Best for the Baby (9 page)

A man went by carrying a framed picture of a beach at sunset. It had obviously been hand-painted, and not by anyone with great talent as far as Alaina could tell.

Zack must have agreed. He leaned closer to her. “Whatever he paid for that fiasco, it was much more than it was worth.”

Alaina giggled, then sat up straighter. “Oh my gosh! Does that picture bring back memories? Remember that beach scene that used to hang in my parents’ family room?”

“The one your mother painted when she took those lessons?”

“Yeah. It was so dreadful, with those palm trees that looked like toilet brushes.”

Zack grinned. “And she caught us laughing at it, and wanted to know what was so funny, and I panicked.” He shook his head, clearly remembering every painful moment. “No wonder your folks didn’t like me.”

“They never disliked you. They just thought you weren’t a good influence on me. Your sister was so much more…sensible. But you were always up to some mischief, trying to get Maggie and me to go along, that it scared them. Especially since when you weren’t around, I was always the good, reliable daughter who did whatever she was told.”

He gave her a sideways glance. “Even to the point
of ditching me after high school just to please your mom and dad.”

Alaina had been about to take a sip of water, but lowered the bottle so she could give him her full attention. “Zack. You can’t still believe that’s the way it was.”

“No? I must have missed something then, because that’s the way it sounded to me.”

“How would you know? You were yelling too loud to hear anything.”

“I admit I was immature,” he said with a self-deprecating shrug. “But you caved to them, instead of being willing to take a chance with me. That pissed me off big time.”

Alaina slid forward so she could rest her chin in one hand. “I know. And you’re right. Our breakup was mostly my fault, because I couldn’t stand up to Mom and Dad. Not when they were willing to spend so much money for my education. And at the time, they made very valid arguments to all my objections. Including the fact that you were only eighteen years old and had no idea what you wanted out of life.”

Zack looked down at the hay-strewn ground, a contemplative expression on his face. “I know what I want now.”

Alaina was just about to ask him what that might be when a large shadow fell across her. She looked up to find Nit Whit Russell standing in front of them, wearing the same cocky grin she remembered from her time in jail.

“Well, if it isn’t Lake Harmony’s own little burglar,” he said, loudly enough that several people nearby turned to look. “Casing the place for something to steal?”

Alaina was determined not to let anything spoil this day. “Good afternoon, Whit.”

“Deputy Russell,” he corrected. One of the vendors
happened to be passing by, and Whit thumped him on the arm, drawing his attention. “Hey, Buck. Watch this one when she hits your booth. She looks harmless, but she’s likely to run off with half your stuff when you’re not paying attention.”

By this time Zack had risen. Apprehension zipped up Alaina’s spine to see the dislike for Whit on his face. “Don’t you have anything better to do today than harass women, Deputy?” he said with steely politeness. “Surely Sheriff Moran needs someone to direct traffic out on the road.”

Russell’s lip curled with equal dislike. “I heard you were still sniffing around Miss Priss here. What’s the deal, Davidson? You like screwing pregnant chicks so you don’t have to worry about getting them knocked up? Or maybe you’re the papa, so it doesn’t matter.”

Alaina stood so quickly that the bottled water fell off her lap. She made a dive for Zack’s arm as he stepped closer to Whit, and thought she could actually feel him buzzing with anger. “Zack…”

“Listen to me very carefully, Whit,” he growled softly, ignoring her. “I like Sheriff Moran, and I like Lake Harmony. But if you keep bothering me or Miss Tillman without just cause, I’ll sue you and this town until there’s not a penny left in the city coffers and you’re living under the bridge by the interstate. You want everyone in Lake Harmony on your ass just because your mouth keeps overshooting your brain?”

Whit went beet-red, but a touch of fear glistened in his eyes. “I’m an officer of the law. There are a dozen ways I could have you arrested.”

“Pick one. But plan on one thing. Before I end up in
a jail cell, I’m going to rearrange your face. I remember what your weaknesses are, and this time, I won’t hesitate to exploit them.”

Whit blinked uncertainly, and his breath was coming faster now. “You two think you’re pretty special, don’t you?”

Zack backed away to retrieve Alaina’s things. In the most pleasant voice she had ever heard him use, he said, “I think we’re just trying to enjoy a nice day in the October sunshine. Why don’t you do the same, Deputy?”

In no time Whit decided this was his opportunity to step away from what was sure to be an unpleasant incident. Without another word, he spun on his heel and stalked off.

Relieved that the two men hadn’t come to blows, Alaina settled back on the hay, and Zack soon rejoined her. She felt the heat of his anger as if a blanket had been tossed over her.

