His Baby (5 page)

"Well, what?" Diana demanded. She could guess part
of it. "The cops picked up Mr. White. They asked him why he was sitting in
your driveway. I guess they didn't like his answers, or the fact that you weren't
there. So one of the guys, who knows Carl or his brother works at the plant or
something, I don't know, anyway, he called Carl at work. Carl's going to tell
them you're here. They want to know if you're going to press charges."

"Charges for what?" Diana laughed a little,
incredulous.

"I don't know, harassment or something." Mary
winked and picked up the rest of her sandwich.

The phone rang. This time it was Zack, returning Diana's
call.

That weekend, Diana decided that there was hope for Zack
after all. For a future with Zack, anyway, as the father of her beloved niece. Once
he'd gotten over the shock of the news about his father, Zack had suggested
that she should do whatever she thought was best. Actually, he'd worded it more
strongly, suggesting that the old homily to "lock him up and throw away
the key" might apply here.

Zack offered to drive down right away if she needed him to,
but Diana suggested finally that she would just see him tomorrow evening, as
planned. Later, having talked to the police officers, she decided not to press
charges, but was secretly satisfied to hear the next morning that Mr. White had
spent most of the night in jail and then had to ask for a ride to the local
motel, because his car had been towed to the police yard and couldn't be
redeemed until morning.

Lark was in the middle of a crying jag when Zack showed up
Friday evening.

Diana had reached the point where she just wanted to cry
herself. She was walking around the kitchen, patting Lark, talking to her, when
she turned and caught movement out of the corner of her eye. When she stopped
for a moment, Diana saw Zack standing at the back screen door, looking very
distressed. Diana went over up to unlatch the door for him.

"Did you knock?"
"Yes, but I guess you couldn't hear me, she's so loud."

Lark wiggled around in Diana's arms, fighting to get free. She
took a breath, a quick break from crying, and studied Zack for a minute, then
began screaming again in earnest, reaching away from Diana, reaching for Zack. Diana
hoped she had repressed her surprise.

He took her, automatically hugging the baby to his chest and
trying to talk to her. Diana let go willingly and walked away from them through
the porch into the kitchen. She settled on a chair and put her arms on the
table, resisting the urge to put her head down. After a minute, she realized
she was hungry; she'd put her own dinner in the refrigerator about an hour ago
and never finished eating.

Zack walked by the table and hesitated for a moment. "Should
I change her or something?" he asked.

She shook her head. "You could check, but I fed her,
changed her, walked her, burped her, checked her mouth for a new tooth, checked
her temperature. Nothing."

 "Okay," he said and turned his attention back to
the baby. The tone of her crying had changed, Diana realized. She had gotten
interested in Zack, distracted a little bit. The cry was more a tired one,
Diana decided. She got up to get her plate of food from the refrigerator.

Zack wasn't paying any attention to her. He walked into the
living room, out of sight, then came back into the kitchen through the dining
room. He kept moving, murmuring to the baby. Diana ate her dinner, trying
consciously to stop worrying about Lark. He could worry about her for a few
minutes.

Diana stood and turned the sound up on the little television.
She flipped through the channels until she found a news show that was still on,
then settled back down with her food. She'd finished eating and carried her
empty plate to the sink before she realized Lark wasn't crying.

She went to look for them, walking through the darkened
living room, the dining room, and down the short hall into the old dining room
that they had used as Grandmother's bedroom when she was dying. Curious, Diana
climbed the stairs, listening for a sound, a gurgle, a clue.

She found them in Lark's room, sitting in the near dark. She
could see them by the light of the moon and the small night light that came on
automatically. Zack was in the rocker, moving slowly back and forth while he
sang a low-voiced, off-key version of 'Brown Sugar' by the Rolling Stones. Lark
was making some noises, half crying, half fussing, but with very little volume.
Diana stood still for a moment, watching them. Zack looked up at her, then back
at the baby. Diana went back downstairs and did the dishes and made a pot of
coffee.

