Nine-Month Surprise

“Eight will be fine.” He suspected the hour mattered less than her power to control the terms.

She tucked the note into her skirt pocket and, after one last assessing look, moved on to the short-haired woman, who caught her arm eagerly. “Leah, I hope you’ll let me serve as the class mom! Nobody’s beaten me to it, have they?”

“A few people dropped hints, but nobody’s signed up. That would be wonderful, Minnie,” she said. “I can’t believe Sybill’s old enough for school!”

On his way out, Will lengthened his stride. The curious thing was, he realized as he scooted down the front steps, that he felt almost as off center as he had on his own first day of school.

By eight o’clock tonight, he would regain his usual iron self-control. And they would figure out how to put the whole embarrassing incident behind them.

Chapter Four

By the time the last child hurried out that afternoon, Leah’s back and shoulders ached. Even so, she trudged around the room straightening desks and picking up dropped papers. Surely, she didn’t feel this exhausted every year on the first day of school, did she?

At naptime, when she’d expected to have a few minutes for reflection, she’d put her head on the desk and promptly fallen asleep. In nine years of teaching that that had hardly ever happened.

Jenni had warned of requiring more sleep than usual. Leah had figured that meant going to bed half an hour early. Well, live and learn.

On the short drive home, she finally allowed her thoughts to stray to Will. Thank heaven she’d learned of his identity in advance and discovered the two Rankin girls’ names on her class list, because the sight of his intense gaze and expressive mouth had hit her hard.

She was proud of maintaining her poise during their encounter. The fact that it has taken place on her turf had helped. The prospect of meeting him at his place tonight didn’t thrill her, but they must get this over with.

The question remained: how much did she intend to tell him? He clearly wanted to deal with the issue of their affair. She’d rather save the matter of her pregnancy for later, but that might not be wise. Given his occupation, he was sure to find out, and he might be angry if it appeared she’d tried to keep it secret.

At the two-bedroom cottage her parents had bequeathed her, Leah fixed a salad. She carried it to the country-style table at one end of the living room.

Usually the décor lifted her spirits with its mix of conventional furnishings and quirky accents, including a carved red chest and a Japanese-style print silk scarf framed on the wall. Tonight, however, she was too busy wrestling with her decision.

So far, no one except Jenni and Yvonne knew about the pregnancy. She hadn’t had occasion to use the artificial insemination story, so it didn’t present a stumbling block to whatever she and Will decided.

If she admitted the truth to him before anyone else found out, they could concoct a story together. They might say they’d dated for a whirlwind few days and fallen in love. Eyebrows would be raised no matter how they put it, but if he decided to stand by her…

Leah glared across the room at her reflection in the glass of the built-in cabinets. She had no business indulging in infantile fantasies. The man who had walked out on her without a word was not going to fall on his knees and ask her to marry him.

Nor did she want him to. In fact, she wouldn’t marry Will Rankin if he begged her—and not only because he’d betrayed her trust.

After college, she’d longed to see the world. She’d begun looking into teaching English at a foreign school or joining the Peace Corps, but there’d been no question of that after her mom fell ill.

By the time her mom had died a year later, Leah had taken on a job in Downhome. A short time later, her father had announced his plans to marry an old friend in Denver. Perhaps as a way to cushion the blow of his rapid defection, he’d given Leah the family house, saying her mother would have wanted her to have it.

A bolder person might have rented it out and pursued her old dreams. However, losing her mother—and, in some ways, her always-distant father—had left Leah feeling insecure.

Clinging to the comfort of old friends and routine, she’d persuaded herself that traveling during the summers ought to be enough. Three-week jaunts to Europe, Asia and South America had proved educational and exciting.

She hadn’t realized how quickly life was slipping past, although she’d begun to feel restless on her thirtieth birthday. The defining moment had come a year later, as the result of an offhanded remark from her cousin.

Mark, four years Leah’s junior, had told her at her thirty-first birthday dinner, “I’m glad you don’t feel you have to chase after something new all the time.”

Aware that a longtime girlfriend had dumped him because she considered him stuffy, Leah had tempered her response. “I like to try different things, Mark. I’m just quiet about it.”

He’d dismissed the comment. “You’ve worn your hair long and straight for as long as I’ve known you. You’ll probably wear it the same way when you’re eighty. And that’s great, because it suits you.”

She’d had a sudden vision of herself as an aging, stereotypical old maid, still dwelling in the house where she grew up. Even if she married, it would be to some boring guy who lived down the block.

Leah had made up her mind to leave Downhome. This summer, she’d put her plan into action.

Now Will Rankin lived down the block, or almost. The mysterious man who’d stirred her in Austin had metamorphosed into a respected obstetrician with two children. Although she could never call him boring, he hadn’t turned out to be a daredevil, either.

Leah had made up her mind to leave town, and she meant to do it. If the job in Seattle didn’t materialize, she’d move somewhere else. Hawaii. Alaska. Las Vegas. Anywhere but here. A child didn’t have to tie her to one place.

A man was a different story. He’d restrict her in all sorts of ways.

Okay, so she’d settled that. Even if Will threw himself at her, she’d still say no. Leah smiled at the unlikelihood of such a development.

All the same, she planned to inform him of the pregnancy. For the child’s sake, she hoped he would want some involvement.

But not too much. He’d already blown his chances for that.

WILL INSISTED ON doing the dishes so Mrs. McNulty could retire early. Although he didn’t expect Leah until eight, he meant to put the girls to bed well before then, to recuperate from a busy day.

They’d greeted him after work with crayon pictures that included their names. Since the twins had learned many of the basics in kindergarten, they’d been encouraged to add any words they wanted.

Diane had written “Dog cat horse.”

India had scrawled the name “Nick.”

His little girl had her first crush. If that boy broke her heart, Will would make sure the police chief gave him a spanking.

Guiltily, he remembered what he’d done to Leah. Although she’d shown no sign of suffering a broken heart, he owed her an apology.

Eileen supervised the girls’ baths. Procedures that frustrated Will, like settling squabbles over who went first and shampooing hair without creating hopeless tangles, came easily to the experienced housekeeper.

She’d joined the family two years ago, after Allison left. Previously, she’d raised two generations of children in other families, along with a daughter of her own.

At seventy, Mrs. McNulty could have retired, but what would she do all day? she’d responded when Will had asked. Divorced, she’d always worked, first as a maid and later as a housekeeper. She might have considered moving to Florida to be near her daughter’s family, she’d said, but they led their own lives.

She’d been thrilled to have two young charges again. Desperately seeking a solution to recurrent child-care problems, Will had been overjoyed to find her. The move to Tennessee hadn’t fazed her, thank goodness.

He’d finished loading the dishwasher when the housekeeper’s substantial frame filled the kitchen doorway. “The girls are ready for their night-night story,” she told him. “There’s a coffee cake in the fridge, and I could make a pot of decaf for your guest if you like.”

Will nearly dropped the box of dishwasher detergent. “I’m sorry?” He hadn’t mentioned inviting anyone.

Mrs. McNulty favored him with a knowing glance. “Dr. Rankin, what’s the first thing you do when you get home?”

“Hug the girls,” he said.

“After that.”

“Change my clothes.” He saw her point. Tonight, instead of throwing on jeans and a polo shirt, he’d merely removed his jacket and tie.