You're My Baby (13 page)

At first Andy didn't know what he meant, but then
he hazarded a guess. “You mean being new to Texas, school and all?”

“Yep. That, and havin' a new stepmama. Could be tough on a fella. Lotsa change.”

Weird. He'd only known this old guy a little more than twelve hours and already he felt more comfortable with him than anybody he'd met in Texas. It was like Gramps could read his mind. “Pam's okay.”

Gramps merely nodded his head.

“School's…different.”

“Kids already in their own packs, I reckon.”

“Yeah.”

“Takes time to break in.”

“A coupla guys are bein' okay. And there's this one girl…”

“Sounds like you're doin' fine, then. Day at a time. That's the way to do it.”

Andy realized Gramps made a lot of sense. Each day lately had been getting a little better. The guys he'd met at Chip's house were cool, and he and Angie were talking on the phone quite a bit. Even his dad had been better lately, what with the driving lessons and all.

“Whaddya do for fun?”

“Just hang out, I guess.”

Gramps turned to look at him, his eyes kindly, but his mouth set in a firm line. “That's fool's talk, son. Waste of time. A man has to have a passion.” He gestured at the prairie. “Mine's the land. Cattle. Horses.” He turned back to study the horizon, plucked a weed from the ground and chewed on the end. “Out with it. What's your passion?”

Andy's chest tightened. He knew. But could he tell? He clenched his knees. “Basketball,” he said softly.

“Basketball, huh? Your dad know about that?”

“No.”

“Any particular reason?”

Andy felt confused and tried desperately to gather his thoughts. “It's
my
thing, you know? And at Keystone, he's the big basketball hero. Championship-winning coach and all that stuff.” Andy hesitated, but when the old man didn't say anything, he continued. “I don't want to play for him. It's complicated, but—”

“You just want to play for yourself, huh? For your own pleasure?”

“Yeah, I guess that's it.”

“That sounds fine. Unless you're missing out on some of the richness.”

“Richness?”

Gramps continued chewing the weed for a long time. Finally he flicked it aside and spoke. “The team spirit, for one thing. The work ethic, testing yourself against competition, the sense of accomplishment.” Then, with a grunt, he rose to his feet. “But that's all up to you. Your decision.” He motioned to Andy to get up. As they walked toward the horses, Gramps put an arm around Andy's shoulder. “You've got plenty to sort out, son. But I'm betting on you.”

Andy did better swinging into the saddle. He was even developing warm feelings toward Pepper. But best of all, from that tight, locked place in his heart, affection for Will Carver surged. Even if it didn't make sense, Gramps was already his friend.

 

P
AM COULDN'T HELP HERSELF
. She was fussing with Andy's tie, smoothing the shoulders of his new suit, just like a regular mother. He looked quite handsome—and very young and tentative. She could tell he was trying hard to maintain his air of bored sophistication, but it
was clear this Homecoming dance was a big deal to him. “Don't forget the corsage,” she cautioned.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, breaking away and heading for the refrigerator.

Grant came out of the bedroom, car keys dangling. He looked around, then whispered, “I can't believe he's letting me take him and his friends to the dance.”

She chuckled. “The good stuff happens on the way home, dummy. That's Chip Kennedy's father's responsibility.”

“I don't even want to think about that.”

“Ain't parenthood great?” Pam teased.

Andy entered the room, holding the florist's box as if it were a time bomb. “Can we go now?”

“Sure.” Grant pecked her on the cheek in a great Ward Cleaver imitation. “See you later, honey.”

Pam waved them goodbye, grateful that by some miracle she and Grant had escaped chaperon duty. Andy would have been mortified.

She settled on the couch, joined by Sebastian and Viola, vying for the choice position on her lap. She smoothed her hand over her tummy, aware for the last several days that it was rounding and that elastic waist-bands were now dictating her clothing choices. She'd been for her second appointment with Belinda Ellis last week, and so far, her pregnancy was progressing right on schedule. “What do you think, kitties? Will you be jealous of Barney?” Sebastian reared up and looked at her, but Viola merely purred. She liked the way their warm bodies pressed against her, almost as if they were helping nurture the baby.

