Her Baby's Father

The room he’d given her was at the back of the house, directly over the kitchen, with windows that looked down into the garden. It had pale-peach walls. A cream-striped duvet covered the double bed and the spindled headboard wore the soft patina of age. Summer evening light slipped in the window and warmed the eastern side of the room.

Much better than an anonymous motel, she admitted.

Jennifer took a quick shower in the attached bathroom, which also connected to another guest room. She dried off with a butter-soft towel and dressed in fresh clothes, feeling a lot more human without the layer of dust and grit from her drive up from San Francisco. After running a comb through her still-damp hair, she joined Ross in the kitchen.

He stood at the island, snapping the ends off a pile of green beans. “Feeling refreshed?” he asked.

“Mmm-hmm.” She walked over and took a seat. The dog, Frank, was curled up on a cushion by the back door. She wagged her stumpy tail at Jennifer and then put her head down on her paws.

“I overestimated the contents of my pantry,” Ross said. “I need to run out to the store for some tomato sauce. Do you want to come along? You’re welcome to stay here if you don’t.”

She slipped off her stool. “I’ll come.”

He was her child’s uncle. To spend some time with him, to learn more about his life, wouldn’t be so bad, right?

Ross wiped his hands on a tea towel and led her to the front door, where he grabbed his keys and let them both out. He glanced over as she descended the steps beside him, not offering to help but seeming alert to the possibility of her needing it. She wasn’t so pregnant that her movements had become that difficult, but she knew the day would arrive.

He opened the passenger door of his Camry for her. As she settled herself in the seat and fastened her safety belt she studied his hospital ID card, which was clipped to the dash. The photo was a few years old. His dark hair was longer and he wore a haggard expression. He had deep bags under his eyes. It looked as if it had been taken in the middle of the night, partway through a grueling shift.

She watched him for a minute as he drove down the hill, leaving the residential area and entering the outskirts of downtown Portland. “Is being a doctor what you expected?”

Ross smiled a little ruefully, perhaps remembering things he’d said to her a long time ago. “I was an idealist, wasn’t I?”

“Reality is different?”

“Reality is always different. Especially from what you imagine it’ll be when you’re barely out of your teens.”

“So, what’s it like?”

“Harder. Sometimes more boring. You wouldn’t think so, but even emergencies can feel routine sometimes. And I can’t say I like the business aspects of medicine.”

“But helping people?”

“Oh, that’s gratifying,” he said. “Especially at the free clinic my friend Kyle runs.”

“Where’s that?”

“Old Town. We get lots of patients who are homeless. Also people with low incomes who can’t afford any other kind of health care.”

He talked about it in a matter-of-fact tone, and answered several more questions. She sensed he wouldn’t want her to make a big deal about his volunteer service there, but she was, actually, impressed. Impressed he’d found a way to follow through on some of the ideals he’d professed nine years ago.

“How do you have time to do that?” she asked as they pulled into the little grocery store parking lot. “I thought doctors worked eighty-hour weeks.”

“I worked that much as a resident. Now it only feels that way. I spend less than fifty hours a week at the hospital, though I have to do a bit more at home. Paperwork and keeping up on my reading.”

Ross explained how the shifts were set up at Northwest Hospital. He had day shifts for a few weeks and then a series of night shifts, with a break in between to adjust his internal clock. She’d caught him at the end of a night series, so he had a few days free.

They did their shopping and returned home. Ross picked up the meal preparations where he’d left off. Half an hour later he presented a meal of chicken, pasta and green beans.

As they ate they ranged over many subjects, but stayed away, as if by mutual consent, from anything that had to do with babies or sleazy brothers or family illnesses. In the security and ease of Ross’s house, Jennifer allowed herself to imagine, briefly, what it would be like to have had a child the traditional way. The way she’d always fantasized about. To be married and live in a nice house. To plan to conceive a baby and enjoy the act of making it. To share in the expectations and fears of pregnancy, to raise a child together in a house like this one…

Dreams. Just dreams. As Ross had said, reality was always different. She shouldn’t waste her time when her life was so unlike the fantasy, when she had a meeting with her baby’s father in less than two hours—the father who was married to someone else and expecting another baby.

