His Baby (7 page)

Mary confessed she adored him, he was a real peach and Robin
had been a fool to let him go.

Diana confessed nothing but agreed Zack was behaving exactly
as promised in their agreement about Lark.

They finally decided to go to the museum that Saturday a
month later when Mrs. Hampton reminded them on their walk back from Nellie's. She
had declared she was too tired to walk around the museum, but this was the
weekend they were open and she really did want the two of them to see those
pictures. Diana couldn't fault the logic.

An alert, white-haired cheery little lady met them at the
door of the Whitney Museum of Local History, housed in a tall Victorian house
with a sprawling, more modern addition along the back. Zack carried the
stroller up the few steps to a wide bare porch while Diana opened the heavy
wooden door. She admired the stained glass set into the upper half of the door
and the matching glass along both sides. Their greeter noticed Diana's interest
and commented on it, then continued speaking as she led them to a small desk at
one side of the square entrance hall.

"Mrs. Hampton called to say you were coming," she
chirped. "How wonderful. It's so nice when young families decide to take
an interest in Whitney history. I'm Mrs. Arthur," she said. "And you
are?"

Zack smiled back, offered his hand. "I'm Zack White. This
is my daughter Lark, and Lark's aunt, Diana Stonehouse."

The woman looked startled for a moment, then reached out to
shake Zack's hand. Diana wondered if she had thought them husband and wife. Of
course she had, Diana corrected herself. She pushed the thought away.

"Now are you a Zacharius?" Mrs. Arthur was asking
Zack in a confidential tone, "or one of those modernizations?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said politely, "I'm a
Zacharius."

"What a wonderful old name," she said, "just
wonderful. Of course I know the Stonehouse name. Your grandmother, young lady,
was quite active in the Historical Society when she was much younger."

"I didn't know that," Diana said.

"We have a diary kept by your great-great-grandmother,
you know, which your grandmother donated."

"I didn't know that," she murmured.

"Mrs. Hampton said you have some pictures of her
house," Zack interjected.

"Yes, I was getting those out for you just now, come on
in. Can I trust you to be careful with that stroller?" she asked Zack. "Because
if you're not sure you can manage it, I would prefer you carry the baby, and of
course, please don't let her touch anything."

They gave their agreement, signed in, paid the entrance fee
and started looking at the items set up in the living room of the restored
house. After asking Zack where the White family came from and where they were
now located, Mrs. Arthur disappeared into the back to get the pictures out of
the files.

In the second room of the museum, once a dining room, Diana
guessed, there was a collection of china and silver displayed in a number of
breakfront cabinets along the wall. There were lovely plates and cups but their
significance seemed to be their former ownership. Behind various pieces were
pictures of the homes or businesses they had once been used in.

"Diana?" Zack said, breaking their companionable
silence.

She turned to look at him. He was stopped, one hand on the
stroller which held a dozing baby.

"What's up, Zack?" she asked.

"Do you trust me yet?" he asked. Two young girls
came into the dining room and began to exclaim over some silver baby cups. "Why?"
Diana asked.

He sighed, then reached over to check a door knob. There was
a small porch off the dining room. He opened the door and pushed the stroller
outside. She followed him out onto the shaded, private porch.

"I guess the simple answer is no, you still don't trust
me," he answered from his new position, leaning on the porch railing. On
this porch there were chairs and a small round metal table. Diana chose one of
the chairs and sat down, thinking.

"What does that mean?" she asked him finally.

"I have a problem," he said reluctantly.

She hoped he didn't see the fear she felt, like the clench
of a hand in her midriff. What could possibly be wrong? They had been getting
along fine. "What's your problem, Zack?"

"My father. Isn't my father always the problem?" He
smiled faintly.

"What problem do you have with your father?" she
asked carefully.

"He wants to see Lark. Meet her. But he's still angry
about what happened the last time he came down, so we wants me to bring Lark up
to his place for the weekend."

"What happened was a direct response to his behavior. Not
a chance," she said automatically, then, noting his crestfallen
expression, she clarified her position. "That has less to do with you than
it does with your father," she said.

"He behaved very badly," he agreed. "Now he's
asking for something which is ultimately very reasonable, to meet Lark. "

"When? Does he want to see her, I mean?"

"Every week he tells me he wants to see her the next
weekend. So the answer is whenever I can arrange it, I suppose."

"I don't want you to take her away from here," she
said.
"Would it be all right for him to come down here and stay?"

"I don't know," she said, sighing. The secret was,
she thought she was ready for this, but she wasn't. It was all right when Zack came
here, but somehow his father was better as a mythic figure, one who'd been
chased away.

"Diana, he's Lark's grandfather."

