Boots And Booties Part 9

Addie choked and reached for her napkin. She didn't dare look at Cal, who hadthe ability to look amazingly innocent when he wanted to.

"Well, that was nice of him," Paula told her grandson."Very nice,Mr.Cal. I'msure Addie appreciated the help."

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "She wasn't doing too well."

"And how are you feeling now,Adelaide?"

Adelaide. Mom was highly aggravated, so Addie chose her words carefully."Much better, thank you."

"She took a nap," her budding Dan Rather informed everyone.

"Avery long nap," Matt added. "Mr. John took us for a ride in his truck andwe counted the calves all afternoon. Until we got hungry, and then we wenttoMr.Cal's house and had peanut b.u.t.ter crackers and ice cream."

No wonder they weren't hungry for supper. Peanut b.u.t.ter and ice cream didn'tsound too bad at all.

"And what about you,Mr.Cal?" her mother continued. "Did you count cows, too?"

"He stayed here," Ian explained, puffed up with the weight of all hisknowledge. Addie realized she'd given birth to traitors. "In case Mom neededanything."

"Now, now.Calcouldn't leave her alone," John added, his gaze darting fromPaula to Addie and back again. "Not feeling well and all."

"No, of course not," her mother said, piercing a piece of potato salad with her fork. "Maybe you should see a doctor,Adelaide."

Calspoke for the first time in a while. "Maybe that's a good idea. You suredidn't look too healthy this afternoon. You're working too hard, I think."

"Yes," she said. "That must be it. I've been too busy working on the house.What do you think of the new curtains, Mom?"

"Very nice," her mother said, glancing toward the yards of red toile thatdecorated the long windows and French doors on the wall behind the table. Theadded wing gave an appearance of a courtyard out those north windows, andAddie had plans to landscape it in the summer. It would be a perfect spot forthe children to play. A perfect spot for a baby to sleep in his or hercarriage.

Hercarriage, Addie hoped.

"Addie?"

She blinked and tried to figure out who had just spoken to her. "Yes?"

Calcleared his throat. "Have you had a chance to look over the accounts yet?There's an auction on Monday where I might be able to pick up some morecalves."

"Sure." She nodded as if she remembered what he was talking about. Every timeshe tried to read about live stock prices and profits and losses inCal'sscrawling handwriting, she became so sleepy she thought she'd fall over at thedesk.

"You haven't read my recommendations,"Caldeclared. "I thought you wanted tolearn all about cows?" She could tell from the slight curve of his lips thathe wasn't upset. Her mother stared at her.

"Why would you want to learn about cows?" she asked.

"Because I own a ranch."

"Two weeks ago you were talking about turning this place into abed-and-breakfast, now you're Barbara Stanwyck?"

"Who's that?"

John shook his head. "Aw, missy, she was a big movie star. Then she went onTV and had a ranch and a mess of sons and all sorts of trouble."

"She woregreat clothes," Paula added. "She had a tiny waist, and could wearjodhpurs and riding skirts and still look beautiful. I wonder how old she waswhen that show was on."

"Is she still alive?" John picked up the bowl of potato salad and helpedhimself to another spoonful. "Miss Addie, you must be feeling better if youcan cook like this."

"Thank you. Do you want some more chicken?" She picked up the platter ofoven-fried b.r.e.a.s.t.s and pa.s.sed it to her mother. "Mom?"

"Oh, I think Barbara Stanwyck is dead," Paula murmured, giving her daughteran a.s.sessing look. A look that could pierce through lead. "But she had a lotof children to help run that ranch of hers, at least on television."

Addie kept her expression carefully blank. "Who would like more coleslaw?"

"That show's still on," John informed them. "All those old shows are still onTV, on the satellite dish. Your dad was sure fond of that dish of his. Claimedit was the best invention known to man."

"Too bad he used a remote control more than a telephone," Paula muttered.

"Some men aren't good communicators, Miss Paula," the old man declared. "Edhad his faults, all right, I won't disagree. But he didn't have no easy timeof it growin' up, so I guess some things just didn't get learnt."

"I guess they didn't," Addie's mother agreed, as she helped Matt cut up hischicken. "He wasn't much of a talker."

"No, ma'am."

"That might run in the family, don't you think, Addie?"

She smiled. Or at least she attempted to stretch her lips over her teeth andlook happy. "You don't seem to have any trouble holding up your end of theconversation, Mom."

