If the Stick Turns Pink... (3 page)

“I don't know why you're so surprised. I've been talking about wanting a child for months now.”

“Yeah, but I thought it was kind of like me talking about wanting a Jaguar. You know, it would be nice if I got one, but right now it's pretty much out of the question.”

“But me getting pregnant isn't out of the ques
tion,” she protested. “It's just a matter of picking which man in Foxrun I'm going to sleep with.”

“Like who? I know Fred Ketchum has a hot crush on you. Sleep with him and your kid will look like a werewolf.”

She laughed. “Fred is all right. He can't help it that he's unusually hairy. But you're right, I'm not sure I'd want his DNA in any child of mine.” She took another sip of her coffee, then continued. “But, there is Buck Walton. I'm sure Buck wouldn't mind a couple of rolls in the hay with me.”

“Oh, yeah, you'd definitely want his DNA,” Bailey said dryly. “If the kid takes after his father he'll be swilling beer by the time he's two and will have a vocabulary of four-letter words that will astound the world.”

“Why are you being so negative?” she asked impatiently.

“Why are you so set on doing this?” he countered. The whole discussion of who she would choose to sleep with was irritating him.

She twirled a strand of her shiny hair between two fingers, a familiar gesture that told him she was concentrating. “Bailey, you and I both know what it's like to be raised by older parents. Goodness knows, we've talked about it often enough.”

He nodded. It was true. It had been one of their common complaints when growing up. Both Mellie's and his parents had been older when they had been born and they had spent many hours complaining
about the fact that their parents were so much older than their friends' parents.

“If I wait for love and romance and eventually marriage and pregnancy, I'm going to be retired by the time my child is graduating from high school.”

“Is your sister pregnant again?”

The telltale blush that momentarily stole over her face gave him his answer. Mellie's sister, Linda, was nothing short of a baby factory, producing a baby a year for the past four years.

“Yes, but that has nothing to do with my decision to get pregnant,” she replied tersely.

He knew better. He knew that each new baby born into the Watters family had increased Mellie's desire for a child of her own.

Before he could reply, he spied MaryAnn Bartel entering the diner. She was dressed to kill in a pair of tight black jeans and a hot-pink midriff top the size of a bandage. Her eyes widened in delight at the sight of him, and he steeled himself for yet another encounter with a mad cow contestant.

“Bailey,” she squealed, her thick perfume reaching him before she did. Her smile faltered as she saw Melanie. “Oh, hi, Melanie. So, it's true? The two of you are engaged?”

Bailey knew now was his chance to set the record straight, to explain to MaryAnn that the rumor about him and Melanie was false. But he saw the light of fanaticism in her bright blue eyes, the tiny sparkles in their depths appearing like tiny tiaras.

He had a sudden vision of his life in the next six weeks, a life inundated with stress because of the stupid Miss Dairy Cow Contest. He also thought of his mother, who had become an irritating broken record on the topic of wanting a grandchild.

A temporary marriage to Mellie would solve a host of problems. There would certainly be no surprises with Mellie. He knew her as well as he knew himself, and he couldn't imagine anything ruining their friendship, not even a marriage, a pregnancy and a subsequent divorce.

“It's true,” he said, and saw the surprise that lit Mellie's eyes. He smiled at her, hoping that neither of them came to regret the split-second decision he'd made to follow through on her crazy scheme.

I
t was just another Friday. That's what Melanie told herself as she stepped outside of the school building and into the warm late-afternoon sunshine.

It was just a usual Friday afternoon. Bailey would pick her up from school, they'd go to the video store and rent a couple of movies, then go back to his house and eat popcorn and watch the movies.

They had spent countless Friday nights this way, and never had she felt the dancing of butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Of course, never before had they stopped on the way to the video store at the county clerk's office to get a marriage license.

There was absolutely no reason to be nervous, she told herself. This was what she had wanted, and it was a perfect plan for both of them. Still, no amount
of rational thought seemed to still the jitters inside her.

She supposed it was natural. It wasn't every day she promoted the idea of a temporary marriage to a man. She walked to the curb as she spied Bailey's maroon pickup truck approaching.

He pulled to a halt at the curb and reached over to open the door for her. The first thing she noticed when she slid into the vehicle was that he wasn't wearing his jeans, but rather was clad in a pair of navy dress slacks and a pinstriped short-sleeved dress shirt.

Funny. She usually wore slacks to school, but had opted for a dress today. It was as if someplace in the back of their minds they'd decided this day deserved better wear than usual.

“Changed your mind yet?” he asked the moment she got into the truck.

“No. Have you?”

“At least a hundred times since last night,” he admitted. He shot her one of his grins that made his dimple appear, near the right side of his mouth. “But each time I decided not to go through with it, my mother's strident voice would fill my head.”

Melanie grinned. “And what is your mother's voice saying?”

“The usual. When am I going to get married again. If I'd married a local girl the first time I might not be divorced. She'll be dead and in her grave before I finally settle down and give her grandchildren.” He
pulled away from the curb. “Trust me, Melanie, be grateful you have a sister. Being an only child can definitely be a burden.”

