Having the Cowboy's Baby Page 7
Looking back, Carly suspected that Shannon had felt sorry for her. And in a sense, maybe she’d had reason to. As a child, Carly had been lonely much of the time.
“Braden said you were back in town,” Shannon said, “and that you’d gotten sick and had to quit that show in San Antonio. I hope it isn’t serious.”
It wasn’t, at least not in the way Shannon was implying. But the diagnosis was pretty unsettling, especially when Carly had expected an entirely different future for herself.
“I’m just here for a checkup,” she said.
“That’s good. I know how badly you want to perform. It’s all you used to talk about when you were younger.”
As a child, Carly had taken music and dance lessons, finding that she had a talent that surpassed her mother’s. She’d even gone to an impressive college of performing arts. Yet about the time her mother could have introduced her to the stage and given her a leg up, she’d married David Crowder, a state politician, and retired. Still, Carly had set out to become the country-western star her mother once was.
“I still have that dream,” Carly said. “And I intend to make it happen.”
“I’m sure you will.” Shannon glanced at the elevator. “Well, I’d better go. I need to check on my dad, and I don’t want you to be late for your appointment.”
“Take care,” Carly said. “And please call me if there’s anything I can do.”
“Thanks, honey. I will.”
Then they each turned to go their own way.
Once inside the waiting room, Carly signed in and then took a seat. Thanks to her chat with Shannon, she wasn’t nearly as early as she thought she’d be. Her name was called in just a few minutes.
After a stop at the scale, Carly was taken to an exam room. She didn’t have to wait long for Dr. Selena Connor to enter.
“What seems to be the problem?” the pretty brunette asked.
Carly told her about the fainting spell, the evening bouts of nausea and the positive pregnancy test. “I’m not the kind who would ignore those symptoms for so long, but I had some light periods and I wasn’t nauseous in the mornings.”
“All women are different, and the symptoms can vary. Some aren’t even sick at all.”
“I told myself there were a zillion reasons I couldn’t be pregnant. For one thing, you told me it wasn’t likely. Plus we used protection.” She placed her hand on her stomach, felt the small bulge that she’d blamed on that dumb hormonal imbalance and bloating.
A small part of her—the little girl who’d once played with dollies and dreamed of being a mommy someday—perked up. But she did her best to shake it off.
After witnessing the disaster of her parents’ marriage and divorce, she’d learned not to trust those happy-ever-after urges, and as a result, she’d focused on having a successful career instead.
Still, she’d imagined that she’d have a family someday, an adopted one. But not until her career was going strong.
“I can’t believe this,” Carly said. “And if you check your notes, you’ll see that it wasn’t supposed to happen.”
The doctor didn’t even look at the chart. “Yes, I remember saying it wasn’t likely. But I also told you it wasn’t impossible.”
Carly’s heart thumped in both fear and anticipation. That little girl rose up again, and she wondered what it might be like to have a child grow inside her womb, to feel it move and kick.
But could she do right by her son or daughter? Could she overcome her own limited mothering to become a good and loving one herself?
“Why don’t you lie back and let me examine you,” Dr. Connor said.
Carly complied, stretching out. She stared at the ceiling, afraid to speak, afraid to breathe.
The doctor had hardly palpated Carly’s belly when she said, “Your uterus is definitely enlarged.”
Carly draped a hand across her eyes. “So it’s true. I’m pregnant.”
After further examination, the doctor replied, “About four months, from what I can tell, although we’ll need to do a sonogram to know for sure. I’m running a very tight schedule today, so I’d like to make an appointment for you to come back for that. I’ll also have the nurse provide you with prenatal vitamins and some reading material to answer your questions. In the meantime, you will need some lab work, so we’ll have your blood drawn today, too.”
Carly nodded. “No problem.”
But that wasn’t true. It was a huge problem. One she’d have to figure out how to share with Ian.
Chapter Five
Ian lifted his Stetson to cool his sweat-dampened hair. He glanced down the long, graveled driveway that led to the Leaning R, then wiped his brow. A light breeze had finally kicked up, providing a respite from the heat.
All afternoon, the summer sun had been beating down on him while he was hoeing weeds around the yard. But he kept a steady pace, determined not to let up. To his right, Cheyenne had curled up to sleep on a patch of grass in the shade of a maple tree, exhausted from chasing butterflies.
It hadn’t been difficult to find chores to do that would keep him close to the house while Carly was in town at the doctor’s office. She might have told him that she was feeling much better, but that didn’t keep him from worrying about her and wondering what she’d found out.
He stretched out the kinks in his back. He’d gotten quite a workout from his labor and was just about to call it a day when he finally spotted her pickup heading down the drive. So he leaned on the hoe and waited for her to park.
As she climbed from the cab, he asked, “What did the doctor say?”
She reached across the seat for her purse. “It’s nothing to worry about.” She closed the driver’s door, then tossed him an unconvincing smile.