"That's not exactly what I meant, sweetheart." Addie dared a glancetowardCal. The man looked perfectly calm, despite being busy rescuing Ian fromspilling his milk into his dinner plate. The man had the reflexes of a cat. Hehadn't minded when she'd spilled her drink on him that night at Billy's. Maybein those places he'd grown up there'd been a lot of messes, a lot of littlescared kids knocking over things.

He would have helped them. It was second nature to him, she saw, to reachover and open a jar of jam or cut up a piece of chicken or move a gla.s.s ofmilk away from the edge of the table.

He was skilled in other ways, too, with those hands of his. She hadn'tforgotten yesterday, the way he'd smoothed her hair or held her face when he'dkissed her. Or today, when he'd carried her to the house and held her in hislap in front of the air-conditioning because he was afraid that she would falloff a chair if he let her sit there by herself.

She'd been on her own for so long, she'd forgotten what it was like to havesomeone worry about her. Other than her mother, which was, of course, totallydifferent. She dared a glance toward Paula, who was eyeing her as if shesuspected Addie had spent the afternoon in the middle of a cowboy orgy.

Chapter 8.

Paula waited until she had kissed her darling grandsons and tucked them intobed before cornering her daughter downstairs for a private conversation. Ah,yes. She could smell guilt a mile away. Addie was nothing if not guilty, allright. She sat in that brand-new, maroon leather chair in Ed's freshly paintedden and looked as sweet as candy.

Paula sat on the matching couch and moved severalLord of the Rings actionfigures over to a side table before she looked at her daughter again. "Well, Addie? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"About what?"

"You know what." She watched the stubborn chin lift, and the lips tighten.Well, it didn't matter. Addie could get herself in a snit, but it was abouttime they had a talk. All this fainting business had to stop.

"Just because Cal McDonald was in my bedroom this afternoon doesn't mean wewere doing anything wrong. Not that it is any of your businessif we were." Itwas said gently, from a woman who sounded tired. From a woman who hadsomething to hide?

"I don't care if you were entertaining the Dallas Cowboys, my darling, aslong as your sons were out of the house when you were doing it," Paula fibbed.She hadn't raised her daughter to behave in a wanton manner, and she didn'tthink that Addie would cavort with a cowboy she barely knew if she wasn'tseriously attracted to him. Addie had never been the boy-crazy type, not evenin her teens. "Your s.e.x life is your own concern, I suppose, as long as itdidn't end up on the front page of a newspaper somewhere, but-"

"Why would my s.e.x life be in a news-"

"Never mind." Paula held up a hand. "I didn't mean to get off on a tangent.Do whatever you want withCal, I guess. In your bedroom or in your barn." Shestopped to sigh. Maybe it wasn't right to set such an example for the boys,but she could understand Addie's attraction to the handsome rancher. And the man clearly adored her daughter. The way he looked at her would melt steel.

"Mom? I don't want to talk aboutCal, and it's been a long day, so I'm goingto bed and-"

"Not so fast there, missy," Paula said, not about to be denied. "I'm talkingabout your health, not your s.e.x life. Dizzy spells? Throwing up in Mr.Anders's flower pot? Car sickness? Eating crackers? What does all this remindyou of?"

"The flu?"

"The flu, my a.s.s." She eyed her daughter, who gulped and didn't say anotherword. The silence said enough, though, and it was all Paula needed to hear."I've been running dates in my head for the past couple of hours," she said.'This must have happened some time last winter."

"February," Addie said, looking as white as the window trim.

"That night you went out with Kate?"

"Yes."

"Good heavens, were youdrunk?" She remembered Addie's unwillingness todiscuss her evening the next morning. She'd looked pale and tired, as if she'dbeen crying and she hadn't slept. Going out with Kate hadn't been much fun,Paula had a.s.sumed. Men weren't what they used to be, and the few good onesweren't hanging out at Billy's bar on Valentine's Day.

"A little. But that wasn't why it happened."

Paula leaned back against the plump cushions and closed her eyes. Well, atleast Addie wasn't dying of stomach cancer or suffering from some horrible illness. She was pregnant, and the world would go on spinning. Paula took adeep breath and opened her eyes. "All right, then. Who was he?"

"I'd rather not go into the details."

"The name of the baby's father isn't exactly adetail," Paula pointed out."More like a vital piece of information."

"He was just a man in a bar. I didn't know his name."

