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Russell Matthew and his son stood listening to the contractor they’d hired from Yorkton. Eleven-year-old Ben, who’d been in her fourth-grade class two years ago, had shot up another couple of inches this summer. She couldn’t believe how he’d grown.
The noise of the cement mixer ground out all other sounds in the hot, still air. That morning’s forecast projected the mid-July heat wave to linger into the next week, too. Though it was only noon, and she was dressed in denim shorts and a pink tank top, Heather already felt uncomfortably warm. The guys had to be cooking working around all that hot cement.
No sooner did she have that thought, than a Volvo station wagon drove up. Russell’s wife, Julie, stuck her head out the open driver’s side window.
“Anybody thirsty?”
Russell straightened, showing off his tanned shoulders and broad chest. He and the contractor were working in jeans only. Removing his cap, he wiped sweat off his brow as he smiled at his wife. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
“Hang on, I’ve got cold cans of lemonade and iced tea.” Julie switched off the ignition, then went around to the back where she removed Emma from her car seat. The little girl wasn’t yet one, but already Heather could tell she was going to be tall and honey-haired like her mother.
“Want to help Mommy take drinks to Daddy and Ben?”
Seeing the toddler hold out her trusting arms to her mother, Heather had to look away. For years she’d wanted everything that Julie had. And now. Well, now.
She glanced down at her stomach which was still flat but wouldn’t be for long. She sighed, then re-mounted her bike and continued along Lakeshore Drive. The entire Matthew family called out greetings as she came into view, but she just smiled, waved her hand and kept on pedaling.
Much to Julie’s relief, Heather was sure. Russell’s wife was always polite, but too much history existed between Heather and Russ for the three of them to be real friends.
So Heather tended to avoid the Matthews as much as possible, which was hard in a small community like Chatsworth. Especially since she and Russ both taught at the local elementary school.
But it was summer break, and she had another problem on her mind today.
As Heather pedaled faster, a light breeze off the lake fingered her loose hair and sent cool shivers down her bare arms. Once she’d crossed the railway tracks, she turned left onto Willow Road. Gravel crunched under the thick tires of her mountain bike. A couple of red-winged blackbirds swooped overhead, then settled in the tall reeds growing on the swampy side of the lake. The narrow lane traced the western shoreline all the way to the public parking lot next to the concession stand.
Here she left her bike in one of the metal stands provided for that purpose, not bothering to lock it up. She unfastened her saddlebag with the lunch she’d packed that morning, and set out for the far end of the beach. On her way, she passed several groups of mothers and children spread out on blankets and wet towels along with a multitude of snacks and water toys.
Once she’d left the general beach area, she came across a pair of young lovers, partially hidden behind a clump of dark-leaved shrubs. The girl in a red bikini, the boy in baggy shorts riding low on his hips, were sprawled on an old blanket. The girl smoothed lotion into the young man’s back with long, lingering strokes.
“Hi, Karen. Ryan.”
“Oh. Miss Sweeney. I didn’t see you coming.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Hard to believe these eighteen-year-olds were former pupils of hers. She remembered them both being top students. Ryan was very competitive—about school, sports, everything. Karen’s sweet disposition made her a favorite of everyone’s. Including Heather.
“Enjoying the summer holidays?” Ryan lifted his head and gave her a sleepy, charming grin.
“I am. Looks like you are, too.”
“We don’t get many days off to relax like this. Ryan’s on shift work at the mine,” Karen explained. Many of the locals worked at the potash mines in nearby Esterhazy. “And my mom isn’t on duty at the nursing home today. Otherwise I’d be babysitting my brothers.”
The twins would be in Heather’s class this year, too. She’d heard they were a handful and hoped she was up for the challenge. She regarded the pretty young girl with sympathy. “Well, enjoy the rest of the day, you two.”
She turned and breathed deeply as she continued on her way. The air always smelled different close to the lake. She was almost to the line of evergreens that separated the public beach from a privately owned golf course bordering the other side of the lake, when she finally saw him.
T.J. rested his back against the trunk of an old poplar. His dark hair was in its usual state of disarray, and the lower portion of his tanned face was covered in a light beard. He had on sunglasses, so she couldn’t tell for sure, but he seemed to be watching her approach. She swallowed and forced her chin up an inch. At that moment she realized she’d been clinging to a hope that he wouldn’t show up.
She glanced at her watch. Despite all the interruptions, she was here on time.
“Hot, isn’t it?” She sat about three feet from him, wishing she’d thought to pack a blanket. The grass half tickled, half scratched her bare legs.
T.J. removed his sunglasses. For a second their glances snagged against each other. Then he pulled off his white T-shirt and spread it over the grass a little closer to himself. “Sit here. You’ll be more comfortable.”
