Tender Stranger (11 page)

Dani wouldn’t look at her friend. “He makes his living risking his life, Harrie,” she said. “I can’t spend mine worrying about him. I’d rather get out while I still can.”

“I suppose you know your own mind,” Harriett said, shrugging. “But when you decide to go adventuring, you sure go whole hog, don’t you? Marrying strangers, overpowering hijackers…”

She went away muttering, and Dani smiled at her retreating back. Yes, she’d had an adventure all right. But now it was over, and she’d better tuck her bittersweet memories away in a trunk and get on with her life. The first step was to put Dutch out of her mind forever. The second was to stop reading the newspaper. From now on, every time she learned about a small foreign war, she’d see him.

Of course, it wasn’t that easy. In the weeks that followed, everything conspired to remind her of him. Especially Harriett, who became heartily suspicious when Dani began losing her breakfast.

“It’s the curse of Montezuma,” Dani said shortly, glaring at her friend from a pasty face as she came out of the bathroom with a wet paper towel at her mouth.

“It’s the curse of the flying Dutchman,” came the dry reply.

Dani laughed in spite of herself, but it was brief. “I am not pregnant.”

“I had a miscarriage,” Harriett said quietly. “But I’ve never forgotten how it felt, or how I looked. You’re white as a sheet, you tire so easily it isn’t funny, and your stomach stays upset no matter what you do.”

It was the same thing Dani had been dreading, hoping, terrified to admit. But she’d arrived at the same conclusion Harriett had. She sat down on the stool behind the counter with a weary sigh.

“You crazy child, didn’t you even think about contraceptives?” Harriett moaned, hugging her.

Harriett, only four years her senior, sometimes seemed twice that. Dani let the tears come. She wept so easily these days. Last night a story on the news about guerrilla action in Africa had set her off when she spotted a blond head among some troops. Now, Harriett’s concern was doing it, too.

“I’m pregnant,” Dani whispered shakily.

“Yes, I know.”

“Oh, Harrie, I’m scared stiff,” she said, clutching the older woman. “I don’t know anything about babies.”

“There, there, Miss Scarlett, I doesn’t know anything about birthin’ babies my own self, but we’ll muddle through somehow.” She drew away, smiling with a genuine affection. “I’ll take care of you.” She searched Dani’s eyes. “Do you want to have it?”

Dani shuddered. “I saw a film once, about how babies develop.” She put her hand slowly, tenderly, to her flat abdomen. “They showed what happened when a pregnancy is terminated.” She looked up. “I cried for hours.”

“Sometimes it’s for the best,” Harriett said gently.

“In some circumstances,” she agreed. “But I’ll never see it as a casual answer to contraception. And as for me,” she said shifting restlessly, “I…want his baby.” She clasped her arms around herself with a tiny smile. “I wonder if he’ll be blond?” she mused.

“He may be a she,” came the dry reply.

“That’s all right. I like little girls.” She sighed dreamily. “Isn’t it amazing? Having a tiny life inside you, feeling it grow?”

“Yes,” Harriett said wistfully. “It was the happiest time of my life.”

Dani looked up and smiled. “You can share mine.”

Harriett, tougher than nails, grew teary-eyed. She turned quickly away before Dani could see that vulnerability. “Of course I can. Right now you need to get to a doctor and see how far along you are.”

“I already know,” Dani said, remembering the morning in Dutch’s room, the exquisite tenderness of that brief loving. “I know.”

“You’ll need vitamins,” Harriett continued. “And a proper diet.”

“And baby clothes and a baby bed…” Dani was dreaming again.

“Not until after the seventh month,” Harriett said firmly. “You have to be realistic, too. Sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn’t. But it helps not to get too involved too soon.”

“Spoilsport!” Dani burst out, half-irritated.

“The doctor will tell you the same thing,” Harriett said. “Dani, I bought baby furniture when I was a month along. I miscarried at four months, and had all those bright new things to dispose of. Don’t do it.”

Dani immediately felt repentant. She hugged Harriett warmly. “Thank you for being my friend. For caring about me.”

“Someone has to.” She glowered up at Dani. “Are you going to tell him?”

“How?” Dani asked. “I don’t even know his address.”

“My God, she’s married to a man and she doesn’t know where he lives.”

Dani laughed at the expression on Harriett’s face. “Well, we didn’t spend much time talking.”

Harriett started at the young woman’s belly. “So I noticed.”

