Beauty From Love (17 page)

I’m awakened when I hear Jack Henry on the phone, yelling, and I get up to see what’s going on. “Your son isn’t mine. There’s nothing else for us to discuss.” I don’t have to hear another word to know who’s on the other end.

He’s quiet for a moment but then I’m startled when he throws his phone across the room hitting the wall only a few feet from me. “Mother-fucking-bitch!” He’s so angry, he’s shaking. It’s frightening to see him like this.

He sees me standing close to where he just busted his phone into pieces and his eyes grow large. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you standing there.”

“What was that about?”

He sinks into the couch. “That, my dear wife, was the sound of me being threatened and blackmailed by Jenna Rosenthal.”

“With what?”

“She began by accusing me of having someone change the paternity test results. I told her we could take a hundred paternity tests and they would all exclude me as her son’s father. Once she realized she wasn’t going to hoodoo me into claiming her kid, she threatened to expose my past. She said you’d leave me for sure, out of embarrassment, if everyone knew what I used to do.”

“What does she want?”

“What she wanted from the beginning—money.”

Of course she does. Money-hungry bitch. “What kind of numbers are we talking?”

“She asked how much money I was willing to part with to keep you.”

She’s going to play hardball. “She probably thinks I don’t know about your past.”

“Or if she suspects you were a part of it, she thinks I’ll pay to keep you from being humiliated as one of my companions.”

I don’t really give a rat’s ass what people think. “I’m not going anywhere, so I don’t want you to pay her one damn cent unless you think you can’t live with people knowing.”

“I really don’t give a damn but I don’t want that for you. It would kill me to see your picture in the gossip column with some stupid heading about me once being some kind of bizarre sexual deviant.” He’s still shaking.

“It might not stick. You’re no longer one of Australia’s most eligible bachelors. Your days of making the papers may have ended when you put a wedding ring on your finger.”

“That’s not really how it works. What I did was illicit. People love a scandalous story—especially when it’s real. It’s way more interesting than the happily ever after.” He fists his hair and groans. “Fuck, Margaret McLachlan will kill me if she finds out.”

“Then we should tell her about the baby as soon as possible. She won’t want her grandchild to be fatherless.”

“I don’t know about that. She’s going to be mad as hell.”

Margaret isn’t dumb. She’s going to put the pieces together. Everyone will. “I spent three months with you and left. She’s going to figure out I was one of them. I’m not really crazy about that idea. I don’t want to disappoint her.”

“My mum loves you, L. She won’t think less of you.” He gets up from the couch and walks over to gather the pieces of his phone. He takes his SIM card out and inspects it. “I need your phone. I have an important call to make.”

I retrieve my phone from the bedroom and give it to Jack Henry and he makes the card exchange. He’s standing with his back to me when he dials a number and waits for an answer. “Jim, I have another job for you. I need you to look into someone—a woman named Jenna Rosenthal.”

Jenna Rosenthal. Another bitch I’d like to kick in the ass while wearing my boots. And I will if the opportunity arises, with a big-ass smile on my face.

We decided we wanted to tell Margaret and Henry about the baby in person, but because of work Jack Henry needed to do at Avalon this week, we had to wait until the weekend to make the trip to Sydney. I’m sure my mother-in-law suspects why we’re coming again so soon. I could hear the exhilaration in her voice over the phone. We’d only hung up for a few moments when she called back to tell me she’s baking a chocolate cake for me—one I can take home when we leave—and even gave me permission to not share with Jack Henry.

We’ve taken my in-laws out to dinner instead of cooking at their place. The restaurant is formal, and overpriced, but it’s what the McLachlans are accustomed to. There’s even a woman walking around serenading diners. She stops to sing for a couple and belts out “At Last.” I’m watching the scene happen from a distance but it’s quite clear at the end of the song that the man is proposing to his dinner companion when he drops to one knee. The diners around them begin clapping and it spreads throughout the entire restaurant, most patrons likely believing they’re applauding the songstress.

Everyone at our table has ordered wine, except me. Henry pays that little tidbit absolutely no attention but Margaret takes notice. I know because she’s suddenly giddy and it’s not from the wine.

“Jack, Randall tells me you brought his granddaughter on for an internship.”

Uh-oh. “I did, but she found another one. She wanted to be closer to her college friends. She was more concerned with partying than learning to manage a vineyard.” Nice one, McLachlan. The only good thing I can say about Bianca is that she had the good sense to go away quietly so Jack Henry and Mr. Brees didn’t experience a hiccup in their business relationship.

Jack Henry and his dad speak the vineyard language and I’m mostly lost. I think Margaret understands a lot but chooses to not join in. I think she still holds a little resentment for that life, although it made her and Henry a nice living. “Do you understand anything they’re saying?”

She lifts her glass and takes a drink. “More than I care to know.”

“I’m interested in learning. I want to understand so he can talk to me about things happening on the vineyards.”