After a while, she looked at him. “Would you really sue Lake Harmony?”

He grimaced. “No. But I’d take a great deal of pleasure in rearranging that son of a bitch’s nose.”

“How many times have you been in a fight, Rocky Balboa?”

“Counting the time I decked Nit Whit in the Connors’ boathouse?”

“Yes.”

“One.”

They both laughed at that answer, and suddenly, the pleasure of the gorgeous October day was back.

“I’m sorry that jerk spoiled things,” he said at last.

“He didn’t.”

“Do you want to go?”

“Honestly? No. I know there are things that need to be done back at the cottage, but it’s so lovely here. I could sit forever.”

“Then we will,” Zack said, and he settled back against the hay.

After a bit of people watching, Alaina spotted Heather Moran. She gingerly carried a child’s antique high chair against her side, and when Alaina called her name and waved her over, she cut through the crowd to join them.

“Hi, you two!” Heather exclaimed, setting down her burden.

“Hi. Zack, you remember Heather?”

He rose and shook her hand. “Sure. Nice to see you again.”

Heather was the sheriff’s oldest daughter, nearly Alaina’s age, and had been a friend to both Tillman girls when they’d come up to Lake Harmony on vacation. She owned an antique shop called Memory Keepers, and had offered Alaina a job before Zack had shown up at Coachman’s Court with his plans for the cottage.

“Why aren’t you at the main tent for the auction?” Heather asked. “We’ve still got a lot of cool stuff to bid on.”

“I don’t think either of us needs any more stuff,” Zack said.

“Nearly every merchant in town has donated, and the money goes to the recreation center.”

Alaina motioned toward the high chair. “Is that what you’re donating?”

“This is already sold. Eighteenth century tigerwood. Pretty rare.”

Alaina stroked her hand along one of the arms. The wood felt warm, like satin, and though there were nicks here and there and worn places along the footrest, it was still a beautiful piece of early American furniture. “It’s lovely,” she murmured.

“I think so, too. Unfortunately, it’s been in my shop for two years without a single nibble. But the director of the museum over in Dahlonega picked it up for one of their farmstead exhibits. So I’m happy to give it a new home.”

“Think of the children who have sat in this chair.”

“It’s amazing it’s held up, considering it’s tigerwood. You don’t get craftsmanship like this anymore. But I know it’s a little primitive for most tastes.”

Alaina looked at Heather and frowned. “How can anyone say that? Can’t they see the love that went into making it?”

“I guess not. Today, most new mothers want something very modern. God forbid it should have been handed down.” Heather picked up the chair and carefully hitched it against her side again. “Well, I’d better get this over to the delivery truck so I can return to the auction. Come over and see what else we have if you’ve got time.”

Alaina watched her go. A moment later, she was aware of a touch against her knee. She turned to see Zack looking at her closely. He hadn’t said a word while she and Heather conversed about the high chair, and she wondered if he was bored by talk of babies and everything that went along with them.

He surprised her, though. “What are you thinking?” he asked quietly.

“That the director of Dahlonega’s museum made a wise choice.”

“That’s not all,” he said skeptically. “You look too sad for that to be the only thing on your mind. Tell me.”

Alaina grimaced. “I was thinking about Gil.”

“Your ex-husband?” Zack scowled. “God, whatever for?”

“Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“I’m a big boy, Al.”

She still wasn’t sure this was a smart idea. The more she shared with him, the more she’d want to, and that spelled disaster. But the compelling look in his eyes made her feel so safe, she couldn’t help it.

“I’ve always wanted kids,” she began. “When Gil and I were first married we tried desperately, but nothing seemed to work. Then about two years into our marriage, I got pregnant, and we were both so thrilled.” She remembered the day she and Gil had found out. Even after all this time, it was still painful to think about. “Our doctor said we should be cautiously optimistic,” she continued. “I wanted to wait until the baby was further along before we said anything to anyone.”

“That makes sense.”

“I thought so. But two weeks after the doctor confirmed I was pregnant, I came home to find Gil in the room we had decided to turn into a nursery. It was filled wall to wall with everything you could imagine. Crib, changing table, rocking chair. Baby clothes in every color of the rainbow. All of it was horribly expensive, and none of it was to my taste—Gil loved modern, and I hated the way our house looked like a high-end showroom. But he was so enthusiastic about it that I couldn’t help being charmed.” Forestalling any derision from Zack, she added quickly, “He wasn’t always a first-class jerk.”

“So you were thinking that Gil would have bought that high chair if you had asked?”

That actually got a smile out of her. “Not in a million years! Gil hates antiques, no matter what their value. But I was just thinking about how happy
I
would have been to come home and find that little high chair waiting for me. No big fuss or show. Just something beautifully simple and lovingly made.”