“What is she going to say when we get divorced?” Melanie asked, trying not to notice how the sunshine drifting through the truck window shone on his rich, dark hair.

“I think after two strikes she'll finally get off my back about being single.”

“And she'll have a grandchild to dote on,” Melanie reminded him.

He parked in front of the county clerk's office. He turned in his seat to look at her. “Mellie, before we go inside, I think we need to talk about some things.”

“Like what?”

“If we get the license now, then I figure on Saturday we can go to Jeb Walker's and he can marry us.” Jeb Walker was the local justice of the peace. “I'm assuming you'll be moving in with me. I'm not about to move into that tiny apartment of yours.”

Melanie hadn't thought that far ahead. Of course they would have to live together, and with Bailey's veterinarian practice and nice ranch house, it made sense that she would move in there. The thought of moving in with him suddenly made their plans more real than anything else had before, and once again butterflies danced in her stomach.

“I probably should just keep paying rent on the apartment even though I won't be there for a month or two,” she said thoughtfully. “Oh, and before I
forget it, Mom called and asked if I'd pick up a prescription for her at the drugstore and drop it by on the way to your house.”

“No problem,” he agreed easily. His gaze continued to hold hers, and she'd never seen his eyes so blue or so serious. “Last chance to change your mind, Mellie.”

“I'm not going to change my mind, Bailey. I'm going into this with both eyes wide open. You give me a baby, I'll give you a divorce. You can have as much or as little a role as you want in the baby's life, but no matter what, we go right back to the way things have always been between us.”

He cast her a quick grin. “Sounds like a perfect plan.” He opened his truck door and she did the same, trying not to think of the old adage about the best-laid plans of mice and men.

It took them only a few minutes to obtain the marriage license, then they went to the drugstore to pick up Melanie's mom's prescription and on to the video store to rent movies for the night.

By the time they were on their way to Melanie's parents place, the nerves that had been dancing in her stomach had stopped. They had bickered in the video store over which movies to rent, as they did every time they rented movies. The very normalcy of the good-natured arguing set her at ease and assured her that nothing had changed between them.

As they headed down the road toward the Watters farmhouse, they shared the events of their day. Mel
anie loved hearing about his work with animals, and he listened patiently as she vented about a particular student's misbehavior or extolled the virtues of another student.

“It's hard to believe there's just a week left of school,” she said.

“This will work out really great for me,” Bailey said. “You'll be out of a job and will be able to cook and clean for me.” He shot her a teasing glance. “It's what wives do.”

“Wrong century, Bailey. And definitely wrong woman,” she replied lightly. “If you think I'm going to spend my time as your wife picking up your dirty socks and recapping your tube of toothpaste, then you have another think coming.”

“I knew it was too good to be true,” he exclaimed as he turned down the lane that led to the Watters place.

As always a burst of warmth swept through her as her parents' farmhouse came into view. The three-bedroom ranch was where Melanie had been born and all the wonderful memories of her childhood resided here.

“Looks like company,” Bailey said, pointing to a scattering of parked cars in the driveway.

“Must be bridge night,” Melanie replied. “That's probably why Mom asked me to pick up the prescription. She was busy cooking and cleaning for the bridge gang.”

Bailey pulled to a halt. “I'll just wait here,” he said.

Melanie nodded and got out of the truck. Before she could reach the house her younger sister, Linda, came out and hurried toward her.

“Linda, what are you doing here?” Melanie asked.

“Ben is working late so I decided to stop by for a little visit.” She looked over at the truck where Bailey was waiting. Raising one arm, she motioned for him to get out of the truck, then looked back at Melanie.

“How are you feeling?” Melanie asked.

Linda touched her still-flat stomach and winced. “Okay, but I've already started with the morning sickness. I didn't have it this early with any of the other three pregnancies.”

A touch of envy swept through Melanie. Linda had it all, a loving husband, a houseful of kids and a complexion without a single freckle. With her blond hair and peaches-and-cream skin tone, she'd taken after their mother, Marybeth.

Melanie had received their father's genetic characteristics. Walter Watters, better known in Foxrun as Red, had been red-haired and freckled in his youth. His hair was now snow-white and his freckles had faded with age, unlike Melanie's.

Bailey approached where the two stood. “Bailey Jenkins, you know that if you don't come inside and say hello to Mom and Dad they'll be upset,” Linda said.

“I was just running in to drop this off.” Melanie
held up the pill bottle they'd gotten from the drugstore.

“Well, come on, then,” Linda replied. “And you, too, Bailey. The kids will want to see you.”

Together the three of them entered the front door and into the living room, where a large group of people were gathered. “Surprise!” they all yelled collectively.

Suddenly Melanie was being squeezed and hugged and kissed on the cheek by friends, neighbors and coworkers. Stunned, she realized the crepe paper and balloons weren't for a bridge night party, but rather for her and Bailey.