So she let herself enjoy the rest of the meal and even Ross’s company. But she didn’t fool herself that the interlude was anything other than a temporary glimpse into another person’s life.

Nine years earlier

I’ve heard all about Ross Griffin by the time he gets home from college. Drew calls him Mr. Perfect because he always gets a four-point, does tons of community service, was student body president in high school, excels at sports, speaks two foreign languages, gets his car’s oil changed every three thousand miles without fail, and never, ever leaves dirty dishes in the kitchen sink. You can tell Drew kind of resents him for it, but you can tell he worships him, too. He tries to be like Ross. Like, he’s into this weird band called The Others that nobody in high school’s ever heard of, and three weeks ago when we went into Ross’s room to check out his vintage skateboard I saw an old concert ticket sitting on his desk.

Molly and Heather think Ross is gorgeous. But I’ve seen pictures of him all over the Griffin house and I don’t see what all the fuss is about. Sure, he could pass for that British actor, what’s-his-name, but so what? Drew’s better looking. Plus he’s laid-back and fun, while Ross is probably an uptight prig.

We’re sitting on the deck, Brian and Heather and Drew and I, when Ross gets home from a shopping trip with Mr. and Mrs. Griffin. He flew back from Cambridge a couple of days ago, but I haven’t run into him yet.

They come out onto the deck to say hello and I try to stand up because I’ve been sitting on Drew’s lap, which seems a little trashy in front of his family, especially when I see his mom’s gaze go to his arms around my waist. But Drew tightens his grasp, so I’m stuck there, embarrassed, when I meet his big brother.

Ross greets Brian and Heather and then turns his attention to me. “Jennifer, right? Nice to meet you.” He actually offers me his hand.

I don’t know if college kids go around shaking each other’s hands when they meet, but I’m not used to that, at least not from anyone under thirty. Which is probably why I get such a funny, off-balance feeling inside, as if I just miscalculated where the ground was when I stepped off a ladder.

His hand is big and warm, his grip firm. He doesn’t hold mine any longer than necessary or seem particularly stirred by the experience of meeting me.

“How are you?” I say, trying to look as comfortable as I can while I sit on his brother’s lap.

We all chat for a moment. I ask a few polite questions about his trip back from college and he asks where I lived before Portland, and then Mrs. Griffin reminds Drew to keep the screen door closed so insects don’t get into the house—he’d left it open this afternoon—and she and her husband go back inside.

Ross sits down on one of the dark-metal deck chairs his mom special-ordered from Europe last month. Drew and Brian start to talk about their new game systems and nobody’s talking to me anymore, so I just stare at Mr. Perfect, curious to see if he’s as arrogant as I had expected.

“So, how was your semester?” Heather asks him.

From her voice and expression it’s obvious she’s got a crush on the guy. I hope he’s too self-absorbed to notice, because otherwise I’m going to feel embarrassed for her.

Heather gushes at him and he answers all her questions about Cambridge and Harvard and what his dorm was like. He’s perfectly nice about it, but I start to get the feeling he thinks she’s a ditz. That’s not really fair. Heather may not be a super-brain, but she’s not stupid. Plus, she’s nice.

Finally I open my mouth to get into the conversation, just because I’m feeling left out. “What’s your major?”

Heather answers before he can. “He’s going to be a doctor,” she says, as though he’s already asked her to marry him or something.

Ross frowns, and I’m not really sure why. He’s hard to figure out. I can’t tell if he’s annoyed with Heather and me or just distracted.

A couple of minutes later he catches Drew’s attention. “Sorry to break this up, but we should be ready to go in about ten minutes.”

Drew gives him a blank stare.

“Grandma,” Ross prompts.

“Oh, man. I totally forgot.”

I give Drew a “huh?” look over my shoulder—I’m still sitting on his lap—and he says, “We have to go visit my grandma. Mom promised her we’d both come by this afternoon. I completely forgot about it.”

