Mountain Song (19 page)

Focus.

Sylvia Ramsey’s
worried battery of questions came back to him. Well, at least he’d been able to
reassure her. This baby, her second, would be delivered by practiced, capable
hands with all the benefits of modern medicine, and in all likelihood would be
just fine.

Andy winced as he
remembered how Bob Ramsey had searched his eyes as he tried to reassure him,
Bob’s obvious panic lessening some as Andy cited all the reasons that his wife’s
condition did not signal great troubles for their child. Ramsey had finally
left, gone home to care for their firstborn while his wife rested under
observation.

But Andy had a feeling
he’d be back first thing tomorrow. The way he’d held his wife’s hand, stroked
her hair...he was clearly devoted to his family.

Unlike him
. The full force of the truth hit him low in the gut. He’d given nothing to
the pathetic family he’d unknowingly created. Other than the tiniest seed that
set the process in motion, Andy’s contribution to a boy—his
son’s
—life had been nothing at
all.

“What’s going on?”
Rick’s voice was cautious. “This have something to do with Grace Kelly?”

“Claudia,” Andy said
wearily. “Her name is Claudia. Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Not really. I was
going to get some lunch but that can wait.”

“Do me a favor. Go
eat.”

“Naw.” They arrived at
Andy’s cramped office, and Rick eased past him, sliding into a chair and
pulling a granola bar from a pocket. “You got any of those seltzers?”

Andy shook his head in
resignation, and lowered himself wearily into his own chair. He jerked open the
mini-fridge and took out two cans.

“You don’t have any of
those raspberry ones...” Under Andy’s glare, Rick shrugged and popped the top
of his can. “So, back to Claudia? You were saying?”

“I wasn’t saying
anything. There’s nothing to say.”

His voice must have
carried sufficient venom to make Rick back off, a rare event. His friend shifted
uncomfortably in his chair, then spun slowly back and forth in an arc of a few
inches while he wolfed down the granola bar.

“Look, I’m honored that you chose me to dine with, but—”

Rick waved his hand
and shook his head vigorously as he swallowed. “No, hey, I wanted to talk to
you about...about Mrs. Ramsey.”

“She’s not your
patient,” Andy rebuked him. Rick was grasping at straws, trying to get him
talking. It might have been nice, in a way, that he was concerned. That
someone
was concerned about him. Except
what Andy needed right now was to be alone. Totally alone, so he could
concentrate all his energy on forgetting that Claudia had ever walked back into
his life.

“Yeah, but the risk
of, you know...”

“It’s just routine
pre-term labor, that’s all. Look, you don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“You know, these lame
attempts to cheer me up—”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,”
Rick said, tossing the bar’s foil wrapper in a high arc to he trash can. “You’ve
never been Mr. Congeniality. I doubt I’ll ever change that. Just thought you
might want to talk, or something.”

“Oh.”

For a moment no one
said anything, but it wasn’t terrible. Wasn’t even weird. It
was
decent of Martinez to look out for
him this way, even if it was totally unnecessary.

And it was good to
talk. Even if he wasn’t ready to talk about
her
.

“You think you’ll ever
have kids?”

Rick raised his
eyebrows, then considered the question, leaned back comfortably. “Yeah, I
guess. Not any time soon, though. There’s no way I’m ready.”

“Well, how would you
ever know if you were ready?”

“I don’t know. I guess
I’d just
know
.”

Andy shook his head. “Not
good enough. There has to be reasons, logic. It’s a big decision.”

“Yeah, with you it’s
always logic. Okay, let’s look at it your way. I’d have to have found
the
woman, you know, the one I planned
on sticking with.”

Andy winced, then
willed his features into an impassive expression. “Yeah? What else?”



”Well, I guess I’d
have to give up those poker games.”

“Yeah.”

“And my Led Zeppelin
CD’s. I hear babies don’t dig that stuff. They’re into classical. Mozart, I
think.”

Andy sighed. “Whatever.”

“Nah, I’m just fooling
with you. I don’t know. I expect it’s just like with the ladies. I’m figuring I’ll
just
know
. You did, right?”

“What?” Startled, Andy
picked up a square Lucite cube, a giveaway from one of the pharmaceutical
companies. He twisted it on one palm, concentrating on the spinning planes.

“You
knew
when you met the right woman.”

“Oh.”

“Grace Kelly.”

“Yeah. If you say so.”

“So, I’ll just know
when it’s time to have a kid.”

“You’re lucky,” Andy
said quietly, the smooth plastic cube spinning into a blur.

“Lucky?”

“You’re good with
them. With kids.”

“What’s not to be good
with? They’re kids, for cryin’ out loud. You just let go with the, whaddya call
it, the inner child. Don’t you remember what it was like to be a kid?”

Andy paused, then
answered honestly. “No.”

Rick shook his head,
wonderingly. Sympathetically. “Man, I feel for you. Those were the best years. When
you’re free. Every day’s waiting for you, no responsibilities. No one’s told
you there ain’t any Superman.” He chuckled. “That’ll be something, won’t it? I
can’t wait to toss a ball with my kid, like my Dad did. He always managed to
make me feel like the majors would be lucky to get a piece of me.”

Rick’s grin slowly
died on his face as Andy didn’t answer. “What’s eating you, man?”

“
Oh, I don’t know. Sleep
deprivation. Maybe I’m getting the flu.”

“Maybe you need to get
laid,” Rick suggested, but clearly his heart wasn’t in it. “Look,” he added,
standing and cracking his joints, “take some time off. You’re really starting
to look like you need it.”

Claudia eased Bea’s
cool fingers from her own, and gently laid her hand back on the sheets. The old
woman had been cheerful and not very groggy at all when she came around. She’d
kept up a steady repartee with the various physicians and nurses who came in to
check on her, until she finally dozed off.

