”

“I forget—is a Neanderthal more or less sensitive than a yango, Mark?” Gillian teased in a blatant attempt to change the subject.

“This is no laughing matter, Gillian,” Mark scolded.

“Then let’s find a matter to laugh about.”

“In Dr. Brennan’s defense, he would have to be psychic to guess that Ashley is his daughter,” said Carmen, sticking to the subject anyway. “After all, Gillian never even told him she was pregnant. Nobody would know who Ashley’s father is, not even us, if she hadn’t let us in on the deep dark secret.”

Gillian sighed. “I wish I’d never mentioned his name to anyone,” she muttered.

“You couldn’t keep it to yourself, Gilly,” Carmen said kindly. “And you did the right thing. As soon as you found out about the baby, you engineered that marriage of convenience to Mark.”

Mark blew Gillian a kiss, and the mood in the room lightened considerably. “Anything to help my favorite foster sister.”

“She’s your favorite foster sister?” Carmen feigned indignation. “What about me?”

“Did I say she was my only favorite?” teased Mark. “You’re both my favorites. Along with Debra and Stacey and Suzy and—”

“Okay, okay, we get it,” Carmen interrupted good-naturedly. “You have lots of favorite foster sisters.”

“I only hope I don’t have to marry them all.” Mark stroked his dimpled chin, looking pensive. “Even when it’s on paper only, a marriage is kind of hard to explain to my friends back in L.A.”

“I can imagine,” Carmen said, with feeling. “Even a cover marriage makes me want to run away screaming.”

“Gillian and I had a very amiable cover marriage and an equally friendly divorce,” said Mark. “But, oh, the teasing I’ve had to take about it! You simply can’t imagine!”

“Well, it’s all over now, and I’m sure you won’t have to endure any other cover marriages, Mark,” Gillian soothed. “At our ripe old age of twenty-six, I’m surely the only one stupid enough to—”

“You weren’t stupid, you were in love,” Carmen cut in. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Gillian.”

“Don’t make excuses for me.” Gillian crossed the room to flop down on the sofa beside Mark, her favorite foster brother who had done her the incredible favor of marrying her in name only to give her child a legitimate birth. As one who’d been born out of wedlock, Gillian had determined years ago that she would never let a child of hers bear that stigma. Mark had understood completely. His mother hadn’t been married to his father, either.

“Well, stupid or in love or whatever, Devlin Brennan was definitely a willing participant, Gillian.” Carmen’s dark eyes flashed and she nuzzled the top of Ashley’s silky head. “And it’s not fair that you’re assuming total financial responsibility for the baby. At the very least, that...that yango should be handing over a check every month to you for—”

“No!” Gillian exclaimed so forcefully that Mark jumped. “I don’t want any charity from him. I’ve had enough of being a charity case, thank you very much. I have no intention of letting my daughter become one.”

“It wouldn’t be charity, but I know where you’re coming from.” Mark reached over to pat her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Gilly. It’s going to be okay.”

How? Gillian wanted to cry. How could it possibly be okay if she had to contend with seeing Devlin Brennan every day, if she had to watch the parade of women through his apartment and his life? She stared fixedly at the olive green carpet until the weave seemed to blur and dance in front of her eyes.

The firmly suppressed memories escaped from the prison in her mind where she’d kept them locked away for the past twenty months. For a few moments she was swept back to the time she’d shared with Dev. Those three months had been the happiest, most exciting, thrilling, romantic time of her life.

But there had been a dark side that always shadowed that idyllic period. All during their too-good-to-be-true romance, she’d felt scared and insecure, not really believing that a man like Devlin Brennan could want a woman like her. Could want her! She’d always known their relationship was temporary, had been braced for the inevitable end. Something too good to be true generally turns out to be exactly that, and of course, her erstwhile romance with Dev had come to an abrupt end.