Yes, she thought, and he has a lot of money and if he
decides he wants Lark with him, will I be able to fight him?

"He's a bully, Zack."

"I know. And on principle, you want to stand up to him.
But maybe he's a bully because people don't stand up to him. I certainly
haven't, until recently."

"You've been standing up to him?" she asked. This
was more interesting than discussing taking Lark away.

"About Lark, yes, and about other business at
work."

"What brought this on?" she asked, aware of the
curiosity in her voice.

"I guess I just started seeing my life
differently." He gestured down at the stroller.

"Because of Lark?" she asked to confirm his
gesture.

"Because of Lark, but also because of you."

"Me?" she started to laugh, but was stopped by the
look on his face.
"You're a funny combination, Diana, fierce yet yielding."

"I'm not sure I like that description." She
pressed her back into the back of the chair, feeling uncertain about the
intense look in his eyes.

"Ferocity," he said. "You fight for someone
you love, instinctively, without even considering the consequences. You did
what you had to do to keep Carl and Robin with you, to take care of them, to
take care of Robin. You defended Robin when you thought I was attacking her. You're
protecting Lark from any possibility I can take her away from you. You wouldn't
even let my father near when he acted belligerently."
"Okay," she said tentatively.

"Surrender," he went on. "You don't push Carl
and Mary, even though I know you want to nag both of them all the time, yes,
you do, I see it in your face. You don't complain about your life, although a
lot of people I know would never be done complaining if they had your life. You
took care of your parents and your grandmother and your brother and your sister
and now Lark. You don't seem to mind at all. You let me see her, even take over
your life and you don't waste any time fighting."

Put that way, she wondered if she had made a mistake,
letting the relationship between him and Lark evolve. "Maybe I
should," she said.

"But I relax with you," he said, "because if
you don't like something, I know you'll speak up."

"Well, once we got the ground rules straight you
haven't been unreasonable," she offered. He had made things between them
easy. He had bonded with Lark, certainly.

"Perhaps I have been. It's funny though. I see my
parents so clearly since I met you. They pushed all the time. They always told
me what to do, what was right and what was wrong, how to behave, what I was
supposed to wear, how to think, what to study, who to love. So I just cruised
along, doing what they expected of me. Life wasn't that hard. I've done okay. Gotten
good grades in school, made money, bought things I wanted, not had to work too
hard." He took a deep breath. "Since I met you, though, I feel like
I've woken up. Life isn't easy with you."
"Well, thanks," she said, not sure what he was trying to say.

"No, that isn't bad. You haven't made things easy,
you've set limits, but within those limits, you've given me absolute freedom. I've
had a chance to get to know Lark and you. I have had to think about what my
future is going to be. I've had to rearrange my life, so that I can be here
every weekend. But it's interesting. I'm surprised at all the choices I make. I'm
surprised how much fun it is to have Lark around."

"Even the dirty diapers?"

"Yes, even those. Look, I know things won't always work
perfectly. But it’s as though it was meant to be."

"But having Lark was an accident wasn't it?" she
asked, then held her breath. She had thought about that a few times. How could
he not have known about Lark, otherwise, unless her conception was an accident?
He didn't act like a man who had walked away from a woman he knew was pregnant.

"I'll say. I thought we were covered. Robin told me not
to worry, but I guess nothing is one hundred percent effective. And it only
takes one time," he added.

She started to say something, then stopped. "Wait a
minute, are you saying that you only slept with Robin once?"

"No. I didn't sleep with her often, though. I told you,
she wasn't very interested and I didn't want to push. Too much." She felt
the heat rise in her cheeks. Suddenly the diversion from talking about Lark was
more upsetting that talking about Lark. He was staring across the museum lawn.

"So what are we going to do about your father?"
she asked him. He turned back to look at her.

"Why don't you scome up for a weekend?" he asked,
"Bring Lark. Have you ever been to Chicago?"

She shook her head, no. She'd driven Robin to college and
driven home by herself, but that was all. Other than those few trips, she
thought, she hadn't been more than 30 miles from home. She felt small, somehow,
and provincial, a country mouse. It was too much, going to Chicago.

"I don't know if I can get the time off work," she
said, protesting.
I don't want to
was what she wanted to say.

"Don't you get a vacation?"

"Yes," she answered reluctantly. He was facing her
now, squared off against her.

"Have you used up all your vacation time?" he
pressed.

"No." She didn't want to say anymore. She didn't
want to argue with him. She just didn't want to go.
"Look, even office managers get vacation. Ask," he said. "See
which weekend is good for them, then let me know. I'll drive down and get you,
drive you back. We'll try to treat it a little like a vacation."