Everything had gone
well. The surgery had been textbook. Now they would just wait and see how much
function Bea recovered. And if Claudia knew her grandmother, the woman would
surpass everyone’s expectations.

Slowly Claudia sat
back in her chair, aware for the first time in hours of the stiffness in her
neck, the steady hunger pains. When was the last time she’d eaten? She checked
her watch: two o’clock in the afternoon already.

She hadn’t seen Andy
since the recovery room.

Why hadn’t he come by?
He and Bea were close—

Claudia brushed away
the thought. She would not dwell on him. Bea was on her way to recovery now,
and soon Claudia would be too, back home to New Jersey. Back to a life that was
a little dull but very, very predictable.

A sound at the door
startled Claudia, and she jerked her chin up, aware of the pounding in her
chest, all because it might be
him
.

But when he door swung
open it was a small wiry bundle of energy who shot through, straight into her
arms, crying out “Mama!” at the top of his pint-sized lungs.

For a moment Claudia
forgot everything else as she swung her son into her lap and held him close,
closer than she ever had before, because she hadn’t felt this alone since
before Paul was born. She quickly swiped at the mist in her eyes as Paul pulled
away and fired off a jumble of words.

“Mama, they gave me
wings on the plane! Not real ones like the captains have, but with sticky on
the back, see? And Grandpa let me watch the movie even though it was for
grownups. But there weren’t any swear words. Were you surprised?”

“Oh, very, very
surprised, my love,” Claudia said, smiling, inhaling his wonderful scent, baby
shampoo and chocolate milk and play-dough. She laced her fingers with his small
ones and glanced at her father, who stooped for a kiss before he turned his
attention to Bea.

“Didn’t seem right to
keep the boy from his mother any longer,” Jack Canfield said gruffly.

“I’ve never been
happier to see the two of you. It was a lovely surprise, Dad. Paul, were you
sweet for Grandpa?”

“Yeah. Um, I think so.”

“He was terrific,” her
father said, his booming voice not quite concealing the anxiety and fatigue
underneath.

“Bea’s doing great,
Dad.” Claudia rose, Paul wrapped tightly around her like a baby koala bear, his
soft cheek pressed against her neck. “She was awake earlier. Talking up a
storm.”

As they watched, Bea
stirred, then fluttered her eyelids.

“Mom?” Jack’s hand
shot out to grip Bea’s, and the lines in his face eased a little as her eyes
slowly opened and she smiled at him.

“That’s not your mom,”
Paul said, frowning. “That’s Great-Gramma Bea!”

“Oh, Sweetie, Gramma
Bea
is
Grandpa’s mom.”

“Oh.”

Claudia gently pried
her son’s arms from her neck so he could see Bea. He peered over the edge of
the bed curiously, then grinned when Bea raised her hand and rested it on his
tousled blond hair.

“Hello, Sugarsnap.”

“I’m not a sugarsnap,
Gramma Bea. I’m a boy.”

“Ah. Right you are. Still,
I sure am glad you came to see me. Maybe now your mama will start talking sense
again.”

Jack shot a curious
look at his daughter, but Claudia evaded his glance. She smoothed the pillow
and cranked the bed so Bea could sit up a bit.

“The most sensible
thing for me to do is to get back to my job, now that Dad’s here,” Claudia said
uneasily. “You know that, Bea.”

“Company won’t last
much longer without her, Mom. I want to get her working on a whole new line. Time
to make a splash in the business pages again.”

“Oh, Dad,” Claudia
chided, blushing at her father’s praise.

Some small thing, a
tiny shift in the air, a sound at the door, alerted her senses. And without
even turning, she knew.

“Excuse me.”

Andy
.

He hesitated, hearing
voices in the room. He had meant to come earlier in the day, but kept putting
it off, not knowing what he was going to say to Claudia. A dozen times he’d
checked Bea’s chart, satisfying himself that her recovery was proceeding
smoothly.

It was time for him to
see for himself.

He eased into the
room, sorting the jumble of bodies and voices packed into the small space.

A tall, silver-haired
man in a yellow golf shirt bent over Bea, holding her hand. He turned when Andy
entered the room, straightening and appraising him frankly.

“Hello, Dr...”

“Woods,” Andy
automatically offered his hand, receiving a strong, firm grip in return. “Andy
Woods.”

Recognition lit Jack’s
face, and he held onto Andy’s hand a moment more before letting go. His
expression darkened, and he looked at Andy carefully, boring into him with
troubled eyes.

“A pleasure,” he
muttered.

He didn’t sound happy.
Then again, why should he be? The last time they’d spoken, Andy had been
broken, desperate, pleading to speak to Claudia. Jack had been firm, brief; it
was out of the question.
Please don’t
call again
.

Andy had come to hate
the man who dismissed him so easily, whose cold voice conveyed the contempt he
held for the bum who’d dared to love his daughter.

But now, he found it
impossible to summon up that cold hatred.
 
It was gone, a fire doused until all that
remained was a miserable pile of scorched rubble. A child—
his
child—had been involved. That
changed everything. Changed the lengths, certainly, a man would go to in order
to protect his daughter.

“Likewise,” Andy said,
trying to keep his voice steady. So this is how they would play it: civilized,
pretending neither of them knew the secret that filled the room with its
terrible presence. “My colleague Dr. Dupree did an excellent job with the
surgery, and Bea’s strength and courage certainly helped. I think we’ll see an
excellent recovery.”

“What happened to
Gramma Bea?”

A voice, small and plaintive,
rose from the cramped corner behind Claudia.

A child’s voice.

Andy’s heart skipped
as he watched Claudia move a step back, her hands splayed protectively at her
sides, a look of sheer panic in her eyes.