A Pregnant Proposal

Jen’s heart did a bellyflop. All of her confidence left in a single hiss of breath. “Mr. Sedgewick,” she said, trying to collect her thoughts as they scattered like birds at the sound of a dog’s bark. “I called about the papers you sent over earlier.”

“I figured as much,” he said and she imagined him drumming his fingers on his desk. “Are you prepared to settle this out of court?”

She knew she had to be very careful how she answered him. “Well, I certainly don’t have any desire to go to court.”

“Good. I can have custody papers drawn up immediately, if you’re willing to sign. I can bring them to you myself.”

“No—”

“No what? No, you’ll come here or no, you don’t want to sign?”

“I don’t want you bringing custody papers to me—”

“You prefer court, then?”

“No, I prefer neither. You see—”

“Miss Martin.” A world of implication bled from his emphasis. “ I don’t need to tell you, do I, that grandparents’ rights are very strong? Particularly in a case like this.”

She didn’t know what he meant by “a case like this” but she didn’t want to encourage his legal argument right now, either. “Of course not, but—”

“Grandparents’ rights are stronger, in many cases, than those of a single parent. Like you. As a matter of fact, sometimes that parent isn’t even allowed visitation when all is said and done. Now we can do this simply or we can play ugly, it’s up to you.”

Jen twisted the phone cord around her finger. If this wasn’t ugly, what was? She bolstered her nerves by imagining Matt was still with her, encouraging her in that soft but steady way of his. “Mr. Sedgewick, to me this isn’t a game. I’m not going to play at all.” A tremble began in the pit of her stomach. “I’m sorry. I know that you and Mrs. Sedgewick must miss Philip terribly, but you cannot have my baby.”

“Our grandchild.” There was not an iota of warmth to his voice. “The grandchild you evidently planned to keep a secret from us. If my wife hadn’t gone to your home to retrieve Philip’s belongings, we might never have found out. I suppose that’s just how you would have liked it, too, us not knowing about Philip’s son.”

Her hands began to shake. “No—”

“So you admit it!”

Cold washed over her. Matt had been right, she shouldn’t have spoken to Sedgewick. She was in over her head; he was twisting all of her words. “No, what I meant was, you’ve got it wrong.”

“Really.” She could hear him take a triumphant draw on the cigar he was almost never without. “Proceed carefully, Miss Martin.”

“You’ve got to listen to me!” She was near tears. The idea that Philip had grown up under this tyranny made her heart ache for him. She remembered his stories of the lashings he used to get if he brought home a grade lower than A from school, or if he made a mistake during a piano recital. At the time, Jen had believed Philip had to be exaggerating, at least a little. Now she believed him completely.

“I’m listening, Miss Martin. What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” She hesitated. Not only did she believe Philip now, but she knew she had to protect his child as no one had been able to protect him. She owed at least that to him, as well as to the baby.

“You’re saying what?” the man on the other end of the line demanded. “Speak up, girl, I don’t have all evening for this nonsense.”

She had a vision, suddenly, of Dutch Sedgewick bullying her sweet, innocent child this way and something in her broke. She would not let that happen, no matter what. “Mr. Sedgewick,” she said sharply. Before she had time to think better of her plan, the words were out. “This baby is not your grandchild.”

She could almost hear the ash dropping from the tip of his cigar onto the lap of his two-thousand-dollar trousers. “I beg your pardon?”

She said a short prayer, asking Philip to forgive her for what she had to say. “This is not Philip’s baby I’m carrying. I wasn’t pregnant when Philip died.” Which was true in a way, since she hadn’t known she was pregnant when Philip died.

There was a moment of silence, and then, “I don’t believe you.”

She dove headfirst into her lie. “Don’t let my fiancé hear you saying that.”

People have been known to confess to things that weren’t true when the pressure was on them, Matt had said. Boy, had he called this one right!

“Your fiancé?” Dutch’s tone quieted just enough for her to realize he was taken aback.

“Yes, Mr. Sedgewick. My baby’s father and I are planning to get married as soon as the baby is born.”

If you get flustered, who knows what you might say?

“Is that so.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. “I suppose this fiancé has a name?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

A moment passed like an hour and Jen knew Dutch wanted her to sweat.

“Who is it?” he asked at last.

Panic chased several lame answers around her mind. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business, Mr. Sedgewick,” she stalled. “Particularly after the threats you were making a couple of minutes ago.”

“It’s my business if you don’t want DNA testing added to my suit when the child is born.”

Something deep inside Jen screamed. She couldn’t let this man threaten her or her child. She couldn’t let this kind of person be part of her child’s life at all. She would not. “You have no right do that. You have no right to do any of this!”

“My dear, you would be surprised how many rights I have.” He gave a humorless laugh. “If you’re not carrying my son’s child, I want to know who’s child it is. Where did this very convenient fiancé come from?”

“I’ve worked with him for years.” Her mouth was as dry as cotton. She’d never been good at lying. “After Philip died, he was a shoulder to cry on and one thing led to another…before I knew it, we were talking marriage.”

“I should think so. I want a name.” His tone told her there was no more stalling.

So she said the only name that came to mind, the only man she could think of who was noble enough and kind enough to be the fictional father of her baby.

Don’t talk to Sedgewick unless it’s through a lawyer. God knows what he’d get you to say.

“His name is Matt Holder.”

Chapter Three

Matt didn’t notice the time until it was a couple of minutes past five-thirty, so he threw his work aside for the next morning and hurried to the elevator to go down and meet Jen. He hoped she wouldn’t notice he was late. The last thing in the world he wanted to do right now was make her feel unwanted.

“Hey there, Matt,” Andy Huffman called from down the hall. “Hold the door.” Andy had been in a wheelchair for years, and he moved it to the elevator with great speed. Although he was close to retirement age, his movements and attitude were those of a much younger man. “What’s cookin’?” he asked, as they moved into the elevator.

“Slates is cooking tonight,” Matt said, pushing the button for the 14th floor. “And I hope it’s good.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a special date,” Andy said, with a questioning raise of his brow.

“No, Jen Martin and I are just going out to hash out some details for the day-care center we’re trying to put on the 15th floor.”