Ross says, “Can you be ready?” His gaze takes in Drew’s swimming trunks and faded Martha’s Vineyard T-shirt with the black dog on it. He’s already dressed appropriately, of course, in gray pants and a crisp white shirt.

Drew grimaces. “I’ve got to run Jenny home.”

His brother doesn’t seem to like this, and now I feel as if he’s annoyed directly at me. I’m going to make him late for his visit to his grandmother.

“I could ride the bus,” I say, scooting off Drew when he lets go of me to check his watch. I stand up.

Drew looks relieved, but I’m a little bummed. It’s less than ten minutes to my apartment by car, but a lot longer than that on the bus, especially since the stop is several blocks away. But I don’t want him to get in trouble.

Ross shakes his head, sighing. “Drive her home,” he tells Drew. “It’s not that big a deal. I’ll just call Grandma and let her know we’ll be late.”

“Thanks,” I say. But I don’t feel he’s being all that nice and I can tell he really is annoyed with me. “I’m ready to go right now.”

Drew grabs his keys and we take off, walking out to the cars with Brian and Heather, and I’m happy to see the last of his brother for a while.

The present

DREW HAD A BAD FEELING as he drove from his home in Vancouver across the Columbia River, down I-5, across the Willamette and up to Ross’s house—a feeling this wasn’t going to be a social call.

He pulled into the driveway and parked behind a battered station wagon with California plates and a San Francisco neighborhood parking permit. It took him a second, then he remembered seeing it at Jennifer Burns’s apartment and wondering how anyone could drive such a hunk of junk.

Glancing in the windows, he saw what appeared to be all her worldly possessions. Jesus. Was she moving here or simply stopping by on her way somewhere else?

She’d better not be the reason for this little visit. He’d expected her to figure out their night together was a one-time thing. Not that he would object to a repeat, but that started to smack of complications. And he didn’t like complications.

He knocked on the door, realizing that if this was about her, it would hardly be about starting up a relationship. Ross wasn’t exactly the type to act as a broker for his brother’s extramarital affairs. Hell, if he even realized there were affairs he’d go ballistic.

Ross opened the door, his features tense, his eyes cool. Drew realized instantly that he knew about San Francisco.

Shit, Drew thought. Just what he needed today—to be called on the carpet by his saintly older brother.

Ross stepped back to let him enter. A small brown dog shot into the front hall on three legs. The crazed-looking Chihuahua spent more time moving in circles than going straight forward.

“Yours?” he asked. It would be just like his brother to take on a crippled dog.

“Kyle and Melissa’s.”

Drew didn’t spend a lot of time socializing with Ross’s friends. No time at all, in fact. But he’d heard Ross talk about these particular friends and their daughter. They seemed to have a perfect life. Drew wouldn’t be surprised, though, if one of them walked into his law office someday seeking a divorce. Love was fun, but life was real. He didn’t have a lot of illusions left about human nature, his included.

“So what’s this all about?” he asked, pretending he didn’t know.

“Jennifer Burns.”

“Yeah? I saw her car. How is she?”

“She’s in the study. Why don’t you go see for yourself.”

CHAPTER FIVE

JENNIFER WATCHED DREW saunter into the study with his cocky, self-assured stride, and wondered what she’d ever seen in him. As a teenager or as an adult.

He rescued you, she told herself. And he charmed you. And he made you feel special when you couldn’t do it for yourself.

And look where it got you.

Ross stood in the doorway. He met her gaze and she read his expression.

I’ll be fine, she tried to telegraph. I can handle this. And she could. She knew she could. Because she knew from Drew’s demeanor exactly what would happen.

Ross stepped back and closed the door.

The study was simple, with a wall of medical books and a wide wooden desk. Jennifer sat behind it in Ross’s large padded chair. His laptop computer rested, lid down, to her right. A single window looked out into the side yard. She liked the room’s masculine feel—and the idea that Ross spent time in here gave her a kind of strength, though she didn’t want to question that fact too deeply.

Drew sat down on one of the chairs across the room. He leaned back and rested one ankle over a knee, smooth and relaxed, hands resting on his thighs.

She took a deep breath, reminding herself not to give up on him without giving him a chance.

