Marion Lennox - Adopt-a-Dad

“I guess…”

“If immigration contacts either of us, then we’ll get together,” she said. “But after our performance yesterday, they might not even check.”

“Jenny, they’re not stupid. They’ll come, and I don’t know how much notice they’ll give.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She gave a self-mocking smile. “So call me. I’m a cab drive away.”

There was something else gnawing at him. “When the baby’s born… What will you do when you go into labor?” It was impossible to keep a note of anxiety out of his voice.

She heard it and smiled. There was no need for his anxiety, but she liked it all the same. “There’s no problem,” she assured him. “I’ll take a cab or I’ll call an ambulance to take me to the hospital. I’ll even walk, if there’s time.”

“Don’t you dare. Call me.”

“Hey, I’m only eight months pregnant, and I don’t need-”

“Call me!” He barked the command, and she blinked. And then she smiled again.

“Okay, Michael. I’ll call you.”

“At two in the morning if necessary,” he growled. “Anytime. You swear?”

“I swear.”

“There’s nothing else you need?”

“Nothing.”

“I told you, I can afford-”

“There’s nothing else,” she said, with a lot more confidence than she felt. She opened the door, then stood waiting until he passed through it. “Thank you for everything, Michael. Goodbye.”

SHE’D SOUNDED so firm.

Jenny closed the door after her husband and stood for a long, long time with her back against it, staring at nothing. There was nothing else she needed.

Except someone.

Except Michael.

Unconsciously she traced her fingers where his mouth had touched hers, remembering the feel of his harsher skin against the softness of her lips. Nice.

Michael was nice.

“The girls at work would have kittens if they heard me,” she said into the silence, thinking of the reception staff and the female nurses at the hospital. Michael Lord had a reputation as a hunk of the first order. But nice? That was the last word they’d use to describe him. He was cool, aloof, demanding…

“But nice,” she said softly, and fingered the ring on her finger. She’d moved Peter’s rings to her right hand. The new band of gold lay light and strange on her ring finger.

Different.

She touched Peter’s rings and tried to conjure up his face. She couldn’t. Frowning, she crossed to her bag and found his picture, put the photograph on her bedside chair, where it belonged.

“Because Peter’s my husband.”

Peter.

She closed her eyes, pain and guilt washing over her. Peter’s title was this baby’s birthright. If she did what Gloria wanted, the baby could inherit it right away.

No. That way was madness. To barter what she knew was right for this new little life for riches and a title…

“I’m sorry, Peter,” she whispered bleakly into the silence. “I can’t do it. It just seems so wrong. I’m sorry.”

She opened her eyes, and there was no one there. Nothing.

Except tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow…

MICHAEL LEFT HER and drove to the river. They’d had dinner on the road, so he wasn’t hungry. It was nine at night. He should go home, get some sleep.

But he was married.

What did that have to do with anything? He didn’t feel married. He stopped the car and got out, walked to the riverbank. The night was fresh, pleasant, but there were no other people around. Maybe it was too early for the town’s lovers to be out walking. Saturday night, most of the local kids would still be at the movies, and older couples would be dining in one of the city’s restaurants.

Single people didn’t tend to come here.

But he did. This was a place for quiet, a place to get his thoughts in order. So much had changed.

Only it hadn’t changed, he realized. He was free to go home as he always did, and Jenny expected nothing more of him. On Monday there’d be a chirpy secretarial replacement sitting in Jenny’s office, and life would go on as usual.

But he was married.

This was stupid, he thought savagely. Jenny was acting as if they could go on as before, but their marriage had to be made public if she wanted immigration status. She couldn’t stay in that apartment.

She intended to. She didn’t want to put him to any trouble.

So what would she do with herself, in the weeks of waiting for the baby to be born? If she had her way, if immigration didn’t bother to check, she’d stay in that dump of an apartment, speaking to no one.

It was none of his business. He touched the gold band on his finger. According to Jenny, he could take it off. He needed to keep it close in case there were questions, but he didn’t need to wear it. Jenny was making no demands.

Unconsciously he started to remove it, then let it slide back.

Better not. If officials came asking questions… If he lost the damned thing…

What if the baby came early? he thought suddenly. What if it came tonight? His mind was heading off in all directions.