"Look, this isn't a vacation. It's a visit for Lark to
her grandparents." She felt manipulated all of a sudden. How could she say
no to him? He wasn't taking no for an answer.

"Then just let me take her. I'll bring her back," he
said smoothly.

"No!" she protested.

"I guess you don't trust me."

"It's not just a matter of trust. Not really."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't want to be apart from Lark." I'm afraid,
she thought. I don't want to be that far from Carl and Mary and the town and
all my familiar landmarks and I don't want Lark to be that far away either.

"The way I see it, you have two choices," he said.
"Bring Lark to Chicago or send her away with me."

"No," she said, "there's a third choice. I'll
drive to Chicago on my own. With Lark, I mean."

"It's a long drive," he said.

"I drove Robin to college and back alone."

"I don't like the idea of you on the road by yourself
all that time."
"I'll be fine," she said. Somehow, it seemed better to drive herself.
She’d be more in control. She could leave at any time, for one thing, and she
would know where she was. That was it, she decided, she would drive herself.

"All right," he said.

The door from the dining room opened slowly.

"Everything okay out here?" Mrs. Arthur said.

"Yes, of course, thanks," Zack said automatically.
"We just wanted to give Lark a little break."

"Was she crying?"
"Fussing," he lied blandly. "We didn't want to disturb
anyone."

"Well, now that she's asleep, do you want to come in
and see the pictures?" Mrs. Arthur asked.

"Yes, of course, that would be wonderful," Diana
interjected, speaking up before Zack could say anything. She felt unsure for a
moment, uncertain what he would say.

They exchanged glances while Mrs. Arthur turned a little in
the doorway. Diana held the door open for Zack while he wheeled the stroller
back inside.

"I'm glad we came to an agreement," he said
silkily, as he passed her.

She followed him in, lips pressed together, uncertain what to
say about this agreement.

Diana had thought she was prepared for the house to be
imposing, but when she pulled into the driveway of what she thought was the
right address, she almost kept going. It was too big. It looked the home of
someone she would never know, a house that might appear on television or in
some architectural magazine spread. When she was about to follow the driveway
out, she saw Zack's car, pulled to the side further along the curve. Diana
pulled up next to his car and turned off the ignition.

The car's motor ticked loudly in the sudden silence. Outside
her windshield, a late fall breeze tossed the trees around. The car was warm,
though, and she had brought plenty of warm clothing.

"Well," she spoke aloud, telling Lark, "what
else would you expect for Sam White, the stationary king of the Midwest?" Lark
didn't answer. Diana suspected she was asleep. The house was set back from the
road a little, surrounded by brilliantly colored trees and fading grass. Sam
and Beth White lived on a lot that was supposed to front on Lake Michigan, but
from here the visitor could see only the house and surrounding trees.

The house itself was covered in white shingles and trimmed
with black shutters and moldings. The design gave the impression of a simple
colonial house, but had a semicircular front porch whose roof was held up with
four two story columns. The front of the house was set off by the clearing
created by the driveway and a trimmed circle. There was a sense of privacy and
almost a feeling of coziness, but Diana knew that the place had seventeen rooms.
Zack hadn't let go of that little bit of information until she used her best
commanding voice on him. Carl had backed up out of the kitchen during that
conversation and apparently had kept Mary in the living room the whole time.

Carl and Mary thought she was slightly mad to drive here
alone, but Carl didn't want to leave Mary and Diana didn't want Carl to leave
Mary, and Mary didn't want to leave home. She was on the downward slope of this
pregnancy, as Mary described it, and apparently had developed a serious nesting
instinct.

Diana's boss had stared at her for a long couple of minutes
when she asked for the time off, then just nodded and asked her when she wanted
to go.

"Whenever it's convenient," she’d said, but he had
only looked up at her over his half glasses for another long silence.

"Just come back, Diana."

"Of course I'm coming back," she said, "I'm
only taking Lark to visit her grandparents."

He hadn't even bothered to look up that time, just waved her
on.

She had left Whitney midmorning and stopped for lunch along
the highway, then skirted Chicago on the interstate, passing the airport that
way. It all felt both strange and normal. After all, Whitney got all the
Chicago television stations, but somehow the buildings looked different without
that little frame around the pictures, she decided.

Zack had told her he was going to stay at his parents' house
this weekend rather than leave her alone with them. He came out of the house
now, dressed in his impeccable best.

"How was the drive?" he asked politely, waiting
for her to get out of the car. He glanced in the back seat, checking on Lark. Diana
unlocked the back door of the car but decided she would wait a minute before
getting Lark out. The air was definitely a little chilly. She brushed at her
corduroy pants and resettled the hem of her sweater.

