Nobodys Baby But Mine

  “What do you mean?” He bristled with belligerence. “Who told you she’s pregnant?”

  “You wouldn’t have married her otherwise. You don’t have that much sense.”

  Jane was touched. “Thank you, Annie.”

  “And you!” Annie turned on her. “What was in your head carryin’ on like that? If you go berserk every time Calvin upsets you, that baby’s gonna strangle on the cord long before it has a chance to catch its first breath.”

  Jane thought about addressing the physiological improbability of that happening, but decided to save her breath. “I’ll be more careful.”

  “Next time he makes you mad, just take a shotgun to him.”

  “Mind your own business, you old bat,” Cal growled. “She’s got enough ideas of her own for doin’ me in.”

  Annie tilted her head toward Jane, and a sadness seemed to come over her. “You listen to me, Janie Bonner. I don’t know what happened between you and Calvin so he ended up marryin’ you, but from what I saw a few minutes ago, the two of you don’t have no love match goin’. He’s married you, and I’m glad about that, but I’m tellin’ you right now that if you did anything havey cavey to bring him around, you’d better make sure Amber Lynn and Jim Bonner never find out about it. They’re not as broad-minded as me, and if they even suspect you’ve hurt their boy, they’ll cut you off at the knees, you understand what I’m sayin’?”

  Jane swallowed hard and nodded.

  “Good.” She turned to Cal. The sadness faded, and her old eyes grew sly. “I’m surprised somebody with such a bad case of the flu as Janie here had enough strength to walk over the mountain.”

  Cal cursed softly under his breath. Jane stared at Annie. “What do you mean? I don’t have the flu?”

  Cal grabbed her arm and began to pull her away. “Come on, Jane, you’re going home.”

  “Wait a minute! I want to know what she meant by that.”

  Cal drew her round the side of the house, but not before she heard Annie’s cackle. “You remember what I told you about that cord gettin’ twisted, Janie Bonner, ’cause I think Calvin’s about to upset you again.”

  Chapter Nine

  “You told everybody in your family I had the flu?” Jane said as they drove down off the mountain. It was easier talking about this small deception than the larger one.

  “You got a problem with that?”

  “I expected to meet your parents. I thought that’s why you brought me here.”

  “You’ll meet ’em. When I decide to introduce you.”

  His arrogance was like setting a spark to tinder. This was the result of letting him spend the last few weeks calling all the shots, and it was time she put a stop to it. “You’d better decide soon because I’m not going to let you keep me cooped up any longer.”

  “What are you talkin’ about, cooped up? Here I’ve gone out of my way to make sure you can work without a lot of people bothering you, and you’re complaining.”

  “Don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor!”

  “I don’t know what else you’d call it.”

  “How about imprisonment? Incarceration? Solitary confinement? And just so you don’t accuse me of going behind your back, I’m breaking out of the joint tomorrow to help Annie plant her garden.”

  “You’re what?”

  Think about Annie and her garden, she told herself, instead of the fact that her child would be another misfit. She snatched off her glasses and began cleaning the dirt from them with a tissue, concentrating on the job as if it were a complicated equation. “Annie wants to get her garden in. If the potatoes aren’t planted in the next few days, they’ll be puny. We’re also planting onions and beets.”

  “You are not putting in a garden for her. If she wants a garden, I’ll hire Joey Neeson to help her.”

  “He’s worthless.”

  “You don’t even know Joey.”

  “I’m just repeating what I heard. The reason nothing’s getting done is because she doesn’t want strangers around her place.”

  “Well, that’s just too bad because you’re not doing it for her.”

  She opened her mouth to launch another attack, but before she could get the first word out, he cupped her head and pushed her down on the seat so that her cheek squashed against his thigh.

  “What are you doing?” She tried to sit up, but he held her down.

  “My mom. She’s coming out of the shoestore.”

  “I’m not the only one who’s gone crazy! You have completely lost your mind!”