She closed her eyes, basking in a rare sense of peace and well-being. Her morning sickness had abated and the faculty Homecoming skit had gone off without a
hitch. She grinned remembering how the kids had roared at Grant's comical rendition of the scarecrow. She knew he hated doing the part, but, as always, he'd been a good sport. The Keystone Knights had trounced their opponent and Brittany Thibault had reigned as Homecoming Queen. Best of all had been the change in Andy since their visit to the ranch. He was more cooperative and spent less time in his room, though he often left on his bike to explore the neighborhood, he said. The driving lessons were working miracles between him and Grant. They were actually having real conversations. Maybe things were falling into place. Finally.

Reluctantly Pam picked up from the coffee table the stack of senior exams. It was tempting to postpone grading them. But when would she have a better time?

Most of the students had enjoyed their study of Shakespeare's
Macbeth,
but, true to form, several had balked big time, “Why can't the dude speak English?” being one of the most amusing of this year's comments. After an hour, she laid the stack aside. Several had done high-caliber work, but then there was Beau Jasper. She sighed.

Just when she'd thought life was getting easier. The young man seemed to think being a football star made him exempt from studying. She doubted he'd read a word of the play. It was pretty hard to miss the fulfillment of the witches' prophecies. But he had. Before marking a fifty-two percent at the top of his paper, she scanned the exam again, looking for any redeeming responses. Grant would not be happy. He had to be counting on the kid for basketball, but if he became academically ineligible… The rules were clear.

To elevate her mood, she switched to the sophomore
journals, deliberately searching out Andy's, hoping it would corroborate her sense that he was adjusting. Sebastian woke, stretched, then draped himself over her shoulder. “Listen, buddy. This is pretty neat.” She read Andy's words aloud.

Pam sat for a moment, then shifted the cats and rose to her feet. “Sorry to disturb you guys, but I need a tissue—majorly.” What was going to happen to her when Andy ultimately returned to his mother? With every passing day, he was becoming more and more the son “in her heart.”

 

G
RANT TOSSED
his windbreaker onto the back of the chair and faced Pam.

“Well?” she asked with a quizzical smile.

“Now I know what the Invisible Man feels like.” He flopped down beside her on the sofa. “Lord, I remember so well what it was like to be fifteen and embarrassed as hell that adults had to drive me and my friends on dates. Half the challenge was figuring out how I was
going to kiss Tracey Camparis without being spotted in the rearview mirror.”

Pam chuckled. “Do you think Andy's going to try for first base—or more?”

“He seems pretty stuck on Angela.”

“She's a nice girl.”

“That's what they always say.”

Pam raised an eyebrow. “Don't tell me you're worried.”

“Worry is a way of life for a parent. I've worried about that kid ever since the divorce.”

Pam sensed Grant was trying to tell her something. “Want to talk about it?”

He leaned back against the cushion and expelled a deep breath. “Shelley has never given me a chance. And the way the custody arrangement turned out, well…” He shrugged. “When Andy was twelve, I sent a round-trip plane ticket so he could come here for the summer, but she had this big excuse that she'd already enrolled him in camp. I don't know whether she'd actually signed him up or not. Unfortunately, that was not an isolated instance. Another summer she claimed he needed tutoring in reading. It was as if she didn't want Andy doing anything with me. At least, until now.”

It was hard for Pam to believe Grant would have married a woman like Shelley in the first place. “Was she always like this?”

He shook his head dazedly. “Not at the beginning. Hell, we were just a couple of lovesick kids who didn't have a clue about life. We were struggling on my teaching salary, then Andy came along. Pretty soon I realized I'd never be able to give her what she wanted.” He cleared his throat. “Material things are important to her.”