Paula sighed. It was worse than she had thought, then. She sat quietly for amoment while she thought about the whole mess. "I can't believe you didn'tprotect yourself. With all the diseases going around, never mind gettingpregnant, for heaven's sake, Addie-"

"I'm not a total idiot. We used a condom, but the only thing I can think ofis that it was defective." Addie groaned. "I can't believe I'm having thisconversation with my mother."

"You're not the only one who can't believe this. When is this little bundleof joy due?"

"Mother, please."

Paula sighed. "I'm sorry. It's going to take me a little time to get used tothis."

"You and meboth." They sat in silence for a long moment before Addie answeredthe question. "November sixth."

"You've been to a doctor, then."

"In Nowhere. And I have an appointment with a new gynecologist next month."

"And in the meantime? You're okay?"

"Just suffering from the usual morning sickness, though this is tougher thanthe last time." She made a face and caressed her flat abdomen. "Maybe thisone's a girl, Mom. It already feels different."

"That would be nice," Paula admitted, allowing herself a small smile. b.u.t.there wasn't much to smile about. Addie already had her hands full, with thisbig house and two active boys. "Thank goodness you have money now. You have aroof over your head and some security."

"And I have you." Addie grinned at her.

"But a mother is a poor subst.i.tute for a husband," Paula felt it necessary topoint out. "So I suggest you start figuring out how to get one."

A husband was the last thing Addie wanted. But love? Well, she would like tobe loved again. But she didn't think that was going to happen, maybe not untilthe children were grown up and their mother had time to take a shower withoutworrying about whether they were getting into trouble.

Long after she'd escaped from the den and her mother's worried expression,Addie lay in her oversize bed and contemplated the mess she was in. She wouldbe showing in another month or so, something she could disguise with baggy shirts and elastic-waist blue jeans. But now that Paula knew, there was no oneto hide the news from except the baby's father, and he was sure to questionthe pregnancy and his role in it. He had a right to, of course. There was nogetting around it, no matter how much easier it would be to wish that he wouldget into his truck and drive off toMontanaorMexico, or anywhere far from here.

She would have to tell him. She would have to make it perfectly clear thatshe wanted nothing from him. She needed no child support or legal settlements,and she certainly didn't expect him to raise a child that was an accidentbetween strangers. Surely he would have been married by now if he'd beeninclined to settle down.

She imagined her att.i.tude would come as a relief, she decided, quicklyquashing any thoughts of custody agreements or anything messy. Now that she'dgotten to know him, she didn't thinkCalwould deliberately cause problems. Hewas more the kind of man who helped a woman getout of trouble, and she wasafraid she liked him too much. Otherwise she could fire him, write a check fora year's salary and wave goodbye. He'd never know about the child.

But she couldn't do that. Not now. He had a right to know.

And she would tell him. Eventually. But she had to stop kissing him, first.Had to resist that physical attraction that pulled them together whenever theywere in the same room.

And she already knew what kind of trouble that caused. She needed to keep herlegs together and her clothes on whenever Cal McDonald was around. She wasn'tgoing to fall for a self-proclaimed hermit and confirmed bachelor. No way.

"Seems to me," John drawled,"if anyone was asking, I'd say that things justcouldn't get any better."

"And how do you figure that?"Calreleased the calf and watched it race acrossthe corral to its bawling mother.

"Well, there's a real pretty woman in that ranch house now," the old manpointed out. "Seems like a young man might be interested."

"Yeah?" He coiled the rope and slung it over his shoulder. He'd had enough ofdoctoring animals for one day, but this year's calves looked d.a.m.n good. Thatbull he'd talked Ed into buying had turned out to be a good investment.

"She needs a man to help her out around here," John continued, opening thegate forCal."You're single and she's single. Seems natural to me."

"She wants to turn this place into a bed-and-breakfast,"Calpointed out. "Somekind of showplace. I don't think that includes cows, not from the way she'stalking about profits and losses and old Ed's methods of ranching. And if itdoesn't include raising cattle, then I'm out of here."

"You could talk her out of it."

"It's not my place to talk her into, or out of, anything."Calheaded back tothe barn, John following close behind. "It's different for you," he told theold man. "You've got your place for life, and you've got a pension. I've gotsix months-four, now-and then I can leave. She can fire me anytime she wants-"

"But she won't," the old man declared. "I can't handle this place by myself."

"If she gets rid of the cattle, you can. You can keep a few of the besthorses for the kids, and hire a teenager to help you with the heavy stuff onweekends. You'd be fine."

"And where would you be?"