  “You’re not meeting my family until I decide you’re meeting them!” While he held her fast, he steered with his opposite knee and waved. Damn! Why couldn’t his parents have stayed away longer, like another two months or so? He knew he had to let them meet the Professor, but he’d hoped to postpone it as long as he could. Now his elderly wife had ruined everything with her morning’s trek over the mountain.

  He glanced down. Her cheek lay mashed against his thigh, and her hair felt soft under his fingers. She was always so tidy, but now her French braid had pretty much given up the ghost. Silky blond tendrils tumbled over his hand and across the faded denim of his jeans. She sure did have pretty hair, even decorated with twigs and bits of dried leaves. The elastic band holding the braid together was barely hanging on, and he had to resist the urge to pull it off and loosen the rest with his fingers.

  He knew he had to let her up soon, since she was madder than a wet hen and starting to sputter, but he kind of liked the idea of her head in his lap, even if she was spitting nails. He noticed that she didn’t have more than a speck of makeup left on her face. Still, without those glasses, she looked kind of cute. Sort of like seventeen going on twentyfive. Maybe he could still pass her off as—

  As if she’d let him. Damn, but she was one hardheaded woman. He remembered how many times he’d wished Kelly hadn’t been quite so sweet. Kelly was a beautiful girl, but he’d never been able to have a decent fight with her, which meant he couldn’t ever entirely relax. One thing he had to say about the Professor—she sure knew how to have a good fight.

  He frowned. Were his feelings toward her softening? Hell, no. He had a long memory, and he wouldn’t ever forget how she’d tricked him. It was just that he seemed to have lost the white-hot rage that had carried him through the first couple of weeks. Maybe it had finally burned itself out when she’d leaned her head against that tree trunk and told him she was taking the baby to Africa.

  Except for what she’d done to him, he was beginning to realize that she was probably a decent person. Too damn serious and uptight as hell. Still, she worked hard—he’d seen lots of evidence of that from those equations she left like mouse droppings all over the house—and she’d made her way in a man’s world. The fact that she wanted to help Annie spoke well of her, even though it made things twice as tough for him. Maybe his feelings had softened a little. She’d been so upset today when she found out he wasn’t the dummy she’d counted on that he’d actually felt guilty. Her old man sure had done a number on her.

  Once again he looked down at her and saw that a blond lock had escaped from her French braid and now curled in a figure eight over his zipper. He nearly groaned aloud. He’d been hard ever since he pushed her into his lap. Even earlier, if he counted that skirmish they’d had when they were lying on the ground at Annie’s. But instead of easing up, it was getting worse, and if she turned her head even a little bit, she’d see that his zipper wasn’t close to lying flat. No question about it. Fighting with the Professor had turned him on, and he was beginning to think it was time he did something about it. So far he’d had nothing but inconvenience from this marriage; it was about time he took advantage of its one convenience.

  “Ouch! Damn it!” He snatched his hand away from her head and rubbed his thigh. “That’s twice now you bit me! Don’t you know that human saliva is a hundred times more dangerous than an animal’s?”

  “I supposed you learned that while you were
getting your summa cum laude degree in biology!” She struggled to sit back up and shoved her glasses on. “I hope you get gangrene and they do the amputation without anesthetic. And they use a chain saw!”

  “I’m going to see if my house has an attic where I can lock you up, just like men used to do in the old days when they found out they were stuck with a crazy wife.”

  “I’ll bet if I were eighteen instead of thirty-four, you wouldn’t be thinking about locking me up. You’d be stuffing me full of bubble gum and showing me off all over town! Now that I know you’re an intelligent man, your attraction to infants seems even more peculiar.”

  “I am not attracted to infants!” He turned into the lane that led to the house.

  “You certainly don’t seem very confident of your ability to handle a grown woman.”

  “I swear, Jane— Damn!” He slammed on the brakes and reached over to push her back down on the seat, but he was too late. His father had already spotted her.

  He cursed and reluctantly lowered the window. As he stopped his car well behind the muddy red Blazer, he called out, “What’s up, Dad?”

  “What do you think is up? Open this damn gate and let me in!”

  Great, he thought with disgust. This was just great, a perfect addition to a miserable day. He punched the button that controlled the gate, nodded at his father, and hit the accelerator, shooting past the Blazer too quickly for the old man to get a good look at Jane.

