and he’d turned out a son who would be all those things, too.
Better. Leaving Ethan to be not good enough.
When he finally forced himself down the hall and through the double doors into the kitchen, Olivia was bent inside the refrigerator. She came out with a carton of whipped cream and a pecan pie, then flashed him a smile. “What would you like to drink?”
“Coffee’ll be fine.”
“Sit down. Take your coat off.”
He slid out of his denim jacket and hung it on the back of a chair, then cautiously sat down. He wouldn’t get very comfortable, wasn’t sure that was even possible when Guthrie could come through the door at any minute.
She dished up two slices of pie, poured coffee and milk, then took the seat opposite him. “When did you get in?”
“This morning. I came straight here.”
She buried her pie in whipped cream, then took an extra spoonful for good measure, licking it clean with slow, savoring gestures. When she realized he was watching her, she smiled without embarrassment. “I’ve had terrible cravings lately for whipped cream. Since the rest of the family thinks my eating it on bread is yucky and gross—” she said the last words in a fair imitation of her six-year-old twins “—Mary’s been bringing over freshly baked pies every couple of days.”
“When…” He thought of the photo in the truck, of Melissa, with her stomach almost as distended as Olivia’s, and swallowed hard. “When is the baby due?”
“Next month. Elly says I’ll be as big as a heifer carrying twins before I drop this young’un.”
Elly, he remembered from the few hours he’d spent here last summer, was the older of her daughters—the tomboy, sassy and too smart for her own good. The younger daughter was Emma, sweet, quiet, demure. As different as day and night. As Guthrie and Ethan.
“What does Guthrie say?” he asked, his voice thick and hoarse.
“He says I’ve never looked more beautiful.” Her smile was broad, a bit wicked and full of womanly satisfaction. “My husband’s no fool. He knows better than to get on the wrong side of a woman who hasn’t seen her own feet in months.”
He wondered if there was anyone around to tell Melissa that she looked beautiful. He’d wondered a lot about her since getting the photograph—whether she wanted him to take responsibility for his part in creating their child. Whether she had simply wanted him to know that he was about to become a father. Whether she wanted money, or if she hoped to gain a real live, equal-partners, here-and-now father for her baby.
He wondered if she had a father just waiting for the chance to make the scoundrel who’d taken advantage of his little girl pay. If her family was helping out or if they’d been disappointed enough to turn their backs. He wondered if she even had a family, or if she was as alone in the world as he felt.
Feeling Olivia’s gaze on him, he looked up to find her watching him. “Have you seen Grace?” she asked in a quiet, just-between-us sort of tone.
“Grace?”
“Grace Prescott.” Seeing the blankness in his expression, she impatiently added, “You remember—short, slim, brown hair, thick glasses. The mother of your child. The reason you’re here.”
Melissa. So she’d lied about her name. And why shouldn’t she? New hair color, new style, new clothes and new behavior all deserved a new name, something prettier, less old-ladyish than Grace. Melissa was a hot redhead offering to fulfill wild fantasies in a bar. Grace was an old maid, waiting in vain for that first second look from a man on the prowl.
Olivia’s expression bordered on scandalized. “You didn’t even know her name?”
He didn’t offer a response. What could he say that wouldn’t reflect as badly on Melis—Grace as on him? “Grace Prescott…should I know that name, other than the obvious?”
“She’s lived here forever. You must have gone to school with her. For years her father had owned the hardware store on Main.”
The clues didn’t help him remember Grace, but Jed Prescott… Oh, hell, yeah, she had a father just waiting to make him pay, but there’d be no talk of a shotgun wedding or accepting responsibility. With a well-documented reputation of being the meanest bastard in the county, ol’ Jed would be more likely to take him out and shoot him than to allow him within a mile of his daughter again. Better to have an illegitimate grandchild than to have that worthless James boy for a son-in-law.
But once the shock passed, Olivia’s words sank in. Jed had owned the hardware store, she’d said, as if he didn’t own it now. “So…” His voice was the slightest bit unsteady. “What does old Jed think of becoming a grandfather?”
Olivia took her dishes to the sink and rinsed them before turning back. “I don’t imagine he thinks too highly of it, since he left town as soon as he found out and hasn’t been heard from since.” She folded her arms, resting her hands on her stomach. “Don’t you have any questions to ask about her?”
Only about a thousand, but he’d rather get the answers to most of them from Grace herself. “Why did she ask you to tell me? Why didn’t you just give her my address and let her write?”
She looked as if she wanted to fidget, but she didn’t. “She didn’t exactly ask me to tell you.”
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and his palms got sweaty again. “What exactly did she ask you to do?”
“Exactly? Um…nothing. You see, she hasn’t told anyone who the father of her baby is, but—but she always gets this guilty little look whenever your name comes up, and Shay noticed it, too, and we got to counting, and…it seemed likely, so…”
“So you brought me halfway across the country on the off chance that I could be the father of her baby.”
“We figured if there wasn’t a chance, if that photograph of her meant nothing, then you wouldn’t come. But you did come, because it is possible, isn’t it?”
Oh, it was more than possible. It was damn near guaranteed…for whatever it was worth. He’d come back thinking that Melissa wanted him here when the truth was that Grace didn’t have a clue that he was even in the state. She’d known for seven months that if she wanted to find him, Guthrie and Olivia were the place to start, but she’d never told them anything. She’d kept her involvement with him a deep, dark secret. Because she was ashamed of it? Because she didn’t want him around? Or because she didn’t want her child to bear the burden of having him for a father?
Probably all of the above. And he couldn’t even blame her. If he had a bad reputation, he had no one to blame but himself. When his name was a burden that even he didn’t want, how could he blame her for not wanting it for her baby?
It would be better all around if he just climbed back into his truck and left the state again. He could head out west, or maybe go south into Mexico, and this time he could stay gone long enough that no one would ever connect his name to Grace’s, not even remotely.
But he knew without considering it that he couldn’t do it, not without seeing Grace first. If she didn’t want him around, if she truly thought that the best thing he could
