The Baby Bargain (5 page)
Authors: Dallas Schulze
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Kelly shook convulsively. The gas station bathroom was unheated and the bare tiles seemed to intensify the chill outside, driving it bone deep.
But it wasn't the cold that made her shake. Crouched against the wall, Kelly was hardly aware of the temperature. The cold she felt was lodged deep inside her, spreading outward to drive the color from her skin, leaving her as pale as the white porcelain fixtures.
It was early in the morning, so early the sun itself still held a sleepy look about it Kelly had crept out of the house just after dawn, leaving her father sleeping. She hadn't slept at all last night. Knowing what she was planning, terrified that if she fell asleep she might not wake up in time to slip out of the trailer before he awoke, she'd lain awake all night, listening to his mutterings, counting every tick of the clock.
And now she'd gotten her answers from the little pink-and-white box. The test tube sitting on the edge of the cracked sink confirmed what she'd already guessed. The gap in her schedule, the nausea in the mornings, the feeling that something had changed...
It had taken her nearly three weeks to scrape up the money to buy the box that was now spelling her doom. She'd concealed it in the toolshed, awaiting an opportunity to sneak out first thing in the morning. She hadn't dared to bring it into the trailer, sure that her father would somehow sense its presence.
Kelly shivered again, her knuckles turning white where they gripped the edges of her coat. If her father found out... Just die thought made her dizzy with fear. She pressed her forehead against her updrawn knees.
She was pregnant
Even thinking the words made them seem too real. She wanted to push them away, deny them, make their reality a lie.
Pregnant
She drew a harsh, sobbing breath. It had to be a mistake. God couldn't be so cruel. He couldn't punish her like this. Not just for that one night Hadn't her father already punished her enough? She ground her forehead against her knees, clenching her teeth to keep the sobs back.
If he found out she was pregnant, he'd kill her. There was no doubt in her mind about that. She had to get away before he found out, before it became impossible for her to conceal it from him any longer.
A baby. She was expecting a stranger's baby. She knew almost nothing about him. He'd told her his name and where he worked. Not very much to know about the father of her child. She'd tried so hard to forget that night, blocking it from her mind as if just to think about it would make it real.
But it had been real. No amount of pretending could change that. She carried the reality inside her. Along with a despairing fear.
Rocking back and forth on the cold tile, she felt hot tears slide down her icy cheeks. There had to be a way out. If only she could think of it. There had to be some way out.
"Hey, Dan." Dan turned as Lee called his name. "There's somebody here to see you."
Dan lifted his hand in acknowledgment, feeling a stir of curiosity. He couldn't imagine who would be here to see him. He hadn't kept up many friendships. Unless it was Brittany. He'd half expected her to seek him out since their conversation two days ago. One thing about Brittany, she could never bear to leave anything unfinished. Especially when it came to someone she cared about.
He wiped his greasy hands on an equally greasy rag that did more to redistribute the grease than remove it. If it was Brittany, he was going to lie to her and tell her that he was dating someone.
But it wasn't Brittany. In fact, it wasn't anyone he knew. He studied his visitor as he walked across the garage. She was standing outside the office, her shoulders hunched inside her thin coat, though the sun had come out with springlike warmth this morning.
She was small, not much more than five feet. The thin coat was worn and much too small even for her thin frame. Her feet were stuck into a pair of old men's work boots that were several sizes too large. Her dark hair was dragged back from her face with a rubber band that was pulled so tight it actually made his scalp hurt to see it.
She was too thin, the bones of her face too sharp, too stark. Her eyes were large and dark and might have been pretty if the rest of her hadn't looked so worn and beaten. She was young, not more than eighteen or nineteen, and obviously very poor.
She was also a complete stranger.
She watched him approach, some expression flickering across her pale face that he couldn't quite catch. Fear?
"I'm Dan Remington," he said as he stopped in front of her.
"I know." Her voice was low, husky and vaguely familiar. Was she related to someone he knew? He waited for her to say something more but she only stood there, staring at him with those big eyes.
"What can I do for you?" he asked at last when the silence threatened to stretch to unmanageable lengths. He tried a smile on her. It had no effect.
"I'm pregnant."
The words were flat, without inflection. She might just as easily have said that the sun was out. Dan stared at her, waiting for her to add something, to explain her flat announcement. When nothing was forthcoming, he groped for an appropriate response.
"Congratulations.''
He knew immediately that he'd said the wrong thing. A slow flush crept into her cheeks. Her body seemed to tighten as if from the impact of a blow.
"Look, I'm sorry. I—"
"You don't remember me, do you?" she cut into his stammered apology.
Dan stared at her, feeling a creeping sense of disaster. There was something almost familiar about her. But he couldn't place the familiarity, couldn't quite bring it into focus.
She must have been able to see the answer to her question in his eyes. She didn't wait for him to speak. She turned and started to walk away, her back rigid with humiliation. There was something painfully dignified in that thin little figure despite the tattered clothes and clumsy boots.
"Wait!" Dan caught up with her in a few strides, catching her arm before he remembered his greasy hands. He dropped her elbow with a muttered apology though he didn't really think she cared if he put a mark on her coat. She stood in front of him, her features stiff.
It wasn't hard to read her expression now. Pride, anger, humiliation and a kind of underlying desperation that tugged at Dan's heart. But she had to have the wrong man. He didn't know this girl. Certainly not in the way she apparently thought he did.
She said nothing, waiting for him to speak. The ball was clearly in his court and he groped around for a moment before finally lifting his shoulders in a weak shrug.
"Look, I'm sorry."
"New Year's Eve."