  Those softer feelings he’d been experiencing toward her only moments earlier vanished. He didn’t want her meeting his parents. Period. He hoped it wouldn’t occur to his father to mention any of the activities that had been taking up so much of his time. The less Jane knew about his private life, the better he liked it.

  “You follow my lead,” he said. “And whatever you do, don’t let him know you’re pregnant.”

  “He’ll find out eventually.”

  “We’re going to make it later. A lot later. And take off those damned bifocals!” They reached the house, and Cal hustled her inside before he went back out to greet his father.

  Jane heard the door slam and knew he was upset. Good! Mr. Summa cum laude deserved to be upset. Biting her lip, she made her way to the kitchen. When she got there, she pressed her hand over her waist. I’m sorry, little one. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.

  She plucked a few shreds of dried leaves out of her messy hair. She should try to straighten herself up before Cal’s father came in, but she couldn’t summon the energy to do more than push her glasses up on her nose while she tried to figure out how she was going to raise a genius.

  She heard Cal’s voice. “… and since Jane was feeling a lot better today, we went over to see Annie.”

  “Seems if she was feelin’ better, you might have driven her into town to meet your parents.”

  She dropped her Windbreaker on one of the counter stools and turned to face the men coming into the kitchen.

  “Dad, I went over this with you and Mom last night at dinner. I explained…”

  “Never mind.” Cal’s father stopped as he caught sight of her.

  Her mental image of him as a jolly old man with a round belly and fringe of white hair had dissolved the instant she’d caught sight of him at the gate. Now she felt as if she were staring at an older version of Cal.

  He was equally imposing—big, handsome, rugged—and he looked exactly right in his red flannel shirt, rumpled slacks, and scuffed leather boots. His thick dark hair, worn longer and shaggier than his son’s, had a few strands of silver, but he appeared to be no older than his early to midfifties, much too young and too good-looking to have a thirty-six-year-old son.

  He took his time assessing her, and she didn’t have any difficulty recognizing that straight-on, no-holds-barred gaze as a mirror of his son’s. As she returned his scrutiny, she knew she would have to prove herself worthy. Still, he gave her a warm smile and extended his hand.

  “I’m Jim Bonner. Glad we’re finally getting to meet.”

  “Jane Darlington.”

  His smile disappeared as his eyebrows slammed together. He released her hand. “Most women around here take their husband’s name when they get married.”

  “I’m not from around here, and the name is Darlington. I’m also thirty-four years old.”

  Behind her back, she heard a choking sound. Jim Bonner laughed. “You don’t say.”

  “I certainly do. Thirty-four and getting older by the second.”

  “That’s enough, Jane.” The warning note in Cal’s voice advised her not to reveal any more secrets, but he might not have spoken.

  “You don’t look sick.”

  “I’m not.” She felt something brush her back and realized she’d lost the elastic holding her French braid.

  “She started feeling better a couple of hours ago,” Cal interjected. “Must not have been the flu after all.”

  Jane turned far enough to give him a faintly pitying look—she wasn’t going to support him in his lies—but he pretended not to see.

  Jim picked up an X-Man comic from the counter and regarded it quizzically. “Book-Of-The-Month-Club?”

  “Jane reads them for relaxation. You want a beer, Dad?”

  “No. I’m on my way to the hospital.”

  Concern drove away the caustic remark Jane had been about to make regarding the comic. “Is something wrong?”

  “How about a sandwich?” Cal said too quickly. “Jane, make Dad and me a couple of sandwiches.”

  “I’ll be happy to make your father a sandwich. You can fix your own.”

  Jim raised one eyebrow at his son in an expression Jane suspected meant something like, After all these years, is this the best you could do for a wife?

  She refused to be cowed. “Are you having some tests done? I hope you’re not ill.”

  Cal shot forward. “You’ve got some dirt on your face, sweetheart, from that walk you took at Annie’s. Maybe you’d better go upstairs and get cleaned up.”