She couldn't bear it. He must think Shelley was another person for whom he didn't “measure up.” Pam returned to the subject of Andy. “You think she's been using him as a weapon to get back at you?”

“Get back at me for what? Being a coach? Making a living? Caring about my son?”

Grant's pain was evident. “How much do you think Andy suspects?”

“Who knows? It's not like I want to turn him against his mother. But I get tired of being the bad guy.”

“Can you tell him that?”

“What? And play the same game Shelley does?”

“Surely, without trashing his mother, you can help him realize how much you've missed being with him.”

He put his feet up on the coffee table. “Maybe. But the timing has to be just right.”

“Don't you think things between the two of you are going better lately?”

“I do.” He turned to face her. “That's why I'm afraid of blowing it.” He picked up the remote. “Mind if we watch the news?”

Knowing he'd signaled “end of discussion,” she shook her head, then turned back to the sophomore journals she'd been grading when he came in. Such love, and yet his hands had been tied, not just by the courts but by a woman who sounded shallow and vindictive.

It seemed at the same time both inconceivable and comfortable that they should be sitting here waiting for their child to return from his first dance.

Like any pair of concerned parents.

 

A
NDY ROLLED OUT OF BED
, aware his stomach was grumbling like mad. The house smelled like pancakes and, man, was he hungry. They'd had all this food at
the dance, but he'd been too nervous to eat much. What if he spilled punch on Angie's dress? Or got spinach dip stuck in his teeth? Or developed onion breath?

He ran a hand through his rack-hair, remembering Angie in her pretty blue dress. It was strapless and fit her like a glove and was made out of this shiny stuff. When he'd first seen her, he'd panicked. What if he got a boner? But he hadn't. Not then, anyway.

Grinning, he pulled on a pair of shorts and struggled into a T-shirt. Yeah, later, in the very back seat of old man Kennedy's van, she'd let him kiss her, and the neat thing was, he forgot all about her braces. Her skin felt warm and soft when he put his arms around her, and when she made this little moaning sound, well, all he could say was he was glad for the dark so she couldn't see him standing at attention.

He didn't know what falling in love was like, but he hoped it was something like this. Angie made him feel like a real stud. He'd call her this afternoon. See if they could meet at the park, maybe. Unless his dad was going to take him driving. When he had his own car, it would be so cool. He and Angie could go tooling around and—

“Andy? Breakfast.” Pam wasn't just a good teacher, she was a dynamite cook. He hoped she had blueberry syrup for the pancakes.

When he got to the kitchen, his father was already eating. “How're you doing, sport?”

“Great.”

“Did you have a good time?” Pam asked as she dished up his serving.

Jeez, he felt like he was in a Disney movie. Wouldn't they be surprised if he told them exactly what a good
time he had had? How hot he was for Angie? “Yeah. The band was cool.”

He straddled his chair and was reaching for the syrup bottle when suddenly a plate clattered to the floor. He turned to see china and pancake and sausage all over the place and Pam doubled over, clutching her stomach.

Before he could react, his dad had leaped to his feet and was helping Pam to a chair. “Pam, what is it? Are you all right?”

Her face was pale and big tears stood in her eyes. “Oh, Grant. I—I think something's wrong with the baby.” Then she grimaced again. “Call the doctor.”

Doctor? Andy couldn't make sense of what was happening. What were they talking— Suddenly he knew, and bile replaced the void where his appetite had been. He faced them, his face turning fire-red. “Baby?” he croaked. “What baby?”

“W
HAT'S WRONG
?”
Grant was frantic.

“I'm not sure. Just this sudden sharp pain.” Pam twisted in the chair, her expression anguished. “I'd been having these little twinges all morning, but this one was…different.”

Cursing the fact he hadn't yet memorized Dr. Ellis's number, Grant grabbed the phone and tore open the directory, his finger racing down the listing for physicians. There. Once he managed to dial, he looked up and simultaneously became aware of two things— Pam's pained expression and the stunned, hostile look on his son's face.

