“I’m okay. It’s easier to work with Elizabeth than Olivia.”
His face darkened. “Then what about that boy you’ve been seeing? If he’s hurt you—”
“It’s not Calvin.” He was certainly part of the problem, an even bigger part now when she feared letting her dad know why. But Calvin hadn’t taken her news—their news—in the way she’d hoped, and she doubted her father would either. “I...didn’t feel good. That’s why I left work early again.” In fact, she’d never gone to the shop today. She’d driven around aimlessly. She’d gone once to Willow’s house, but after her vacation her friend had stayed in Ohio to spend time with an aunt.
He sat down on her bed. She didn’t want to lie to him. “I stopped at the pharmacy on my way home,” she said. “I got some stomach medicine.”
“Your stomach, Becca?”
“I think have a virus.” Maybe that would make him leave her room. He wouldn’t want to pick up whatever she had and lose time to run the farm, not that he would ever take a sick day. But he didn’t move. He stayed seated beside her, gazing at her with concern in his already sad eyes.
“Why don’t you make an appointment with Doc Baxter?”
He was right about the doctor but for the wrong reason. Sooner or later, she’d have to see Doc, who was semiretired. His younger partner, Sawyer McCord, whom she preferred, was in some foreign country this summer, and in his absence Doc was holding office hours again. For now, she’d take the test she’d bought at the drugstore.
He frowned. “I’m concerned, Becca. Don’t sit on this, promise?” He must be thinking of her mother, who’d ignored her symptoms until it was too late. She hadn’t wanted to worry him.
“I promise.” Becca rested a hand on her stomach. Each day its soft swell seemed more noticeable to her. How long before everyone would guess the truth, her dad especially? Still, she’d buy time if she could. Once he knew, he’d see her in a different way. After that he might not love her, and he’d miss her mother’s presence all the more. Even if Becca remained in the house, it wouldn’t be the same. “I should rest. I’ve also been doing too much.”
“Seeing Calvin Stern,” he said, “when you should have stayed home.” His smile didn’t touch his eyes. “You missed The First 48 this week. Forensic Files was an old one.”
“They’re all old,” she said. “I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I?” That, at least, wouldn’t be a problem for now, because she hadn’t heard a word from Calvin. The thought made her feel more exhausted than she had before. She’d let down everyone she loved, including the memory of her mother.
“You’re not supposed to take care of me,” her father said. “I’m the dad, you’re the daughter. That’s my job.” His gaze fixed on the far wall.
“Daddy, I’ll be fine, but I’d rather be alone right now. I don’t feel like watching TV tonight.” She faked a yawn, her hand still cradling her abdomen.
What if Calvin really didn’t want her or their baby? She was terrified, afraid to think she might panic and do something drastic. Like not have it. She’d read about girls who hid their pregnancies, gave birth in some restroom stall, abandoned their newborns... She needed to talk to Elizabeth again. There was no one else she could trust.
“Rebecca, tell me the truth.” A sense of betrayal threatened to make her cry. He’d lost her mother, the love of his life, and yet he got up every morning, tended the farm and her roses, tended to Becca, as he’d said. The truth wouldn’t get easier to reveal over time, and her dad’s eyes told her he’d already made a connection. “It’s not your stomach, is it?”
“No, and I’m not that sick,” she said quickly to reassure him. He wasn’t going to lose her as they had her mom, but she was going to break his heart. Becca waited until his gaze moved from the wall to meet hers. She took his hand and drew it to her tummy but still couldn’t speak. Finally, he said the words for her that would change them forever, his quiet voice filled with the realization and shock.
“You’re pregnant.”
The tears welled in her eyes, then streamed down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” Through blurred vision, she watched disappointment take over his expression, and a sheen of moisture brimmed in his eyes too. Without another word, he rose from the bed and left the room, his head down and his steps slow. She heard none of the clatter he usually made going down the wooden stairs; he didn’t make a sound.
Leaving Becca and her baby alone.
WHAT IS HAPPENING next door? Every light in Lizzie’s house seemed to be on, the deep thrum of bass from a television reverberated through those walls into his, and from his side window Dallas glimpsed the shadow of someone moving past in an opposite upstairs room. A figure in the darkened rear yard bounced a basketball in front of the hoop on the garage. Lizzie was no longer alone. Was that Jordan?
Dallas had his boots on, was out the door and on her front porch in a flash. Their quick conversation that morning at Clara’s wasn’t enough, and he needed to restore their friendship, if that’s all they could have. Should have.
He rang the bell three times. Lizzie had ignored him before, and again he feared no one would answer. He had to look down, way down, to see the small boy, overwhelmed by Dallas’s bigger shadow, who opened the door, light spilling from inside onto the porch. In the distance he could hear voices.
“Who’re you?” the kid asked, peering up at him. What was his name? Seth? He had a slight build, blondish hair and Lizzie’s green eyes. Compared to Jordan, her youngest