“Stop that!” Dani sighed wearily. “Besides, he said he never wanted children. He’d go right through the roof if he knew. It’s just as well that the divorce go through without his finding out.”

“How can you divorce a man you can’t find?” Harriett asked reasonably.

“He’s getting the divorce, not me. He has my address.”

“Lovely. Shall we sell some books? Call the doctor first,” Harriett said, and went back to her pricing.

Dani was healthy, and after her family doctor put her on prenatal vitamins, she began to bloom. Dr. Henry Carter laughed delightedly every visit she made to his office for checkups, pleased with her progress as well as her attitude toward being pregnant.

“You really love being pregnant, don’t you?” he asked when she was having her third checkup, at a little over four and a half months.

“Every second!” She touched the swell of her abdomen. “I think he moved this morning,” she added excitedly. “Little flutters, like a bird trying to get free.”

“Yes,” he said with a warm smile. “That’s what it feels like, I’m told. The first sign of a healthy baby. The tests we ran assured us of that.”

She’d liked the test—it was done with ultrasound, and they’d given her a Polaroid picture of the baby’s head, just visible in the X-ray-type sound scan.

“Has there been any word from your husband?” he added quietly.

Dani felt herself go cold. “No.” She started down at her hands. “He might…never come back.”

“I’m sorry. The reason I asked is because I’d like you to sign up for natural childbirth classes. Even if you don’t want to have a natural delivery, they’ll help you cope with labor,” he explained. “They involve exercises that prepare you for childbirth. And, sadly, they require a partner.”

“Can—can Harriett do it?” she asked.

He knew Harriett, and he grinned. “Best person I know for a coach. All she really has to do is stand beside you and tell you when to breathe.”

“She already does that very well,” she said dryly.

“Okay. Next month I’ll sign you up. You’re doing fine. Get out of here. And don’t exert yourself too much. The heat’s terrible this summer.”

“Tell me about it,” she murmured, sweating even in her loose sleeveless tent blouse and elastic-fronted skirt. “See you next time.”

She made another appointment and dawdled on her way back to work. It was a lovely summer day, the kind that lures dreamers to quiet ponds and butterfly-laden meadows full of flowers. She sang a little as she walked along, feeling the tiny flutters in her stomach and laughing as she went. What a beautiful world. How wonderful to be pregnant and healthy.

Finally, she gave in and went back to the bookstore, because she knew Harriett would worry if she was gone too long. She strolled lazily along the small shopping center in the heart of Greenville, oblivious to shoppers and the sounds of children playing on the sidewalk.

With a slow, dreamy smile, she opened the door of the shop and walked inside. And came face-to-face with Dutch.

He was wearing khakis—a bush shirt with slacks—and there was a new scar on one cheek. He looked as though he’d lost a little weight, although he was as handsome, as physically devastating, as ever. Harriett must have thought so, too, because she was openly staring at him, wide-eyed.

Dutch did some staring of his own. His eyes were on her stomach, and their expression was frankly terrified. He felt as if he’d never breathe again. He’d come back to see if they could work out a compromise, if she might be willing to rethink her position. Only to find—this!

Dani saw the stark terror in his eyes. If she’d hoped for any kind of reconciliation, she knew now that it was all a pipe dream. After all the long nights of remembering, worrying, hoping, praying, for him, of thinking how he’d react if she told him about the baby, now she knew.

It was too much all at once. The sight of him, the hunger for him, the weeks and months of worry. He began to blur, and then to darken. And she fainted at his feet.

She came to in the back of the shop, in a storeroom that Dani and Harriett used for lunch breaks. There was a big armchair there, and Dani was lying across it, her shoes off, a cold cloth on her forehead.

“… had a hard time of it,” Harriett was saying grimly. “She’s healthy enough, but she won’t rest.”

“I never should have married her,” came the harsh reply.

“You’re a prize, aren’t you?” Harriett was saying. “That child has never had anything or anyone in her life to make her way easier. Her parents deserted her when she was just a baby—she doesn’t even know where they are. She never really had a boyfriend of her own. She’s had no one except me. And now you sweep her off her feet, get her pregnant, and walk out on her. Mister, you are a walking blond plague, and if there’s one iota of human decency left in you, you’ll do her a favor and get out of her life.”

“And leave her at your mercy?” Dutch came back idly. “Like hell.”

Oh, no, Dani thought sickly. She’d known that would happen. World War III. Dutch and Harriett were just alike….