“I’m sure this comes as a bit of a shock,” she said.

He seemed unaware of her meaning, though he’d seen her full belly behind the desk. He flashed her a casual smile.

“How’s it going? Must have been a long drive from California in that old car.”

She stared at him. His appearance was the same as it had been last December. Lighter hair than Ross’s, boyishly handsome face, great body, expensive blue suit. He did absolutely nothing for her.

“That’s not what I’m here to talk about.”

“Ah,” he said. “Your pregnancy.”

“Yes.”

“You do look quite different from the last time we saw each other. But pregnancy suits you. What are you—five, five-and-a-half months along?”

He should know exactly how far along she was. But perhaps his math skills weren’t up to par. “Twenty-seven weeks,” she said.

“I always forget how it works. Is that twenty-seven weeks since your last period or twenty-seven weeks since you conceived the child?”

“This child was conceived on December twenty-second,” she said, ignoring his question and his mention of her period, which was no doubt intended to embarrass her.

He betrayed no reaction. “So you’re trying to suggest it’s mine.”

She’d expected the indirect denial but couldn’t stop the shudder of pain it caused. “I’m carrying your child.”

“Do you have any proof of your allegation?”

“There’s a risk of early labor or injury to the baby with any of the sampling techniques.”

“So, that would be no.”

“No.”

“You’re asking me to take you at your word.”

She forced herself to remain calm. He was acting like the lawyer he was, but she wouldn’t let him intimidate her or provoke her into saying something she would regret. “I’m not a liar,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying that I am?”

“You’re married.” And Jennifer felt truly sorry for his wife. She would rather be in her current predicament, if the alternative included marriage to a man like Drew. If it included the awful disillusionment Lucy was sure to experience with the person she’d chosen as her life partner.

“Yes,” he said.

“You told me you weren’t.”

“Did I?”

“Yes.”

“Think carefully.” Drew paused. “You asked me if I was in a relationship. I said, ‘Who would have me?’ You didn’t pursue it. You could have. I understood that you didn’t really want to know.”

“You remember your exact words? Six months later?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

Jennifer realized why. Because he’d used those same words before or since. They worked. They’d worked on her because she hadn’t wanted to believe he would take her to dinner if he was in a relationship. And they might work on other women who didn’t care, as long as they didn’t have to face facts head-on.

“It was a lie of omission,” she said as evenly as she could.

“I’m not responsible for your assumptions.”

“You weren’t wearing your ring.”

He glanced at the gold band on his finger, then waved away the issue. “Let’s return to the matter at hand. And let me tell you how it will appear to an impartial observer.

“You’ve come to me with a claim you refuse to support, and you know your allegations could have a detrimental effect on my marriage. That smells of extortion. For all anyone knows, the child belongs to some other man, who won’t acknowledge it, and you plan to hit me up for some quick cash and disappear before my paternity can be disproved. Now, I’m not saying that’s what you’re doing. But it could look that way.”

Jennifer refused to back down. He could spin things any way he wanted. In the end, he was still the father. She cut to the chase. “When the baby turns out to be yours,” she said, staying cool, “what are you going to do about it?”

“If that were to happen,” he said, “which I very much doubt, then we would work something out.”

“You’ll be a father to your child?”

Drew looked at her as if she’d said something mildly idiotic. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

He gave an uncomfortable laugh and shifted around on his chair. “I would have thought Ross had told you. My wife is pregnant. Our child is due in a few months. I can hardly be a father to yours, can I?”

Thank goodness she had known about his other baby, she thought, or his careless announcement would have rattled her composure further. “So what do you plan to do?”

“Jennifer, this is all a surprise. I can’t make any promises without time to consider. But if it’s mine, we would come to some agreement.”

Hadn’t he just told her how he’d lied to her by relying on her assumptions? She wasn’t about to assume the best in this case. “Please answer my question.”

“For all I know, this is just a hoax.”

“So your answer is nothing. You won’t be accountable.”

“Please don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Then, tell me yes or no. Will you be a father to your child?”