A long silence stretched between them. Nearby, people laughed and chatted, enjoying the warmth of the sun and savoring the day like good wine.

Beneath the red-colored maple, Zack and Alaina sat still and silent.

“What happened with the baby?” Zack asked in a low voice, after what seemed like forever.

“I miscarried about a month after Gil’s surprise. We were both devastated.”

The next silence was deeper. Fuller.

He turned to look at her. “I’m sorry, Al.”

“I guess it just wasn’t meant to be,” she replied with wistful regret. “I had two other miscarriages. After the last one, I can’t honestly say we had any hope. Once we got to that point, I think we both lost faith in the marriage. I started resenting Gil for being such an aloof, stifling taskmasker, and he began to…look elsewhere. It stopped being a marriage and ended up being two strangers living in the same house.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” he asked, no hint of rancor anywhere in him.

“I should have. But I’d been an overachiever all my life, and for once, it was just easier to drift.” She raked a hand through her hair. “Gil wasn’t cruel or stingy. I
certainly had all the creature comforts any woman could ask for.” She shook her head, remembering those dark days of her marriage. “But then he started getting careless with his affairs, and I began to hate myself for having so little self-respect, for allowing myself to be turned into some sort of Stepford Wife just because it was less trouble to remain passive and complacent.” She sighed, feeling as though her chest was sore and empty. “Eventually I had to break free.”

Zack’s gaze swept over her. “So you ran in the opposite direction and took off with Jeffrey the environmentalist?”

“I know it’s difficult to understand. But after being a zombie for so long, it was wonderful to be with someone who could make me feel alive and young and…and valuable. In spite of what you might think, in spite of how angry I still am with him over deserting me, Jeffrey’s really an idealist. He isn’t a spoiled little rich boy playing at being a concerned activist. He believes in what he’s doing. He made me believe I could help. And he made me feel special.” She tried for a smile, but it felt weak and unconvincing. “At least, for a little while.”

O
N THE OTHER SIDE
of the lake, Sheriff Moran had a small house and unattached garage among a stand of yellow poplars and oaks ablaze in autumn colors.

Zack parked under them, removed a bag of supplies from the backseat of his car and trudged up the gravel path that led to the garage. He had been coming here every night since the harvest festival three days ago, so he knew his way around.

Moran’s patrol car was missing. It was only about 7:00 p.m., so it was possible the man was still in town.

The side door to the garage was locked. Zack lifted the roof of a nearby bird feeder. The key was there, right where Moran had said it would be. In another moment, Zack had the door open and had flipped on the lights.

The sheriff’s shop wasn’t nearly as extensive as the one Zack was used to working in, but it would do for what he had in mind. And though he could only manage to slip away from his work at the cottage—and Alaina—in the evenings, he didn’t think it would take more than a couple more visits here before his project would be done.

From the bag he’d brought he pulled out supplies
from the hardwood store—yellow wood glue, support brackets, fresh sheets for his sander and a new pair of safety goggles.

He dug in to the job eagerly. Though it had been a long time since he’d made anything by hand, this effort was shaping up nicely. His father had been right about one thing. Zack did have the Davidson way with wood. He just didn’t have much excuse to use it anymore.

With his band saw and the templates he’d made, he cut gently curving sides in the wood and settled on a series of scalloped edges that would act as decoration. Because Alaina already seemed racked with curiosity about what he did with his evenings, he knew he didn’t have much time to improvise anything fancier. He just hoped she would like it.

He’d already been at it about two hours when Sheriff Moran came through the door. When Zack had asked if he could borrow the space, Moran had said yes without hesitation or question, but he seemed surprised to see Zack here again.

“So you’re back, huh?” the sheriff asked as he approached the workbench. “Must be a pretty important project to make you want to spend every night this week in my pitiful excuse for a workshop.”

Zack straightened to relieve a kink in his back. “I want to get it done, and I have to work it in between everything that needs fixing at the cottage.”

The older man walked around the table, eyeballing the work in progress while Zack continued to drill pilot holes for the wooden pegs he’d made. Finally he said, “Mind if I ask what it’s going to be?”

Zack slid the paper template he’d drawn across the
table. It was a rough design, but any man with the kind of tools Moran owned would be able to figure it out. The sheriff turned it this way and that, then nodded slowly as if in approval.

“What do you think?” Zack asked.

“Makes sense. Does she know?”

“No. I want it to be a surprise, so please, not a word to anyone.”

“No problem.” Moran picked up one of the pieces of wood Zack had yet to cut. “This is nice. Did Barry have this in stock?”