He got an answering service. The cool, detached voice of the operator infuriated him. Damn it, this was an emergency, not some routine medical question. Tersely he explained the situation, listened briefly, then hung up and addressed Pam. “They'll have Dr. Ellis phone soon. Luckily, she's on call this weekend.” He knelt beside his wife. “Can you go into more detail?”

She nodded almost imperceptibly toward Andy. “Later,” she whispered.

“Don't mind me,” Andy said sarcastically. “Were you ever planning to tell me, Dad?”

“Not now, Andy, please.” Grant, torn between his immediate concern for Pam and the obvious crisis with his son, felt his composure slipping. “Go to your room.
I'll be up after the doctor calls and we figure out what's going on.”

Pam lifted her head. “Andy, believe me, we didn't want you to find out this way. We were waiting until later to tell you, just in case something like this—” she struggled to go on, her voice breaking “—happened.”

God, was she having a miscarriage?

Andy remained frozen, then finally shrugged, deliberately avoiding looking at Grant. “Whatever.” Anger and concern flitted across his face. Finally he turned to Pam. “I hope you'll be all right” Then, in a strangled voice, he added, “And the baby, too.”

Grant struggled to his feet. “Son?”

“Forget it, okay?” Then Andy rushed from the room. The only sound registering with Grant was that of feet taking the steps two at a time followed by the shuddering explosion of a bedroom door slamming.

“Oh, Grant, I'm so sorry.” Pam's eyes were full of tears.

“Sorry?” He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You don't have anything to be sorry for.”

“Just when you and Andy were starting to get close—now this.”

“Well, he'll just have to grow up.”

She placed a gentle finger on his lips. “Shh. None of this is his fault.”

“We're not talking ‘fault' here. When we made our commitment, we knew it wouldn't be easy.” He leaned over and placed his palm on her stomach. “But this? Oh, God, it has to be all right.”

Gently Pam placed her hand over his and he closed his eyes, praying for the baby to be okay. Then she got to her feet. “I—I think I better check to see if there's any bleeding.”

Bleeding? That could be bad.

After she disappeared into the bathroom, he stared at the phone, willing it to ring. Pam had to be terrified.

But maybe no more frightened than he was. He hadn't admitted it to himself before, but he'd been counting on this baby as a reason for them to stay together. Beyond their agreement.

Forever.

 

A
NDY SOCKED A FIST
into his pillow. Why did everybody always treat him like a little kid? His dad should have told him. A brother or sister, for cripe's sake. Great. Some little snot-nosed rug-rat he'd never get to know anyway. Now the old man would have the basketball star he'd always wanted. Andy could see it all clear as day. His dad would prob'ly give the kid a basketball when he was two years old and drill him all the time, coach his Little League team, take him to Mavericks games—all kinds of shit like that.

He paced around his room. A baby. You didn't have to be a genius to know they were a hell of a lot cuter than a dorky teenager.

Ha! Just when he'd begun to think his old man might be kind of okay. At least he hadn't embarrassed him driving his friends to the dance. And he'd let him try parallel parking.

But now he and Pam would be all goo-goo over some squalling brat.

They'd forget about him.

Screw it! He bounded down the stairs, ran past Pam and his dad, pausing only to grab up a cold pancake, and made it to the garage before his father could come after him. He vaulted onto the bike and pedaled like
crazy down the street. So what if he hadn't told them where he was going. What did they care anyway?

God, why was he crying? He swiped at his eyes, hoping like hell no one had seen.

He wanted them to care. For a while he'd thought Pam did. And lately, maybe even his dad.

But now? How did a guy compete with a baby?

 

T
HE MINUTE SHE HEARD
Belinda Ellis's voice, Pam sagged against Grant in relief. Shakily she gripped the phone and answered the doctor's questions. “No, no bleeding. Yet. Do I need to come to the hospital?”

