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"Where is he?"
Mary had gone back to the refrigerator to take out containers, but at the harshness of his tone, she
looked over her shoulder. "He who?"
He jerked his head in the direction of her midsection. "The father." He almost spat the words. "Did he
dump you? He's not livin' here."
She set the containers on the counter, then shut the door before she turned to face him. "No." Her tone
was even, casual, indifferent almost. "He's not."
"So where is he? You're not married to him."
She blinked. "How do you know?"
"Taggart told me. But I would've known anyhow. You're notwearin ' a ring. Why didn't he marry you?"
"He's married to someone else."
It was the last thing on earth he expected her to say.
"What!"
She dumped the contents of one of the containers into a saucepan. "This is greenchile stew. Is it okay if I
reheat it for you?"
"Whatever." It could have been barbed wire and jingle-bobs for all he cared. How could she talk about
food when she'd just told him she'd been sleeping with a married man? "What do you mean, he's
married?"
"He's married," she said. "You know, when two people go before a minister or justice of the peace and
vow to love and honor and cherish each other for the rest of their natural lives?" She gave him a tight
smile.
"Then why the hell was he sleepin' with you!"
She set the spoon on the counter and turned to face him, her arms wrapped across her belly. "Why the
hell," she asked quietly, "should I answer that?"
Their gazes locked, hers as blue and frank and guileless as Gus could ever remember. She was Mary.
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Sweet, pure, innocent Mary.
Mary wouldn't have an affair. Not the Mary he knew.
But she was pregnant.
He shook his head, confused. He couldn't answer her. But knowing her the way he had, he couldn't
make sense of the evidence before his eyes. At the same time Gus knew he had no right to ask for an
explanation at all.
He'd walked out of her life years ago. He'd given up his claim. And yet&
He took off his hat, raked his fingers through his hair, then jammed it back down again. "It don't make
sense," he muttered. "You wouldn't do that." Then he turned to go. "Never mind. I shouldn't have asked."
He started for the door.
"Gus."
He looked over his shoulder.
Mary was smiling at him, a little sadly, a little wistfully, it seemed to him. "Thanks," she said.
"Huh?"
"Come on and sit down. I'll fix you dinner. And explain."
Chapter 4
«^»
She didn't begin, though, until she had his dinner on the table in front of him. While Mary sliced bread
and put together some cottage cheese and pineapple for a salad, she tried to compose what she would
say.
Of course she didn't have to give him any kind of explanation. She hadn't really intended to.
But because he'd believed in her even despite the evidence and her own words she found that she
wanted to. She could see him simmering with impatience as he paced around the small kitchen.
She knew he wanted answers now. Gus always did. He always wanted everything now. But sometimes,
she knew, he could wait.
If he had to. If he thought it was worthwhile.
Now he didn't press her.
"I can fix you a vegetable," she offered. "I have frozen peas and green beans."
"No. Thanks," he added after a moment. He didn't sit down even though she'd set a place for him at the
table.
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"How about coffee? All I have is decaf. Or would you prefer another beer?"
"Coffee's fine." He tapped his toes and jammed his fingers into the pockets of his jeans, then just as
quick, yanked them out again and cracked his knuckles. He took off his hat, rubbed a hand over his hair,
then put the hat back on again, then apparently remembered where he was and took it off again and hung
it on the hook by the door.
Even then he didn't sit. He tucked his fingers into his pockets, then bounced on his heels and then on his
toes.
Mary dished up the stew and set it on the table, then pointed at the chair.
Gus sat. He didn't eat. He waited, watching like a panther as she poured them each a cup of coffee and
finally, when she could think of no other way to stall and avoid the inevitable, came and sat down
opposite him.
"Eat," she commanded, "before it gets cold."
He picked up his fork, then met her gaze. He nodded. He waited. It was her show, he seemed to be
saying. "I'll eat. You talk."
"I'm wondering where to start."
"Whose kid is it?"
Her mouth twisted. Trust Gus to come right to the point. "My brother-in-law's."
His fork clattered to the table."What!"
"Andmy sister's," Mary went on firmly. "You remember Ruthie."
He stared at her, poleaxed, then shook his head.
"It's Jeff and Ruthie's baby," Mary told him.
"I know I didn't do that great in biology, but " Gus gave his head another shake " I don't think I was
that bad at it."
She smiled wryly. "You were always very good in biology, Gus. This is not & regular biology. It's the
high-tech stuff. I'm not the mother. I'm the surrogate. I'm just & carrying their child."
He stared at her, looking a little dazed, a lot disbelieving and still considerably confused.
"Ruthie and Jeff have been married a dozen years. They have been trying to have a baby for almost as
long. Ruthie's had seven miscarriages. She can get pregnant, but she can't carry a baby to term.
Something to do with her uterus."
Ruthie could explain in precise medical terms exactly what was wrong, but knowing hadn't helped her
carry a child. Nothing she or her doctors had done had been able to correct the problem.
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"There was no way, given her condition, that she could carry a baby long enough for it to survive. The
doctors finally told her that the only way to have one that was theirs biologically was to have some other
woman carry it. So " she shrugged " I volunteered."
"To carryher baby?" Gus's words were barely audible. Mary nodded. "The doctors fertilized one of
Ruthie's eggs with Jeff's sperm, and I'm carrying it." She smiled. "I'm the incubator, that's all."
"All?" Gus looked dazed, the way he had when he'd ridden his father's new sorrel stallion and had
landed on his head.
Mary reached out and pushed his cup of coffee at him. "It's not a big deal," she told him briskly. "It's
just& Ruthie's my sister. She wants a child. She and Jeffboth want a child. Desperately. And I was in a
position to help."
She didn't tell him how much she had come to want to do this, too. How much she wanted to share in
the miracle of birth even to a child she knew she wouldn't be able to keep.
For several years after Gus had broken their engagement, Mary had been sure she would find another
man, marry and have a family. But time had passed, and though she'd dated other men, somehow the
right man had never come along.
She was almost thirty-one now and no nearer the marriage and family she'd always dreamed of than
when she'd first fallen in love with Gus. Farther from it, probably, because then she'd hoped.
Somehow over the past couple of years, her hopes had waned.
She'd dated plenty of men. And none of them had come close to sparking in her the same feelings, the
same emotions, the same connection she'd once felt with Gus.
She began to think there never would be another man for her.
And if there wasn't a man, there wouldn't be children, either.
So, when Ruthie had tearfully told her the bad news, that she would never be able to carry a child to
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