Blue Skies (7 page)

“You know what Dad says. ‘There’s no better teacher than regret.” ’

Hank turned his glass in his hand. “Enough about that. It’s done, and beating up on myself won’t change anything. I have to think about Carly and what’s best for her and the baby. There’ll be time enough later to kick myself in the ass.”

“True. The child will be your responsibility for the next twenty-one years or until it graduates from college.”

“Right now, I’m more concerned about the immediate future. The way I see it, if I can convince Carly to marry me, I can swing everything financially. My schedule is fairly flexible at the ranch, so I could watch the baby, too, eliminating the cost of childcare and freeing her up to study. The same applies if anything goes wrong during the pregnancy. I’ll be able to take care of her. Her friend Bess seems to be very fond of her, but from what I gathered, she’s a college student, too. She can’t very well attend classes, work a job, study, and still find time to help with the baby or take care of Carly if she gets sick.”

“How do you think Carly will greet this idea?” Zeke asked. “It’s bound to take some convincing.”

Just thinking about Carly’s possible reaction made Hank’s headache worse.

“Maybe you could go into it as a temporary arrangement,” Zeke suggested. “Just for a couple of years, until she’s had another surgery to restore her sight, gets her master’s, lands a job, and can make it on her own if you help her out financially.”

Hank quickly warmed to that idea. “Two years sounds a hell of a lot better than a life sentence. Go on.”

Zeke nodded. “Locking down for a lifetime with someone you don’t love is a frightening thought. This way, you could pay all her expenses, help her get through the pregnancy, and take care of the baby while she’s going to school. When she gets her degree, you can give her some start-up cash, and then it’s
adios
. She won’t be devastated by the hardship, the kid will have your name, and you’ll automatically be granted visitation privileges by the state. It’s not an ideal solution, but in this day and age, a lot of kids have divorced parents. Afterward, you’ll both be able to move on with your lives.”

For the first time since his conversation with Bess, Hank felt a ray of hope. “She just might go for that. If I can get her to speak to me, that is.”

“I’ve got no brilliant ideas on that front. You’re the one with the charm, little brother. I was in the back row when charisma was handed out.”

“You’re charming enough.”

Zeke laughed and threw Hank a sofa pillow. “Right. Horses love me. Women—well, they’re another matter. I call a spade a spade. Women like a man to lie a little.” He pushed to his feet. “One question. If Carly refuses to give you her address, how are you going to find her?”

“I have her phone number. A good friend of mine at the police department should be able to get her address from a reverse directory. Finding her won’t be a problem. Convincing her to talk to me will be the hard part.”

Chapter Seven

C
arly ran her fingers over the bottles on each shelf of the medicine cabinet in search of the sterile eyewash. Since her surgery three weeks ago, she often awakened of a morning with matted eyes.

After locating the squeeze bottle, she filled the plastic cup, pressed it over her eye, and leaned her head back to let the solution soften the crust that had matted her lashes. Even after she cleansed both eyes, the edges of everything still looked fuzzy.

Concerned, Carly went to the kitchen. After several aborted attempts, she finally managed to dial the office number of her corneal specialist in Portland. When he finally came to the phone, Carly was so upset she was trembling. Haltingly, she described her blurry vision and told him that washing her eyes hadn’t helped.

“Has the pregnancy been confirmed?” he asked.

Her stomach squeezed with anxiety. “Yes. They called with the results yesterday.”

“I’m not going to lie to you, Carly. As I explained during our last conversation, pregnancy weakens your resistance to lattice, diverting most of the nutrients and vitamins to the baby instead of to your eyes. In cases like yours, where an SK was done on already diseased corneas, the lattice already has a foothold and can escalate quickly. In short, if the blurriness is that pronounced, it may be due to the pregnancy. I really wish you hadn’t gotten pregnant right now.”

Not long ago, Carly had wished the same thing, but now she’d come to want this baby. Bracing herself for the worst, she asked, “With it starting this fast, how quickly do you think I may go blind again, Dr. Merrick?”

The doctor took a moment to reply. “It’s impossible to predict.” He paused again. “Let’s think positively. All right? The blurry vision could be due to a number of other things. Your visual cortex may be acting up. Or you could be developing blepharitis, an inflammation of the eyelids. Yours are badly scarred from the lattice.” He paused for a moment. “Just to be safe, I’d like you to be examined. Given the distance, it’d be silly for you to drive four hours to come here when the doctor in Crystal Falls is perfectly qualified to check your eyes. Can you arrange for transportation to his office today?”

Bess had left for another interview, but Carly expected her back in the early afternoon. “I could get there by two or three.”

“Good. I’ll call his office, have them work you in, and let you know what time to be there.”

“Thanks, Dr. Merrick.”

“Chances are it’s only a mild case of blepharitis or something similar. He may just tell you to continue with your antibiotic drops, give your eyes frequent rests, and try not to worry too much. Getting upset isn’t good for you or the baby.”

