Marriage for Her Baby. Raye Morgan
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He looked at her, his face endearingly pathetic.
“Why not?”
That was her first, exuberant reaction, but it only took seconds to make her wonder what the heck she thought she was getting into. Her interior watchdog was yelling, “No, no, no, no!” That was exactly what she’d programmed it to do if she was ever in danger of falling for a man again. But she was very tempted to ignore it. Maybe her luck had changed. How would she ever know if she didn’t try?
“So tell me about your little girl,” she said, wondering if it would be a good time to ask him what his dinner plans were. Maybe not. Better wait another ten minutes or so. “How old is she? When did you see her last?”
He frowned. “I think she’s about nine months old,” he said. “I think that’s what they told me.”
Nine months. That was the same as Savannah. “You’re adopting her?” Sara asked.
But he shook his head. “No. She’s mine. I just didn’t know about her until I got released from the camp and sent home to the States.”
Somewhere deep inside, very near her heart, a new warning was beginning to send a small, nervous signal to her brain. She touched her breastbone with her fingers, gently pushing as though she could push the feeling back. But it just got stronger. Something wasn’t quite right here.
But that was silly. She had no real reason to think that at all. He was telling her the facts as he knew them—why would that be threatening? She was being ridiculous. Probably because she wasn’t used to talking to men like this.
“What’s your baby’s name?”
He shook his head. “Funny thing is, they never told me that. I guess I’ll be able to name her whatever I want.”
“So you’ve never seen her?”
“No.” His smile was brilliant. “But I’ve seen pictures, and she’s a beauty—a little blonde with dark eyes and the biggest smile I’ve ever seen.”
Sara was feeling sick. She wasn’t sure why. But something was beginning to feel very wrong. Why did everything he said seem to have such a close resemblance to her Savannah?
Stop it, she told herself. That’s crazy. What he is describing is the picture of almost any little nine-month-old girl. Don’t let your imagination carry you away. Just stop it!
“What happened to her mother?” she asked, surprised to hear how raspy her voice sounded.
He shook his head. “She’s out of the picture,” was all he said.
What did that mean? That she didn’t want the child? That she didn’t want a relationship with Jake? That she was an unfit mother and he had to take over? It could mean a thousand things. It could also mean—no, she didn’t want to go there.
“So they’ve told you that your baby is all yours?” she asked, feeling breathless. “Are you taking possession of her here? Or …?”
He grimaced. “Actually I’m not supposed to be here yet. I found out where she’s staying and I came to get as close to her as I could. I want to be ready to go, as soon as the paperwork is all taken care of. We’ve just got to tie up a few loose ends, and I’ll be taking custody of her.”
As close to her as he could. Yeah, next door was pretty close. Pure, cold, electric panic was beginning to shiver through her system. It couldn’t be. Could it?
“You said the mother is out of the picture,” she repeated. Her voice sounded so strange and her mouth was so dry. “Permanently?”
He looked at her curiously, as though wondering why she cared. “Yes. She died in a car accident.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Her words came automatically, but her hand rose and covered her mouth. Inside, she was screaming.
“Me, too.” He shrugged. “But I really didn’t know her very well. And now I’ve found she left me this wonderful gift.” He shook his head. “Life is crazy, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
She had to go. She had to get out of here. Maybe she was taking this completely wrong, but there were too many things that seemed to lead right to her situation—to her baby. It couldn’t be. Oh, please, don’t let it be …
She began to gather her clipboard and purse, preparing to make her escape.
“You know the neighborhood pretty well, don’t you?” he was asking.
What? She blinked at him. It was almost as though he was speaking a foreign language. But she took a deep breath and forced herself to settle down and translate to her frightened mind.
“I … I’ve lived here for three years, but I traveled a lot on business. So, no, I guess I can’t claim to know the neighborhood really well. Why?”
“I was just wondering if you knew a woman named Sara Darling.”
There it was—as though a huge gong of doom had been rung in her head. It was still ringing, echoing back and forth, deafening her. This was it. Everything she’d been dreading was coming down on her and she had to go. She began to tremble uncontrollably. She looked around, ready to run.
But at the same time, she couldn’t give it all away. She couldn’t let him know. She needed time to get away. So she tried to smile.
“Sara Darling?” Sara could hardly get the name out of her dry mouth. “I, uh, well, no, I …”
Ordinarily she would be laughing and explaining how he’d had her name wrong from the beginning, and that she was Sara Darling herself. But that didn’t happen. She couldn’t let him know who she really was. The shock of his question had pierced her heart and it was going to take some time to right herself again.
“She’s supposed to be living next door to the house I rented,” he went on, “but I’ve been there for two days and I haven’t seen a sign of her.”
“Oh.” Calm down, Sara, she was telling herself. You’ve got to make it through this. Calm down.
She had to go. She had to get out of here. Her heart was pounding so hard, she was sure he had to hear it.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” she said quickly as she slid out of the booth. “I just remembered something I have to do. Thanks so much for the pie. I’ll … I’ll see you around.”
She didn’t stop to see how he took her sudden departure. She just went, walking quickly through the tiny café, then breaking into a run as she hit the street.
By the time Sara reached her sister’s house at the top of the hill overlooking the ferry landing, she thought her lungs would burst.
“Sara, what is it?” Jill called, seeing her entrance from the kitchen where she was baking. “What on earth is the matter?”
She rushed out to greet her and Sara clung to her, trying to catch her breath.
“Where’s Savannah?” she choked out as soon as she could speak.
“In her bed. She’s still taking her nap.” Jill frowned. “Honey, she’s okay. What’s wrong?” “Nothing. I just … nothing.”
Jill shrugged, searching her face. “Well, go ahead and check on her, but I just was up there getting the twins ready to go outside and play and she was snoozing away.”
Sara nodded and started for the stairs.
“Oh, you had a couple of phone calls,” Jill called after her. “One was from the Children’s Home Agency. They wanted you to call back right away.”
Sara turned to look at her. “Did you write down the number?”
“Of course. It’s right by the phone.” Jill frowned. “Sara, you don’t look good. What’s the matter?”