“No. It’s Burmese rosewood. I had my guy in Miami overnight it to me. We use a lot of it for high-end cabinetry.”

The sheriff picked up one of the finials Zack had worked on last night, jiggling it in his hand. “This will be a nice touch.”

“I hope it comes out the way I want. It’s been a long time since I’ve cut wood for anything this intricate.”

“Guess you took after your daddy more than you thought.”

Zack offered a tight smile. “Not enough to make him happy, I’m sure.”

Not wanting to talk about his father, he started up the drill again. Moran watched silently for a while, then went over to an old refrigerator that stood in the corner. He plucked out two bottles of beer, screwed off the tops and wordlessly handed one to Zack.

Zack cut the power to the drill and downed half the bottle in a few swallows. He placed the beer on the far corner of the table. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure. You know…putting this much work
into this piece might suggest that your feelings for Alaina Tillman go a lot deeper than you’ve let on.”

Zack felt the beer zip along his insides. If he didn’t want to discuss his father, he sure as hell didn’t want to talk about his relationship with Alaina. But the sheriff had been like a member of the family at one time. Too close to be blown off thoughtlessly. “We’re good friends,” he admitted as he wiped wood glue from the end of a peg. “She’s hit a rough patch in her life right now. I just want to help out where I can.”

The older man straddled a nearby stool, then took a sip from his bottle. “Did I ever tell you that my Jenny and me were good friends here as kids until her dad got a better job in Charleston? We kept in touch for years, but eventually she married another guy and got pregnant with Heather.”

“No,” Zack said. “I didn’t realize you were Heather’s stepfather.”

“Yep.” He gazed into his beer as if it held the answer to a thousand questions. “Jenny’s first husband got killed in a car accident shortly after she found out she was pregnant. I went up to see her. By that time, her parents were dead, too, so I convinced her to come back to Lake Harmony and stay with me. Eventually, our friendship sort of took off again, and a couple of years down the road, we got married.”

Zack tried very hard not to scowl, but he felt really uncomfortable. “I see where you’re going with this, Sheriff, but it’s not the same with Alaina and me.”

The man’s smile was just a shade too amiable. “Why couldn’t it be?”

“For one thing, the father of her baby isn’t dead.
He’s just making up his damned mind to see if he can be a proper parent. If he comes back, Alaina might try to make it work with him.”

“And if he doesn’t, why couldn’t you step in and fill his shoes?” Moran asked, eyebrows lifting.

Zack laughed. “Have you become the town match-maker in your spare time?”

“I just know from personal experience that a wonderful friendship can turn into a wonderful marriage. There isn’t a day goes by that I don’t miss Jenny.”

“I’m sure it can work out that way. But Alaina’s not in love with me. And since she still seems to be hoping this Jeffrey character will come back, I think that’s a pretty good sign she’d like to make it work with him.”

“Not necessarily. She could just be wanting to know what his future involvement with his child is going to be.”

“Well, that’s another good reason to give them the chance to work it out. Isn’t that better for the kid? Doesn’t a baby deserve a shot with his real dad?”

“I thought that with Heather, too. But here’s the thing…. If you come in early enough, you
are
the dad.”

Zack almost told Moran to mind his own business. Hell, he almost ran. But somehow he sat right where he was while the sheriff continued to look merely curious.

“I don’t know that I’m all that willing to raise another man’s child,” he finally admitted. “A ready-made family isn’t how I saw my life playing out.”

“I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.”

“Even if I wanted to, I have too many things going on right now to think about settling down and raising a family.”

Moran slipped off the stool and tossed his empty
bottle into the trash. “And yet here you are, spending time on this project.” He came up to the table, his bright, inquisitive eyes meeting Zack’s. “I think you ought to ask yourself why you’re willing to do what you’re doing for this woman.” After a long moment, he sighed and headed for the door. “Well, don’t forget to lock up when you leave. Good night.”

After the sheriff had gone, Zack sat at the workbench, staring at his project on the table, his hands still. He felt old and achy and washed out. Damn, he wanted to argue, but the truth was, the sheriff had a point. Even Zack could see the intimate implications in his making this surprise for Alaina.

But he also knew that he wasn’t completely fooling himself about the way he felt. He couldn’t see himself stepping in to take Jeffrey’s place, watching her nurse another man’s child. A child who might look exactly like its father. Zack wouldn’t want to be wondering if, while she was in
his
arms, she ever longed for her passionate lover with the flashing blue eyes.

He hated the idea of her sleeping in another man’s bed, but in the end, it had to be better for both of them if they just kept to the original plan.

Friends, not lovers.

And certainly not husband and wife.