When she didn’t offer any more than that, he decided to prod her a bit.
“Are you pregnant?” he asked, focusing on her eyes instead of allowing his gaze to drop to her waistline.
She flushed, then glanced at her feet for a moment. When she looked back at him, she said, “I told you that wasn’t likely. Remember?”
Yes, she’d mentioned that on Saturday night. Is that what the doctor had told her again today?
The breeze blew a strand of hair across her face, and she swiped it away.
“I’ll tell you what,” she said. “Give me time to make a phone call, whip up a salad and make a pot of spaghetti. Then come to the house and have dinner with me. I’ll give you more details about my visit to the doctor then.”
So what was that supposed to mean? That her diagnosis was long and complex?
Ian’s mind swirled with all the possibilities, none of which were the least bit comforting.
“Okay,” he said. “Spaghetti sounds good. How much time do you need? An hour?”
“Sure. That works.” Then she headed for the back door.
As he watched her go, he continued to lean on the hoe. Her voice and tone had sounded normal. Yet her shoulders slumped.
In defeat? In worry?
Damn. He didn’t like waiting. Didn’t like stressing about what she might say.
Was she going to drop a bomb about her health? Or was she trying to concoct a believable story meant to not worry him, to not involve him?
Carly had never lied or deceived him before.
So why was he so skeptical now?
* * *
Carly had wanted to lie to Ian. And she’d nearly done so. Well, not outright. But the noncommittal response she’d given him was just as dishonest as if she’d come right out and told him she wasn’t pregnant. And for that reason, she felt as guilty as sin.
But Dr. Connor had verified her positive test results, which had nearly blown her away. The news had her torn between feeling completely unbalanced and utterly delighted.
She entered the kitchen, taking time to run her gaze over the scarred but familiar oak table and chairs, where she used to tell Granny her deepest troubles and secrets. Then she scanned the various plaques, pictures and cross-stitch hangings with upbeat sayings that adorned the walls.
This room had always been a haven for her. She only wished her great-grandma was still here to tell her everything would be fine, that things would work out just the way they were supposed to.
Why couldn’t she grasp that reassuring thought now?
She set her purse on the countertop next to the old-style, wall-mounted telephone.
Braden had called her while she’d been at the clinic and had her cell turned off. She’d tried to return his call on the drive back to the ranch, but he hadn’t been free to talk to her then. He did, however, say that their brother Jason had called him from Mexico. So she was eager to hear the latest news.
Last month, Braden uncovered the fact that their dad had been searching for a woman named Camilla Cruz, whose father had once been the foreman on the Leaning R. Camilla was an artist who’d died of breast cancer two years ago. No one knew much about her—or why she didn’t go by her father’s last name of Montoya. But they suspected she’d once been married.
Their father had gone so far as to hire a private investigator to help him find her. He had to have learned that Camilla had passed away, so Carly and her brothers couldn’t understand why he’d continued to search for some of Camilla’s shirttail relatives.
Then, a couple weeks ago, they’d had a small breakthrough. Jason had found some of her paintings and other artwork in a storage shed their father had rented, indicating their dad had gotten involved in an art import business of some kind. He also discovered some private letters that revealed their father and Camilla had been romantically involved at one time.
Braden had gone to Mexico to follow a lead, and right before he had to return home because of his grandfather’s illness, he’d learned that Camilla had two children—a boy and a girl who’d been placed in an orphanage.
Carly wondered if the kids could be their father’s, given his past, but it was unlikely. He’d never kept his relationships secret, and since neither of her brothers had a clue that he’d been involved with the artist, they suspected the whole thing must have blown over before it had a chance to take off.
During a family meeting, Carly and her brothers had agreed that the search for those kids should continue. They believed that their father, who’d been a big supporter of the Boys Club and various organizations that benefitted children, had probably been looking for Camilla’s son and daughter so he could rescue them and find them a decent home.
Jason and his new bride had taken up the search at that point. In the meantime, Braden was trying to find someone who might be willing to adopt Camilla’s children here in the States.
Carly blew out a sigh. She hoped Jason and Juliana would find them. And that they’d make sure the siblings were happy, healthy and safe.
Yet it was her own dilemma, her own burden that weighed her down now. And she felt as if she’d just chugged down a cocktail of surprise, delight and fear.
She was pregnant. With Ian’s baby.
She’d like nothing better than to cling to her secret for a while longer, to allow it to settle over her so she could come up with a game plan. But Ian wasn’t about to let his curiosity rest.
Besides, she’d have to tell him. She was four months along, and soon her baby bump would reveal the truth.
How would the news affect him?
She suspected that he still carried a torch for her. Not that she didn’t care for him, too. The man was everything her father wasn’t—honest, dependable, trustworthy. And Ian would undoubtedly make a good dad.
But what about her? Would she make a good mom?
Unlike her own mother, she would never go on tours and leave her child in the care of a nanny. She’d take the baby on the road with her.
