Laura Abbot - You're My Baby

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 trees shaded the yard and a hardy arborvitae hedge obscured the foundation. He pulled in the driveway beside the kitchen door.

“Aha! I knew it. There it is.” She pointed toward the backyard, half of which was devoted to a large concrete patio with a basketball hoop at the far end.

He chuckled. “What’d you expect? This way, when I miss a shot, I’m not visible from the street.”

“You? Miss a shot?” She poked him playfully. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

He ushered her to a chaise longue near the grill and excused himself. When he returned, he carried a glass of lemonade for her and a beer for himself. “I guess you’re off alcohol now?”

“Yes, thanks. That’s thoughtful of you.” She didn’t have the heart to tell him that citrus ate at her stomach lining.

He busied himself at the grill, while she studied the yard. It could do with a feminine touch. No flowers had sprouted here in a long time and the patio furniture was rusty and mismatched. She studied the lawn, trying to visualize a sandbox or a swing set. It was odd that he hadn’t invited her inside. Maybe that would come later.

When, at last, he finished swabbing the chicken pieces with a lemony sauce that smelled wonderful, he pulled up a chair at right angles to her and sat down.

She smiled. “All set?”

“For now. I hope you don’t mind not going out to a restaurant.” He folded his hands, nervously circling his thumbs.

“We can talk better here.”

“That’s what I figured.” He drew himself upright. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking—”

“Me, too.”

“I owe you an apology.”

“What on earth for?”

He placed his hands palms-down on his thighs. “For assuming you would welcome my crazy idea. You must think I’m about as self-centered as they come.”

The lemonade soured in her throat. “Wait. What are you trying to say?”

“This isn’t a business proposition. You need a real family. Not—what do they call it—a marriage of convenience.”

Pam could literally feel the color draining from her face. “Are you reneging?”

He leaned forward, his expression anguished. “I would never do that. It’s just that…I took advantage of your…position.”

“And you don’t think my marrying you would take advantage of yours?”

“Jeez, Pam, I never should have mentioned it. Logically, I suppose, it made sense, but marriage has to be about more than what’s good for Andy, what’s good for the baby. It would need to be about us. Otherwise, we could never pull it off.”

“Are you afraid?”

“Of course I am. Aren’t you?”

“Is that why you’re calling this off?”

His jaw dropped. “Are you saying what I think you are?”

She closed her eyes briefly, then looked straight into his. “I’m saying yes, I’ll marry you.”

“But—”

She swung her legs to the ground to face him. “It can be about us. It can be about two friends who have mutual respect for each other. Love may be an overrated emotion. I can’t speak for you, but I’ve never had much luck with it. Surely we can reach an understanding, somehow compromise to make this work.” She hesitated. “Unless you’ve totally changed your mind.”

“You’re certain about this?”

“My baby needs a name. And I can’t think of a better one than yours. But I do think it would be prudent to put our understanding in writing. Just so we’re clear.”

“You mean some kind of contract?”

“Exactly.”

He took hold of her hands, then rose to his feet, pulling her up, too. He took a deep breath, then said in a husky voice, “I’ll do my best to make this arrangement as comfortable for you as I can.”

They stood motionless, their eyes locked. Pam’s face was flushed with an emotion she couldn’t name. It was beyond gratitude, beyond fear. Finally she broke the spell. “Looks like we have an agreement to formalize and a wedding to plan, Mr. Gilbert.”

PAM AMAZED HIM. Calmly, confidently, she’d agreed to marry him. With a tectonic shift, his plan had lurched from the theoretical to the actual. Detecting the odor of seared meat, he edged toward the grill. “We’ll think better on full stomachs.” Grateful for the excuse to turn his back, he took the chicken pieces off the fire, all the time trying to master his confusing emotions—relief mixed with panic, excitement tempered by anxiety. And fear. Not of the day-to-day stuff—that he could handle. But fear that the unexpected elation welling within him would be short-lived. He’d promised not to hurt her. But, he suddenly realized, he’d given her the power to hurt him, if he let himself care—and it was going to be almost impossible not to.