Colton's Folly (Native American contemporary romance) (27 page)

“I wish I could give you what you want, but I can’t.” His voice was a sad, resigned whisper, filled with his own pain. “I’m sorry that what I can offer isn’t enough anymore.” He touched her shoulder lightly, and his voice broke when he asked, “What happened? What changed things?”

She turned back to him, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm the flutter in her stomach. “I’m pregnant.”

She waited for a reaction, some sign of joy, or anger, or disappointment. Except for the tightening of a muscle in his jaw, his face was a mask. Finally, after an eternity, he said only, “We’ll get married.”

Neither question nor statement, but a bit of both, his words hung heavy in the air, and told Abby everything she needed to know.

She faced him squarely and, having rehearsed in her mind every scenario, said, “No.”

“No?”

“You wouldn’t have married me if the baby didn’t exist. I won’t marry you because it does. That’s an invitation to more heartache.”

“You intend to have the child,” he said in a voice hoarse with emotion.

Abby smiled. “Of course.”

Of course she would, he thought. There’s a child missing from her life, and a man she can’t have, and here was a way to have both.

“I suppose you’ll be leaving
--”

“That’s up to the school board,” she replied. “If they let me, I’ll stay. Otherwise...” She shrugged.

“How will you live, if you leave?”

“I’ve got some savings, and I’ll go back to New York and work until the baby comes. I’ll manage.”

He took her arms in his hands, knowing that what he was about to offer was too little, and too late, but it was all he had. “I made some money last year rodeoing. It’s yours.”

Damn you, she thought. You make it so hard to hate you. “That’s not necessary, Cat. I’ll be fine.”

He ran his hand impatiently through his hair, muttering, “I can’t believe the mess I’ve made of things.”

“I don’t see any mess.”

“I never wanted my name added to the list of guys who’ve let you down,” he said bitterly. “And now...”

“I saw what was happening. I could have stopped it anytime.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you?”

She shrugged. “I guess I wasn’t ready before.”

“And now?”

Unconsciously she put her hand on her stomach; Cat noticed the gesture, and the sudden happiness that shone in her eyes. “Now I guess I am.”

He felt his heart swell as he struggled to accept that she’d loved him enough to want his child, to bear it and raise it, even without him. He shook his head in amazement. “I never deserved you, and I never will.”

He walked to the door and turned to look at her, then left as he had so often, alone.

Chapter 14

Abby and Martha sat at the kitchen table as the older woman digested Abby’s news.

“When’s the baby due?”

“Early summer.”

“Does my son know?” Martha watched Abby closely, but the younger woman’s face was a mask. “He won’t take the responsibility?”

“He offered, but I turned him down.”

“You’re a fool.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” Martha shook her head. “Then explain it to me.”

“I want this child, as much as I wanted its father. But if Cat married me it would only be out of a sense of duty, not because he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. That’s no reason to get married, not in my book. My major concern is how to tell the school board and what they’ll decide about keeping me in my job. I may just resign.”

“What’ll you do if they accept your resignation?”

“Go back to New York.”

“I don’t want to lose my grandchild.”

“I don’t want my child to miss out on knowing its grandmother.” Abby put her hand over Martha’s. “But let’s not worry about that now.”

The following evening Abby met with the school board. “When I asked for this meeting I planned to simply hand you my resignation and leave here. Now I’m not sure what I’ll do.”

John Hunter leaned forward. “What’s wrong, Abby?” She stood with her hands at her sides, her legs slightly apart for balance, her shoulders squared, ready, Emma thought, to do battle.

“I’m pregnant.”

It was to his credit that John never so much as blinked, merely nodded and waited for Abby to continue.

“When I first found out, it occurred to me that I was a poor role model for the children, and that I ought to leave, especially after you’ve honored me as you did. But the truth is, I don’t want to leave.” As Abby walked to the window to perch on the sill, Emma smiled and gave her a thumbs-up sign. “I have ties here, to the children, and work that I don’t want to leave unfinished, that I can’t leave unfinished. There are lives that have touched mine, damaged lives that are only just beginning to heal. I’m afraid that my leaving will open old wounds, and I don’t want to be responsible for that.

“And there’s something else. The children and I have talked about taking responsibility for one’s actions, about caring for family and community, about facing up to life instead of running away, or hiding in alcohol or drugs. If I leave, I’ll be violating everything I’ve tried to teach them.” She walked back to the center of the room, her hands jammed into the pockets of her faded jeans. “But there is this life I carry within me, that in a few weeks will be obvious to everyone, and if that’s an embarrassment to you, if that violates something
you
feel strongly about, if you think I’m now the wrong person to be teaching your children, you have to tell me, and tell me soon, so that we can find someone to take my place, and so I can make my own plans.”

“What about the father of your child?” John asked softly.

Abby’s face was blank. “What about him?”

“There’s no chance that you and he will...get together?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“And you’re going to keep the baby?”

The question came as a surprise. “It never occurred to me not to.” She put down the tears that threatened. “Could I care for my own child any less than I care for yours?” Claude Schiller leaned forward. “Damn it, Abby, if you go it’ll kill those kids!”

Now the tears fell, and Abby made no move to stem them. “Don’t you think I know that?”

Emma came and put an arm around her. “You all right?” Abby nodded and wiped her eyes with the hankie Emma held out to her.

John rose. “We need to talk about this, Abby. We’ll meet with you again in a day or so, after we’ve made a decision.”

