You're My Baby. Laura Abbot
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food line. “You’re in luck, Pam. They’ve got your gooey doughnuts with those disgusting sprinkles,” she said, reaching for a maple stick.
Pam eyed her favorite confection and realized that the nauseating whiff of freshly brewed coffee was up-ending her stomach. “I’ve eaten, so I’ll settle for an apple.” She plucked the piece of fruit from a tray and bypassed the coffee.
Connie stirred a packet of sugar substitute into her own coffee. “What’s up with you, caffeine addict?”
Pam waved her fingers airily. “Didn’t I tell you? I’m on a health kick. All those veggie, whole-grain restaurants in Austin convinced me.” Surely that inspired explanation would satisfy Connie, because nothing right now sounded more purely revolting than black coffee.
“Gee, we’ll have to be careful in the future about letting you out without a keeper. No coffee? That’s practically sacrilege.”
Pam chomped down on the apple. “But think how healthy I’ll be.”
After ten minutes of chitchat, Jim Campbell stepped to the microphone and asked everyone to take a seat. Out of the corner of her eye Pam saw Grant enter with a group of coaches. Why had she never noticed him before? Really noticed. He was by far the best-looking. He was the same tall, attractive, loose-limbed man he’d always been, but this morning she reacted to him in an entirely different and disturbing way. A physical way.
Before she could process that reaction, Jim Campbell began his opening remarks. He was a good speaker, mixing humor with motivational anecdotes. But today she couldn’t concentrate on a word he was saying. A single thought kept drumming in her brain. Grant Gilbert was willing to marry her.
Looking around the room at her colleagues and the self-important Student Council officers, she was moved by a wave of love, nostalgia and regret that tripped her breath. How could she leave all of this?
But people don’t get married to fulfill a bargain. She’d lain awake until the wee hours of the morning considering what was best for her child. If Grant was willing to give the baby his name, how could she refuse? Yet the logistics were overwhelming. How could they live together with Andy? Convince their friends and colleagues that they’d had a mad summer romance culminating in an elopement? And then carry on the charade every day for a year under intense scrutiny? She was a good actress, but this was an impossible role.
She studied Grant’s profile. And what about him? He was candor personified. Such duplicity wasn’t in his nature. They’d be discovered. And never mind that Andy sounded like anything but the ideal teenager. She wasn’t afraid of that, exactly, but he was a big unknown in the equation.
No, it was too complicated, too devious, too desperate.
Then she thought about the tiny person growing in her womb. Who was she kidding? Was there such a thing as “too desperate”?
GRANT COULDN’T HELP HIMSELF. The first thing he did when he entered the cafeteria was scope out the room for Pam. She was sitting next to Connie Campbell, her face animated. From his vantage point, no one would guess Pam was weighed down by vital decisions.
Grant moved toward an empty row of seats near the podium. Just in time. Jim Campbell had begun his address—the usual welcomes and platitudes about having a great year—but Grant had difficulty concentrating. All he could think about was his offer to Pam. Had expediency overwhelmed reason? Had he crossed some line between right and wrong?
Finally Jim’s words penetrated. “…and so I urge you to give equal attention—or more—to the kids in your classes who, let’s face it, try your patience. There’s an old saying, ‘Children need love most when they seem not to deserve it.’ It’s easy to single out and enjoy the friendly, cooperative, motivated youngster. But as teachers, we have to go further. The boys and girls who need us most are often least capable of reaching out. They feel unappreciated, alienated, lonely. So here’s my challenge to you for the coming year. Reach out to your students—all of them—so not one leaves us at the end of the day feeling ignored or unworthy.”
Grant shifted uncomfortably. Jim’s remarks were hitting way too close to home. Parents could heed his words, as well. Is that how Andy felt? Alienated? Unappreciated? Would one year be enough to make a difference in their relationship?
He turned slightly in his chair to glance at Pam. She was staring at her lap, her shiny hair obscuring her face. Was it fair to burden her with his problems? Marriage was a huge step. Was he trying to kill a wasp with an atom bomb? Beside him Jack Liddy coughed. Sitting here, surrounded by his co-workers and friends, Grant felt truly crummy. How could he ever have entertained the idea of deceiving so many who trusted him? Sure, he wanted to help Pam. No infant deserved to come into the world with the label “illegitimate.” But he’d insinuated his own situation with Andy into her life. That wasn’t fair.
With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he made a decision. His “solution” sucked. They’d have to find another way.
The meeting broke up shortly, and he managed to locate Pam in the hallway on her way to a department meeting. He fell in beside her. “Could we meet for dinner tonight?” Up close, he noticed the dark shadows under her eyes, the uncharacteristic paleness of her complexion. He felt like a cad. His proposition had probably led to a sleepless night for her, as it had for him.
She continued walking, looking straight ahead. “If we make it early.”
“How’s six? I’ll pick you up. Maybe I’ll show off my barbecue skills.” Home would be good. They certainly didn’t need to have their discussion in a public venue.
She paused outside her classroom and looked up at him. “Okay. We do need to get some things straight.”
He was drawn into the amber depths of her eyes and realized belatedly that he needed to say something. “Yes, we do. I’m afraid—”
“Is this where the English department meeting is?” A young man who looked scarcely old enough to shave paused in the doorway. “I’m Randy Selves, the new journalism teacher.”
“Yes, please go on in.” Pam shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, Grant, but I need—”
“No problem. See you tonight.” He watched her adopt a professional face and turn to address her department members.
He headed down the corridor toward the math meeting, for once not caring that he’d be late. Pam deserved the best. A man who would love and honor her.
His proposal had been ill-conceived. Unworthy of her. But at least he’d figured that out before he made a huge mistake.
GRANT HAD BEEN ten minutes late to pick her up, but that had suited Pam fine. She’d laid out three different outfits, but none of them worked. They were too frilly or too loud or too…something. Then her hair decided to have a mind of its own. Finally in desperation, she’d pulled on purple crinkle-cloth slacks and the matching boat-necked caftan top, knotted her hair on top of her head, put in big gold hoop earrings and called it good. All the while, though, she’d wondered why she was going to such trouble. After all, Grant saw her every day at school. What difference did it make how she looked tonight?
Her attempts at small talk in the car had gone nowhere. He had seemed unusually preoccupied, though that was understandable given the nature of the serious conversation looming ahead of them.
“Here it is. My neighborhood.” He glanced at her, apparently expecting some sort of reaction.
“I love it when people rehab these beautiful older areas. There’s much more individuality and artistic expression in these homes. I’ve never been a cookie-cutter subdivision kind of person. I bought my condo because it was the one thing close to school I could afford.”
“I needed a yard for the rare occasions when Andy visits. Although I had to do a lot of painting and refinishing, the basic structure of the house is sound.” He slowed in front of a two-story brick home with a full front porch and a detached garage. “Here we are.”
Tall