Baby on Board. Lisa Ruff

a hand across the slight mound of her stomach.

      “Me? Why do I get the blame?”

      Kate smiled at the astonishment on Molly’s face. “Because you’ve been the best aunt in the world, and the best friend. You’ve been more of a mother to me than my own.”

      “Isabelle never had a maternal bone in her body. That’s not your fault, Kate. She has your father and that’s her life. End of story.”

      “I know. I stopped expecting her to act like a mother a long time ago.” Kate shifted in her chair. “But you’ve given me a taste of what a real family could be like. I want more aunts like you. And uncles, brothers, sisters, everything. For me and my baby.” Leaning forward, Kate set her tea to one side. “I want a family, Molly. A real, honest-to-goodness family, with squabbles and fights and holidays and vacations all jumbled up together.”

      “You want what you never had.”

      “Yes, I suppose so,” Kate said with a nod. She rested her elbows on the table. “That’s why Patrick won’t do. What’s the point of building a family with a man who’s never going to be around? Or who would forget us as soon as he left the house?”

      She and Molly shared a sad smile, then her aunt chuckled. “Besides, it would never work out. He loves water and you’re deathly afraid of it.”

      “True.”

      “Does he know that yet?”

      “No. I couldn’t tell him. How do you tell a man who loves the sea that every time you get near water more than three feet deep, all you can think about is drowning?”

      “He’d probably understand if you told him about your first and only swimming lesson,” Molly said. “Not everyone’s father begins by tossing their five-year-old into the deep end of the pool.”

      “It wasn’t quite that bad.” Kate shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what story I tell Patrick anyway.”

      “True enough.” Molly picked up her mug. “So what’s on your schedule today? Are you working in the studio?”

      “Maybe later. I’m going to tackle some designs here at the house this morning, then I have lunch with Steve Craig.”

      “Bachelor number one.” Molly laughed.

      “I wish you’d stop calling him that.” Kate frowned as she sipped her tea.

      Molly was unrepentant. “I can’t help it. I don’t think your scheme is crazy, but it is funny. It’s so like you—creative but excessively well planned.”

      “Well, it’s planned up to a point. I’ll see what Steve thinks about my crazy idea before I start patting myself on the back.”

      “The worst he can say is no, right? Then it’s on to bachelor number two.” With that, Molly rose from the table. “I’m going over to the studio for a while. Is Shelly in the shop today?”

      “Yes, she’ll open up at noon.”

      “Good. I’ll give her a call later and let her know I’m around if she needs help.” Molly sauntered off the patio toward the studio.

      Kate took her empty mug into the house to begin her day. Just how the day would go, she had no idea. It depended on Steve’s reaction to her proposal.

      She had known Steve Craig for two years. They had gone out a few times when they first met, but there had never been a spark for Kate. Steve still called her once in a while, but she had always evaded his invitations for dinner or a movie. Now, since she wasn’t looking for herself, she evaluated him in a different light.

      Steve was gentle and kind. He had patience and humor, two more important qualities for raising a child. He was stable, too, owned a house not far from hers and had lived in town for more years than she had. She couldn’t pick someone more likely to be there for her baby. He owned his own plumbing contracting business with ten employees and a reputation for quality work. Today, she would find out if he was interested in the additional job of becoming a father.

      After a cool shower, Kate pulled a sundress out of the closet. The yellow print was cheerful and bright, in contrast to her glum mood. She wound her long hair into a twist and anchored it against the back of her head with a gold clip. Wispy tendrils immediately worked their way out to tickle her cheeks and the back of her neck.

      In consideration of the afternoon heat, Kate put on a minimum of makeup. She smoothed on tinted sunscreen, followed by a little eyeliner to bring out the gold in her brown eyes, mascara and lip gloss. Grabbing her white sandals, she left her bedroom to get her sketch pad from the living room. As she walked down the hall, the doorbell sounded. Who could that be? It was too early for Steve. She pulled open the door and wished she had checked the peephole first.

      “Good morning.” Patrick smiled at her.

      Startled, Kate was at a loss for words. She reminded herself that she was not giving in to this attraction. She must be strong.

      “Good morning. What are you doing here?”

      Patrick leaned a shoulder against the door frame, close enough for her to be surrounded by the aroma of his after-shave. The crisp lemon scent reminded her of other mornings after he had spent the night with her. His beard was heavy, so he usually rose early and shaved, then came back to bed. To her.

      His cheeks would be soft and—Kate gritted her teeth, forcing the memory away. That didn’t matter now.

      “I thought we could take a drive this morning.” Patrick was solemn. “To talk.”

      Kate shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

      “Come on, Katie.” He took her hand. “We do need to talk about this more. You know that.”

      She shook her head again, but he squeezed her fingers lightly. “Please, Kate.”

      The quiet entreaty swayed her as a demand could not have done. She remembered again how badly she had handled yesterday. Patrick was right. They did need to talk. He had to see the truth; the best thing he could do for the baby was recognize that he was not the right man for the job and step aside. It wouldn’t make him a bad person. Just the opposite; it would show that he really did have the best interests of their baby at heart.

      “Let me get my purse.”

      Patrick waited on the porch until she returned, then led the way to his truck. He opened the door for her and helped her inside. It struck Kate how thoughtful he was in these small, gentlemanly ways, but so thoughtless in other, larger ones.

      “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday,” Patrick said, once they were out of her driveway and headed down the road. “About me not being around for you and the baby because I race. I would be here, Kate.”

      “All the time?”

      “As much as I can. I could cut back on the racing.”

      “But you still plan to race,” she said quietly.

      Patrick’s jaw clenched, but his voice was even when he spoke. “Yes, I still plan to race.”

      “Then you’d better turn the truck around.” Kate’s tone was flat and hard.

      “Wait a minute. I thought the problem was that I was gone so much of the time. Now you’re telling me I can’t race at all?” Patrick spoke slowly. “What is this, some kind of test for fatherhood? How many other qualifications are you going to throw in?”

      “It’s not a test.”

      “What is it then?” He looked over at her briefly, his eyes cool.

      Kate shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “What happens when you’re out racing, Patrick?”

      “What do you mean?” He frowned, confusion in his tone. “What has this got to do with—”

      “On