For a Baby

“I have a confession, T.J. The reason I let you assume everything was okay was that I didn’t care whether I became pregnant. In fact, a part of me actually hoped it would happen.”

Silently T.J. turned over this new information in his mind. Heather was thirty-five years old. Widowed, with no serious boyfriend in her life. Why would she want to get pregnant?

“I don’t get it.”

Her sigh sounded long-suffering. “There was a reason I was in the bar by myself that night. It’s not something I normally do. But I’d just had an appointment with my doctor.”

He wanted to tell her to stop. If she had a fatal disease he couldn’t stand to hear. Not Heather. But of course he didn’t say anything, and she kept talking.

“The women in my family are susceptible to a certain type of problem—I’ll spare you the details. But the problem can lead to early infertility. I’d had an ultrasound and the doctors told me that it was happening to me, too. I can still have a baby now, but in the future it may be a little more tricky.”

She was throwing a lot at him. And he was starting to feel angry. “Are you saying you used me to get pregnant?”

“I suppose in a way I did.”

She sounded utterly unhappy, but he no longer cared how Heather Sweeney felt.

“Didn’t you think I should have a say in whether or not I wanted to bring another child into this world?”

And his say would have been no. He’d already proven what an unfit parent he made. He’d neglected Sally, even worse than he’d neglected Lynn. He’d lost them both and he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

“It wasn’t like I planned for it to happen. I didn’t know you’d be in the bar that night, or that you’d…come home with me,” she finished miserably. With one hand she plucked at the grass in front of her. “I’m not proud of what I did, T.J. Not the sleeping together part. And not the birth control part, either. I guess you have every right to be angry with me.”

“Oh, hell.” He leaned back using his arms for support and stared out at the lake. The water was silver-blue in the high afternoon sun. At the far end, he could just make out the assorted buildings and trees of Chatsworth.

“You’re sure you’re pregnant?”

“Three months.”

“Oh, hell,” he said again. Yeah, it had been about that long since he’d held her small, curvy body close to his own. During those hours they’d been together, he’d almost felt alive again. He’d almost held out hope for his future.

But she’d woken him at four in the morning. “T.J., you have to get out of here. Mrs. Manley across the street wakes up very early.”

Her shoving him out the back door of her house had been more effective than a Dear John letter ever could have been, letting him know that she considered their latest encounter just another one-night stand. Each time it had happened between them, she’d reacted the same way.

Except, this time, she’d actually gotten something she’d wanted from him. A baby.

“You should have told me,” he muttered again.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Finally she raised her head and let him see her remorseful expression. Then, she turned to the lake, and they sat there, side by side, together, yet alone with their individual thoughts, for many long minutes.

T.J. couldn’t stop himself from reflecting over the past. This wasn’t Heather’s first pregnancy. The summer after her freshman year at university, she and Russell had both been back in Chatsworth working to save money for the next year at school. T.J. had been home, too, for the same reason.

Not that Heather would have noticed. As usual, she’d been totally focused on Russell. Even though they’d broken up, they’d had a brief fling that summer. At the end of it, Russ had returned to university in Vancouver, and Heather hadn’t heard from him again. He’d met Julie that fall. And apparently hadn’t given Heather a second thought.

T.J. didn’t know when Heather had figured out she was pregnant. They’d been back at school in Saskatoon for several months before he’d noticed she wasn’t hanging out around campus anymore. With some effort, he’d tracked her down to a small apartment on the other side of the river. She was working at a Dairy Queen and spending her free time reading. Alone.

He’d pretended running into her was an accident. And he’d promised he’d keep her secret. She’d been obviously pregnant by then, and though he hadn’t asked any questions, he’d figured the father was Russell. He’d made a point of being around to drive her to her doctor appointments, and help with the odd small job around her place. Even though his heart had ached for her, he’d kept up his usual battery of insults and one-liners. He’d instinctively known she’d hate for him to feel sorry for her.

One night they’d watched a movie together. It had been a sad movie, and she’d cried at the end. He’d swear that he only put his arm around her to comfort her, but within seconds they were kissing. He’d felt all the same passion and heat as he had the first time they’d made love.

Inadvertently, the reason they’d been together that time had been because of Russell, too. Heather had been brokenhearted after he’d left for Vancouver. They had an agreement to date other people. But Heather only wanted Russ.

Except for that one night, briefly, she’d wanted T.J. Until the next morning, when she made it clear she considered their encounter a mistake.

The usual pattern.

“So, what’s the plan, Heather? What do you want to do?”

“Well, I’m going to keep the baby, of course,” she said quickly.

He didn’t know why he’d bothered to ask. She’d given up her first baby—Russell’s baby—for adoption. She’d just told him she had a medical condition that might make future children impossible.

“So what do you want from me? Child support?” Money he could give. He had plenty. Lynn had refused to accept a cent after their divorce, on principle. He kept a large amount in trust for Sally, but even so, he was wealthy by small-town Saskatchewan standards.

When Heather didn’t answer, he turned to look at her. She met his gaze and wouldn’t let it go.

“Don’t tell me you want my help raising this kid, Heather. I can’t do that.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“Can’t. One day I’ll tell you the story.”

“Is this about your ex-wife and child? I heard Lynn remarried and that she’s living in Toronto. What’s your daughter’s name?”

“Sally.”

“Do you visit her?”

He wrenched his gaze away. Damn Heather. She had no business prying, and he wasn’t going to answer any more of her nosy questions.

“I’m a lousy father, okay? Too bad you didn’t know that three months ago when you picked me to roll around in bed with.”

“Don’t,” she said sharply. “Don’t talk about what happened between us that way.”

“Why not? It was just a one-night stand. Right? You and me are the king and queen of the one-night stand.”

“You have a gift for being cruel.”

“Is that right?”

“Yet, I know at heart you’re a decent person.”

“Wow. Thanks for the resounding vote of confidence.”

“I have to believe there’s a reason we keep ending up going to bed together.”