Three simple words but they exploded with the force of a grenade. Dan felt their impact as an actual physical blow.
"You were the girl in the bar." The words weren't a question but she nodded, her eyes focused on the view just past his shoulder. Dan stared at her, trying to sort through his tangled memories of that night. She wasn't wearing any makeup and the clothes were different. Her whole carriage was different. That was why he hadn't recognized her. But with her hair down...
He sucked in a deep breath. In an instant, his world had been picked up, given a good shake and set down in an entirely new pattern.
"We have to talk. Wait here," he told her, his face grim. In the few minutes it took him to strip off his stained coverall and sluice the grease off his hands, Dan kept his mind carefully blank. It wasn't as difficult as it might have seemed. In fact, he wasn't sure he could have summoned up much by way of intelligent thought if he'd tried.
He told Lee he was going out and that he probably wouldn't be back for the rest of the day. From Lee's expression, it was clear that he'd guessed something was wrong but he didn't ask any questions. One of the benefits of old friends, Dan thought. They knew when to ask a question and when to mind their own business.
The girl was waiting where he'd left her, her shoulders hunched inside the coat. As he approached, Dan realized that it was the only way she could get the cheap garment to close across the front.
Her coat was too small, her boots were too big. She was too thin, too pale and she was too young. His mouth tightened into a grim line. He must have been out of his mind.
"Come on." He reached to take her arm but she shied away, as if his touch might burn. Dan's fingers clenched as his hand dropped away. "We can talk at Rosie's across the street," he said without expression.
She nodded without looking at him. He shortened his stride to match hers. The too-large boots forced her to take short, shuffling steps. If it hadn't been for the smooth line of her cheek, she might have been mistaken for an elderly bag lady shuffling along some inner-city street. For some reason the thought made him feel both angry and guilty.
Mid-afternoon was not one of Rosie's peak hours and they had their choice of booths. Dan led the girl to the booth all the way in the back. It was only as he was sliding into the seat across from her that he remembered this was exactly where he and Brittany had sat two days ago. When she'd told him she was expecting a baby. Maybe there was something about this booth that lent itself to discussing pregnancies. He made a mental note to avoid it in the future.
The waitress arrived before Dan had removed his coat. She knew Dan and gave him a friendly smile, sliding a curious glance at the girl across from him.
"What can I get for you, hon? Coupla coffees to take the chill off?"
"Coffee for me," Dan said. When the girl said nothing, he hesitated for a moment before continuing. "And a cup of tea."
"Comin' right up."
"I'm old enough to drink coffee," the girl snapped as soon as the waitress was gone.
"I didn't say you weren't," he said, his tone sharp. "If you want coffee, I'll call her back."
"Oh." She subsided back against the booth, a tinge of color coming up in her cheeks. "No. I don't really like coffee, anyway. Tea will be nice. Thank you." She added the last as punctiliously as a child at a tea party.
Dan almost groaned. How the hell old was she, anyway? She'd removed her coat and the curves that were just visible
beneath the shapeless gray dress were somewhat reassuring. Still...
"How old are you?" he asked abruptly.
"I'm eighteen." She seemed surprised by the question but she answered promptly.
Eighteen. Geez, he should be shot. It could have been worse, of course. She could have been sixteen, or a well-developed fifteen.
The waitress returned, setting steaming cups in front of them. "The apple pie is real good today, hon." She was looking at the girl as she spoke, a faint frown in her eyes, and Dan knew she was thinking that a good slice of pie might help fill out the hollows under her cheeks. Maybe the girl realized the same thing. She flushed and shook her head. With a shrug, the waitress left them alone.
Neither of them spoke for a moment. It was left to Dan to break the silence.
"Look...ah..." He stumbled to a halt, realizing too late that he didn't know her name. She lowered her head and he saw her knuckles whiten around the sturdy mug in front of her. He flushed, cursing his clumsy tongue and his lousy memory.
"Kelly," she said with painful dignity. "Kelly Russell."
"Kelly." He certainly wouldn't forget it again. He stared at his coffee, wondering just how one went about conducting a conversation like this. Maybe honesty was the best policy.
"I was pretty drunk that night," he said quickly. "I'm not making excuses. I just want you to understand why there are some gaps in my memory. Some pretty substantial ones obviously."
"There isn't that much to remember," she said in a flat little tone that sounded as if she was trying to pretend none of this mattered. "We met at the bar. We talked a little. We danced. It was noisy and you suggested going back to your apartment We...we..."
"I remember," he broke in when she couldn't get the words out. And he did remember. He remembered how right she'd felt in his arms. He remembered her trembling response. That odd hesitancy at the end. And afterward, the feeling that something had gone wrong somewhere. He'd tried to talk to her but the night's drinking had finally caught up with him.
When he'd awakened the next morning, she'd been gone. Since he hadn't been able to recall her name and he'd known nothing else about her, there had been no question of trying to find her. If he was honest with himself, there'd been a certain amount of relief in the realization. He didn't normally pick women up in bars and take them home with him.
He had done his best to forget that night. And he'd succeeded reasonably well, only remembering her at odd moments. It had begun to seem almost as if it had happened to someone else. Only it hadn't been someone else—and that wasn't all he remembered.
"You were a virgin," he said bluntly. He glanced up from his coffee to see the color sweep into her cheeks in a fiery flood.
"Yes." Embarrassment reduced her voice to a strangled whisper.
"Oh, God." Dan thrust his fingers through his hair, sitting back against the booth. He'd really hoped to hear her deny it
Kelly cradled the cup of tea, trying to absorb some of its warmth into herself. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt truly warm. Winter seemed to be dragging on forever.