Read His Woman, His Child Online
Authors: Beverly Barton
Tags: #Contemporary, #Fiction, #Romance, #General
His Woman, His Child (12 page)
Losing Lowell had been difficult, but she had survived. But if she lost Hank …
Susan excused herself to go to the bathroom. She sat on the cushioned stool and laid her head on the vanity table. Donna eased opened the door, came inside and walked over to Susan.
"Are you all right?" Donna asked.
Susan lifted her head and stared up at her friend. "No, I'm not all right. And if I lose Hank, I don't think I'll ever be all right again."
Ten
"I have to sit down," Donna said. "My feet are killing me."
Susan glanced over at her friend, who at seven and half months' pregnant was round as a barrel. "Why don't you go to my office and rest for a while? You've done more than enough this morning to help me. I think Scooter and I can handle things by ourselves until Sheila gets here. The real crowds won't show up until nearly noon. Everyone loves Ella Higgins's chicken stew and Jerry Smith's barbeque, so nobody's going to miss lunch."
"Oh, I forgot to tell you that they delivered the cola machines while you were helping Mr. Murphy set up the loudspeaker." Donna lifted one foot and then the other. "I think my ankles are swollen. God, nobody ever told me that being pregnant would turn me into a water-logged cow." She glared at Susan. "Of course, not all of us get big as barns. Just look at you. You're nearly seven months' pregnant and you're still a beanpole."
"A beanpole with a watermelon attached." Susan laughed as she rubbed her belly. Standing behind Donna, she grasped her shoulders. "Go. Scoot. Get off your feet. I'll holler, if I need you."
As Donna headed straight for Susan's office, Sheila Bishop drove into the parking lot at the animal shelter. She got out, spoke to Donna and then waved at Susan.
Susan didn't know what she'd do without good friends and staunch supporters of the shelter. Without a lot of help, she'd never be able to pull off the annual fund-raiser that brought in a quarter of the revenue for the shelter. Animal lovers throughout the county pitched in to help, volunteering their time and services. The yearly event had become well-known throughout the county and surrounding areas. People seemed to love its carnival-like atmosphere. Scooter always dressed up as a clown. Ladies brought in homemade baked goods. Ella Higgins prepared her famous stew and gave all the profits to the shelter, and Jerry Smith, who owned the local barbeque restaurant, also donated his profits for the day. And every year, Mrs. Brown donated a handmade quilt, which was auctioned off to the highest bidder.
The townsfolk masqueraded as fortune tellers, magicians and belly dancers. Bill Tompkins demonstrated his sharpshooter skills with his Winchester rifle and Hoyt Dover always brought in several of his antique cars to display.
The fund-raiser was strictly small-town stuff, but it attracted the people of Marshall County and usually brought in visitors from neighboring counties. Susan suspected that the simple, old-time atmosphere of the event produced the special charm that attracted most people. These days everyone seemed immersed in nostalgia.
"Caleb and Danny will be on in about an hour," Sheila said. "They're loading up now. Danny's so excited that he and his father are going to have their own mini-baseball card show here at the April Fool's Fair."
"I'm glad you came early," Susan said. "Donna's been here since seven and she's worn herself out."
"Poor Donna. She looks like she's going to have twins, doesn't she?"
"Not twins, just one very big girl."
"Wonder how big a man that big baby girl's daddy is?"
"Has Donna ever told you any details about him?" Susan asked.
"Nothing more than she told you. His friends called him J.B., he was a rough, crude cowboy, and they did it like rabbits for a couple of days. That's about it."
Susan giggled. "Lord, that sounded awful."
"I, er, I have something to tell you," Sheila said.
"So, you had an ulterior motive for coming early. And here I thought you'd come to help."
Sheila hit Susan playfully on the arm. "I have two cakes and three pies in the trunk of my car, and I am ready, willing and able to follow your orders. But …"
"But what?"
"I may have to excuse myself if the morning sickness I've been experiencing the past few days kicks in."
"What? Morning sickness!" Susan shrieked, then grabbed Sheila and hugged her. "You're pregnant. You and Caleb are going to have another child."
