Righteous Lies (Book 1: Dancing Moon Ranch Series) (7 page)

Sam glared at
Jack. "Cool it, buddy. Susan doesn't need this."

Jack held Sam's
caustic gaze. "Yeah, well neither does Grace." He started pacing
again, the look on his face grim.

Sam took
Susan's hands, and said, "Honey, if we adopted a child he'd be the child
of strangers and still we'd love him like our own. But this child you're
carrying is half you. As soon as you recover from the birth we'll try again.
Jack can give us more sperm. And in a year or so we'll have another
child."

"And Ricky might be dead by then!"
Great, frantic sobs racked Susan's body.

"This
isn't good for you, Susan," Sam said in a firm voice. "You'll go into
labor if you don't pull yourself together."

"Fine then!
Maybe I'll get rid of
this one and can start on the baby I want." Susan clamped her jaws shut
and glared at her husband.

Grace couldn't
stop the tears from welling, or from shoving the door open.

Jack looked at
her with a start, then walked up to her and took her by the arms, and said,
"What are you doing out of bed?"

"Trying to
find out what all the commotion is about." Grace shrugged her arms from
Jack's grasp and walked up to Susan. Peering down at her, she said in a voice wavering
with emotion, and eyes streaming with tears, "That stranger who fathered
your child was the most loving, caring man I ever knew, and if you don't want
his baby I do. But unlike you, I won't have another chance to have a child by
him because he's dead and you got all his sperm." She snatched a tissue
from the box and dabbed her eyes.

 
"That's fine for you to say," Susan
replied, her voice filled with venom. "You're not faced with losing a
child. And you're not willing to fly to New Jersey and have Jack's baby on the
chance he could be a match for my son." She mopped her eyes, blew her
nose, and added, "Please go back to your room. This is a private
conversation."

"Hold it,
Susan," Jack said. "Grace is here because I want her here, and I
don't want you or anyone else making her feel unwelcome." He looked at
Grace. "You need to get back in bed or the contractions will start
again."

Sam rose from
his crouched position, and said to Grace, "Susan's not herself tonight.
She's overwhelmed with things—tests at the hospital didn't go well. And with
the sperm mix-up... It's a hell of a situation. But I'm sure she'll want to
keep the baby by the time he arrives."

"And what
if she doesn't?" Grace said. "Women have been known to kill their unwanted
babies. This is my husband's child she's carrying, not the child of a rapist.
But that's the way she views it. And just for the record, the child I'm
carrying is the most precious possession I own. He'll be loved every bit as
much as my husband's child would have been loved." She looked at Jack.
"Please take me back to my house. I can't stay here." She headed down
the hallway to her bedroom to start packing her things.

Jack caught up
with her and followed her into her room and closed the door. "Don't do
this," he said. "Susan doesn't mean what she said. She's desperate
for a way to help Ricky."

"I'm sorry
for Susan and Sam, and I'm sorry for their sick child, but my first concern is
for my baby," Grace said, "and I am going to have him delivered by a
midwife and with no drugs, like I've been planning for eight months. If you
want to come to the classes and be in the room when I deliver, fine, but don't
try to talk me into flying to New Jersey because I'm terrified of flying and if
I did I'd go into labor from stress and have my baby on the plane. Now, I want
to get my things together and leave."

But as she made
a sharp turn toward the closet to get her clothes, a severe pain gripped her,
sending her to her knees and clutching her belly. Jack lifted her in his arms,
and after sweeping the covers back, lowered her to the bed. "I'm not taking
you anywhere," he said. "And forget what Susan said. Right now she's
overwhelmed by the situation."

Grace too was
overwhelmed, but unlike Susan, there was nothing on God's earth she'd let
happen to the child growing inside her, no matter who the father was. She was
also upset and miserable and feeling alone in the world and wanted someone's
arms around her, and as Jack was leaving the room, she said, "Jack?"
He turned and waited. "Will you hold me?"

