Another Woman's Baby

“It’s a girl.” That was the easy question.

“Who are the lucky parents? They must be very dear friends.”

“They are. The mother is a woman I work with. Medical problems prevented her from carrying her own child, and since she wanted a baby so desperately, I agreed to do this for her.”

Megan’s mind wandered back to the moment when Jackie had first come to her. She’d said no at first, but the look of disappointment in Jackie’s face had nearly killed her. It was as if Megan had taken her friend’s dreams and stamped them into the ground.

Jackie had already had three miscarriages and the doctor had told her that to try again would be exceedingly dangerous due to her increasingly serious problems with diabetes. Yet Megan had feared that if she said no, Jackie would have gotten pregnant in spite of the doctor’s warnings. As it turned out, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

Sandra swallowed a bite of muffin. “So when the baby’s born, you’ll just give it to its real parents?”

“That’s the plan.” Or at least it had been. This was the part she couldn’t share with Sandra. Talking about it was painful. Even thinking about it seemed traitorous and cruel, as if she was considering throwing away a part of herself and all that was left of Jackie.

Sandra reached over and took her hand and squeezed it. “I always said you had a heart the size of the gulf. You proved me right again. What does Marilyn think of this?”

“Mother doesn’t know. I haven’t seen her since I made the decision to have the baby.”

“And you didn’t want her input. You are wise as well as big-hearted. Where is your mother now?”

“Living in an oceanfront estate in Acapulco with a new husband, a man who owns a chain of luxury resorts. She insists I come down for a visit. I haven’t made it yet.”

“Is this the man she was telling me about when she came to your grandmother’s funeral?”

“That’s the one.”

“She showed me his picture. He’s very handsome.”

“And rich.”

Sandra sighed. “Of course. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stood a chance with her. She learned her lesson when Bob Gilbert stuck her with all his debts.”

“Husband number three was definitely an eye-opener for her,” Megan agreed.

“She might as well hook up with rich men since she can get anyone she wants. I don’t know how she manages it, but she’s still as beautiful as the day she was crowned Miss Alabama. We all threaten to lock up our husbands when she comes to town.”

“That’s my mom.”

“Does this make husband number five?”

“Six, I think. You probably missed the French diplomat. He only lasted about six months.”

Sandra shook her head, but a smile curled her lips. “That woman. She never fit into Orange Beach. I miss her, though. I still remember when she danced in that play on Broadway. A bunch of us flew up to see her and she got us front-row seats and took us to a cast party. Even in that crowd, she stood out. She was always bigger than life.”

Megan nodded but kept her thoughts on that to herself. Her mother was all those things, and if Megan hadn’t been her daughter, she might have appreciated it the way Sandra did. But it had never been easy being the daughter of a woman who was bigger than life.

They finished the coffee and muffins, and Sandra left after exacting a promise from Megan that she’d come over for dinner soon. Thankfully, there had been no more questions about the baby. Evidently, Sandra had picked up on her hesitancy to talk about it. But it was better that at least that much was out in the open. It would keep the locals from going nuts trying to find out who had knocked her up.

IT WAS ONE-THIRTY in the afternoon when Megan pulled into the parking lot of the Pink Pony. After Sandra had left that morning, she’d dressed and gone for a long walk on the beach. The sun was bright, the sand warm and the water had sparkled like diamonds. It was the perfect cure for the tinges of fear that had coiled around her last night. And there had been no sign of Bart Cromwell.

Now she was starving, craving an oyster po’ boy. Most of the time she tried to eat healthy for the sake of the baby and to curb her weight gain, but the first full day back in town she simply had to have fried oysters.

She took a seat by a window overlooking the Gulf. A couple of young lovers were walking hand in hand along the beach and a man and golden retriever were wading in the water. She didn’t bother looking at a menu. She knew what she wanted.

The door opened and a man walked in alone. She recognized him before he even turned around. The broad shoulders, the easy swagger, the faded baseball cap.

When he turned and saw her, his blue eyes lit up and his lips spread into a broad grin, as if they were old friends.

The troubled, anxious feeling that she’d experienced last night hit again, this time with overwhelming force. The man was following her, and there was no logical, innocuous reason for his doing so.

He walked over and tipped his hat. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this. But since we did, mind if I join you? I hate eating alone.”

Chapter Three

The man stood by her table, cap in hand. “If you don’t want company, I’ll understand.”

Her gut instinct was to tell him to keep moving, but she knew that talking to him might be the best way to put aside any irrational fears she had about him. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thanks. I went to the tourist center like you suggested. Loaded up on maps, booklets, even money-saving coupons. This place was highly recommended for lunch. I understand they have good gumbo here.”

“I haven’t tried it, but I’m sure it’s good.”

He gazed out the large bay window. “It’s a great view.”

“Did you say that this was your first trip to this area?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“So what made you decide to come now, especially in the off-season?”

“I came down from Nashville to go to my sister’s wedding in Mobile. My new brother-in-law suggested I come down here and enjoy some beach bumming and fishing since I had some vacation time left that I needed to use before the end of the year. So here I am.”

Here he most definitely was. So far she’d run into him three times in two days. Now she was sitting across the table from him and still she was picking up strange vibes. Maybe it was because his manner and his motives didn’t really match.

His appearance and demeanor suggested an easygoing personality, but when he looked at her, his gaze was intense, as if he was studying her. He had a magnetism about him, a kind of rugged masculinity that would have gone better with a leather motorcycle jacket than the windbreaker he was wearing.

The waitress came and took their order, then returned a minute later with draft beer for him and a glass of milk for Megan. He lifted his glass in a toast.

“To sun, sand and catching fish,” he said, clinking his glass with hers. “And to an easy birth and a healthy baby.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“So when’s the little rug rat due?”

“December 27.”

“Wow. Hope that stork doesn’t get run over by eight tiny reindeer. You must be getting excited with the date so close. Is this your first child?”

“It’s my first pregnancy.” It was much easier to stick to the truth minus unnecessary facts.