She couldn’t really say no, even though she’d have been more at ease if he had kept his shirt on. Not that long ago she’d rested her head on his muscular chest. Now, she deliberately averted her gaze from it.
“I brought food.” Settled on his T-shirt—was it her imagination, or could she feel his heat burning right through to her skin?—she unzipped the insulated bag in which she’d packed their lunch. She pulled out two sandwiches, slices of cheese, a container of strawberries. She unwrapped the first tuna on sourdough and passed it to T.J.
He caught her hand rather than the sandwich. “Your fingers are trembling.”
She lowered her head. Couldn’t he have just let it pass without comment? But T.J. had never been one to let anything go. Throughout their school years he’d teased her mercilessly about her red hair and freckles. And she’d never made a secret about the fact that she despised him for it.
That didn’t stop them from having slept together, though. The first time happened just after they graduated high school. Russ, two years older, had already left for fall term at university and there’d been no promises binding her—much as she’d wished otherwise.
The second time she and T.J. got together was in Saskatoon, where she’d been taking a break from working on her education degree to have Russ’s baby. And then there’d been this April…
No denying the sexual pull between them, much as she wanted to. Even now she felt it, despite the other, weightier, issue on her mind.
“You’re probably wondering why I asked you to meet me here.”
T.J. didn’t say anything. Somehow, that made it even harder. She’d had a whole speech planned out. But in the end, she only managed two short sentences.
“I’m pregnant, T.J. Just thought you should know.”
CHAPTER THREE
T.J. TENDED TO REACT to shocking news with silence. When his ex-wife, Lynn, had told him she was leaving, that she’d found someone new, someone who loved her, someone who didn’t work seven days a week, twelve hours a day, he’d just sat in his armchair and stared at her.
The way he was now staring at Heather. He noticed small things about her. The pattern of freckles across her nose. The way the sun turned her hair to liquid copper. The slight wobble of her lips as she waited for him to speak.
He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t even know what he was feeling. But it was something, all right. His stomach was so tight he didn’t think he could swallow a mouthful of water. The sensation felt very strange and unfamiliar.
T.J. wasn’t used to feeling. For the past few years since he’d left his legal practice in the city and come home to Chatsworth to look after his father’s hardware business, he’d existed in a perpetual state of numbness. But apparently no longer.
In the distance he heard the happy cries of children playing, the buzz from the motor boat pulling a waterskier. Closer, he could hear the heavy sound of Heather breathing.
He had to say something. Had to react. But she couldn’t be pregnant.
“You weren’t on the pill?” He had relived their evening together about a dozen times. In his mind he always glossed over the part where he’d told her he didn’t have any condoms. He couldn’t remember what she’d said in response, only that there’d been a tear in her eye when she’d asked him to make love to her, and no way could he have held back after that.
She gazed down at her hands. Her small, golden, freckled hands, upon which she wore no jewelry other than her sports watch. No rings.
“I know I implied that I was on birth control, T.J. But I wasn’t.”
He almost smiled, as a blush revealed Heather’s embarrassment. That was something else he’d always liked about her, even though she probably wouldn’t guess it from the way he’d teased her.
Teasing Heather Sweeney had become habit for him during their school years. In truth, taunting her had been the only way he could get her to notice him. From a very young age, Heather had time for only one guy at school, and that was Russell Matthew, two years her senior and a virtual god in her eyes.
From what he’d observed from a distance, T.J. suspected she still carried a secret torch for the man. Given that Russ was happily married with two kids, that wasn’t a recipe for Heather’s future happiness. Ten years ago he could have happily offered her a solution to her dilemma. But since what had happened with Lynn—and his daughter—he didn’t have much left to offer any woman. Or child.
“I have a confession, T.J. The reason I let you assume everything was okay was that I didn’t care whether I became pregnant. In fact, a part of me actually hoped it would happen.”
Silently T.J. turned over this new information in his mind. Heather was thirty-five years old. Widowed, with no serious boyfriend in her life. Why would she want to get pregnant?
“I don’t get it.”
Her sigh sounded long-suffering. “There was a reason I was in the bar by myself that night. It’s not something I normally do. But I’d just had an appointment with my doctor.”
He wanted to tell her to stop. If she had a fatal disease he couldn’t stand to hear. Not Heather. But of course he didn’t say anything, and she kept talking.
“The women in my family are susceptible to a certain type of problem—I’ll spare you the details. But the problem can lead to early infertility. I’d had an ultrasound and the doctors told me that it was happening to me, too. I can still have a baby now, but in the future it may be a little more tricky.”
She was throwing a lot at him. And he was starting to feel angry. “Are you saying you used me to get pregnant?”
“I suppose in a way I did.”
She sounded utterly unhappy, but he no longer cared how Heather Sweeney felt.
“Didn’t you think I should have a say in whether or not I wanted to bring another child into this world?”
