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“I’m good. And guess what, Mommy? We have new kittens!”
“How many? What colors?” She didn’t care what they talked about, as long as they kept in touch. Allyson updated details on her horse, Stormy, and his training progress, relayed every minute of the camping trip she’d taken with her dad and explained how her best friend from Cheyenne would be coming to visit for two whole weeks.
“And guess what else?” Her young voice reached its highest pitch. “We’re going to have a baby!”
Shelley dropped the phone. How could she know?
When her cold hand had fumbled the phone back to her ear, she apologized and cleared her throat. “What did you say, Allyson, honey?”
“Claire’s going to have a baby!”
“Oh. How—how wonderful.” Shelley closed her eyes as the room around her dipped and swayed. “You and your dad must be excited.”
“Yeah, and we’re going to make a nursery here on the ranch and I’ll get to teach her to ride and everything.”
Despite the sick feeling in her stomach, Shelley had to smile. “You’re sure the baby’s a girl?”
“Well...” She sounded as if she’d never considered the alternative. “I hope so. A boy wouldn’t be as much fun.”
They talked a while longer, making some plans for the summer. “Grandmom’s going to be there, isn’t she?” Allyson asked.
“She wouldn’t miss seeing you for the world. When she comes over this morning, I’ll tell her what we’re planning.”
“Can we make ice cream like we did before?”
Pulled out of the doldrums, Shelley laughed. “I know we can. You like Grandmom’s ice cream, don’t you?”
“It’s good!” As they ended the conversation, Allyson said, “Daddy wants to say something, Mommy. I love you. Bye!”
“Bye, baby.” She took a deep breath in preparation. Talking with her ex usually tied her in knots.
“Hi, Shelley.” His voice had picked up the hint of a cowboy drawl during his years on the Wyoming range. “How are you?”
“Just fine, Dexter. I hear you have good news.”
“Yeah.” The pride in his voice reminded her of nine years ago, when she’d been carrying Allyson. “We’re pretty happy.”
“Congratulations.” The perfect woman had accomplished the perfect task, perfectly. Unlike a certain unwed mother...
Dex didn’t need to know that, at least, not yet. She wasn’t ready to deal with his reaction. “Are we still on schedule for Allyson to come down in mid-July and spend the rest of the summer?”
“That’s the plan. I’ll call you when we leave, so you’ll know what time to expect us.”
“I’ll wait to hear from you, Dexter. Give... Claire...my compliments.”
“I will.” He paused, and then said. “Are you sure you’re doing all right?”
“Of course.” Except for making an absolute mess of her life. “I’ll let you go. Kiss Allyson for me.”
“Sure. Goodbye, Shelley.”
She pushed the button to disconnect without a reply. Then she buried her head in her arms on the kitchen counter and cried.
Minutes later, her mother came through the garage door into the kitchen. “Honey?” Gentle arms circled Shelley’s shoulders from behind, drawing her into a soft embrace. A cool hand brushed back her hair. “Shelley, what’s wrong?”
After a struggle, she managed to get the sobbing down to hiccups. “I—I just talked to Allyson.”
Dorothy Owens was passionate about two things in life—her independence and her family. She tightened her hold. “Allyson’s okay? She hasn’t gotten hurt?”
“No. Oh, no.” Shelley broke free, slid off the chair and went to get a paper towel to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. “No, everything is wonderful in Wyoming. Claire is pregnant.”
Her mother’s brown eyes widened. “I see. That’s...”
“Yes, isn’t it?” She took a shaking breath. “But here’s the really funny part, Mom—I am, too.”
“You are what?”
“Pregnant”
This pause lasted even longer, while surprise changed into shock. “I didn’t know you were seeing anybody.”
“I wasn’t. I’m not.” New tears spilled over, and she grabbed another paper towel. “He isn’t interested.”
“He must have been—” Dorothy took a deep breath and brushed the feathery silver bangs off her forehead. “Never mind that. You and I seem to have a talent for picking the wrong man.”
“At least you were only stupid once. I make the same mistakes over and over again.”
Her mother filled the teakettle and put it on the cook-top. “Have you seen a doctor?”
Shelley nodded.
“And what happens when the baby is born?”
Still sniffling, Shelley left the kitchen for her light-washed family room. The windows looked east toward the plains and the morning sun. “When the baby is born, I bring her or him home. With me.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“Oh, yes.” She turned to face her mother. “That’s one thing I am sure of. I want to be this baby’s mom. I want to take the time to raise this little person like I never did with Allyson. I missed so much, going back to work, leaving her with au pairs and nannies. This time, I’m going to be the person who hears that first word, sees that first step.”
Even from the kitchen, she could hear the maternal sigh. “Single parenting is tough. But you have the money to be comfortable, at least.”
“That’s right. I don’t have to depend on anyone else for help. I can do this all by myself. In fact, I think I’ll like it that way.” She wouldn’t lose control of her life—and her child—to a man this time.
Dorothy brought in a mug of tea. “So you’ve told the father and he wouldn’t take responsibility?”
