style="font-size:15px;"> Certain that he wasn’t lurking nearby, she continued. “When I left Cleveland, I was pregnant. I know you all knew I had a child, and you didn’t ask me any questions. Still, I felt the need to tell you that Kwame wasn’t Nigel’s son. I said nothing more, and I think you all realized that I didn’t want to talk about it because you asked me nothing else. Perhaps you even assumed the worst. That I’d broken up with Nigel and met some other guy, quickly got pregnant, and then run. But the truth is…” Callie drew in a deep breath. This was the first stage of her telling the truth. Coming clean. “I was pregnant with Nigel’s baby when I left.”
“What?” Natalie’s eyes bulged. Deanna looked dumbfounded. Uncle Dave, however, didn’t look that surprised.
“I was pregnant with Nigel’s baby. Things weren’t working out, so…I just got scared, thought it would be best to raise the baby on my own.”
“I can’t believe it,” Deanna said. “And I can’t believe Nigel let you walk away when you were pregnant with his child.”
“No,” Callie said, realizing she hadn’t been clear. “Nigel had no idea.”
“You never told him?” Natalie asked.
“I…I thought it was best.”
Deanna was shaking her head. “So now you have to tell him that he’s a father?”
“It’s going to be hard, but I have to do it. It’s the right thing. My accident made that clear. If I were to die, Kwame should know who his real father is.” Callie shrugged. “He should have known all along.”
Silence fell between them, and after a long moment, Uncle Dave said, “Your aunt figured as much.”
Now it was Callie’s turn to be surprised. “She—she did?”
“You left town so quickly, then let us know you were pregnant. And the fact that you never wanted to come back to Cleveland… Your aunt realized Nigel must’ve been the father. I’m sad to say the times we ran into him, we weren’t all that friendly. We figured he had done something really bad to hurt you. We blamed him for you not coming back here.”
Even more reason for Callie to come clean now. “Nigel and I had our problems, but the decision to leave—that was mine. I was young, scared, and I thought it was the right thing to do. I’m sorry you and Auntie Jean blamed him, because the truth is he didn’t do anything particularly horrible to me. We just…I just thought it wasn’t going to work between us…” Callie sighed. “Are you all mad at me?”
“No,” Natalie said, who moved toward her and hugged her. “I can’t say I’ll ever truly understand, but this is your business. The only person who has the right to be mad is Nigel.”
Callie drew in a deep breath and let it out in a rush. She knew that was true. And that was her biggest fear.
“That’s why I have to talk to him. Right now.”
“Right now?” Deanna asked. “It’s not even seven-thirty in the morning.”
“I know, but…” Callie swallowed. “There’s no time like the present, right? I’ve just got to do this, before I lose my nerve.”
“At least have some coffee,” Natalie told her. She went to the cupboard, got a mug and filled it with java for her sister.
Callie was going to say no, because her stomach was jumpy and she didn’t know if she could handle eating or drinking anything. But she was tired, and a jolt of caffeine might do her some good. So she went to the counter, added sugar and cream to her coffee, and took a sip to make sure it was just right.
“Do you want one of us to go with you?” Deanna asked.
Callie waved off the suggestion. “No, definitely not. This is something I need to do on my own.”
And it was. She had gotten herself into this mess, and she was the only one who could get herself out of it.
Chapter 3
Nigel Williams could count on one hand the number of times in his life that he’d been speechless. He wasn’t the type to find himself at a loss for words. But when he opened the door to his home and saw who stood there—a few minutes shy of eight in the morning—he couldn’t think of one thing to say.
He stared, and so did she. He couldn’t help wondering if his mind had conjured her, it had been that long.
“Hello, Nigel,” came the soft voice of the woman Nigel had once loved. He still didn’t speak. He could hardly think, much less form words.
“I know you’re surprised to see me,” she went on.
Callie Hart was standing on his doorstep. Surprised was an understatement.
Callie looked into Nigel’s eyes, then glanced away uncomfortably. His own gaze went to the big white bandage on her forehead. Then he looked lower, noticing that she was hunched into a light jacket that was thrown over her shoulders, as though to protect herself from the chill that had come after the rain. The late May weather had been odd lately, and the recent heat—which had caused the rain—had been followed by a cold spell this morning.
Meeting his gaze once again, Callie asked, “Can I come in?”
Nigel’s stomach clenched. Here she was, after not being in touch for ten years, and she was asking to come in as if the request was completely normal? He didn’t want to let her in. Not in the least.
“Please,” Callie repeated, her voice catching slightly. “It’s…it’s important.”
What could be so important to talk about now, ten years after she had left him?
“Did you walk here?” he asked, looking behind her and seeing no car.
“Yes.”
Nigel wanted to turn her away. He really did. No explanation for her behavior would matter at this point.
“Can we please speak inside?” Callie asked. “Because you need to hear me out. Once you do, you can send me away and I’ll never return, if that’s what you want.”
His heart pounding, Nigel contemplated what to do for a moment. Then, he stood back and held the door open wide. As Callie stepped over the threshold, he noticed the sling Marshall had mentioned, which explained why she was wearing the jacket over her shoulders. Marshall had suggested that maybe Callie had fallen, but these injuries looked more serious than that.
“What happened?” Nigel asked, indicating her injury with a jerk of his head.
“A fender bender. Nothing serious.”
“You…you seem cold,” Nigel found himself saying. “Would you like some tea?”
“That sounds great. Whatever you have.”
Nigel closed the front door, then made his way off to the right where the kitchen was. Old habits died hard. He didn’t particularly want to offer Callie tea, as if she had