But while she thought of Ian as a go-with-the-flow kind of guy, she had a feeling that he’d have some very strong opinions about that particular plan.
The unexpected news, the unsettling news, was sure to complicate her life.
And what about Ian? She suspected he would want to be a part of the baby’s life. But he’d made it clear several times that he was determined to be a rancher.
And he’d be a good one.
Many years ago, Granny had hired Reuben Montoya as the Leaning R foreman, and he’d done a great job. But about three years ago, he’d been called home for a family emergency and returned to his hometown, a small village located somewhere near the coast in Baja California.
Granny had gone through several different foremen but none of them had worked out—nor had they been able to match the job Reuben had done.
Then she’d met Ian at Caroline’s Diner, taken him home and given him a try. From what she’d said several times, Ian had worked out like a charm.
“That boy’s got an inborn skill at ranching,” Granny had said. “And he has a way with sick and injured critters that’s pert near better than any vet I’ve ever seen.”
So it was no surprise that Ian wanted to have his own spread one day. But there lay the biggest hurdle of all. Carly had dreams to reach the sky, and Ian had his boots firmly planted in the Brighton Valley soil.
So how would an unplanned pregnancy fit into either of their lives?
Once Ian learned about the baby, he might try to convince her to stay on the Leaning R and live the humble life of a cowboy’s wife forever. And if Carly agreed to something like that, she feared she’d wither and die.
Okay, so he hadn’t exactly given her reason to believe that he’d actually want to marry her. But it did seem like the kind of thing that noble Ian would offer.
And marriage was out of the question, especially if it meant giving up her dream.
Of course, she wasn’t exactly sure how motherhood would play into her plans for the future. If she was entirely honest, she’d admit she actually could envision herself rocking a baby on the porch, taking a toddler to pick huckleberries in the hills and even baking and decorating sugar cookies from Granny’s recipe box with her little one. But living a life of obscurity, like the one Ian had chosen, wasn’t an option. There was no way she could possibly live both a vision and a dream.
Still unable to plot a course of action, she moved about the kitchen to fix the dinner Ian would soon come to eat, the dinner at which she’d have to tell him what she’d learned today.
She’d just put the pasta into boiling water when the house phone rang. She wiped her hands on the apron she wore and hurried to answer before the caller hung up.
It was Jason.
“Hey,” she said. “How’s it going?”
“Romantically speaking, I’ve never been happier.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” she said. Jason had been a lone wolf all his life—or for as long as she’d known him. So that was good news indeed. “What about Camilla’s kids? Have you located them yet?”
“No, but we’ve learned that they’re seven-year-old twins. After their mother died, they moved in with Reuben, their grandfather, but he passed away last summer. Since that’s about the time Dad hired the private investigator, we think his death may have somehow triggered Dad’s search.”
“So what happened to the kids when their grandfather died?”
“That’s where the orphanage comes in to play. We actually found it, but the kids were only there for a few months. They’ve been staying in the care of a nanny Dad hired.”
“Wow.” The whole story was growing more mysterious. “Where’s the nanny? And what do you know about her?”
“Just her name. We’re going to try to find her ne
xt. I hope it won’t take too long. I really need to head back to the corporate office in Houston soon. Rayburn Energy has an important stockholders’ meeting soon, and as CEO, I should attend.”
“I understand.” Her older brother not only had his own company to run, but he was in charge of their father’s family trust and his corporate holdings, too.
She hoped Jason wouldn’t expect her to take up the search next. She couldn’t speak Spanish, so she’d be lost in Mexico.
No, she’d better stay here on the Leaning R until she figured out her next move.
* * *
After taking a long, hot shower to soak his aching muscles and giving himself a fresh shave, Ian turned Cheyenne out to do her doggy business, then left her in the cabin.
The pup whimpered in complaint, and he paused at the door and spoke to her. “Take it easy, girl. I’ll be back later.”
Cheyenne let out a howl, clearly not understanding that she could trust him to return. But that was something she’d have to learn.
He closed the door, then crossed the yard and arrived at the ranch house, braced to hear what Carly had to say. When he reached the back door, he stood on the porch for a moment, then lifted his hand and knocked.
“Come on in,” she called out.
He made his way through the mudroom and into the kitchen, where the aroma of tomatoes, garlic and Italian spices filled the air.
“Dinner is ready,” Carly said. “All I have to do is put it on the table.”
“It smells great. Can I help?”
“Thanks, but I have everything under control.”
Moments later, they were seated across from each other at Granny’s antique oak table, preparing to eat.
Ian glanced at the large serving of sauce-covered pasta on his plate, his thoughts as tangled as the strands of spaghetti.
“So what’s the deal?” he finally asked.
“Well, I...” Carly sucked in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “I have a confession to make. I wasn’t completely honest with you earlier. It’s just that I’m having trouble believing it myself.”