"We did fine. Lark's had a wonderful nap, so she'll be
happy to see everyone."

"Dad's still at the office. Mother is fussing in the
kitchen. I told her you were planning to eat before you got here, but she just
wants to be sure there's something to eat."

"I'm really not hungry," Diana said, aware of
flutters of nerves in her stomach. "Besides, I don't want to put her to
any trouble."

"I know. She's nervous too."

"Whatever for?" Diana looked at him, sure he was
teasing.

"She's heard how you're such a dragon. From Dad. Of
course I haven't tried to correct the impression. Besides, Harriet is the cook.
She'll have done all the work," he said, shrugging.

"Zack!" she chided. This from a man who seemed to
wash all the dirty dishes he ever encountered, she thought. He just flashed a
smile at her, then turned to glance at the house. As if on cue, a young woman
in jeans and a red and white checked long-sleeved shirt was coming down the
driveway towards the car. She had long, silvery blonde hair pulled back into a
French braid that reached the middle of her back.

"Diana Stonehouse, this is Jennifer. She's Mother's
favorite, our housekeeper." Jennifer smiled politely.

"Hi, Jennifer," Diana said, extending her hand to
the neat young woman.

"Hello, Ms. Stonehouse. Is your luggage in the trunk? I
can go ahead and take it up." Jennifer reached her hand out for the keys. Diana
just stared at her for a minute. Zack plucked the keys from her hand and handed
them to Jennifer, who returned them to Zack when she'd taken out the two
suitcases. Glancing into the back seat, Jennifer suggested that she would lock
up the car when she'd carried everything else inside.

"I can carry my own suitcases," Diana protested
quietly. She pushed a wayward lock of her hair past her ear.

"It's her job," Zack said, equally quiet. "Let
her do it, all right? She'll come back for the baby's carry chair and the rest
of the stuff on the back seat." He touched her forearm lightly. She caught
her breath with surprise, although he stepped away right away. "You look
great. Mom will want to show you up to your room -- there's a crib in there for
Lark -- and you'll have time to freshen up. Now, I'll carry Lark and you bring
your purse and Lark's bag." He gestured to the diaper bag, which was
tucked between the front and the back seat. She also gathered up the extra
bottle and some other items that had accumulated on the passenger seat, then
followed Zack as he carried Lark into the house.

The entry hall was about the size of her living room. Diana
had the impression of polished wood, sparking crystal lamps, and flowers, lots
and lots of arranged flowers.

"Mother," Zack said, "this is Lark, who’s
just waking up and probably a little shy, and behind me is Diana Stonehouse. Diana,
my mother, Beth White."

"Mrs. White," Diana said formally.

"Oh, please call me Beth," the older woman said. She
was a little taller than Zack, with short, straight dark hair skimming her
shoulders. Beth White wore pants, fine wool ones in a soft gray with a matching
sweater. She was trim, well-groomed, and had a military bearing that made Diana
feel sure she must be slouching by comparison. Diana felt self-conscious about
her relatively casual attire; she was probably mussed from the road. Beth
didn't seem to notice, though, just shook Diana's hand and then turned to
examine the baby.

"She's such a pretty baby, Zack!" the older woman
exclaimed. "Where does she get that gorgeous blonde hair?" Lark
turned her face away from this new woman, tucking herself into the front of her
father's shirt. He put a protective hand on the back of her head and murmured
something encouraging to her.

"Hello, Lark," Beth White went on. "Can you
say hello to Grandmother?" She looked at her son with a grave expression. "I
don't suppose she'll let me hold her." Beth glanced back at Diana.

Zack answered. "Give her a couple of minutes to wake
up," he suggested. "In the meantime, why don't you take Diana up to
her room."

Diana stared at him, realizing that he wasn't planning to
follow them upstairs. "Lark will stay down here with me in the living room.
Right through there, Diana," Zack gestured with his chin. "Come down
when you've had a minute."

She didn't want to do it. She realized she'd barely ever had
Lark out of her sight with Zack, except when he'd taken her upstairs at the
house to put her to bed or to change a diaper, but they’d reached a crossroads.
She had to trust Zack, trust all the assurances he'd made, trust the way he'd
treated her over the past few weeks. She nodded then, and followed Beth White
up a curved set of stairs at one side of the entry hall.

Her room was big and well-appointed and had a view of the
Lake and its own bathroom, but Diana didn't spend long unpacking and freshening
up. She made herself take what seemed to be a long, careful look at the dark
grayish blue waters of Lake Michigan, although she was sure she'd probably not
paused two minutes. Downstairs, she heard Lark cooing and babbling before she
could see her.

