A Baby For The Deputy. Cathy Mcdavid

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СКАЧАТЬ earn a lot. Mel’s father gave all he had to his daughters, providing a comfortable, if modest, home and the basic necessities. After he won, he’d divided the money equally between the four of them, using his share to pay for his wedding to Dolores and their honeymoon.

      “I almost refused the money,” Mel said.

      Ronnie drew back. “Me, too.”

      “He didn’t tell me that.”

      “Because he wanted us to take the money. And, frankly, we needed it. You couldn’t have bought Doc Palmer’s practice otherwise.”

      “Probably not.”

      Shortly after the elderly veterinarian announced his retirement, he’d approached Mel about buying his practice. She’d had to tell him no at first. Calling him the following month had been a dream come true.

      “And forget Frankie buying that new house,” Ronnie said. “It wouldn’t have happened.”

      “True.”

      Frankie had been desperate to move out of their dad’s place. What new bride wanted to share her home with a stepdaughter and two rambunctious stepgranddaughters? Frankie had used the money from their dad for a down payment on a cute house in town and some new furniture.

      “Mom would be really happy for us.”

      Ronnie sighed contentedly. “She did always call us her fairy princesses.”

      If not for a lack of handsome suitors, Mel thought, she and her sisters were living fairy-tale existences.

      Did Aaron count? Not at the moment. She didn’t let herself imagine “someday” and what the future might hold for them if circumstances changed. Her energies were best focused on making the monthly payments to Doc Palmer and all those pesky necessities like food, clothes, repaying college loans and rent on the house she shared with Ronnie.

      The simple and straightforward arrangement she had with Aaron was enough for both of them. At least, that was what Mel repeatedly told herself. Every time she caught herself falling a little harder for him, she remembered that he wasn’t ready or able to fall for her.

      Her nieces came bounding back from showing off to their mother, balloons bobbing in the air behind them as if filled with jumping beans and not helium. Ronnie warned them to be careful, her tone a decent imitation of Frankie’s. Dolores chatted amiably while putting the finishing touches on the centerpieces.

      Soon, they’d leave for their respective homes to change and freshen up before the party. In Frankie’s case, she’d pack the barbecued beef for transport and arrive early to start warming it.

      Mel stepped forward, intending to gather the balloon supplies, when all at once her stomach lurched and the floor seemed to ripple beneath her feet.

      Convinced she was about to embarrass herself, she muttered, “Be right back,” to Ronnie and speed-walked across the patio to the café’s main building.

      By sheer force of will, she made it to the empty restroom and one of the stalls before losing her lunch. Waiting a few moments to be on the safe side, she slowly rose, the sensation of weakness persisting.

      She felt her forehead. No fever. Or sore throat or runny nose. Other than intermittent nausea, she exhibited no other symptoms of the flu bug.

      What was wrong with her?

      Was it possible...? Could she be...?

      No. She and Aaron had always been careful about using protection. Mel could not be pregnant.

      Nonetheless, she counted backward. How many days since her last period? The answer sent a spear of alarm slicing through her. How had she not realized she was late? She wasn’t that busy.

      Oh, God! Mel sucked in air, unable to catch her breath. Her skin burned as if she did indeed have a fever.

      What would she do if she was pregnant? How would Aaron react? Would he be angry? Disappointed? Blame her? Accuse her of trapping him?

      She stumbled out of the stall toward the row of sinks along the wall. Turning on a spigot, she splashed her face with cool water. It didn’t alleviate the panic building inside her. Staring at her worried reflection in the mirror only worsened things.

      Drying her face with paper towels from the dispenser, she told herself not to cry. There could be any number of reasons she was late and nauseous. Working ridiculous hours, skipping meals and not getting enough sleep, to name a few. Plus, Mel had a history of being irregular. No sense freaking out until she knew for sure.

      With a whoosh, the restroom door flew open and Dolores breezed in. Seeing Mel, she stopped midstep.

      “Are you okay?”

      “I think I have a touch of the flu.”

      “Oh, no. I’d hate for you to miss the party, but maybe you should stay home and get some rest. You look awful.”

      Mel tried to wave off her stepmom’s concern, only to rush to the stall she’d vacated minutes earlier. When she finally emerged, shaky but in one piece, it was to find Dolores waiting, arms crossed and brows raised.

      “How far along are you?”

      Mel’s knees, already wobbly, threatened to give out. “What?”

      “I have three children of my own. I’m very familiar with morning sickness, even when it comes in the afternoon or evening.”

      Mel started to object. Dolores’s kind expression changed her mind. The older woman wasn’t her mother. But she was Mel’s friend and, she hoped, a confidant.

      “Please don’t say anything to anyone. Especially Dad. Until I know for sure.”

      “Then it’s possible?”

      “We’ve been careful.”

      “I was, too. Both the second and third times.” Dolores reached for Mel and gave her a quick but warm hug. “Does the father know?”

      Again, Mel thought of Aaron. How would he take the news? When would be the best time to tell him? “No. Not yet.”

      “Do you love him?”

      Mel had expected Dolores to ask the name of the father. This question left her nearly as shaken as the bout of nausea had.

      Unable to answer, Mel mumbled an excuse and hurried past Dolores. It was one thing to contemplate her changing feelings for Aaron. Another thing altogether to voice them aloud.

      * * *

      MEL GAVE HERSELF a figurative pat on the back for surviving the past few hours. Shortly after escaping the restroom and Dolores, she’d returned to the patio and been immediately recruited to hang paper lanterns. Thank you, Frankie. After that, they’d all gone home to change clothes and then returned before the party started.

      Mel didn’t typically procrastinate. It wasn’t her style. But her father’s birthday just wasn’t the time for dealing with potentially huge problems. Like, for instance, a missed СКАЧАТЬ