And his say would have been no. He’d already proven what an unfit parent he made. He’d neglected Sally, even worse than he’d neglected Lynn. He’d lost them both and he knew he had no one to blame but himself.
“It wasn’t like I planned for it to happen. I didn’t know you’d be in the bar that night, or that you’d…come home with me,” she finished miserably. With one hand she plucked at the grass in front of her. “I’m not proud of what I did, T.J. Not the sleeping together part. And not the birth control part, either. I guess you have every right to be angry with me.”
“Oh, hell.” He leaned back using his arms for support and stared out at the lake. The water was silver-blue in the high afternoon sun. At the far end, he could just make out the assorted buildings and trees of Chatsworth.
“You’re sure you’re pregnant?”
“Three months.”
“Oh, hell,” he said again. Yeah, it had been about that long since he’d held her small, curvy body close to his own. During those hours they’d been together, he’d almost felt alive again. He’d almost held out hope for his future.
But she’d woken him at four in the morning. “T.J., you have to get out of here. Mrs. Manley across the street wakes up very early.”
Her shoving him out the back door of her house had been more effective than a Dear John letter ever could have been, letting him know that she considered their latest encounter just another one-night stand. Each time it had happened between them, she’d reacted the same way.
Except, this time, she’d actually gotten something she’d wanted from him. A baby.
“You should have told me,” he muttered again.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Finally she raised her head and let him see her remorseful expression. Then, she turned to the lake, and they sat there, side by side, together, yet alone with their individual thoughts, for many long minutes.
T.J. couldn’t stop himself from reflecting over the past. This wasn’t Heather’s first pregnancy. The summer after her freshman year at university, she and Russell had both been back in Chatsworth working to save money for the next year at school. T.J. had been home, too, for the same reason.
Not that Heather would have noticed. As usual, she’d been totally focused on Russell. Even though they’d broken up, they’d had a brief fling that summer. At the end of it, Russ had returned to university in Vancouver, and Heather hadn’t heard from him again. He’d met Julie that fall. And apparently hadn’t given Heather a second thought.
T.J. didn’t know when Heather had figured out she was pregnant. They’d been back at school in Saskatoon for several months before he’d noticed she wasn’t hanging out around campus anymore. With some effort, he’d tracked her down to a small apartment on the other side of the river. She was working at a Dairy Queen and spending her free time reading. Alone.
He’d pretended running into her was an accident. And he’d promised he’d keep her secret. She’d been obviously pregnant by then, and though he hadn’t asked any questions, he’d figured the father was Russell. He’d made a point of being around to drive her to her doctor appointments, and help with the odd small job around her place. Even though his heart had ached for her, he’d kept up his usual battery of insults and one-liners. He’d instinctively known she’d hate for him to feel sorry for her.
One night they’d watched a movie together. It had been a sad movie, and she’d cried at the end. He’d swear that he only put his arm around her to comfort her, but within seconds they were kissing. He’d felt all the same passion and heat as he had the first time they’d made love.
Inadvertently, the reason they’d been together that time had been because of Russell, too. Heather had been brokenhearted after he’d left for Vancouver. They had an agreement to date other people. But Heather only wanted Russ.
Except for that one night, briefly, she’d wanted T.J. Until the next morning, when she made it clear she considered their encounter a mistake.
The usual pattern.
“So, what’s the plan, Heather? What do you want to do?”
“Well, I’m going to keep the baby, of course,” she said quickly.
He didn’t know why he’d bothered to ask. She’d given up her first baby—Russell’s baby—for adoption. She’d just told him she had a medical condition that might make future children impossible.
“So what do you want from me? Child support?” Money he could give. He had plenty. Lynn had refused to accept a cent after their divorce, on principle. He kept a large amount in trust for Sally, but even so, he was wealthy by small-town Saskatchewan standards.
When Heather didn’t answer, he turned to look at her. She met his gaze and wouldn’t let it go.
“Don’t tell me you want my help raising this kid, Heather. I can’t do that.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“Can’t. One day I’ll tell you the story.”
“Is this about your ex-wife and child? I heard Lynn remarried and that she’s living in Toronto. What’s your daughter’s name?”
“Sally.”
“Do you visit her?”
He wrenched his gaze away. Damn Heather. She had no business prying, and he wasn’t going to answer any more of her nosy questions.
“I’m a lousy father, okay? Too bad you didn’t know that three months ago when you picked me to roll around in bed with.”
“Don’t,” she said sharply. “Don’t talk about what happened between us that way.”
“Why not? It was just a one-night stand. Right? You and me are the king and queen of the one-night stand.”
“You have a gift for being cruel.”
“Is that right?”
“Yet, I know at heart you’re a decent person.”
“Wow. Thanks for the resounding vote of confidence.”
“I have to believe there’s a reason we keep ending up going to bed together.”