Carly looped an arm around her waist. The doctor was right. How she felt about losing her sight again wasn’t the primary concern anymore. She had a little person to think of now.

The specialist concluded the conversation by saying, “According to my records, your six-week checkup is on July seventh. I’ll be able to tell you more then.”

“If the blurry vision is from the lattice, should I come sooner?” she asked.

The doctor hesitated before replying. “If the lattice is to blame, Carly, there’s virtually nothing I can do until the baby’s born. We just need to make sure you don’t have a postsurgical infection. If, by some chance, that’s the problem, the doctor there can treat it as well as I could.”

After hanging up the phone, Carly put a piece of bread in the toaster and then stood before the open refrigerator, trying to see what sat on the shelves. Nothing looked appetizing. Over the last week, she’d been craving sour foods. She plucked out an unopened quart of chocolate milk, and then turned to the cupboards. On the middle shelf, she found what she hoped was a jar of sauerkraut.

When she unscrewed the lid, the sour smell that wafted to her nostrils was heavenly. She grabbed a fork, took a tentative taste to identify the contents, and then began eating ravenously straight from the jar.
Wonderful,
she thought as she chased down a mouthful of fermented cabbage with flavored milk. Rationally, she knew the combination should make her shudder, but oddly it didn’t. Even better, it seemed to settle her queasy stomach.

After eating, Carly showered and dressed. Upon emerging from the bathroom, she felt more like her old self than she had in days, the nausea and wooziness nearly gone.
Sauerkraut and chocolate milk
. She made a mental note to stock up on both items so she would have plenty on hand for breakfast each morning. Brussels sprouts sounded good, too. She remembered hearing somewhere that food cravings during pregnancy were often caused by vitamin and mineral deficiencies.

She’d just finished brushing her hair when the doorbell rang. When she opened the door, she found a man standing on the porch. At a distance of five feet, with sunlight behind him to create a blinding nimbus of gold around his dark head, his features were indistinct. She stared blankly at him, the sudden brightness lancing into her eyes like needles.

“Hi, again,” he said.

Carly would have recognized that deep, silken voice anywhere. Her stomach knotted and then felt as if it had dropped to the region of her knees. She clenched her hand over the doorknob, momentarily unsteady on her feet. She was too startled to speak, her mind circling dizzily around unanswerable questions. How had he found her? Why had he bothered? And how dare he say, “Hi, again,” as if they’d parted under the best of circumstances?

“Don’t you recognize me?” he asked with an incredulous laugh.

Carly wasn’t about to explain that the sun was blinding her. He stepped closer, which brought his dark, chiseled features into better focus and made him seem to loom in the doorway, far taller and broader through the shoulders than she remembered. The brilliant blue of his eyes rivaled the sky behind him.

Carly’s first urge was to slam the door in his face and run to the bedroom. Instead, she stood there, clinging to the door for support. “Hello, Hank.”

He shifted his weight, bending one knee and cocking a hip. Dressed in faded jeans and a blue shirt, he looked exactly as she remembered, the very epitome of rugged strength. When he grinned, flashing even, white teeth, her heart bumped against her ribs, and she couldn’t help but stare at his mouth, remembering how she’d felt when he kissed her. The memory infuriated her and filled her with shame. How could she have been so witless? Their encounter had meant nothing to him.
She
had meant nothing to him. He probably slept with a different woman every weekend.

“Go away,” she managed to squeeze out.

He braced a hand on the doorframe. “You know I can’t do that, Carly. I spoke to Bess on the phone last night. I know about the baby.”

“Bess told you?” Carly’s sense of betrayal came hard and fast.

“Someone had to. It is my child. I had a right to know.”

Bess knew how Carly felt about seeing Hank again. “And she gave you our address as well?”

“No, no.” He held up a hand. “She wouldn’t tell me where you lived. I had your phone number. A friend of mine ferreted out your address.”

Carly pressed a protective hand over her stomach. She didn’t like the determined glint in his eyes. As an undergraduate, she’d known girls who accidentally got pregnant, and she remembered very well how most of their boyfriends had reacted.
Get rid of it
. If Hank had come here, hoping to convince her to do something like that, he had another think coming.

“I’m sorry for not recognizing your name when you called last night. With all the noise at the bar, I thought you said your name was Charlie. It took me a second to make the connection, and by then, you’d hung up. It wasn’t that I didn’t remember you. I even went back to the bar and put out feelers, hoping to find you. If you don’t believe me, call Chaps and ask Gary, the bartender.”

“At this point, I don’t really care if you remembered me or not.” Even as Carly said the words, her heart panged. “I just want you to go away.”

He dragged a boot heel over the doormat. “You’re carrying my child.” His voice dipped to a husky timbre. “I can’t walk away from that.”

“I’m not giving you an option.”

He locked gazes with her, his blue eyes suddenly sharp and piercing. No smile softened his expression now. “I’d like to talk to you about how we should handle this.”