The wait seemed interminable. Through it all, Abby maintained her normal schedule. If she seemed preoccupied no one asked why, just as they ignored the tears that suddenly filled her eyes and as suddenly disappeared, and the usually sunny smile that now seemed tinged with sadness and regret. The board members came to her house two nights later, and Abby was afraid that might be a bad sign. It wasn’t.

“We want you to stay,” said John. “We think maybe our kids could learn more from your being here than your going. Too many of them have been left behind by this person or that, or have been raised by people who weren’t their parents. It might be good for them to see you with your child.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“We can handle it if you can.”

Abby nodded. “All right. We’ll give it a try.”

After they left she pulled out a carton of clothes, long out of style, but perfectly suitable for her during the next few months. She spent the next hour unfolding and hanging the flowing paisley dresses and gauze blouses that she’d worn during her days in school and later on, when she’d carried Sian. Buried beneath the long, graceful East Indian garments lay a forest-green corduroy jumper, and pants that tied about the waist with drawstrings or wrapped diaper style, that would grow as she did and provide room for the new life she carried. She stood in profile before the mirror; it was still too early for the baby to show, or for her to feel its movements, but the mere fact of its existence warmed her. The best of what they’d had and might have shared in the future would survive in this child. At that moment, it seemed to be enough.

Abby ended class a little early the next day and perched on the edge of her desk. Her students responded expectantly to the familiar signal, knowing that what came next would be out of the ordinary.

“I want you to hear this from me, and not from the gossip I expect to circulate.” She paused for a moment, waiting for a flutter of nerves to subside and for her sweaty palms to dry. “I’m going to have a baby, but the baby’s father and I will not be getting married. I can assure you that this is a less-than-ideal situation, and I wouldn’t have chosen to do things this way, nor would I want this for any of you. A child needs two parents to give love and security, and to teach what each can.” She looked around at them again. “But we all know that’s not always how things work out. So you do the best with what you have.

“You and I have come to enjoy mutual respect and caring. I hope that will continue, because during the next few months I’m going to need that from you--as much as you have to give.”

She looked around the room, trying to read the solemn expressions of the children. At the back Cutter sat slumped down on his spine, but his eyes met hers frankly and without censure. He gave her a small smile, and she nodded her thanks.

Later that evening he came to visit. They sat on Abby’s front steps. “This guy,” he began hesitantly. “The one who’s the father--he won’t marry you?”

“I won’t marry him.”

He looked at her shyly. “You’ll probably think this is really dumb. But I know how your kid’s gonna feel, and nothin’ you say or do is gonna fix it for him. He ought to have a father.. .and I was thinkin’, I’m not as young as you may think, and I’d be good to him. I’d give your kid all the things I never had. We wouldn’t have to, you know, be man and wife--I wouldn’t expect that--but he’d have my name and two parents to stick by him, and you’d have someone to talk to when things got rough, someone to back you up if

folks got to you too bad
.” He ran out of words and stopped, looking down at his hands.

Abby was overcome, unable to find words to respond. She sat silently beside the boy; her only movement was to place a hand over his.

“I shouldn’t have come. It was a dumb idea.”

He rose to leave, but Abby pulled him back. “I’m finding it difficult to tell you what your offer means to me.” Her voice was little more than a whisper, forcing Cutter to lean closer to hear her. Their shoulders touched in a kind of kinship, a nonsexual giving and receiving of comfort.

“What you offer is far from dumb. It’s kind and caring. You’ve shown me a sensitivity and strength I’ve rarely seen. If the father of my child had spoken as you just did, we’d be together now.”

He looked at her cautiously. “So what do you think?”

“I think life is just beginning to turn for you. You don’t need to be saddled with a wife and child--someone else’s child--right now. You need time, and the freedom to be responsible only for yourself.” She turned to face him, brushing back a strand of hair from his forehead and touching his cheek as she looked into his serious eyes. “I’m glad I was right about you.”

He seemed uneasy, and Abby caught it. “What’s wrong?”

He shrugged. “I feel like I want to... do something for you, but I don’t know what. I want to help you, like you helped me.”

Abby smiled at him. “If you want to do something for me, pass your exams, go to college and do something worthwhile with your life.” She chuckled. “Then I’ll be able to point with pride at my star pupil.”

He smiled broadly, then rose. “Guess I’d better go, then. I got some cramming to do.”

Abby was grateful for the chance to stay on in Twin Buttes. Her days were full and happy, and things were going well at the school. Her nights
--well, they’d gotten better too. The baby made things easier, somehow. She seldom dreamed of Cat anymore, and it no longer hurt to see him, or hear his voice. Sometimes, like tonight, she even had dinner with Martha, having overcome the fear that their paths would cross and she would crumble. She knew she wouldn’t.

She was standing at the sink, doing her share to make dinner, when the front door opened and she heard a familiar booted step. Her heart began to pound, and she gripped the edge of the sink, then smiled to herself, remembering that this had happened before. Her heartbeat returned to normal, and she continued to peel potatoes.

Cat was on his way to his room when he heard someone in the kitchen; he stopped in the doorway and watched the woman at the sink. The straight lines of her buckskin dress clung loosely at waist and hip, but he could see that her figure had changed, had lost its lean angularity. As her head fell forward, his eyes traced the graceful line of her bare neck down the curve of her spine to the waist that had thickened with the life inside her. He ached to cup his hands around her gently rounded bottom and press her close to him, to feel their child through the double thickness of her flesh and his, to feel once again the warmth of her.

He shook his head clear of its haunting images and poured himself some coffee. Then, cup in hand, he walked to the window so he could see her face. Leaning against the sill, he watched as she prepared vegetables for cooking.