"He's so happy," Sheila said. "He regrets that he missed being around when I was pregnant with Danny, so he's excited at the prospect of sharing this pregnancy with me."
"You're very lucky." Susan hugged Sheila again, then released her. "You've never loved anyone except Caleb and now he loves you just as much as you do him. All your dreams have come true."
"Oh, hon, maybe things will work out for you and Hank. The guy's such a stubborn jackass. All the Bishop men are. Caleb didn't think of himself as husband material, either. But even though he didn't consider himself the marrying kind, he was. And so is Hank. I'd say Jake is the only one of the three who isn't fit for marriage. He was the wild one, wasn't he? I pity the poor woman who falls for him."
"I appreciate that you've invited Hank and me out to your place for dinner twice in the past couple of weeks. Coming out to your farm at least gave me a chance to see him and talk to him in person. But I'm afraid it didn't do much good. He hasn't made a move on his own."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that it didn't do much good," Sheila said. "Anybody with half a brain could tell by the way Hank looks at you that he's crazy about you. Sooner or later, he's bound to work through his fear of marriage and fatherhood."
"Do you honestly think Hank's in love with me?"
"Yes, I do. And so does Caleb. But we don't think Hank has figured it out, yet. He's never been in love before, so he really has no idea that what he's experiencing is love."
Susan smiled, a feeling of hope spreading through her— the first real hope she'd had since the last time Hank had walked out on her.
"I wonder if he'll show up here today."
"Sure he will," Sheila said. "He's the sheriff. It would look kind of odd if he didn't put in an appearance."
Hank nodded and spoke to several people as he made his way through the crowd at the annual April Fool's Day fund-raiser. He'd heard folks talking about the event—even his deputies couldn't say enough about the shindig that Susan Williams Redman put on every year to raise extra, much needed money for her animal shelter. And that's how people thought of the shelter—not as Crooked Oak's shelter, but as Susan's. She'd been the shelter's manager for ten years, ever since old Mr. Mayhew had retired from the position he'd held most of his life. During her lifetime, Alice Williams had been the shelter's most generous benefactress and had even bequeathed the shelter a tidy sum. The Williams women had a real affinity with animals. A lot of people said that Miss Alice and Susan treated animals better than some folks treated their kids. A testament to their love for God's creatures and a sad statement about those who were blessed with children they didn't deserve.
Hank's own parents had been among those unworthy. Irresponsible. Self-centered. Unsuitable for the awesome task of raising children. And the dumb fools had reproduced four damn times. His mama had spit the four of them out in rapid succession and then she'd gone and gotten herself killed. He'd been just a boy when it happened and so had Jake, who had refused to ever discuss their parents with him. But Caleb had been a toddler and Tallie just a baby.
God! Claude Bishop had been a hard, cold man, but he'd taken in his wayward son's four brats. He'd fed them and clothed them and done his best. Sometimes, Hank wondered what would have happened to them without that proud, stubborn old man.
He didn't think much about the past anymore. Thinking about what couldn't be changed was a waste of time. But lately his thoughts had wandered backward in time—to his own childhood. He supposed it was happening because of Susan's baby. Even though he'd never wanted to be a father, the fact remained that Susan was going to give birth to his son in less than three months. A boy who needed a father. And despite all his fears and uncertainties, there was something deep inside him that wanted to be a father to his son.
The afternoon sun hung low in the bright blue sky. Hank checked his watch. Four forty-five. The fund-raiser ended at dusk and even on a sunny day like today, night would fall soon. He had deliberately waited until day's end to put in an appearance at the big event. He had no choice but to come, but he didn't have to spend half a day mooning around, lusting after Susan. And God help him, he did lust after her.
Hank passed the fortune-teller's tent and did a double take when he realized the colorfully costumed gypsy was none other than Mrs. Dobson, Susan's neighbor. The portly, silver-haired woman waved at him. He nodded and smiled at her.
"Come get your fortune told, Sheriff," she called to him. "It's just two dollars and it's for a good cause."
Reluctantly, Hank walked over to the open tent, pulled out his wallet and handed Mrs. Dobson the money. "Keep it and give somebody else a free reading." He glanced meaningfully at her crystal ball.