  “There’s no big mystery about it,” Jim said. “I’m a doctor, and I have patients to visit.”

  For a moment she couldn’t move as the magnitude of the mistake she’d made once again drove its way home. She whirled on Cal. “Your father’s a doctor? How many more family skeletons do you have locked up?”

  Her own heart might be breaking, but he seemed amused. “I know you were hopin’ for a moonshiner, sweetheart, but I guess this just isn’t your lucky day. Although, come to think of it—Dad, didn’t you tell me your great-grampa had a still someplace up in the mountains?”

  “That’s what my father told me.” Jim studied Jane. “Why do you care?”

  Cal didn’t let her reply, which was a good thing, because the lump in her throat had grown too large to permit speech. “Jane’s sort of a hillbilly groupie. She’s a city girl herself, but she likes all that backwoods stuff, and she’s been real disappointed to find out we wear shoes.”

  Jim smiled. “I guess I could take mine off.”

  A woman’s voice, soft and Southern, sounded from the foyer. “Cal, where are you?”

  He sighed. “In the kitchen, Mom.”

  “I was passing by, and I saw the gate open.” Like Cal’s father, the woman who appeared in the doorway looked too young to have a thirty-six-year-old son, and she also seemed much too sophisticated to be the daughter of Annie Glide. Pretty, trim, and stylish, she wore her light brown hair in a short, trendy cut that curved behind her ears and emphasized a pair of clear blue eyes. Discreet frosting camouflaged whatever strands of gray had emerged. Her tall figure set off slim black trousers topped by a loosely cut fleece jacket in grape-colored wool with an abstract silver pin on the lapel. In comparison, Jane felt like a street urchin with her dirty face and leaf-flecked hair falling willy-nilly.

  “You must be Jane.” She walked forward, one hand extended in welcome. “I’m Lynn Bonner.” Her greeting was warm, but as Jane took her hand, she received the impression of a deep reserve. “I hope you??
?re feeling better. Cal said you were under the weather.”

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “She’s thirty-four,” Jim announced from his spot next to the counter.

  Lynn looked startled, and then she smiled. “I’m delighted.”

  Jane found herself warming to Lynn Bonner. Jim sat down on one of the counter stools and stretched out his legs. “Cal said she’s a hillbilly groupie. She sure is gonna love you, Amber.”

  Jane saw Cal shoot his father a puzzled look. She noted a faint trace of insolence in Jim Bonner’s tone that hadn’t been there before, but his wife showed no reaction. “I’m sure Cal told you we just got back from a combined vacation and medical conference. I was so sorry you weren’t feeling well enough to join us for dinner last night. We’ll make it up on Saturday. Jim, if it doesn’t rain, you can grill.”

  Jim crossed his ankles. “Shoot, Amber, since Jane here likes hillbilly ways so much, why don’t you forget grilling and make her some of those Glide family specials. We could have beans and fatback, or how ’bout some of that souse like your mama used to fix. You ever eat souse, Jane?”

  “No, I don’t believe I have.”

  “I can’t imagine Jane wanting that,” Lynn said coolly. “Nobody eats souse anymore.”

  “Maybe you could bring it back in fashion, Amber. You could tell all your ritzy friends about it next time you go to one of those big charity affairs in Asheville.”

  Cal had been staring at his parents as if he’d never seen them before. “When did you start calling Mom Amber?”

  “It’s her name,” Jim replied.

  “Annie uses it, but I’ve never heard you do it.”

  “Who says people have to keep doing things the same way?”

  Cal glanced toward his mother, but she made no comment. Clearly uncomfortable, he turned away and once again opened the refrigerator door. “Are you sure nobody wants a sandwich? How about you, Mom?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Souse is part of the Glide family heritage,” Jim said, unwilling to give up that particular avenue of conversation. “You haven’t forgotten about that, have you, Amber?” He stabbed his wife with eyes so remote that Jane experienced a surge of sympathy for Cal’s mother. She knew exactly how it felt to be on the receiving end of a gaze like that. Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Jane. “Souse is like sausage, Jane, but it’s made from a hog’s head, minus the eyeballs.”