You're My Baby

Turning onto his street, he tried viewing his neighborhood as Pam might. An older section of town with taller trees, these few blocks were in the process of making a comeback. Most of the houses, like his two-story, had been rehabbed by young professionals interested in preservation and renovation. A few, though, bore signs of neglect—fading paint, overgrown yards, seedy porch furniture. Would she be willing to move into his home? He hadn’t even mentioned that restriction, but Andy needed the yard and neighborhood, not a cramped condominium. And what about the sleeping arrangements? Swerving at the last minute to avoid a neighbor kid’s bike abandoned in the gutter, he pulled into his driveway.

Sleeping arrangements? A sudden image of Pam’s smooth, rosy-hued skin and full breasts unnerved him. He was a red-blooded male, for Pete’s sake. Could he withstand the temptation? There was a vast difference between being a husband in name only and the real McCoy.

He parked the car and sat brooding. Was he nuts? He was acting as if this was a done deal when, in fact, Pam had to be wondering if he’d lost his mind. Heck, he was wondering that himself.

Well, the die was cast. He walked toward the house, experiencing the same kind of jitters he felt before a crucial game. While he was still unlocking the back door, he heard the phone. He caught it on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for over an hour.”

Typical Shelley, always diving right in. No pleasantries. “I’m home now.” Darned if his whereabouts were any of her business. Especially tonight.

“We need to talk about Andy. Are we all set?”

“I think so.” He took a deep breath. “But I may have a delay on this end.”

“Delay?” With her emphasis, she managed to convey both incredulity and exasperation. “What delay?”

“I’ll have someone, but she may not be in residence right when Andy comes.”

“We have an agreement, you know.”

“I know, but surely a few days won’t matter. It’s important that Andy begin school with the others. Basketball practice for me doesn’t start until mid-October, so I’ll be around to supervise him.”

“Grant, don’t you be pulling a fast one.”

Ordinarily he’d resent the hell out of that remark, but is that what he was doing? Pulling a fast one? “Like you, Shelley, I have Andy’s best interests at heart.”

“I certainly hope so.” He could hear her long fingernails rat-a-tatting on the receiver. “All right, then. But as soon as you employ a housekeeper, I expect you to give me and my attorney the particulars—her name, social security number, and so on.”

For the first time since Grant had entertained the wild hope that Pam would accept his offer, he had an admittedly unworthy thought. He’d sacrifice a first-place finish in the prep league to see Shelley’s face when he told her his housekeeper just happened to be his wife. “I’ll be in touch.” He pulled a kitchen stool close and sat down. “Is Andy there? Could I speak to him?”

He waited for what seemed a long time while Shelley went to find their son. When Andy finally picked up, Grant could hear the frantic beat of a rap tune in the background. “Andy?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s Dad. How’re you doing, buddy?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“Looking forward to the move?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m jumping through hoops.”

So that’s how it was. “It’s gotta be tough, leaving your friends and all.”

Nothing.

“I think you’ll like Keystone, once you get used to it. I’m really looking forward to having you live with me this year.”

“Well, I have to stay somewhere.”

Like Fort Worth was the last alternative. “I’m glad that ‘somewhere’ is with me.”

“Whatever.”

Andy wasn’t going to let his father slip easily into his life. Hopefully things would be better when they could communicate face-to-face. Grant had dealt with surly, unhappy kids before, but the challenge was different when it was your own son. Could he rise to it? He had to. He might never have another chance. They talked then about the arrangements for meeting at the airport. Finally there didn’t seem to be anything further to say. “Good night, son.”

“See ya.”

Grant hung up. Pam had to say yes. For so many reasons. Not the least of which was how lonely and helpless he felt.

TUESDAY MORNING the Student Council officers, the boys dressed in crisp khakis and sport shirts and the girls in sleeveless sundresses, greeted the teachers as they slowly filtered into the cafeteria for the coffee-and-doughnut reception preceding the kickoff faculty meeting. Pam stopped to chat with Brittany Thibault, the StuCo secretary, who had been in her junior English class last year.

“Can you believe it?” The girl gestured to the other officers. “We’re actually seniors.”

Pam smiled. “Yes, I can believe it. The faculty’s expecting great things from you.”

“We won’t let you down.”

“Good. I’m counting on a nice, easy year.” At least at school. It was a cinch nothing else in her life would qualify as easy.

Connie caught up with her at the food line. “You’re in luck, Pam. They’ve got your gooey doughnuts with those disgusting sprinkles,” she said, reaching for a maple stick.

Pam eyed her favorite confection and realized that the nauseating whiff of freshly brewed coffee was up-ending her stomach. “I’ve eaten, so I’ll settle for an apple.” She plucked the piece of fruit from a tray and bypassed the coffee.

Connie stirred a packet of sugar substitute into her own coffee. “What’s up with you, caffeine addict?”

Pam waved her fingers airily. “Didn’t I tell you? I’m on a health kick. All those veggie, whole-grain restaurants in Austin convinced me.” Surely that inspired explanation would satisfy Connie, because nothing right now sounded more purely revolting than black coffee.

“Gee, we’ll have to be careful in the future about letting you out without a keeper. No coffee? That’s practically sacrilege.”

Pam chomped down on the apple. “But think how healthy I’ll be.”

After ten minutes of chitchat, Jim Campbell stepped to the microphone and asked everyone to take a seat. Out of the corner of her eye Pam saw Grant enter with a group of coaches. Why had she never noticed him before? Really noticed. He was by far the best-looking. He was the same tall, attractive, loose-limbed man he’d always been, but this morning she reacted to him in an entirely different and disturbing way. A physical way.

Before she could process that reaction, Jim Campbell began his opening remarks. He was a good speaker, mixing humor with motivational anecdotes. But today she couldn’t concentrate on a word he was saying. A single thought kept drumming in her brain. Grant Gilbert was willing to marry her.

Looking around the room at her colleagues and the self-important Student Council officers, she was moved by a wave of love, nostalgia and regret that tripped her breath. How could she leave all of this?

But people don’t get married to fulfill a bargain. She’d lain awake until the wee hours of the morning considering what was best for her child. If Grant was willing to give the baby his name, how could she refuse? Yet the logistics were overwhelming. How could they live together with Andy? Convince their friends and colleagues that they’d had a mad summer romance culminating in an elopement? And then carry on the charade every day for a year under intense scrutiny? She was a good actress, but this was an impossible role.

She studied Grant’s profile. And what about him? He was candor personified. Such duplicity wasn’t in his nature. They’d be discovered. And never mind that Andy sounded like anything but the ideal teenager. She wasn’t afraid of that, exactly, but he was a big unknown in the equation.

No, it was too complicated, too devious, too desperate.

Then she thought about the tiny person growing in her womb. Who was she kidding? Was there such a thing as “too desperate”?

GRANT COULDN’T HELP HIMSELF. The first thing he did when he entered the cafeteria was scope out the room for Pam. She was sitting next to Connie Campbell, her face animated. From his vantage point, no one would guess Pam was weighed down by vital decisions.