“That's not indicated. Usually cramping at this stage is mild, but occasionally a mother will experience more pronounced discomfort. This is not unusual, Pam, and the fact you've had no bleeding is a big plus. Probably you're experiencing an anomaly, but I'd like to see you in the office tomorrow to be sure. Call my receptionist for an appointment. Any other questions?”

Pam knew the next twenty-four hours would creep by, but she appreciated the doctor's calm, methodical approach. “No. Thank you, Dr. Ellis.”

“Well?” Grant's eyes were murky with concern.

“I'm supposed to take it easy and see her tomorrow.”

“Are you going to be all right?”

She leaned her head against his chest. “I hope so,” she said in a small, quivering voice. “Oh, Grant, I don't want to lose this baby.”

She felt his hands tighten on her arms. “Of course you don't,” he said, his voice sounding as ragged as hers felt.

She took a deep breath, then stood back. “What about Andy?”

“I don't know what the hell's the matter with the kid, racing out of here like that.”

“Go find him.”

“I won't leave you.”

“I'll be fine. I promise.” She sank into the closest chair.

“He'll come back eventually. I'll talk to him then.”

“Are you avoiding him?”

Grant frowned. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I think you feel guilty that we hadn't already told him about the baby.”

“I—I didn't have a clue how he'd take it.”

“I know. It seemed easier to let him get used to the idea of us before we laid that on him.”

“Did we make a mistake, Pam?”

He looked so distraught she'd have stood and hugged him if she hadn't felt so weary. “Maybe. We didn't mean to hurt him.”

“Where do you think he went?”

She shook her head. “Where he always does, I suppose. Riding around. Hanging out with the neighborhood kids.” She paused. “You know, maybe it's best to let him be. He may need some time to himself.”

“When he comes home, I'll talk to him.”

“Or both of us could.” Pam couldn't think clearly. Andy needed reassurance, but it wouldn't be fair to delude him into thinking theirs was a forever-after family.

Grant ran a hand through his hair. “Both of us. Yeah.” He hesitated, then hunkered beside Pam's chair. “There's one other thing.”

“What's that?”

“Now that Andy knows, we'll have to tell other people. Your dad. My parents. The folks at school. Given
his reaction, it's not fair to expect him to keep the news to himself.”

She felt old beyond her years. Where would this charade end? How? She nodded, her mind blank. “You're right. After I see Dr. Ellis, though.”

He clasped her cold hands. “Okay.” His eyes held hers for a long moment. Then he stood. “C'mon, now. Let me get you settled in bed.”

He led her down the hall and into the bedroom, where he sat her down, slipped off her shoes, then tucked a lightweight blanket around her. Before he left the room, he said something that filled her heart, yet made her tremble with self-reproach.

“I care about this baby, too, you know.”

Then he quietly shut the door.

 

A
NDY KNEW IT WAS COMING
. The lecture. He'd always thought playing basketball could cure any problem, but even after beating the butts off the other pickup team, he still felt crummy. Drenched in sweat, he watched the guys heading home from the court for supper, knowing that sooner or later he'd have to face the music.

Finally he straddled his bike and rode slowly through the streets, wishing he were like the little kids he saw along the way riding trikes and playing in sandboxes. They had it made. No worries at all.

All afternoon just when he thought he'd forgotten, the truth would stun him. A baby. He knew he was supposed to be happy, but, jeez Louise, it felt weird. He liked Pam okay and he'd always heard women had this biological clock thing. Maybe that was it.

But how could his dad do this? He was too old to start all over again. Wasn't he?

He dismounted and walked up the driveway, set the
kickstand and left the bike in the garage. He'd hardly opened the back door to the house when, sure enough, there stood his father, hands on his hips, this big frown on his face. “Son, we need to talk. Now.” He nodded in the direction of the living room. “In there.”

Ooh, boy. Could it get any worse?