He came into the kitchen about 45 minutes later. She started
to get up to pour him a cup of coffee, but he gestured her down and went to
help himself. She couldn't remember what he'd looked like when he arrived, but
he was not what she thought of as his usual well-groomed self. His shirt was
wrinkled, a little looser around the waist because, she thought, it had been
pulled out a little.

When he turned to join her at the table, stirring his coffee
absently, she noticed that he had a damp spot on one sleeve and a dark spot on
his pale khakis. His hair looked mussed, as though he'd run his hand through it
on the way downstairs and he looked a little dazed.

He started to say something, but instead sat down and
studied the movie she'd been watching. They sat in a companionable silence
through a half hour of the movie and a few commercials before Zack spoke up.

"Does she do that often?" he asked. He ran his
hand through his hair and she saw that this was the gesture that had disarrayed
him.

"Not very," Diana said, "fortunately. She was
a colicky baby when she was younger, but this wasn't colic. Maybe she didn't
get a nap at the baby sitter's house or she got a little overexcited about something,
I didn't think to ask. She's been fussy all evening, but just started crying
about an hour ago. Nothing consoled her."

"I don't know why she settled down for me," he
said, sounding both puzzled and a little pleased.

"It doesn't matter why," she told him, laughing a
little. "I wasn't at my wit's end, but I was getting a little frazzled I
guess."

He nodded, but didn't say anything. They watched some more
of the movie. Diana saved her questions until a series of commercials had
started.

"Did you talk to you father today?"

Zack shook his head, 'no'. "I guess he got back into
town at some point this afternoon but I didn't see him. I left the office about
noon to go home and pack up a few things. My mother called and invited me to
dinner." He looked annoyed.

"She didn't know you were coming here?" Diana
asked. She wondered how much Zack had told his parents.

"Of course she knew. But she told me she thought my
father needed to talk and I should stay in town.” He rubbed the edge of his
hand across his forehead, a gesture that momentarily cleared the slight frown
from his face.

He has nice hands
. "Well, I suppose she has a
point," Diana conceded.

Zack was shaking his head again, clenching his jaw a little.
She noticed the muscle move beneath a haze of beard on his otherwise pale skin,
as though he had forgotten to shave, or usually shaved twice a day. "My
father was so far out of line there aren't words for it," Zack said. "I
figure I can save up what I decide to tell him until Monday."

"Unless he shows up here again," Diana suggested. In
a way, she would love to see the showdown.

"I don't think he will. I told Mother that if I saw him
or heard from him this weekend I would ask for some sort of restraining
order/" Zack had a faint flush of color on his cheeks, noticeable mostly
because he was otherwise so fair skinned, that fair skin a contrast with his
dark hair and hazel brown eyes.

Diana raised an eyebrow at that comment.

"Okay," he said, laughing. "I don't know if
there even is such a thing in a case like this but it doesn't matter. The point
is, well, I don't know what the point is, exactly."

"As I see it, the point is that he's going to have to
wait to talk to you. He doesn't like it. He's used to getting what he
wants."

"That's right." Zack studied her for a moment. "I'm
sorry if he frightened you." He looked somber.

"It's all right Zack. He did frighten me a little, but
more because he was obviously trying to be so intimidating. I didn't know how
blustery he would get. Or if he does get violent with people."

"My father? No, he's never been violent.”

"But he was pretty aggressive. He got close, got loud. I
just didn't want to take a chance."

"I know. Most people tend to back down when he gets
like that," he shrugged and looked unhappy.

"What do you do?" Diana asked gently.

"I guess I tend to frown at him and growl a little but
I always end up doing what he wants."

"Until now," she pointed out.

"Until now," he agreed.
"Do you know what provoked this visit?" she asked. It was the thing
that bothered her most. Was Sam White serious about the idea of taking his
granddaughter away?