A
LAINA SAT ON THE FLOOR
of the back porch at Heron Cove. Shadows reached across the wooden boards like the fingers of a giant, and the setting sun was a huge orange ball, starkly outlined by a deep-purple sky.

She’d spent most of the day cleaning out closets. The one nearest the back porch had been stuffed to the
rafters with junk, some of it salvageable for charity, some of it destined for the trash and a handful of items that Zack might want to keep for the family. Boxes surounded her, along with miscellaneous papers, receipts, Davidson photos and one rusty watering can.

Her shoulders ached a little, her fingers were stained with ink from a pen that had leaked all over her hand, but Alaina thought she’d made considerable progress. She was eager to talk to Zack about an idea she’d come up with while she’d been knee-deep in Davidson memorabilia.

If
she saw him before she went to bed tonight.

Lately, after he spent the day working on the cottage, he went to town and didn’t come back until after midnight, when she heard him walking slowly up the stairs. She knew she couldn’t tell him what to do, but she wished he’d stick around in the evening. Eating dinner and watching television by herself, even reading in an empty room, didn’t hold much appeal. Normally, she was fine being alone, but frankly, she missed his company.

But she
was
relieved and happy that somehow they’d managed to rekindle the best parts of their friendship—the moments when they both knew what the other felt, the shared laughter over silly things, the comfort she took in just knowing he was around.

Maybe he was having the same problem she was in maintaining a distance, or maybe he wasn’t around much because he found her too boring these days. Had she talked too much about the baby? She could hardly think of anything else, but she knew that most men weren’t all that interested. In years past, she and Zack had been able to talk about everything, even those old
bugaboos religion and politics. But maybe now they had run out of things to say to one another.

She’d had one revelation that surprised her a little. At first she’d thought she had eliminated Jeffrey from conversation simply to accommodate Zack. But now she was faced with the realization that she seldom thought of Jeffrey at all. Well…except to curse his rotten hide for abandoning her.

She heard the faint sound of the front door opening and closing. Zack had gone to town a couple of hours ago. Maybe this meant he intended to spend the evening with her. Inexplicably, she felt a lavish sweep of happiness go through her.

“Alaina,” he called out.

“I’m back here,” she answered. “On the porch.”

She heard the wood floorboards creak along the hallway, then he came through the French doors that led to the screened porch overlooking the lake. Since she was seated with her back against the wall, beside one of the Adirondack chairs, it took him a moment to spot her.

He approached her quickly, frowning. “Why are you on the floor? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I was cleaning out the back closet and it was just easier to spread things on the floor. What have
you
been up to?”

He shrugged, but something in the way his brows drew together made her wonder if he objected to her asking. “Nothing much. Just running errands.”

A little evasive, but what could she say? She decided to move on to more pertinent matters. “Take a look,” she said, motioning toward the paperwork surrounding her. “I don’t think this stuff has been gone through in ages.
There are receipts for bird seed in here from twenty years ago.”

Zack didn’t join her on the floor. He turned the nearest chair and perched on the edge of it, letting his hands dangle between his knees.

Alaina opened one of the small boxes she’d unearthed. It was filled with brochures about things to do in the area—forty years out of date. “I’m putting these in the trash pile,” she said, handing him a few samples. “All right with you?”

“Definitely,” he replied, barely looking at them. He reached down to tap the top of another box. “What’s in here?”

“Family photos. You should take them home to your mother. She may want to keep some of them.”

“Maybe.”

It surprised her when he didn’t lift the lid to check out the pictures. It seemed to Alaina that natural curiosity would have demanded he do so. But Zack appeared completely uninterested.

Remembering the idea she’d come up with, she reached behind her. “Oh! Check this out.” She slid a battered metal box across the floor until it lay between his feet.

There was a moment of perfect stillness as Zack stared down at it.

“You recognize it, don’t you?” she asked when he said nothing.

“Dad’s fishing tackle box.”

“Uh-huh.” She scooted forward until she could unlatch it. The metal hinges creaked as it swung open, revealing several tiers of fishing supplies, including a whole row of colorful lures. Alaina plucked one out of
its nest, holding it up to the fading light. “I remember your father sitting in the family room, making this one. Don’t you?”

“No.”

She scowled at him. Most guys weren’t sentimental, but somehow she wasn’t expecting that answer from him. She reached for another lure and held it out. “What about this one, then?”

Ropy muscles flexed in his forearms, but he didn’t try to take it from her. “No. Afraid not.”

His lack of interest puzzled and irked her a little, but she refused to let his attitude dampen her enthusiasm. “Well, I think some of them are quite beautiful. What if we framed a few and hung them in the family room? And maybe another set for your mother. What do you think?”