Drew brushed at the knee of his pants. “I want to be very clear about something, Jennifer. I don’t like blackmail. Your unwillingness to take the simple step of backing up your allegation makes your case weak. And I warn you that if you attempt to use your pregnancy against me by involving my family, you will pay a large price.” He paused, checking his Rolex—the same one that had spent several hours on her bedside table six months ago. “It’s late. I need to go home. And I urge you to think very carefully about your course of action from here on out.”

He went to the door.

“So your answer is no,” she said from her seat, in a voice that surprised her for its clarity.

He didn’t turn around. “Good night, Jennifer.”

ROSS HEARD THE SOUND of the study door and stepped from the living room into the front hall.

Drew appeared to be his usual confident self, but Ross thought he saw a little strain at the edges. Just a hint of tension around his eyes and a tight pull to his mouth.

“Well?” Ross asked.

“She’s pregnant,” Drew said. “She looks good pregnant.”

Ross waited.

“It’s not mine.” Drew crossed his arms. “She tried to tell me it was. I’m sure she told you the same thing.”

“She did.”

“And you believed her.”

Ross walked over to the front hall table. He picked up his silver letter opener—a wedding gift—and slit open a piece of junk mail from a wireless phone company.

The action was just the sort of thing Drew would do. Reading his mail while Ross tried to discuss something important with him. He knew it was rude. He regretted it. But it was the only way he could keep from hitting his brother.

Ross had never been a violent person. Outside of some martial arts training in his early twenties, he didn’t recall striking anyone in his life. His brother was the only person who ever made him feel this way, and he hated the power it gave Drew.

He scanned the contents of the envelope, not seeing it. Tossed the papers into the trash. “Yes, I believe her.”

Drew didn’t have anything to say to that. Ross expected him to make a fuss about family loyalty, about believing a virtual stranger over his own brother, but he was probably aware of how ridiculous that would sound.

Speaking of loyalty, he wondered what Drew knew about that summer, about what had happened between Jennifer and him. Because when you got down to it, his actions hadn’t been any more honorable than his brother’s. And he would have done a lot more than kiss her if she hadn’t called it to a halt.

“What are you going to do?” he asked Drew.

“Nothing. It’s not my baby.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Go to hell,” Drew muttered.

Ross took it as an admission of the truth, though he was sure Drew didn’t mean it that way. He felt his relationship with his brother shifting. Drew had failed the test. Things could never be the same. In the past he’d treated his brother with a kind of respect, had kept his hands out of Drew’s business. He’d suspected things, of course, but he’d refrained from digging, hadn’t wanted to know the truth.

And people who didn’t want to know the truth often got slapped with it.

“Lucy,” he said.

“What about her?”

“Think about it.”

“I’m thinking,” Drew said, in a tone that implied he saw absolutely nothing worth considering. “And I can’t think why she would find out Jennifer is trying to blackmail me.”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“They don’t exactly move in the same circles.”

Lucy was wealthy. Not a snob, but from a world different from Jennifer’s. Under normal circumstances they would be unlikely to meet.

“I don’t plan to cover for you,” Ross said.

“Is that a threat?”

If you want to take it that way.

“Anyhow,” Drew continued, “I don’t see the problem. I looked up an old friend on a business trip. I took a girl I used to know in high school to dinner. Why would Lucy care?”

A lie. An outright lie. That was how Drew planned to play this. If confronted, he would deny everything but the fact that he’d seen her. He would claim they’d had an amicable dinner and nothing more. He would say she’d gotten herself in trouble and decided to blame it on him because she knew he had money. And how convenient that she chose to do it now, before a simple blood test could expose her lie—because no conscientious doctor would perform amniocentesis just to prove the identity of the father.

“You’ll have to face it eventually,” Ross said.

But his brother had never been much good at facing things. And God knew he probably just hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with this, either. That if he simply pushed it from his mind it would go away. That she would give up and leave town, or that someone else would step in to take care of things.

Someone like him.

Hell, he already had. He’d offered her money. A place to stay. And if Jennifer chose to keep his brother’s actions secret, he would have to be grateful for their mother’s sake, even though it meant he would be helping Drew and lying to Lucy in the process.