"I think I do. He was in meetings all day Monday, out
of town Tuesday, so we didn't talk at any length until Wednesday night and then
he didn't like what I had to say." He must have seen her puzzled look,
because he nodded and went on to explain. "I told him you and I had worked
out visitation although we hadn't talked about child support and that I was
going to be seeing Lark on weekends. Here. He didn't like it at all and told me
about it in great detail." He shook his head again.

"It's okay. I don't need to know the blow by
blow."

"I feel like it's my fault. I told him no and he didn't
like that very much. It makes me angry that he tried to intimidate you,"
Zack said. "His problem is with me, not with you."

"Well, he tried," Diana said, feeling odd. She
realized she wanted to console Zack, "but I'm a great believer in running
away from bullies. And in not giving them what they're trying to bully out of
you. That just rewards them for awful behavior."

"I never thought of it that way. I guess I never
thought of my father as a bully. He was just Dad."

"Father knows best?"

"I never watched that show," he said. "But
I've heard some discussion about it. Yeah, I guess I was brought up on 'father
knows best'. Like all of us, I suppose."

Diana shook her head this time. "My father wasn't like
that, not at all. Of course, he was ill a lot, but I think his nature was
different. Quieter. More a persuader rather than a shouter, if I'm saying it
properly. He always talked to me. If he gave an order, he never had to raise
his voice. Actually, I wish I had his trick."

"His trick?"

"He had this sort of
voice
. When he used it,
boy, I just did what he said, no questions. It wasn't what he said, it was how
he said it. He had a sense of authority. An assumption that you would do
whatever he said. Period. No arguments."

"Sounds handy," Zack said, smiling a little.
"I can do something like it, but not as well. Of course, I call it my
bossy voice. It doesn't work with everybody," she said ruefully.

"Did it work with Carl and Robin?" Zack asked.

"Absolutely. Most of the time. But I've learned a few
things this week. Robin didn't argue with me or confront me, but some of her
behavior, well, there were things I wouldn't have agreed with if I'd
known."

"Which is why she didn't tell you, I suspect," he
said. After a moment, as if curiosity had gotten the best of him, he asked,
"What do you mean?"
"Mostly that I think I believe you. About Robin cancelling your wedding. I
didn't at first, at least I didn't want to, but I think I have to. It makes
sense." She was looking directly at him and was gratified to see the sense
of relief on his face.

"That's how it happened, Diana. I wasn't trying to make
her look bad, in fact I didn't think badly of her. You know, I was thinking
about Robin this week too. Funny how things look different when," he
stopped, looked away for a moment as if deciding what to say, "well, when
there's no chance you can talk to the person again. I've always wondered about
a few things she said but I thought someday she'd tell me. Why she canceled the
wedding, I mean. I guess I'll never know now."

Diana stopped herself from mentioning Jay Peters. She wasn't
sure why, exactly, except that she hadn't thought things through. Robin's
return to Jay Peters might have had nothing to do with Zack, after all, except
that she'd decided to stay in town and there he was. Jay, her ex-boyfriend and
maybe ex-lover. Mary hadn't said so explicitly, but that seemed to be implied.

It was too painful and confusing to think about right now
.
She got up to get more coffee and a small tin of cookies from the pantry. When
she came back to the table, she asked Zack about his apartment at Mrs.
Hampton's house. He ignored her for a moment, studying the cookie tin. After
he'd made his decision he glanced up at her with a sudden, sly look that didn't
mean anything until later that evening.

Thinking about it afterwards, she decided she'd walked right
into that one and set herself up for a very different weekend.

Zack had a full weekend agenda. Friday night, after some pie
and sly glances at Diana, he'd presented the outlines of his plan for the
weekend. "What I have to do," was how he stated it. Of course, the
most important thing, he had said, was spending time with Lark. In addition, he
knew that Diana probably had a lot of things to do.

