A Baby in His Stocking. Laura Altom Marie
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“I figured it was that gorgeous UPS guy,” Cami said while passing a paper towel beneath cold water, “but you never know.”
“Seriously?” Natalie groaned in pleasure when Cami placed the towel on her forehead. “You, of all people, know Craig’s the only guy I’ve been with for the past three years.”
After helping Natalie to her feet, Cami said, “When are you getting married?”
“We’re not. The day after I told him our blessed news, he applied for a transfer. I never thought he’d really go, but voilà, five months in and baby’s daddy up and moved to Miami.”
“Oh, no.”
Returning to her office, Natalie stretched out on her sofa.
Cami ruined Natalie’s temporary peace by asking, “What are you going to do?”
In the months she’d had to ponder her situation, Natalie had given that particular question a lot of thought. She’d always wanted to be a mom. Sure, in her little-girl fantasies she’d been happily married when giving birth, but that didn’t change the fact that, as much as Craig wanted nothing to do with their child, she looked forward to holding her baby in her arms. “I’ll do the only thing I can—raise my child on my own.”
“What do your parents think?”
Nausea struck again. “It’s my fervent prayer they’re not as observant as you.”
THATAFTERNOON, NATALIE felt much better. She’d managed to eat a little lunch and now stood in the empty auditorium, facing the twenty baskets lining the edge of the stage. She’d already rolled clothes, tying them with ribbon. Now she needed to add food, gift certificates from local merchants, books and toys.
The task she usually enjoyed felt daunting. One thing she hadn’t expected with pregnancy was to be so tired. Not just the kind of slump fended off with coffee, but a deep-down exhaustion that clung to her shoulders, weighing her down. Moodiness was another symptom she hadn’t expected. Everything from a dead fly to a Hallmark commercial made her cry.
She’d never been a fan of formfitting clothes, so hiding her condition for so long had been easier than she’d thought. That said, much more moodiness and it’d be her hormones giving her away rather than her baby bump.
“Hey,” Josie’s voice echoed through the lofty space. “Cami said I’d find you in here.”
“Are your kids in art?”
“Yep. I should be grading, but yesterday’s sugar has me feeling hungover.”
“I know the feeling.”
Familiar with the basket drill, Josie stepped up to help. Tucking canned chili between pint-size blue jeans and a puzzle, she said, “Cami told me you were sick again this morning. Also that you let her in on your secret. What prompted you to finally share your news?”
“I didn’t. Turns out she’d guessed a long time ago. Anyway, it’s not like I can keep my baby a secret much longer.”
Josie attacked Natalie with a hug. Then she grabbed some more cans of food. “Have you been feeling any better?”
“No. I’m tired, cranky and my body refuses to choose between ravenous or nauseous.”
From down the hall in the choir room came muted singing.
Natalie pressed her palms to her suddenly throbbing head.
“Honey,” Josie asked, setting her cans on the stage floor, “what’s wrong?”
Tears sprang hot and messy from nowhere. For weeks, Natalie had tried controlling her panic, but something about holding sweet Esther and that surprise dreamy kiss with Wyatt and then getting sick had her hormones about as stable as a four-wheeler on a pot-holed dirt road. “I—I thought I could be strong—you know, raising this baby on my own, but I’m scared.”
“Everything’s going to be okay.” Being wrapped in another of Josie’s warm hugs should’ve made Natalie feel better, but if anything, her friend’s kindness only served as a reminder to how easily she’d given her heart to Craig only to have him crush it like a recyclable aluminum can. “Sweetie, you know I’ll be here for you every step of the way. Heck, our house is big enough to hold half the county. If you have this baby and feel overwhelmed, move in with us and we’ll all help out.”
Her friend’s offer brought on fresh tears. “Why couldn’t Craig have been as perfect as you?”
Josie laughed through her own tears. “Wish I knew. I’d offer to drag him back and knock sense into him, but one of these days, if and when you’re ready, you can do much better in the man and baby-daddy department. I want you to find someone as dreamy as Dallas. Not just for emotional support, but the little things like helping with late-night feedings and deciphering all those mysterious burps and coos.”
Sighing, Natalie broke Josie’s hold to pace the center aisle. “I’m happy for you and Dallas—really, I am—but as much as I thought you two were made for each other, that’s how much I know I’m done with men. Before Craig, there was Neil. Remember him? The guy who took two dates to the same party? And who could forget Sam? The one who dumped me for a woman old enough to be his mother. Face it, when it comes to guys, my track record is one hundred percent awful.”
“Granted. Which is why I’ll leave you in peace to lick your wounds.” Josie took a bag of peanut M&M’s from her skirt pocket. She’d suffered an addiction ever since her pregnancy with Esther. What other kinds of baby afflictions did Natalie have in store? Popping a green one in her mouth, Josie added, “But soon, all bets are off. You’re too beautiful inside and out to announce yourself a spinster before you’ve even turned thirty-five.”
“Stop,” Natalie begged her supposed friend. “I know you mean well, but seriously, when it comes to dating, I’m done.”
Chapter Two
“Sure this is what you want to do?”
Wyatt signed off on the last of the paperwork his attorney and friend, Brett Lincoln, had placed in front of him.
“Yes, it’s what I want to do, but I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t have doubts as to what’s right for the company. Regardless, I’ve got to get out of here.” Here, meaning Oklahoma. Unbeknownst to Dallas, Cash, Daisy or Georgina, Wyatt sat in Brett’s high-rise Tulsa office, signing over the day-to-day running of the Buckhorn oil holdings to his more than capable second in command. Wyatt’s degree was in geology, and he couldn’t think of a more fitting way to get his head back in the proverbial game than to at least temporarily escape. Sooner the better.
He’d spend the next month or so tying up loose ends and then join forces with a major player in the oil exploration field in Ethiopia’s Rift Valley basin. As part of their team, he’d break down geographical leads, checking everything from source rocks to possible hydrocarbon traps. The work would entail long, thankless hours in miserable conditions. Wyatt couldn’t wait. The task could take years. As far as he was concerned, it could take forever.