Trembling, Carly said, “I’m having this baby. If you’re here to offer me money for an abortion, you can forget the idea as quickly as you forgot me. My baby isn’t a mistake to be rectified. Is that clear?”

“Crystal clear. I’m not here to suggest anything of the sort. Will you ask me in and hear what I do have to say?”

“You can say it on the porch.”

Carly didn’t care if she sounded hateful. She’d behaved so foolishly that night. Every cliche she’d ever heard seemed to apply—acting like a besotted idiot at the top of the list.

Frowning, he straightened and hooked his thumbs over his belt. “Do you really want everyone in this apartment complex to hear our business?”

“
Our
business? There is no
we
in this equation.”

That glint crept into his eyes again. “Let me rephrase that. Do you want everybody to know
your
business, namely that you’re pregnant with my kid?”

“It’s a baby, not a kid, and it’s mine, not yours.” Her stomach rolled, and the sauerkraut she’d so greedily gobbled for breakfast sent a rush of acid up the back of her throat. “I won’t contact you in five years with my hand out, if that’s your worry. You can walk away, never look back, and pretend this never happened.”

“Is that what you think I want—to just walk away?”

“I don’t really care what you want.”

“No matter what your opinion of me, that doesn’t negate the fact that I’m the father of that baby.”

“Yes, biologically, you’re the father. So is a sperm donor.”

His jaw muscle started to tic. Carly felt an irrational rush of trepidation. Having been blind all her life, she’d developed a sixth sense with people, radar of sorts that helped her feel their auras. That night at Chaps, she’d sensed in Hank an underlying kindness that had made her trust him. Now she felt strength and determination emanating from him in overpowering waves, and she instinctively knew he didn’t give up easily once he set his mind to something.

“Maybe I am only a sperm donor. But be that as it may, I feel obligated to make sure you and the baby want for nothing. Bess told me about your eye problems, Carly, and how this pregnancy may affect you, both physically and financially. I want to lighten the burden on you in any way I can.”

Carly stiffened as the implications of that sank in. “News flash. I don’t want you to feel obligated, not to me or my baby. Is that what you think, that I called to tap you for money? I just felt you had a right to know that you’d soon be a father. Fleecing you for support was not my objective.”

Hank could see this was getting him nowhere. While he stood there, trying to sort his thoughts, he couldn’t help but congratulate himself on at least one thing: he’d chosen a beautiful woman to be the mother of his child. Even in the harsh light of day, Carly had delicately drawn features, complemented by flawless ivory skin and big, expressive blue eyes. Streaked with strands of honey brown, her hair looked naturally blond and lay over her slender shoulders in rippling drapes of gold. A white T-shirt and snug blue jeans showcased her figure, emphasizing small, perfectly shaped breasts, a narrow waist, nicely rounded hips, and shapely legs.

Seeing her like this brought memories rushing back to him that had eluded him until now—how right she’d felt in his arms, how heady her kisses had been, and how much he had wanted her. In his recollection, he’d never wanted a woman quite so much.

As lovely as she was, though, what struck Hank hardest was her look of angelic sweetness. He’d noticed it that night—and shrugged it off. The women who frequented bars usually had a hard look. Carly’s heart shone in her eyes.

Those eyes. So beautiful he could scarcely believe they were flawed. Even worse was the realization that his careless use of her body had possibly condemned her to months of blindness. How would she attend grad school without his help?

A squeaking sound drew his attention. Her left forearm was shifting, the tendons from wrist to elbow distended as she turned her clenched hand on the doorknob. It was the unconscious gesture of someone rigid with tension. All his senses went on red alert. He slid his gaze slowly back to her face, noting the tautness of her facial muscles. Was that fear he saw in her expression?

The possibility gave Hank pause. It wasn’t as if he’d forced himself on her. As he recalled, she’d melted into his arms when he kissed her, a consenting partner every step of the way.

Maybe, he decided, that was the problem. She’d surrendered to the moment, giving herself to him without reservation. Standing back from it now and trying to see it as she must, he supposed she had reason to feel wary.
She believed all your hokey lines
.

“I have things to do,” she informed him. “If there’s something more you want to say, get it said. I can’t stand here all morning.”

He scratched behind his ear and wished for his hat. In tense moments, a Stetson always came in handy.

“Will you go out to dinner with me?” Definitely not brilliant.

A tiny frown puckered the smooth skin between her brows. “How can you think, even for a moment, that I’d ever consider going out with you.”

“I don’t mean on a date. I was just thinking—well, you know—that you might feel more comfortable on neutral ground, someplace public, where we can discuss this and reach some decisions.”

“We were on neutral ground the last time,” she reminded him.

Hank could think of no immediate comeback to refute that point.

“And any decisions regarding this baby are mine alone to make,” she added. “I’ll notify you when the child is born. If you want visitation privileges, I won’t deny you that right. But I want nothing more to do with you.”

This was not going the way Hank had hoped. “Carly, please, I—”