“What kind of mercy would she get from you, you…!” Harriett retorted.

“No,” Dani whispered hoarsely, opening her eyes to see them squared off, glaring at each other scant feet away. They both turned toward her. “No,” she repeated more strongly. “If you two want to brawl, go stand in the street. You can’t do it here. I can’t cope.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Harriett said softly. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” She sat up, smoothing the wet cloth over her face while Dutch glared down at her with fierce anger in his dark eyes. His blond hair was slightly mussed, his handsome face harder than she remembered it. “Well, you needn’t glare at me,” she told him shortly. “I didn’t get pregnant all alone, remember!”

Harriett had to hide a smile. “I’ll leave you two to talk,” she offered.

“We’ll talk at home,” Dani said firmly, glaring at Dutch. “Where I can throw things and scream. The store cramps my style.”

She got up while Dutch tried not to grin at her fury. Glasses and all, she was something in a temper.

“Don’t rush around. It isn’t healthy,” he said, taking her hand in his. He glanced at Harriett. “Can you manage for an hour or so?”

“Of course. Can you?” she returned.

He couldn’t help the faint smile. “Yes, Mama,” he said mockingly. “I won’t hurt your lamb.”

He guided her out the door, letting her show him the way to her nearby apartment. It was up a flight of stairs, and he frowned as they climbed. He didn’t like the stairs.

“You have to move,” he said when she’d unlocked her apartment and they were inside in the white and yellow homey confines of the living room.

She turned and gaped at him. “What?”

“You have to move,” he said shortly. “You can’t be walking up and down stairs like…that.” He indicated her belly.

“It isn’t a that. It’s a baby,” she said firmly, planting her feet as she challenged him. “It’s a boy, in fact, and I am going to call him Joshua Eric.”

His face gave nothing away. His eyes went over her quietly, and for the first time in months he felt whole again. Leaving her had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. All the time he was away, he thought of her, longed for her, wanted her. He still wanted her. But she was pregnant. He didn’t want a baby, he didn’t want her pregnant. It brought back memories that were unbearable.

He hadn’t even meant to come back; he hadn’t wanted his life to change. And his worst fears had confronted him the instant he saw her.

“Do you have the divorce papers with you?” she asked calmly.

He sighed angrily and lit a cigarette without even asking if she minded. “You’ve put ‘paid’ to that, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice as cold as his dark eyes. “How can I divorce you in that condition? You’ll want child support, I imagine?”

He couldn’t possibly have hurt her any more, not if he’d knocked her down. Quick tears welled in her eyes, and she glared at him through them.

“Get out!” she shot at him.

“Is it even mine?” he goaded, feeling trapped and straining at invisible bonds fiercely.

She picked up the nearest object, a small statuette of some Greek figure, and flung it at him. “Damn you!”

He ducked and it hit the door, shattering into a hundred pieces.

“Get out of my apartment! Get out of my life!” she choked. “Oh, God, I hate you, I hate—!” The nausea hit her all at once. She turned, running for the bathroom, where she was horribly sick. She cried helplessly, oblivious to the tall man holding the wet cloth to her head and hating himself so much he wanted to jump off a building to make the guilt stop.

“I hate you,” she whispered weakly when it was over and she could talk. Her head was leaning against the cold porcelain sink. She could hardly move.

“Yes.” He bathed her face gently, her hands. Then he put the cloth aside and lifted her, carrying her into the bedroom. He laid her down and turned on the oscillating fan, positioning it so that it wouldn’t blow directly on her.

“Go to sleep,” he said quietly. “Then we’ll talk.”

“I—don’t want to,” she murmured drowsily, but she was drained and overwhelmed and so tired. Her eyes closed, and seconds later she drifted off.

Dutch sat down on the bed beside her, frightened and sick at what he’d done to her. His eyes ran lovingly over her body, and without conscious thought he eased up the hem of her maternity blouse and moved the elastic of her skirt down, and looked. Her belly was slightly swollen, round and womanly. So that was what pregnancy looked like. He winced, remembering another time, another pregnant woman. But Dani wasn’t like that, he told himself. Never like that. His lean fingers touched the soft flesh gently, hesitantly. Yes, it was firm. His child was in there. His child. A boy, she’d said. Could she be so certain? Of course, there were tests they did now. His big hand smoothed over the swell, pressing, and all at once something fluttered against his fingers. He jerked them back with a gasp.