She glanced over to Bailey and saw the sheer panic in his widened eyes. They had hoped to do this quietly, without a fuss, knowing that it was all going to be temporary. She should have known there was no way to do anything quietly in Foxrun.

“Darling girl.” Bailey's mother Luella enveloped Melanie in a fierce hug. “We've all been wondering when the two of you would finally figure out that you were absolutely perfect for each other.”

“Lu…give the girl a chance to breathe,” Bailey's father Henry said.

“Oh, hush up, Henry. I have a right to give my future daughter-in-law more than a little bitty hug.” She released Melanie and stepped back. “I can't tell you how happy we all are. So, when's the big date?”

The entire crowd had fallen silent, and Melanie looked at Bailey for support. He walked over to her
side. “We're planning a very small ceremony next Saturday.”

“Next Saturday!” Marybeth looked at her daughter in horror. “But that's impossible. We can't do a wedding right in a week.”

“Mom, Bailey and I have agreed we don't want anything elaborate. Just a simple ceremony without any frills.”

“We'll see,” Marybeth replied, and gave Melanie a hug. “In the meantime we've got cake and goodies and a party to enjoy.”

 

Bailey was in a mild state of shock. Although rationally he knew he and Melanie had been fools to think they could somehow sneak off to a justice of the peace and be married, he'd desperately hoped they could have done just that.

But already the potential mothers-in-law had their heads together, and he knew they were discussing color schemes and flowers and all the things to transform a simple ceremony into nothing short of a circus.

He got himself a cup of lime-colored punch and looked over to where Mellie was standing in a circle of women. Her freckles appeared to be standing out from her skin, and he knew she was struggling with the same feelings he was.

In their brief discussions of planning this whole thing, neither of them had taken into consideration that the situation would force them to lie to friends and family.

The lies tasted bad in his mouth, but to tell everyone the truth would be far more disastrous. Foxrun had the moral compass of the fifties, and a teacher of their children involved in a plot to marry just to get pregnant would be ridden out of town on a rail.

“Bailey, my boy.” Red Watters clapped him on the back and beamed a smile. “I can't think of a better man to love and honor our Melanie.”

“I do love her,” Bailey replied. This much was true. He'd always loved and adored Mellie, just not in a romantic kind of way.

“Hell, son. We all knew you loved each other, we just wondered how long it would take for the two of you to realize it,” Red exclaimed.

Red spoke with him for a few minutes longer, then drifted off to the table for a piece of cake. Bailey took the opportunity to sneak outside for a breath of fresh air.

Night had fallen, bringing with it a cool breeze. He walked over to the porch swing in the shadows and jumped in surprise as he saw Mellie sitting there.

“Ah, another escapee,” he said as he eased down next to her on the narrow swing.

“They're all having such a good time I didn't think anyone would miss me,” she replied.

“Yeah, I figured the same thing.”

For a moment the two of them swung slowly in silence, the only sounds the laughter and talking of the people inside the house and the clicking and buzzing of insects outside the house.

Bailey became aware of a soft floral scent in the air, and he leaned back in the seat and looked around, attempting to identify the source.

It was too late in the year for the lilacs to be in bloom and too early for the roses or for honeysuckle. “What a mess,” he finally said.

She nodded. “I can't believe how guilty I feel.” She shifted positions and again the light floral scent teased his senses.

He suddenly realized the pleasant fragrance was coming from her. He frowned thoughtfully. Had she always smelled so good? He couldn't remember ever paying much attention before, and for some reason he found it vaguely disturbing.

He stood and walked over to the porch railing and stared out into the night. “I think your mother and mine have developed an instant case of wedding fever,” he said.

He heard her rise from the swing and a moment later she stood next to him, also peering out into the distance. “I think my mother had already written me off as a hopeless case. She figured I was going to be an old maid all my life.”

“That's ridiculous. You're not even thirty yet. Lots of women wait and marry in their thirties.”

She smiled up at him. “Not in this town. In Foxrun little girls are raised to covet two things…the Miss Dairy Cow crown and a wedding ring.”

He knew she was right. The small town had old-fashioned values when it came to their womenfolk.
“How come you never entered the Miss Dairy Cow contest?” he asked curiously.

Her green eyes glowed in the light that shone from the front windows. “Be serious, Bailey,” she scoffed. “I knew at a very early age my limitations. A skinny, freckle-faced girl with red hair isn't exactly beauty queen material.”

Before he could reply the front door flew open. “Here they are,” his mother exclaimed. “Come on, you two. We were all wondering where you disappeared. Get back in here to your party. I've got a little presentation for you.”

Bailey and Mellie exchanged wary glances as they went back into the house.

“Attention…attention everyone.” Luella banged on the table with her hand.

“For goodness sake, Lu, you're shaking the whole table,” Henry exclaimed.

Bailey winced, wishing just once his parents wouldn't snipe at one another. He'd had a lifetime of their bickering and had often wondered why they had remained together.