“I’m going to give you some advice.” I smile, remembering the last bit she gave me. She grins too and leans in, lowering her voice. “Some
more
advice. A vineyard is work to him. It’s his profession and he has employees he discusses that with. He pays them quite well for that service and you aren’t his employee. Don’t allow the vineyards to enter your home life and make damn sure you don’t let them into your bedroom. Be his outlet—a safe place where he can escape—when all the shit that goes along with that life becomes too much for him.”

Margaret has a different way of looking at things. Here I thought I would be bringing myself closer to my husband by becoming part of his work life, but she’s telling me the opposite. And I think she’s right.

“Trust me, Laurelyn. He will hold you in a different regard if he views you as his refuge and not his confidant.” She returns to her entree and I can only think of how I hope to be the kind of mother she is. I want to be strong and confident, yet gentle and loving. I wish I’d had her as my role model instead of my own mom.

Jack Henry takes my hand and gives it a squeeze under the table after we order dessert. I’m guessing that’s my cue he’s ready to spill the beans. “Laurelyn and I have an announcement.” Henry is yet to be in tune with what we’re about to say but Margaret can predict it easily. She literally looks ready to burst. “Laurelyn’s pregnant.”

Henry does the manly, fatherly slap on Jack Henry’s back as he congratulates us. I almost think I see his chest inflate, like some sort of pride thing about his boys being able to swim hard enough to impregnate me on the first try.

Margaret comes out of her chair and I do too. She pulls me into her arms in a tight embrace. “I knew it. Ohh … I’m so happy for you.” She releases me and holds my arms out for a look. “When can I expect my new grandbaby?”

“October first.”

“You have a date. Does that mean you’ve already had a visit with a doctor?”

“Yes. I have an ultrasound picture. Would you like to see it?”

“Absolutely.” She pulls glasses from her purse, slips them on, and looks up at me. “It sucks getting old eyes. I can’t see anything without these ridiculous things.”

“I think you look really good in them.” Margaret never looks anything less than classy.

“Bullshit. I look old as hell,” she laughs. She holds the printout at a distance for a better view. “I do believe that is one of the sweetest little dots I’ve ever seen.”

I laugh because she’s right. The baby is tiny. “It’s quite early—only six weeks. The doctor says it’s the size of a rice grain. Most people don’t announce their pregnancies until twelve weeks but we’re too excited to wait that long.”

“Will you tell everyone or are we privy to the information because we’re the grandparents?”

I don’t know. We haven’t discussed anything beyond telling Margaret and Henry in case this story gets out about his past. “What are we doing?”

“I told you from the beginning, love. I want the world to know my wife is pregnant.”

Okay, then. I guess we’re telling the world.

I call my mom from the car as Jack Henry drives us home from Henry and Margaret’s. I’m excited to hear her reaction. I hope she’s as happy as Margaret is.

We begin our conversation like normal, her catching me up on everything going on in her life, before I move on to the news I called to share. “Mom, Jack Henry and I have wonderful news. I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

“Mom, are you still there?”

“Laurie, why would you allow that to happen? A baby is going to ruin your career.”

Just because I ruined her life doesn’t mean my baby will ruin mine. Why can’t she understand that? “We chose to have this baby because we want to start our family.”

“You’re being stupid. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

I can’t take hearing these things from my mother. “I have to go.”

I end the call and let her reaction soak in for a minute before I tell Jack Henry the terrible things she said. I wait for his temper to engage, but it doesn’t. He pulls the car to the side of the road and takes me into his arms where I cry until I have no more tears to shed.

It’s almost been a week—that’s how long that blackmailing bitch said she’d give Jack Henry before she called again—so we expect to hear from her tomorrow. My decision still stands. I’m supporting my husband, even if this goes public. I say that with incredible allegiance but then I become afraid when I think of the remaining ten women I’ve not had the displeasure of meeting. Will they come out of the woodwork? There could be more false paternity claims. Or true ones. Are we making the wrong decision by not paying her off? I don’t know.

Jack Henry is expecting a call from Jim today. I hope he is the best—as my husband believes—and tells us he’s found something we can use to rid ourselves of that woman.

Jim phones while Jack Henry is sitting at my bedside during my morning routine—lying in bed nauseated, sipping Mrs. Porcelli’s remedy while nibbling on crackers. He sits with me every morning and helps me to the bathroom when my nausea progresses to something more.

He’s listening intently when the nearly overwhelming wave hits me. I close my eyes, wishing it all away, but it refuses to obey so I’m scrambling to get out of bed. “Just a minute, Jim.” Jack Henry drops his phone to the bed to help me up.

I rush to the bathroom but wave him away. “Take the call,” I tell him between heaves. “I’m fine.”

He’s hesitant as displayed by how long he stands in the bathroom. “Call out if you need anything.”

I nod, my head hanging over the toilet.