“She has a phone,” he said into the night. “She’s not irresponsible… She’s not irresponsible but she’s too damned independent… Why too independent? Do you want her to live with you? No, but…”

His voice trailed away. Of course he didn’t want her to live with him, but a vision of her face flashed into his mind. Her skin too pale, as if she didn’t spend enough time in the sun. Her eyes creased with worry, but her face set and resolute.

She’d been through too much.

And if she has cramps again tonight…

“Butt out, Lord,” he told himself savagely. “You’ve done enough. She needs space, so get back to where you left off.”

The phone on his belt buzzed into life, and he quickly grabbed it. If she needed him…

“Mike?”

“Garrett.” Michael’s breath came out in a rush. It wasn’t Jenny.

“Hey, who were you expecting? Marilyn Monroe?”

“Yeah, right. What do you want?” It was impossible to eliminate the impatience in his voice, and he could imagine Garrett’s eyebrows doing a hike upward at the other end of the line.

“You were invited for dinner.”

“What?”

“Tonight,” Garrett said patiently. “We’ve had steak and salad, and Dylan and I have drunk most of the beer, but if you’re fast you can have some of Shelby’s pumpkin pie.”

Jenny doesn’t like pumpkin pie.

Somehow he didn’t say it. With a mental shake, he managed to get himself into the conversation. Into reality. “I’m not coming.”

“Are you with someone?”

“No.”

“As usual. You’re neck deep in work, maybe?”

“No, but…”

“Then we’re expecting you.” Garrett’s growl matched his. “The girls are disappointed. Or are you planning on staying out of family life completely now?”

“No.”

There was a pause. Something had caught Garrett’s attention. Something different? His voice lowered a notch, and Michael heard worry come into it. “You sound… You’re not down in that damned casino?”

“No!”

“Then get your butt over here, little brother,” Garrett demanded. “Before I drag you.”

Yeah. Okay. It seemed sensible enough, or more sensible than standing on the riverbank having conversations with himself. Besides, there was no point worrying Garrett and his sisters.

He took a deep breath, gathered his wits, turned into a single man again and went to face his family.

“THERE’S FIVE LEADS.”

Michael was sitting on the sofa at Garrett’s ranch, a can of cold beer in his hand. He’d refused Lana’s offer of a glass. He sat there trying not to think that Jenny would be shoving a glass at him regardless. He was trying not to smile at the thought.

“Are you with us, Mike?”

Michael blinked and focused. Garrett was standing in the center of the room. Their sister Shelby was on the floor at his feet, playing with Lana and Dylan’s baby, Greg, and Lana and Dylan were sitting way too close on the other sofa. The way they were looking at each other, there’d be another baby before too long.

“Oh. Um, yeah. Right.”

Garrett fixed him with a big-brother look that said, Pay attention or take the consequences, and continued.

“As I said, we need to do something concrete.”

What the heck were they talking about? They looked like they were waiting for an intelligent question. “We?” he said weakly, and hoped it was appropriate.

Apparently it wasn’t. All it earned him was a glower from Shelby.

“Garrett and me. Michael, you’re not listening. Shut up and concentrate.”

“Yeah, right.”

“We found five sets of triplets born around our birth dates,” Garrett repeated, frowning at his brother. Something was up with Michael, and he didn’t know what. His eyes stayed watchful as he kept talking. “Without fertility drugs, there weren’t as many triplets born then, and most didn’t survive. There are only five registered in Texas as making it.”

“So?” Two intelligent questions in one night! He was doing well. He nudged Shelby, and she glowered again.

“Shut up, Michael.”

Garrett’s frown deepened. Yeah. Something was definitely up with his baby brother, but all he could do was keep talking while he tried to figure it out.

“There was one set of triplets born to a LeeAnn and Gary Larrimore three towns from here at Lorretta Free Clinic. That seems the most promising lead, mostly because the hospital records are so scant, but there are four more around Texas. We thought if we split up… Mike, if you can help…”

Michael sighed as he finally figured what they were talking about. Their birth mother again! He might have known. They were asking him to get involved, and he didn’t want to.

“Why would I help?”

“Because we want to find our mother, Michael,” Shelby said, exasperated. “With your resources…”