A Baby On The Way Page 11

  “Wow,” India said, her voice nothing in the majesty of their surroundings. “How’d you ever move? I keep pinching myself that I’ll actually be living here.”

  Rounding the SUV’s front, he met her, then leaned against the front fender, crossing his arms. His stormy expression didn’t reflect the serene view. Jaw hardened, posture stiff, he looked ready to crumble under the weight of his woes.

  “I used to think that, too, about living here. How it would literally kill me to move. But life has a way of happening. You know—throws you into a tailspin.”

  “Why do I get the feeling we’re not just here for the view?”

  He laughed sharply, grabbed a handful of weeds and stripped their seeds, then scattered them in the wind. “When my dad died—”

  “I thought your dad was with your mom. Back in Lake Placid, waiting to pick up Jake from camp.”

  “He is. But Kent’s my stepdad. A great guy and role model. My real dad’s here.”

  It took India but a second to grasp Graydon’s meaning.

  “He wanted his ashes scattered in this meadow. Said this place was the closest to heaven he’d ever felt on earth.”

  “It’s easy to see why.”

  “Yeah, well, my dad was kind of the town joke. He was a crap husband and even crappier father. Drank like a fish, smoked like a chimney, cheated on my mom—all-around great guy.”

  “How old were you when he died?”

  “Eight.”

  “How awful.” Truthfully, there’d been times when she’d wondered if she and Lyndsay would have been better off in a foster home than with their father. Which was a huge part of why she was so determined to make a great life for her son or daughter.

  Graydon shrugged. “It was one of those mixed-blessings kind of things. Here I was, a kid. Even though, in retrospect, I see what a mess the man was, I still worshiped him. Still wanted him to be like other dads and show up for my school plays or help with homework.”

  “Sure.” How many times had she desperately wished for the same?

  “Two years later, Mom married Kent, and we never looked back. It broke Mom’s heart to find that the apple of her eye hadn’t fallen far from the tree.”

  “Oh, Graydon, no. What do you mean by that?” Heart aching for this man she hardly knew, yet felt she’d always known, she pressed herself to him. Only the breeze whispering among the wildflowers and firs broke their silence.

  “Back there, getting your tire, it hit me. Just what a disappointment I must be.”

  “Are you nuts?” Backing away, she said, “Look at yourself. You were a professional snowboarder. People around the world must’ve adored you. Now you teach all that you know. Do you realized how noble that is?You’re working hard to provide a home and safety and moral support for your little boy, while his own mom chose the easy way out by taking off for greener pastures. You are the very embodiment of what a man’s supposed to be.”

  She glanced up, to find tears pooling his eyes. In that instant she hated his ex-wife, as well as the father who’d done this to him. Filled him with such doubts and pain. “Seeing that we’re practically strangers, this may be inappropriate for me to say, but from what I’ve gathered, you’ve made plenty of mistakes, yet you’ve changed. So when are you going to forgive yourself? Give yourself permission for a fresh start?”

  A strangled sound escaped his throat, and then he pulled her to him, crushing her with the force of his pain. But she could handle it. She’d borne her own pain and learned from it. She was strong and willing to share that strength with this fellow needy soul. When his tears finally fell, they were messy and raw, and for the first time since stoically learning of her pregnancy, she cried, too.

  And when they’d both quieted, standing there red-eyed and sniffling in an unspoiled alpine meadow, he slid his hands beneath her chin and kissed her. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Letting me be me. Not laughing at me for not being cool. Not—”

  Fingers to his lips, she asked, “How long has it been since you last cried?”

  His throaty chuckle spoke volumes. “When my dog, Rudy, got run over by a car. I was seven. When Dad died, at first I didn’t believe it. Then I was mad he left. Then I was mad for all the crap he’d done to Mom before he’d left, and then I just shoved it all down deep inside where it couldn’t hurt.”

  “But even that didn’t really help?” she probed. “Because it still hurt?”