The solution he proposed sounded simple, but he thought it
would work. He had already done all the ground work. Mrs. Hampton had given him
the name of a woman who was going to show up on Saturday morning and clean
house and do laundry for Diana. When she was done, this cleaning woman would go
over to Zack's and give his new place a good cleaning.

He had a couple of high school boys, nephews of Mrs.
Hampton, moving furniture, doing a little touch up painting and some yard work
for Mrs. Hampton. They could come over to Diana's house afterwards and mow the
lawn, trim the bushes, water, things like that.

He figured shopping was best done together, more efficient
that way, so he thought they'd do the grocery and other household shopping
after they were comfortable with the house cleaner -- Mrs. Johnson -- and the
handy men. After lunch, and a nap for Lark, he suggested they take a break and
check out the small museum in town, which was open this weekend, since it was
the second weekend of the month.

Saturday night they could rent a movie and watch that. Sunday
was family day, wasn't it? Carl and Mary were expected at Diana's for barbecue.
"I know I'm taking liberties here," Zack offered, "but I just
couldn't bear the thought of Mary cooking again. Carl said she still isn't
getting enough rest. We can take them out to eat, if you don't want to have
them over," he explained a little apologetically, "or I could get
some takeout food."

Sunday evening could be some quiet time. Normally he would
leave on Sunday evening, late, but this weekend he'd taken Monday off so that
he could stay in town and take care of a few things like getting a phone
ordered, things like that.

 Diana had stared at Zack, keeping her mouth firmly closed
against the shock she felt, aware that he had quite suddenly taken over her
life. But she couldn't find a way to complain, or anything to complain about exactly
== except that he had taken over her life.

"Of course," he added seriously, "you have
veto power over any of this, but I figured we'd have to get help with chores,
or you wouldn't have any time to spend with me and Lark. I'll pay for Mrs.
Johnson and the yard work, of course."

His face had relaxed as he told her all this. It struck
Diana again what a good looking guy Zack was. He was blessed with classic good
looks, the sort that made a model or a leading man on television or in the
movies, but he didn't seem to be aware of it at all.

Well
, she thought, watching him as he talked to her,
maybe he was aware of it. Was he flirting with her? Or was he just being
charming? She wondered about his charm with Mrs. Hampton on Saturday morning,
because the dear old lady was smiling while she teased him dreadfully. Diana
wasn't sure she'd ever seen Mrs. Hampton smile, at least not since Mr. Hampton
had died and she'd had to take a job as cafeteria lady at the high school.

Mrs. Hampton had thickened up a bit with age and struggled a
little with arthritis, but she had put on a brightly flowered house dress and,
Diana noticed, she'd put a long necklace of bright blue beads on. It was
sliding below the neckline of the dress, but added just that touch of female
vanity.

Very interesting. Diana decided not to fight him right away,
especially since she hadn't made plans this weekend. What she found most
endearing was the small armful of baby books Zack unpacked into the tiny
kitchen of his new apartment. It was the only spot where there were shelves, he
told her.

They were duplicates of ones he had purchased this week, a
set for here and a set for home. The apartment was spacious, furnished with the
bare minimum of stuff. There were no knickknacks, none of the accumulated small
things Diana saw in most people's homes. He put everything away, as well,
leaving the counters clear and the tops of tables empty. She had been sitting
at the small table in the main room holding Lark on her lap, listening to him
discuss baby-proofing the apartment.

The apartment was basically one big room at the top of the
house, with a small kitchen at one end and a small bathroom and dressing room
at the other. After three flights of common stairs from the front of the house,
there was a small door at one end of the third floor hallway, which opened into
stairs which lead directly into this one room. Zack told her he had decided to
put a stronger railing around the stairway, and to have a baby gate at the top
of the stairs. Mrs. Hampton had agreed to this, although of course he was going
to pay for it. He wouldn't expect her to.