The back half of the huge square living room was dominated
with baby paraphernalia and toys, most of it still in boxes. Jennifer was
taking something out of one large box. Diana paused as she crossed the room,
looking for Zack, who was watching her from a corner of a huge, white sectional
couch. The couch was grouped with a number of large, overstuffed chairs around
a low, pale wood coffee table. Beth was sitting on the floor with Lark on her
lap, showing the baby a teddy bear that was about half her size. The toy had a
red bow the size of Lark's head.

"Mother was going to put all this away," Zack said
quietly, "but we've been debating whether to put it in your room or in
Lark's room."

"Lark's room?" she asked tentatively. She took a
breath. She had seen the crib in her room. What was he talking about?

"There's a nursery two doors down from your room."
Zack was watching her carefully. "I told Mother to have Jennifer put the
crib in your room, but that we might consider putting the rest of the things in
Lark's room. What do you think?"

Lark's room?
Diana thought. She felt petty,
small-minded, and trapped. She swallowed hard. "Lark's room," she agreed.

"There's a baby monitor," Beth said, "so if
you put Lark down for a nap in her room, you can keep track of her from your
room. We can set up an extension in the kitchen too, and Harriet can keep track
of the baby as well."

"Great," Diana said softly. She felt as if she
were slowly losing control, of Lark and her life.

"Now look Diana," Beth said, reaching up to show
the teddy bear to her, "this is a baby proof toy. I was very careful to
specify that everything has to be age-appropriate for her. I don't want
anything to happen to this sweet little grandbaby of mine," she said,
dropping a kiss on the top of Lark's head. Diana glanced at Zack, who was
watching the three of them.

Diana took the teddy bear. "It's just beautiful,"
she said. That didn't seem like enough. "Really very beautiful," she
added.

"I've been shopping for weeks," Beth said with a
wistful smile. "I won't always be this way, I promise. But a grandmother
is supposed to spoil her grandchild, right?" she looked up a Diana with a
glance that was half playful, half pleading.

"Of course," Diana said. "Zack gets to be the
bad guy," she said blandly. She settled herself on the couch, at the
opposite end from Zack, and put the teddy bear on her lap, in Lark's usual
place. Beth had picked out a small stuffed otter to show Lark next.

"Not you?" Zack asked. Referring to being the bad
guy of course.

"Not me," Diana said. "I'm tough, but I'm not
a bad guy."

Beth and Lark weren't paying any attention to them.

Diana wanted to stand up and make Zack follow her into
another room, wanted to ask him what exactly was going on, but she knew what he
was trying to do. He was trying to introduce Lark to her grandparents.
At
least I’m here
, she thought, although she was beginning to feel that the
control she had demanded was little more than the ability to be here when
Zack's parents did exactly what they wanted to do anyway.

Sam White didn't show up until just before dinner time. After
all her days of worry and rehearsal, nothing went the way Diana suspected. The
senior White was as tall as she remembered, a big man with a short mane of snow
white hair, now perfectly groomed of course, not blown about the way it had
been when she first met him.

He came into the warm living room with a flurry of chill
wind, striding in unexpectedly from the French doors which opened onto a patio,
walking into the area that had slowly been emptied of baby toys. Diana had been
watching Beth try to teach Lark how to play patty cakes. Lark seemed much more
interested in throwing various toys, especially since Beth never seemed to tire
of going after them.

They all looked up at him when he arrived. He pulled off his
coat, a lined raincoat, and tossed it onto one of the chairs, then put his
briefcase and keys down in front of the chair. He remained standing, though, as
though he were well aware they all had to look up to him that way. There was a
moment, when Sam White greeted her with a curt nod, that Diana expected trouble.
She felt the flurries of anxiety in her midriff, sat up a little straighter in
her chair, looked briefly at Zack for reassurance.

Then, unexpected, the cook, Harriet, came bustling out of
the kitchen and made some comment about hor d'oeuvres. Zack got up from the couch
and suggested his father sit down. Zack went to make him a drink and placed the
small glass next to the platter of food Harriet had placed on the coffee table.
The cook had also removed the coat, briefcase and keys, a detour that looked
practiced.

Zack sat down next to his father on the couch. Diana pressed
herself hard against the soft back of the chair she was in, resisting the urge
to wring her hands. She nearly jumped up and followed Harriet. She wasn't used
to sitting still this long with nothing to do.

Beth shot the two men a worried glance from her spot on the
floor next to Lark in her new carry chair, then reached to pick up the baby
whom she settled in her lap. She leaned so that her back was supported by a
chair. Lark looked over anxiously at Diana, who smiled reassuringly at the baby.