Brannigan's Baby

‘Didn’t you suggest I stop hanging on to the past?’

His icy tone had the effect of a hard slap.

She brushed roughly past him and took off down the slope, her feet making quick padding sounds on the ground between the rows of vines.

She couldn’t bear it; couldn’t bear having him around.

And she’d changed her mind about one thing: She wasn’t about to wait till Edmund Maxwell came back. After lunch, she’d drive into town, drop by his office and ask his partner to make the enquiries about Luke’s financial state.

She’d hang around till the necessary calls were made. And when she had the answer she confidently expected—that Luke had been lying about his barren bank account—then she’d drive straight home again, and tell him where to go.

And if he needed a lift to the nearest bus stop, she’d be more than willing to oblige.

It took only ten minutes to get to the lake.

Once there, she sought her favorite quiet spot, sheltered from the breeze, and sat down on the grass with her back against the trunk of a tree. Soon she became lost in her thoughts, thoughts that didn’t include Luke.

They did include his grandmother.

At the funeral reception, Jack McKay, Cressida’s doctor, had said to her, in an attempt to offer consolation, ‘She was in a great deal of pain, Whitney. For her sake, be glad she is no longer suffering.’

And Cressida’s best friends, Amelia Pitt and Martha Gray, had said, ‘It’s for the best, dear. And it’s not as if it was unexpected. You must be glad it’s all over. We know how hard it’s been on you.’

Yes, the last year had been a hard one, but though she had many times been exhausted almost beyond endurance, after sitting up with Cressida through nights racked with agony, she knew she’d never be glad Cressida was gone. Glad for Cressida’s sake perhaps, but not for her own. She was already missing her terribly.

And there, with no one to see or hear, but a couple of robins, several ducks bobbing closely by on the lake and a solitary black squirrel, at last she let the tears fall.

She didn’t return to the house till noon.

And when she saw an unfamiliar station wagon parked at the front door, she uttered a small sound of exasperation.

Visitors. The last thing she needed. But even as she decided to veer around the side of the house and slip in the back way, the front door opened, and two people came out.

Luke...and Dixie Mae Best.

At the sight of the sexy blonde, Whitney almost stumbled. She’d always known Luke was a fast mover, but this was ridiculous!

They’d both seen her, unfortunately, and stifling a frustrated sigh, she rammed her hands into her parka pockets, and walked toward them.

‘Miss McKenzie.’ Dixie had been giggling as she came out the door, but as soon as she saw Whitney, her expression sobered. ‘I was real sorry to hear about Mrs. Brannigan.’

‘Thank you, Dixie.’

‘Well.’ The blonde glanced at her watch. ‘I’ve gotta run. Luke, it was great hearing from you.’ She smiled up at him. ‘I’ll have to tell Patsy—’

‘Patsy Smith? She’s still around, too?’

‘Oh, sure...and Beth, and Liz, and Chantal McGee, and—oh, all the old gang! Laura Logan that was, and the Patterson twins and...’ She grimaced. ‘Even Begonia Bright.’

‘Good old Begonia,’ Luke said, laughing.

Dixie shook her head, and her heavily made-up eyes sparkled. ‘I can’t believe it—Luke Brannigan a daddy!’

Her hips swiveled under the thin fabric of her pink miniskirt as she walked over to her station wagon. Once inside, she rolled down the window, and as she pulled away, she called back to Luke, ‘You call me now, y’hear?’ And with a cheery wave she took off, leaving a cloud of dust in the air—and a sharper-than-ever tension between Luke and Whitney.

‘Perhaps you should have waited a day or two,’ Whitney said curtly, ‘before making yourself so at home.’

‘Oh, and why’s that?’

But Whitney didn’t answer. Suddenly aware that his gaze had narrowed and he was looking scrutinizingly at her face, she remembered her weeping bout, and wondered if her eyes were revealingly red-rimmed and swollen.

She stalked past him and ignoring his startled ‘Hey, wait up!’ marched into the house.

Making straight for the stairs, she went up to her room. She wasn’t going to wait and eat lunch after all. She was no longer hungry...and he could fend for himself. The fridge was full of leftovers from yesterday’s reception.

She was going to drive into town now, and talk to Edmund Maxwell’s partner—his older brother Charles.

If she didn’t get rid of Luke right away, she had a very strong feeling that she might come home someday very soon and find Dixie Mae Best ensconced in his bedroom...

Dixie Mae, Patsy Smith, Chantal McGee...and all the ‘rest of the old gang’...even including Begonia Bright!

‘Luke was telling you the truth.’ Charles Maxwell sat back in his swivel chair as he looked across his desk at Whitney. ‘Both his lawyer and his banker have confirmed his story.’

Whitney felt a dull sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach as she rose unsteadily from her seat.

‘So...I have to give Luke a home. And I can’t sell the house, or the vineyards—’

‘You could go to court, and contest the codicil.’ Charles’s knees creaked as he got to his feet.

‘No. It’s what Cressida wanted. I can never forget that if she hadn’t taken me in after my mother died, I’d have ended up in a foster home. She didn’t want me to turn Luke away if he needed somewhere to stay...and she would never have countenanced turning away a baby.’

She scooped up her purse from the floor, and swung the strap over her shoulder. ‘Thank you very much, Mr. Maxwell. I appreciate your getting onto this so promptly.’

‘Whitney,.’ The elderly man rounded his desk. ‘Before you go...’

She paused. ‘Mmm?’

‘Luke’s lawyer seemed to assume that I knew all about the events leading up to his present situation, and from what she said, I’ve gathered that Luke’s marriage—’

‘I don’t want to know anything about that,’ Whitney said in a rush. ‘Bad enough that I’ve had to ask you to check out the truth of his story, without... delving further into his private life.’

‘But it might help you understand Luke—’

‘It’s not necessary for me to understand him.’ She touched the lawyer’s arm, feeling the need to reassure him that if she was upset, he wasn’t responsible. ‘Now, you’ll fill your brother in on what’s been happening?’

‘Of course. And if you’ve any more questions you need answering in the meantime, don’t hesitate to call.’

As she walked out to the street, Whitney’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. She wouldn’t have been human if she didn’t have questions. Of course she’d wanted to ask about Luke’s marriage. She wanted to find out about his wife, wanted to know why she wasn’t here with him...wanted to know why she wasn’t caring for their baby. But she’d done the right thing, in cutting the lawyer off. She had to be able to face herself in the mirror each morning, and she couldn’t have done that, not really, if she’d given in to the keen curiosity Charles Maxwell’s words had ignited inside her.