From the windows set into this side of the room, Diana could
look out into the leafy branches of a big maple tree. Lark had been babbling a
bit, at one point reacting to a squirrel who ran along the branches arching
outside. The squirrel seemed to be disturbed that someone was in the attic room.
Zack said the place had been empty for a couple of years. Through the tree,
Diana could look down to the yard and the street. A young, very thin man was
standing next to his bicycle, his helmet unbuckled but still resting on his
head. Long hair hung below his helmet. She couldn't guess, from here, who he
was.

This floor had been attics at one time, she supposed,
finished off at some point many years ago. There was still a sense of dustiness
and mustiness about the place. The house cleaner could fix that with pine
cleaner and lemon polish, smells they had left at the house once Diana felt she
had told Mrs. Johnson everything she could. How hard could house cleaning be,
after all? It turned out Mrs. Johnson "did" for the banker's wife and
the real estate agent's wife during the week. Zack had apparently checked her
references.

This place would polish up well, all hardwood floors and fine
wood molding as well as roughly finished white walls.

Mrs. Hampton came laboring up the narrow stairs to suggest
they take a careful look at some photographs on display at the museum tomorrow.
There were pictures of this street, of this very house, on display.

"It was quite a mansion in its day, at least for
Whitney. That bed," Mrs. Hampton said, pointing out the iron four poster
double bed angled into the corner on the other side of the room, "was in
the master bedroom but I never liked it, so I had Mr. Hampton bring it up here
and we've just never found the right place for it."

"I like it, Mrs. Hampton," Zack said, coming in
from the kitchen, drying his hands on a brand new dish towel.

"I guess if it's your style," she offered,
"then it works out well up here."

"I wouldn't have thought it was my style," he
said, "but it was very comfortable last night and I like the look of
it."

"What is your style, Mr. White?"

"Zack, Mrs. Hampton, please call me Zack." He
moved forward and guided her to an old wing chair. "Please sit down for a
minute, if you have time," he suggested.

"All right, Zack," she said, and Diana had to look
twice. She was. Mrs. Hampton was fluttering her eyelashes at him. He had to be
fifty years younger than she was.

"I didn't think I had a style, really," Zack began
telling the story. "When I moved into my place, my mother decided I needed
help, so she sent over a decorator. That woman decided I was what she called
masculine modern."

"I've never heard of such a thing," Mrs. Hampton
said, shaking her head sadly.

"Neither have I," said Zack, smiling at her.

They all stared at each other for a minute. Lark was shaking
a toy, looking up at Diana.

"So what does the stuff look like, Zack?" Mrs.
Hampton said finally.

He grinned at her. "Just guess. A lot of leather and
chrome and very dark wood. Of course the building's very modern, but that's
part of the fashion, I guess, that contrast between dark wood and white
walls."

"Where do you live, in the city?" Mrs. Hampton
asked.

"Actually," Zack said, leaning against the door
jamb from the kitchen after tossing the dish towel back on the counter, "I
live outside the city, on the North Shore."

"North Shore, is it? Do you have a view of the
Lake?" Mrs. Hampton asked.

"Yes, actually I do."
"And take the train into the city?" she asked.

"The office is in the same town," he said,
"so I walk to work. But if I go into the city, I take the train."

"Is that where your parents live?" Mrs. Hampton
continued. "The North Shore?" Diana was beginning to feel that Mrs.
Hampton was grilling him, but Zack didn't seem to mind. He seemed more relaxed
than Diana had ever seen him, wearing well-worn jeans, for heaven's sake.

They fit him very closely, too, revealing that he was in
great shape.
Maybe all that walking to work
. Diana had noticed his lean
shape while following him through the grocery store.
Admit it
, she told
herself sternly,
you studied his butt while he installed Lark in the cart
seat, strapped her in, and pushed the cart around the store
.

He wore the jeans with a slightly loose dark brown T-shirt,
pressed of course, and deck shoes. His watch had a big face and a fat brown
leather band. His shoulders had dictated the size of his T-shirt, Diana had
decided while following him around.