  “Something did,” he said with a harsh laugh, tearing up anew. “Guess I just wasn’t sure what.”

  Drawing him into another hug, she said, “Not that I’m a psychiatrist or anything, but did it ever occur to you that all the adrenaline seeking you’ve been doing, the partying you used to do, was nothing more than that little boy in you trying to escape the kind of pain no child should suffer?”

  “My mom’s said the same thing.”

  “And?”

  He kissed her nose. “You make a much better case.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m sorry though.”

  “Why?”

  “For dumping on you like this. I knew coming out here for the reunion was a mistake. Back home I was finally getting things together. Seeing the old gang, Tiffany…” He shook his head. “It’s too much.”

  “Yet here you are. Not only slaying emotional dragons all over town, but still having time left to save a damsel from housing trauma and a bad tire.”

  Kissing her forehead, he teased, “I have a feeling you’re one damsel quite capable of saving herself.”

  True. But oh, how India had grown tired of the struggle. Graydon would never understand how much his simple acts of kindness had meant.

  “Go with me tonight,” he said softly. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  And because she didn’t, either, she agreed.

  Chapter Six

  “India, if you’ve never ridden before,” Graydon’s former classmate, Joanie Euwing, said in between bites of what a silver-edged, ivory menu card described as filet mignon aux champignons—apple-wood bacon-wrapped filet mignon with a mushroom bordelaise, “then you should drop by our stables.” She patted her husband, Larry’s, shoulder. “My guy here runs the best operation in town.”

  “I will,” India said, still pinching herself not only over the warmth of everyone at her table, but at the splendor of the high-ceilinged ballroom.

  “While you’re riding,” Graydon said with a chuckle, “ask Larry to tell you about the time his horse took off without him.”

  “Hey,” Larry protested, “that wasn’t my fault. Smoky Joe was spooked by a chipmunk.”

  “That may be, but the result was the same. How far did you end up having to walk before Joanie sent out a rescue party?”

  While Larry blushed and everyone shared a laugh, it was all India could do to convince herself that she wasn’t dreaming. How many nights had she lain awake in bed, dreaming of belonging? Of having friends and some fairy-tale event to share with them?

  “You should smile like that more often,” Graydon whispered in her ear. “Makes you even more beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” she said, feeling both pretty and complete.

  “Having fun?”

  “I’m having an amazing time. This is…” Gazing around the room, then back to him, she said, “Thank you for including me in this special night. My father moved us around so much that I never experienced a sense of community like this. One thing I dearly want for my baby is for him or her to have roots. To feel that he or she belongs.”

  “Silver Cliff’s a great place to do just that,” he said. “You should be happy here. Both of you.”

  Was she only imagining the flicker of sadness in his expression? Did he have regrets over leaving his hometown? Or could there be something more? That a part of him wished he were sticking around to watch her happiness unfold?

  “Well?” a buxom, chirpy blonde Graydon had earlier introduced as Stephie Dalton inquired. “What does everyo
ne think of my creations?” With a flourish worthy of Vanna White, she gestured to the centerpiece. A three-foot, soaring-eagle-shaped topiary made of mini white and black roses, with a base of trailing English ivy. The bird held a red tulip in his mouth, and the pot containing the arrangement was a silver ice bucket filled with mock-silver nuggets. “It took three days to spray paint all the rocks, and the flowers themselves cost thousands. Can anyone say tax write-off?” She winked.

  “It’s, um, big,” Joanie said.

  Larry said, “I’d hate to have that thing fly over me after it’d just had a meal.”

  Joanie gave him a smack.

  “I like it,” India said. “Incredibly creative. Do you do lots of work for the hotel? And if so, would you mind giving me your card? It’d be great to hook up with a florist who works well with themed parties.”

  “I’ve of course partnered with the hotel in the past, but now that you’ll be handling these sorts of affairs, I’d love to start offering more specialty services.”