Jack said
nothing, just stood looking at her, his face troubled. For a few moments Grace
thought he'd refuse. Then he walked over to the bed, sat on the side of it and
took her in his arms. But when he held her against his chest, and pressed her
head to the hollow of his throat, she started sobbing. And sobbing. And
sobbing. It seemed she couldn't stop. The tears just kept coming. He held her
until her sobs settled into short jerky breaths, but after they became nothing
more than sniffles, he handed her a fistful of tissues, which she used to wipe
her eyes and blow her nose, then he crooked a finger under her chin and raised
it so he could look at her, and said, "Things will be okay, honey. You'll
see?"

She nodded. But
when she finally found her voice, she said, "I don't know what came over
me. I just felt so alone in the world. And nobody cares. And Susan doesn't want
Marc's child and she could do something to get rid of him… And...
It's just not fair..
." She burst
into tears again.

"It's been
a rough few days," Jack said against the top of her head as he held her
again. "Nothing's going to happen to your husband's child. I won't let it,
and Sam won't let it, so stop worrying about that. Just get some sleep. In the
morning things will look better."

After a few
moments he released her and stood. But when he started to leave, Grace called
out again, "Jack?"
He turned
and glanced over his shoulder.

She looked at
him through watery eyes, and said, "Thank you for holding me."

Jack gave a
little nod of acknowledgement but said nothing, but as he stood looking at her,
Grace knew, from his sober expression, that he hadn't been entirely comfortable
with holding her, and she was reminded, once again, that it was the child Jack
wanted, not the mother.

***

Grace watched
Jack from her bedroom window. Even though several more inches of snow covered the
ground, he was working a horse in the corral alongside the stables. He sat tall
and straight in the saddle when he worked the horse, reining it first one way,
then the other, backing it, spinning it around, making it stop short. There was
no question. Jack was an impressive man. His shoulders looked even broader
beneath his heavy parka, his booted legs in the stirrups, longer, his hands
enclosed in leather gloves, bigger. Even his Stetson added to his height. He
was also the father of her child. The whole idea had still not quite settled
in. But if she'd gone to a sperm bank to choose from a line-up of pictures, and
Jack had been among them, he would have made the top of her list. Curious to
know if he was working the horse for some kind of event, she said to Flo, who'd
entered the bedroom carrying fresh towels, "Why is Jack working the
horse?"

"He's
keeping the riding horses from getting sour," Flo replied. Leaving the
towels in the bath, she left.

Grace glanced
out the window again then decided to keep her mind occupied in more productive
ways. Although the only thing she'd ever knitted was a hat, from the
illustrations in the book she knew how to start. After deciding to knit a pair
of tiny socks, she picked up the circular needles and a skein of yellow yarn,
then looked at the instructions and read...

...cast on and divide the stitches evenly
between the circular needles...
 

Which she
managed to do...

...slide the stitches around and knit from
either end of the needle...

Within the
hour, she had a tiny yellow cylinder and was ready to start the heel of the
sock...

...form the heel by working a portion of the
stitches on the needle, then turn the work and knit those same stitches again
before stitching all the stitches on the needle...

Which made no
sense. Skipping to the part about the gusset, she continued reading, deciding to
keep on as she was and finish with a closed toe, if she could figure it out...

...knit the main part of the foot and
decrease for the toes then graft the fabric together so the sock is closed at
the toe...

As she mulled
over the directions, while trying to figure out what grafting meant, she felt
eyes on her and looked up to find Jack standing in the doorway, a very
endearing smile on his lips. Her heart gave a little ka-thump. "What's so
amusing?" she asked, managing to catch a stitch before it dropped off the
needle.

"Nothing,"
Jack replied. "You look contented."

"I thought
you had work to do," Grace said, eyeing the long narrow sock.

"I
do," Jack replied. "But I'm taking a break." He dragged a chair over
to the bed, and after sitting down, glanced at her knitting, and frowned.

"It's a
sock," Grace said, holding it up. "I couldn't figure out how to knit
a heel." Jack smiled, and Grace decided she loved his smile. Different
from Marc's, but appealing nonetheless. "I'll figure it out for the next
pair." She set the knitting aside and rested her hands on her belly.