Once she could get her mind off his jeans, she had
considered the shirt. He was built like a star quarterback, all broad shoulders
and lean-waisted, although he was a little tall for a quarterback, wasn't he? Weren't
those guys all a little short?

Zack and Mrs. Hampton were trading stories. It seemed that
Mrs. Hampton had lived in Chicago during the Second World War while Mr. Hampton
was overseas. She had worked in the war effort, which meant, as far as Diana
could tell, that she went to work in a factory, thereby freeing a man to go
fight.

Of course, when the men came home, the women were supposed
to go back to whatever they were doing before the war. Mr. Hampton hadn't
wanted a job in the factories. One of his buddies was a farmer in Indiana, so
he'd moved here to Whitney to work on the buddy's farm. The friend died a
couple of years later, leaving everything to Mr. Hampton.

They'd sold the farm and moved into town, buying this big
old house. Mr. Hampton had started a shoe repair shop, then branched out into
bicycle repair. He fixed up the big old house in his spare time.

In about twenty minutes, Diana realized later, Zack had
gotten Mrs. Hampton's life story out of her and made a friend. He'd traded
information, telling her little tidbits about himself, how he'd gone to college
in Chicago, but wanted to get out of the city for graduate school. He had a
scholarship for the Indiana college where he met Robin. Starting college, he
thought he would teach, maybe history, but after a year's classes his father
had talked him around into business.

There were no jobs in history anyway. Did he want to teach?

Business education was what he needed, Mr. White had
insisted, offering, finally, money for living expenses and tuition, a car, and
a trip to Europe one summer.

"I took the easy way out, Mrs. Hampton," Zack told
her. "Now I think I shouldn't have. I don't really care if people buy our
stationary products. Actually, I can understand why they go to the big discount
stores. Oh, my job isn't that difficult, but it seems like such a waste of
time."

"But your father thought history was a waste of
time," Mrs. Hampton said gently.

"True enough," he answered her. He turned to
glance at Diana. "Are you ready for some lunch? I saw a place a few blocks
down, a little restaurant."

"Nellie's?" Mrs. Hampton exclaimed.

"Is it any good?" he asked her.

"Delightful." She looked sad for a moment. "Of
course, I don't eat there very often anymore."

"Well, would you mind joining us?" Zack offered
gallantly. "I'm sure if you introduce us, we'll get better service, and
I'd appreciate some suggestions about what's best. My treat, of course"

Mrs. Hampton considered his offer for a moment but Diana
could see the barely suppressed excitement in her eyes.

"All right. If you don't mind having an old lady along,"
she said to Diana.

"I'd love to have you join us," Diana said. To her
surprise, she realized she did want to hear more stories, and she wanted, more
than that, to have Mrs. Hampton grill Zack so that she didn't have to.

They didn't get to the movie until after 9:00. Lark had
taken a long nap after lunch, then fell asleep again in Zack's arms lying on a
blanket in the back yard under the big pine tree. He'd fallen asleep too,
stretched out on his back, and she didn't have the heart to wake them. She took
advantage of the time alone to write checks for bills and to start to make
potato salad plus a green salad for tomorrow. Carl dropped by for a few minutes
on the way home from the hardware store. He found it mildly amusing that the
two of them were awake while Zack, Lark, and Mary were sleeping. At least he
hoped Mary was sleeping.

Just before he left, Carl turned back to ask Diana one more
question.

"Are things working out with him, Sis?”

She didn't ask who 'him' was, but bit back a glib reply that
sprang to mind. "He's trying," she said finally. "We'll
see."

"He said you told him he can't be alone with Lark. That
means you have to spend every weekend with him. Are you sure that's okay with
you?" Carl asked.

"I don't know," Diana said, honestly. "On the
other hand, I'm used to other people being around." Carl had nodded, come
back into the kitchen, kissed her forehead, and left.