“Um, no.” Shelley fiddled with the string on the blinds. “I—I haven’t told him.”
“Then how do you know—”
She let the string swing free. “Because we talked. Because he made things clear—no ties, no commitment, no family. And because I know he’d try to change if he knew, and then we’d all be unhappy. It’ll be better this way.”
The line between her mother’s eyebrows conveyed doubt. “I don’t think you’re being fair. He’s bound to find out, isn’t he?”
“Not if I don’t see him again.” She’d figure out later how to avoid Zach forever.
“But what if you bump into him?”
“I’ll tell him the baby is someone else’s.” An expression of horror crept over her mother’s face. Shelley put up a hand. “I know, that’s terrible to do. I’ve been through one custody battle, though, and I can’t do it again. I can’t take the risk that he’ll drag me into court. I want this baby—he doesn’t.” She spread her fingers across her stomach. “And I’m going to keep it.”
“But, Shelley...what are you going to tell your daughter?”
“Good question.” She sighed, and the tears returned. “Sometime between now and July I’ll have to figure that out.”
HE SHOULD HAVE DECIDED what he was going to say before he arrived.
Zach dropped onto the couch in the family room of his mom’s house. His sister sat at the opposite end, staring off into space.
“Hey,” he said.
Carol didn’t move, not even to brush the green-tinted bangs out of her eyes. She had his mother’s straight, dark hair, their dad’s small frame and height. The current lopsided cut and streaks of rebellious color didn’t disguise her essential prettiness.
He tried again. “I hear there’s been some trouble.”
This time, she rolled her eyes.
“Stealing is a crime, you know.”
She muttered a rude word. “I was gonna take it back. Nobody would keep such dumb stuff, anyway.”
“Why’d you steal in the first place?”
“I wanted to.” Her shrug dismissed the issue.
He’d talked to his mother and gotten a few more details. “What’s this club you’re into at school?”
“Just some friends.” Carol shrugged.
“Girls? Guys? Both?”
“Girls.”
“Name?”
She sighed. “Crooked Women.”
“And that means...?”
“We look at life differently from the rest of you.”
“And from this different perspective, taking property that doesn’t belong to you is okay?”
“It was an initiation stunt, that’s all!”
“Have you known these other girls a long time?”
“Some of them. Jen just moved into the school this year. She started CW.”
“What about your best friend...Samantha, right? Is she in this group?”
She stared at him as if he spoke in Martian. “Sam moved away. To Florida. Before last Thanksgiving. Remember?”
Strikeout. He sat forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “So, you have more initiation stuff planned?”
Carol shrugged, but she picked nervously at the black polish on her fingernails, which gave him his answer.
“What are the goals of this Crooked crew?”
“Nothing. We just hang together, that’s all. It’s no big deal.”
“I disagree, little sister. You’re letting somebody else’s screwed-up ideas ruin your life. Not to mention your mother’s, and mine. That makes it a big deal.”
Silence claimed the room. Sounds of the traditional Harmon Sunday ball game drifted in through the open window. Zach would have preferred to be out there pitching balls, instead of in here pitching discipline.
Carol brought him back to the moment. “So what am I supposed to do? Apologize?”
Zach shook his head. “We tried that last time, after the water balloons out the third-floor windows—didn’t seem to make an impression. I’m assigning my own version of community service.”
She looked at him in outrage. “What does that mean?”
“You’re coming to ball practice with me to work with my batters. I’ve got some baby-sitting ideas, too. See you here tomorrow at five.” Case closed. He stood and started for the door.
“And what if I’m somewhere else?”
He stopped with his hand on the knob and glanced over his shoulder. “You won’t be. Otherwise, I can arrange for you to try out juvenile hall for a day or two. See how you like the alternative.”
As the daughter and sister of cops, Carol would know she didn’t want detention. He heard her tortured sigh as he shut the door, but she’d be here tomorrow. Zach knew he could trust her that far.
His mother caught up with him in the kitchen as he took an apple out of the refrigerator. “Have you settled that girl, Zachary?” She’d been to the basement for a pan full of potatoes. Her face was flushed from climbing the steep stairs.
“Yes, Mom.” Like he’d been settling things since he was twelve years old. “I’m gonna bring her to baseball practice, see if I can get more information out on this club nonsense.”
“Good. I hardly know what to do with her anymore.” She set to washing the potatoes. “We’re having pot roast for dinner. You’ll stay, won’t you?”
His parents had eaten pot roast for dinner on Sunday every week for the forty years of their marriage. Now that his dad wasn’t here to demand the same meal, maybe they could change the ritual. “How about we go out to dinner, instead? I’ll take you to a decent Italian place I know.”
Mary Harmon shook her head. “That is nice, Zachary, but Sunday is pot roast. Maybe another time?”
“Sure, Mom.” He thought about staying, because he loved her. But he couldn’t face pot roast. “I’m gonna catch up on paperwork before I go on duty, so I’ll eat later. See you tomorrow.” He gave her a kiss and a hug, then made his escape out the back door.