 

F
ROM HER POSITION
stretched out on the sofa, Pam observed the two males—Grant, righteously indignant, and Andy, long-suffering and mutinous. How had a simple living arrangement become an emotional Waterloo?

“Have a seat, Andy,” Grant said, gesturing to one end of the sofa. He himself pulled up a desk chair. Andy sat stiffly, arms folded across his chest, hands tucked in his armpits. “Where have you been all day?”

“Around.”

“I thought we had an understanding. You agreed to tell us where you're going when you leave the house.”

“That was before,” Andy mumbled.

“Before what?” Grant's voice sounded self-consciously controlled.

“Before you left me out of the loop.”

Grant exhaled. “The baby.”

Andy feigned an incredulous expression. “Duh.”

Pam couldn't stand it. “We should have told you, Andy. I'm sorry.”

“Was it some big state secret?”

“We were waiting—” Grant began.

Not knowing how he intended to finish his sentence, Pam interrupted. “To be sure I wouldn't miscarry.”

For the first time, Andy looked directly at her. “What did the doctor say?”

“She's cautiously optimistic.”

He grunted.

Pam continued. “Believe me, we didn't want you to find out like that. You must've been shocked.”

“Uh, ye-ah,” he said, scorn dripping from his lips.

“But that doesn't excuse your bolting out of here without a word,” Grant said.

“I was supposed to stick around and take it like a ‘big boy,' is that it?” Andy glared at his father.

“That would've been nice.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“It's not a matter of disappointment. Look, we've all got to get along here. Running out on problems doesn't solve anything. Anyway, a baby is hardly a problem.”

Andy snorted. “Not for you.”

Pam couldn't stand the pain she heard in his voice. “Oh, Andy, having a baby doesn't mean we'll love you any less.”

Andy faced her again, the pure need in his eyes betraying the smirk on his lips. “Sure,” he said.

“Pam's right. A baby doesn't change that.”

“Is that all?” Andy stood. “Can I go now?”

“I love you, son.”

Andy merely shrugged and walked from the room.

Pam squirmed. They hadn't reached him. He was neither reading the misery in his father's eyes nor acknowledging the heartbreak in his voice. She got to her feet and laid a hand on Grant's shoulder. “Let me talk to him.”

He looked up, his face ravaged. “You can't do any worse than I did.”

She took her time going up the stairs, searching for the words that might somehow get through to Andy. She rapped lightly on his door.

“Go away.”

“It's Pam.”

Andy opened the door, his face a mask of indifference. “Sorry. I thought you were Dad.” He slumped against the doorjamb, his eyes following her as she entered his room, which smelled faintly of corn chips and dirty socks.

She gestured to the bed, where Viola lay curled in a ball sound asleep. “Mind if I sit?”

He didn't move. “Go ahead.”

She shoved aside a couple of textbooks and lowered herself beside Viola. “Andy, why are you so determined to take on the world?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“You're a pretty nifty kid, if you'd only believe it. But it seems to me you're fighting all of us—your dad, me, the kids at school, your mother, and who knows who else. Why?”

He gave another of his who-gives-a-darn shrugs.

“People are reaching out to you all the time. Let them in. Take your dad, for instance. He's tried harder than a lot of men would to keep in touch with you, even though you were halfway across the country. From what I can tell, he's missed you terribly. For instance, he told me how disappointed he was that summer you went to camp instead of coming here.”

Andy's body tensed and his eyes zeroed in on hers. “What summer?”

Pam had gone too far, but there was no backing off. “When you were twelve. You didn't know?”

He shook his head and she continued. “He'd already bought your airplane ticket.”

“It's news to me.”

“I think quite a few of the ways your dad's been trying to be a good father might be news to you. But
that's between you and him. Right now, what I want to say is this. Grant is a good man. Even though he may care for this new baby, that doesn't mean he'll stop loving you. He will never do that. You mean the world to him.”