Jack stared at
her hands or her belly, she couldn't decide which, and he became thoughtful, as
he often did when he looked at her belly. After several seconds ticked by, he
lifted her hand with her wedding ring set, and fingering the diamond in her
engagement ring, said, "What was your husband like?"

Grace was
surprised by Jack's question. It was the first time he'd asked about Marc. She
looked at her hand in his, and replied, "He was a wonderful man, sweet,
caring, a good provider."

"What
happened?" Jack asked.

"He died
of cancer," Grace replied, surprised to be talking about Marc without
tearing up. Surprised to be talking about Marc at all. For the past three days
she'd been thinking about Jack, which was natural, since he was the father of
her child.

"How long
were you married?" Jack asked, turning her finger slightly, sending little
shards of light glittering off the diamonds.

"Five
years," Grace replied.

Continuing to
look at the ring, Jack said, "Why didn't you start a family before you
learned he had cancer?"

"The time
wasn't right," Grace replied. "Marc was still in college. I had a job
so we bought the house, but we didn't want to start a family until Marc
finished his PhD. But then we found out he had colon cancer. We knew he'd have
to go through chemo, so we decided to store Marc's sperm in case he became
sterile. But when they did the surgery they found out the cancer had gone to
his liver and pancreas. He died a few weeks later. It took almost two years for
me to decide to have his child. The sperm was there waiting, and our child
would give me something of Marc, so his life wouldn't be in vain."

"And now
you have nothing of him," Jack said, looking up from the rings, "And
Susan has the child that should have been yours. How desperate does that make
you feel?"

Grace looked at
Jack, surprised at the wording of his question. She'd already told him how much
she wanted his baby. "I don't feel desperate at all," she said,
holding Jack's sober gaze. "Only very sad. I still want Marc's baby, but I
want this baby just as much. Would you like to listen to his heart?"

Jack looked
uncomfortable with her suggestion. The dynamics of their relationship changed
the day before, when she asked him to hold her. Changed for both of them. While
Jack had become more reticent, she came to the realization that he was a man
who could fill a void in her life, that he'd always love their son, and maybe
he'd grow to love her too, and in time, want her for his wife. "He's
curled just beneath my skin. Probably sucking his thumb right now." She
patted the bed. "Come sit here and get acquainted with your son."

Jack sat on the
bed and placed his hand on her belly, his eyes staring off as he waited for
movement, then he smiled slightly, as if he'd felt a kick. But after that he stood
abruptly, and said, "I need to get back to the stables," and left.

Grace stared at
the empty chair, wondering what it would take to get Jack to see her as more
than just the mother of his unborn son. But while Jack was awaiting the arrival
of a son, she was struggling to hold onto the memory of a face that was
becoming less clear. Blond hair and blue eyes kept morphing into shades of
browns.

***

The following
day a van from Northwest Hospital Supply delivered a motorized wheelchair. Two
men brought it into the lodge and showed Grace how to operate it. After they
had her try it out, while watching her motor around the great room, they left.
The first thing Grace noticed, after the delivery van was driving off, was Mei
Ling perched on the mantelpiece of the big stone fireplace, gazing down at her.
She had no idea when Mei Ling sneaked out of the bedroom, but she was sitting
like a mantelpiece statue, tail wrapped around her paws, enjoying the warmth of
a fire rising from the hearth as flames licked up, crackling and popping from
pitch in the logs.

Deciding to try
her new wheels, Grace motored into the bedroom and returned with a small bowl
of cat chow and one of Mei Ling's beds, which she set by the fire. It wasn't
long before Mei Ling left her perch on the mantle to check out the chow, then
before long, she curled up in the cat bed. Grace angled the wheelchair near the
hearth and pulled out the book on knitting that she'd tucked in beside her, and
started reading. The sound of the softly hissing fire, and the quiet burrs of
Mei Ling purring in her bed made Grace drowsy, and before long, she drifted
off...