  From a red-sequined purse that matched her dress, she withdrew a business card, which India smilingly accepted.

  Wow. Here she was making friends and business contacts in one fell swoop. And all, thanks in large part, to the man seated beside her. Sure, she could’ve eventually found her own way in the town, but just as when he’d introduced her to her landlord and new friend, Margaret, tonight, he’d again in a sense given her his endorsement.

  She was ready to burst with gratitude, and tears stung her eyes. Cupping her belly, she acknowledged that from here on, she and her baby would lead a wonderful life. The only bittersweet part was that Graydon would no longer be around to share in it.

  “Not to brag,” Stephie said, “but I handled the other decorations, as well.” Which were equally fun and creative. At each place setting sat a stuffed mountain lion—the new school mascot. Rising from each table in varying heights were at least ten silver helium balloons, lending the room a dreamy, starry-night flair. “I ordered the mountain lions from China.”

  “Grrr…” Graydon said, picking up his stuffed toy to nuzzle India’s neck.

  Scrunching, she laughed.

  Apparently not to be outdone, Larry’s lion also went on a kissing spree—only, straight to Joanie’s lips.

  A jealous twinge crept through India. Not over wanting to kiss Larry or the lion but Graydon!

  *

  “HAVE I MENTIONED lately how gorgeous you look in this dress?” Graydon required every ounce of his gentlemanly willpower not to slowly undo the zipper hugging India’s painted-on black cocktail dress. Lucky for him they happened to be on the dance floor of his old high-school gym, slow dancing to The Eagles’ “Desperado,” surrounded by fellow graduates of all ages.

  “I’m lucky it fit,” she said, her words warm against his chest. He’d long since ditched his suit coat and tie and now wore his starched cotton shirt open at the throat. “I didn’t expect to gain so much weight so fast.”

  “Are you hungrier than usual?”

  She laughed. “When I’m not sicker than usual.”

  “How’re you now?” he asked, loving the feel of her in his arms. Especially loving how he couldn’t care less that Tiffany and her Neanderthal danced only a few feet away. Their talk the other night had been freeing. His morning with India at the meadow where his father’s ashes were spread had unexpectedly liberated him from a huge part of his past. He hadn’t realized how much baggage he’d been carrying around, until he’d left it all on top of that mountain.

  “I’m amazed,” she said. “Thank you. This has been a wonderful night. Meeting your friends, being such a part of everything—despite having virtually just gotten here…”

  She dazzled him with the sheer size and perfection of her toothy grin. A grin that all too quickly faded.

  “That said, I do feel guilty.”

  “About what?” The music changed to a frenetic, hip-hop song. “Hold that thought,” he said, hand on the small of her back as he guided her through the crowd.

  Outside, beyond a cluster of smokers, beyond a few makeout kings and queens, he found a secluded bench where, save for crickets and the bass beat still pulsing from the gym, it was quiet enough to talk. Nestled at the foot of a grand old Douglas fir he’d carved his initials into, the bench was the same spot where he and Tiff had broken off and made up a dozen times. Tonight, Tiffany was a faded memory, whereas India was a blazing presence.

  Her hand in his, he asked, “Okay, now, what has you feeling guilty?”

  “The fact that this is your class reunion, yet you’ve spent most of your time with me, instead of catching up with old friends.”

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he said with a sad laugh. “Those friends? Aside from a precious few—like the folks we ate with—I’ve outgrown.”

  Wrinkling her cute nose, she asked, “What’s that mean?”

  “Exactly what I said. The way Jake is too grown-up to still play with Barney? That’s how I feel about my old crew. Whereas they’re still into hanging out, issuing asinine dares, I’m into raising my kid and earning a living.”

  “That’s all well and good,” she said, “but when do you have fun?”

  “Gee, thanks. I thought chatting here with you fell squarely under that category.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He played at wincing when her teasing elbow jab landed between his ribs. “At least, we were having fun before you attacked me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Granted, we’re nearly strangers, but you used to be a pro snowboarder, right?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “So you were one of the lucky few who figure out how to spend a lifetime doing what they love best. Okay, so Tiffany said you needed to grow up…tend the home fires and all that. But why can’t you do both?”

