Somebody's Baby

Caroline glanced over at him, her auburn hair glinting in the light from the setting sun. “I guess.”

John didn’t know how it had happened, but they’d been there for over an hour. Sometimes talking. A lot of the time lost in their own thoughts. There was so much to discuss, so many decisions to make. But he didn’t really feel like doing these things. And, perhaps, neither did she.

He pulled out the bottles of water, opened one and handed it to her before taking a long swig from his own.

“Why did you react so strongly when I referred to the pregnancy as a predicament?”

She took a small sip of water. Recapped the bottle. Held it with both hands on the rock between her knees. He wasn’t used to spending time with women who didn’t wear makeup and was surprised by how much he liked the freshness of her natural beauty when she turned toward him.

“Have you ever looked in the mirror and wondered where you belonged?”

“No, I don’t think so,” John said slowly, watching her.

“Or considered the idea that your life was worth less than the lives of those around you?”

“No.” He’d had the usual teenage insecurities, of course. But his parents had always encouraged him to believe that the world was his to do with what he could. He’d been dreaming big his whole life.

Until the dream came crashing down.

“I have,” she said.

And although he didn’t want to know, he had to ask. “Why?”

She wasn’t going to tell him. He’d overstepped the boundaries she’d set less than an hour before. Her chin was set, her eyes showing very little of the emotion that he suspected must be roiling around inside her.

And then her mouth softened, her eyes focusing on the distance, perhaps a farther distance than the vista spread before them.

“For starters, I was an only child,” she began. “On a farm out in the country in Kentucky. That in itself is very isolating. And no matter what I did, I never fit in. Not at home with my folks. And not at school, either. I was different from everyone else. Saw the world differently. When it came time to make decisions, my opinions were almost always opposite to my parents’. Things that mattered to me didn’t seem to concern them, and a lot of the time, the reverse was true.”

Caroline pulled her feet up on the rock, the worn, rounded toes of her brown leather boots hanging over the edge. Arms wrapped around her knees, she shifted back slightly. John wondered what she was thinking.

“I had this insatiable need to know. Not what other people in town were doing, or who was marrying whom, but why the sun rose and how. And where air came from. I wanted to know who was in national office and I cared about every major decision out of Washington.” Her grin was a little sad. “My poor parents. They were worried about having enough fertilizer for the field and finding ways to make the equipment last another year while I went on about global warming. I’m sure I drove them crazy.”

Mesmerized, John didn’t move. He didn’t want to do anything that might remind her he was still there, make her aware that she was opening up to him after just telling him he could play no part in her personal life. He didn’t want to lose this glimpse of her.

When he’d first met Caroline Prater he’d found her an interesting enigma. And—not that he allowed himself to dwell on that night—she’d been a pretty decent lover, as well. Now he was just plain intrigued. He’d never known anyone with so many facets. All of them different. And all of them sparkling in their own way.

“Anyhow, one day when I was about seven, I yelled at my mother in a fit of frustration, telling her I couldn’t possibly be her kid because she didn’t care that a popular hamburger chain—I’d only eaten out twice in my life and both times it had been there—was being accused of stealing characters from my favorite television show, H.R. Pufnstuf.”

A quick grin accompanied her words before her focus turned once again to the desert. “You can imagine how surprised I was—and how little I suddenly cared about the company’s ad campaign—when my mother yelled back that I wasn’t her child. I was adopted.”

Shit. What a way to tell a seven-year-old kid something as earth-shattering as that. John didn’t know what he could possibly say that would make any difference. So he said nothing.

“I’d already been considering that I’d been planted in Grainville by aliens.” She laid her cheek on top of her knee. “From that point on, I quit fighting. I’d already been rejected by one set of parents. What would happen if the second set decided I was too much trouble?”

John, not detecting even a note of self-pity in her tone, wondered for a split second what it would’ve been like if he’d met her at a different time. Say fifteen years before, when they were both starting out.

He had a feeling he’d have liked her. A lot.

“I spent the next ten years of my life feeling like I didn’t belong anywhere. In a town as small as Grainville, where everyone belongs to everyone else, feeling that way wasn’t easy.”

He wondered what had happened to her at seventeen to change that but didn’t ask.

She stood up, brushed herself off, gave a shaky laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on like that,” she said, heading back the way they’d come. “Put it down to overprotectiveness. I just don’t want any child of mine feeling that way. Not if I can help it.”

Propelled by something he didn’t dare analyze, John caught up to her, grabbing her hand only long enough to pull her to a stop. She turned, facing him. “I may not have chosen these circumstances,” he said, his eyes locked with hers. “But that baby will always know I love him and want him in my life.”

Tears pooled in her eyes before she blinked them away, nodded and began walking again.

“NOT TO KEEP HARPING on it, but I’d really like to know what you’re planning to do about medical care,” John said as they sped down the highway toward Shelter Valley. Caroline had said that Bea Howard served dinner at five-thirty sharp and they’d stayed longer in the desert than he’d intended.

“I’ve called the clinic in Shelter Valley. The obstetrician there can take me.”

“Do you have insurance?” She didn’t answer immediately and he continued. “Because under my insurance, the baby will be covered completely, but the pregnancy won’t. I’m prepared to handle that with cash.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Caroline,” John said, taking his eyes from the road for just a second and glimpsing the bland look on her face, “we’ve already established that I’m going to carry at least half the burden over the next seven or so months. Obviously we can’t divvy up the physical challenges, so I’ll have to do my share on a more, shall we say, detached level. Expenses would fall nicely into that category.”

“Okay.”

Another glance showed him that her expression hadn’t changed. More than ever, he wanted to know what went on behind that unrevealing look. He suspected it was the result of a lifetime spent hiding her curiosities and opinions.

In any event, there was nothing for him to do about it.

“So, when’s the first appointment?”

“I haven’t made it yet.”

“I’d like to be there.”

And at the instant shake of her head, he quickly added, “Not for the examination part.” He didn’t want to embarrass her. “Just to sit in on the talk with the doctor afterward.”

She hesitated too long. “Okay.”

“You’ll let me know as soon as you have an appointment?” he pushed, not sure whether she’d acquiesced or was merely placating him.

“I’m hoping to get in sometime during the next week, before school starts.”

Okay, then, she’d meant it. Good. They were getting somewhere. “I can go any day but tomorrow.”

“Fine.”

“A large group of us are going to Phoenix tomorrow,” he explained when it occurred to him that she might think he was putting her off for a golf date or an appointment at work. “One of our young women is a witness in a court case and Shelter Valley plans to be there in full support.”

“Ellen Moore’s rape case,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear her. “I’m glad you’re all going.”

Having just come off the ramp from the freeway, John kept his foot on the brake and stared. “How did you know about that?”