"How about you, Susan? Want to have your fortune told, free of charge, courtesy of Sheriff Bishop?"
Hank snapped his head around and glanced over his shoulder. There stood Susan a few feet behind him. She wore jeans and a billowing, red maternity top. She'd pulled her long brown hair up into a ponytail and wispy curls framed her face. His body stirred to life. Damn, every time he looked at her, he wanted her.
"A free reading?" Susan walked over to the tent. "How could I pass up such a good offer?" She smiled at Hank. "Hi, how are you? I was beginning to wonder if you were going to make it by today."
"Yeah, well, I made it. How's it been going? Looks like there's still a pretty big crowd."
Susan laced her arm through his and pulled him along with her inside the tent. "Come on, Hank. Stay with me until Mrs. Dob—that is, Madame Yolanda, tells my fortune."
"Sit down, my dear, and I will tell you the secrets of your future." Mrs. Dobson spoke with what was undoubtedly her idea of a foreign accent.
Susan sat and held out her hand. Mrs. Dobson lifted her hand, ran her finger over the tiny lines in Susan's palm and smiled. "I see great happiness ahead for you. A beautiful, healthy baby boy."
Susan glanced at Hank and smiled. He shrugged as if to say, "The whole world knows you're expecting a boy."
"And I see a new love for you. A love to last a lifetime. A fine, good man who will take care of you and your son." Mrs. Dobson stared pointedly at Hank.
Susan blushed. Did everyone know that she was in love with Hank Bishop? Did she give herself away every time she looked at him?
"And just when will this new love come into my life?" Susan asked. "And how will I recognize him?"
"He has already come into your life, my dear girl. And your heart will recognize him."
Susan smiled warmly. Apparently Mrs. Dobson had guessed that there was more between her and Hank than friendship, or maybe the old woman was just a romantic who was playing matchmaker.
As Mrs. Dobson gazed into the crystal ball, she swirled her hands in a grand gesture, then spoke in a low voice. "I see more children in your future. Another boy and then a little girl. A girl with black hair and eyes, like her father."
Hank shifted uncomfortably. Mrs. Dobson had zeroed in on him as a future mate for Susan. Was the old woman really psychic or was it wishful thinking on her part, hoping he'd marry and take care of Lowell's widow?
"Thank you," Susan said. "I like my fortune very much."
Mrs. Dobson clasped Susan's hands. "Be happy, sweet child. That's what Lowell would have wanted."
Susan hugged Mrs. Dobson, then stood and laced her arm through Hank's again. "Let me show you around."
"All right."
"Have you eaten?" she asked.
"Not yet."
"Well, all the chicken stew is gone, but why don't we get us some barbeque and go over to my office and eat supper together?"
"Susan, I don't think that's a good idea," he said. "I mean … Well, I hope you didn't take Mrs. Dobson's fortune-telling to heart."
Susan paused, lifted her gaze to his and smiled. "Hank Bishop, you really are scared of me, aren't you?"
"Scared of you? I don't know what you're talking about."
"All right, if you're not scared to be alone with me, then let's go get that barbeque and have supper together."
She had issued a challenge and he knew it. If he refused, he would prove her right. If he agreed, he ran the risk of winding up making love to her again.
"Let's get some barbeque," he said.
Susan wiped her mouth with the paper napkin, then tossed it on top of her plate, which was scattered with crumbs from her sandwich. She moaned contentedly. "Jerry Smith makes the best barbeque in the State of Tennessee."
"I have to agree," Hank said, then downed the last drops of his root beer. He had accepted Susan's challenge— they'd spent the last twenty minutes alone together in her office. They'd eaten dinner together and talked about unimportant, mundane matters like the weather and a recent TV movie they'd both watched and this morning's regional newspaper headlines about a Marshall County resident winning a Caribbean vacation.
Susan shifted her hips, gaining a more comfortable position on the sofa. She looked at Hank, who sat in her swivel chair, his feet propped up on her desk. Why did he have to look so good? Big and lean and handsome. Every time she saw him, she remembered what it had been like to lie in his arms, to have his lips and hands caressing her, to know the pleasure of his lovemaking. She wondered if he could see the longing in her eyes the way she saw it in his.