  “I don’t get the question.”

  “I’ll rephrase. What if it wasn’t so much the snowboarding Tiffany hated but the lifestyle accompanying it? Aren’t there any straight-arrow-type guys on the circuit?”

  “A few. But they’re older.”

  “That’s my point,” she said, poking him in the chest. “Why’d you have to go cold turkey on a sport you love to prove you’ve matured? Why couldn’t you have taken Jake and Tiffany along with you? Hired a nanny to homeschool? Granted, it wouldn’t have been a traditional lifestyle, but maybe it would’ve been enough to make your ex happy.”

  “Why are we talking about my ex?”

  She bowed her head. “The way you kissed me the other day—you know, out of the blue—to get back at her. The logical assumption would be that you want her back. If that’s the case, I’m trying to help.”

  And he adored her for that. Funny thing was, a year ago he had wanted to patch things up with his ex, but now, with the benefit of a clear head and hindsight, he saw the cracks in the relationship’s foundation that had doomed them from the start. Yes, he’d loved boarding, but he’d also loved his family. He’d wanted Tiff to be home for him, when she’d wanted to be out with her friends. In the beginning, they’d been too much alike. Then, once they’d had Jake, they’d been forced to change. To grow and become responsible parents. She’d resented the changes, while he’d fought to incorporate them into his fast-paced life. Coaching had seemed the safest way to go.

  But could he have been wrong? Was there a way for him to have the best of both worlds? To compete and have a rich home life by merely taking that life with him on the road, then, during the off-season, making the most of months spent at his Lake Placid home? Spending plenty of time with Jake, his parents and friends?

  An image of India flashed before his mind’s eye. Her bright eyes and smile. And suddenly, with a painful yearning, he wanted her in the picture, as well. They’d only just now gotten to know each other. It hardly seemed fair that they’d soon be apart.

  “What’s got you so deep in thought?”

  “The usual. Life.” He flashed her a faint grin. “Wondering who made that rule a
bout not being able to have your cake and eat it, too.”

  She laughed. “What kind of cake is it you’re craving? I make a mean red velvet cake with extra-yummy icing. If you’d like, I’ll even pack some to go.”

  “That’s just it,” he said, sighing. Bracing his hands on her cheeks, he forced her gaze to his. “India Foster, somewhere in the past few days you’ve become my cake, and I don’t want to let you go.”

  Leaning forward, touching her forehead to his, she said, “I know the feeling. But you have to go.”

  “And you, having just landed a great new job, have to stay.”

  Her warm, punch-scented exhalations teased his lips.

  He wanted to kiss her.

  Bad.

  But then what? She had a baby on the way, fathered by some guy who’d loved her and left her. Graydon wasn’t willing to be that same love-’em-and-leave-’em type. So what was he supposed to do?

  “Ready for me to take you home?”

  He released her, to find her eyes big and glistening in the shadows. For as long as he lived, he’d never forget the haunted sight of her, the intoxicating mingling of tangy pine and her light floral perfume.

  “I suppose you probably should,” she said. “I’ve got lots to do tomorrow to get ready for my first day at the hotel.”

  “And I should probably pack and catch up with a few folks I haven’t yet seen.”

  She rose, plastered on what he read as a forced smile.

  “Come on, then. With us both so busy, sounds like we should get a good night’s rest.”

  Rest.

  Yes, that was all he needed to clear her scent and smile and sweet perfection from his muddied head. But what he really desired was to make love with her till dawn, then wake up only to do it all over again. He then wanted to serve her breakfast in bed. Take her on a long hike into the mountains, and he’d show her his favorite glacial lake, where the water was so glassy and still you could see straight to the bottom; where the trout he’d catch her for lunch would wink straight up at them.