"Did Caleb tell you the news about Sheila and him?" Susan asked.
"I haven't talked to Caleb in a few days," Hank said. "What's the news?"
"Sheila's pregnant."
Hank nodded. The expression on his face showed his surprise. "Looks like Caleb is fitting right into the domestic life. I'm glad things have worked out for Sheila and him. I have to admit that I had my doubts when he first told me that they were going to get married."
"Why did you have doubts?" Susan asked. "They were in love and wanted to spend the rest of their lives together."
"Yeah, I know. It's just that Caleb had been a playboy for quite a few years. I wasn't sure he was really ready to settle down and be a family man."
"He's a wonderful husband and a really good father to Danny."
"Look, Susan, I …" Hank eased his feet off the desk. "I've been thinking about the baby. About your child."
"What about my baby?" Her heart stopped beating for one tiny millimeter of a second.
"I've been thinking about how a boy needs a father and that since … well, technically, I am his father …"
"Yes,
technically,
you are," she agreed.
"I don't know what kind of father I'd be." He scooted back the chair and stood. "I didn't have much of an example. My grandfather was a hardworking, honest man, but he was too hard and cold to be a real father to us. And you know what a failure my old man was."
"Just because your father and grandfather weren't the best fathers in the world doesn't mean that you can't be a good father."
"I don't want to become a part of this kid's life and then let him down, disappoint him." Hank came around the desk and moved toward Susan.
She waited, her heart beating ninety to nothing, her mind whirling with the possibilities that Hank's new attitude presented. "Do you want to be a father to this baby?"
When he sat beside her, she reached out, took his hand and placed it over her tummy. Their son chose that precise moment to make his presence known.
"Wow! What a kick! This kid will probably play football for U.T." Hank pressed his hand gently over the small foot that punched at him through Susan's belly. "That doesn't hurt you, does it, his kicking like that?"
"No, not really, but sometimes your son balls up in one spot and the pressure can become uncomfortable. And I usually can't get him to budge. Looks like he's as stubborn as you are."
Hank didn't know how to deal with what he was feeling—with the knowledge that this tiny life inside Susan was his child and that he really did want to be a father to this baby. He had fought long and hard against his paternal feelings for his son, but he'd lost the fight.
"I want to be more than a godfather to my son," Hank told her.
She slipped her arms around his neck and gazed adoringly into his eyes. "You'll be a wonderful father. Just wait and see."
All he could see at that precise moment was Susan—soft, warm, beautiful, and so very close. He pulled her into his arms. God, how he loved the feel of her. He loved the way she looked, the way she moved, the way she talked and even the way she smelled. Always sweet and fresh, like springtime flowers.
He kissed her with a tender passion, knowing that he was going to make love to her again. It was this way between them every time they touched. An uncontrollable desire consumed them.
The door to Susan's office flew open. "Susan, my dear, I've just counted the money and we—" Mrs. Brown's feet skidded on the wooden floor as she came to an abrupt halt. "Oh, my, my. Please, excuse me. I didn't realize … I'm so sorry." She turned and scurried out of the office, departing so hurriedly that she left the door wide open.
Hank muttered a sharp, succinct vulgarity. Susan bit down on her bottom lip. The two stared at each other and then suddenly burst into laughter.
"We shouldn't be laughing, honey. Mrs. Brown is probably running around out there telling everyone she knows that she caught us kissing."
"I don't care," Susan said. "I don't care if the whole world knows we were kissing."
"If you don't care, neither do I. We'll find a way to deal with the town's reaction to our relationship."
"Do we have a relationship?" Susan asked.
"Yes, I think we do," he told her. "If I spend the night with you tonight, then everyone will know that there's more going on between us than friendship."
"Are you going to spend the night with me tonight?"
"If you'll let me, I am."
Pleasure as warm as April sunshine spread throughout Susan's body and seeped into her heart. Hank wasn't going to desert her, wasn't going to leave her alone to raise their child. He wanted to be a father. She knew, in her heart of hearts, that it was only a matter of time until he proposed. She threw her arms around his neck, closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks. Everything is going to be all right, now, she assured herself. Hank and I and our baby are going to be a family.