Another Woman's Baby. Joanna Wayne

a minute later with draft beer for him and a glass of milk for Megan. He lifted his glass in a toast.

      “To sun, sand and catching fish,” he said, clinking his glass with hers. “And to an easy birth and a healthy baby.”

      “I’ll drink to that.”

      “So when’s the little rug rat due?”

      “December 27.”

      “Wow. Hope that stork doesn’t get run over by eight tiny reindeer. You must be getting excited with the date so close. Is this your first child?”

      “It’s my first pregnancy.” It was much easier to stick to the truth minus unnecessary facts.

      “Well, you look great. I guess it’s true what they say about women glowing when they’re carrying a child.”

      It was an idle compliment, the kind she hated. She didn’t look great. She looked like a beached whale, and having some stranger tell her differently didn’t make her feel any better. But it did bother her that he felt he had to offer compliments, as if he was on the make and she was his prospective pick-up.

      He took another long draw on his beer, then drummed his fingers on the table. “Are you always this quiet,” he asked, “or is it the company?”

      “I’m quiet. And it’s the company. I don’t ordinarily have lunch with strangers.”

      “I appreciate your making an exception this time, though I guess I kind of forced it on you. To tell you the truth, I expected you to say no.”

      “I considered it.”

      “I can still move to another table if you want, but I’d like to stay.”

      “Why?”

      “I told you, I don’t like to eat alone.” He fingered the edge of the napkin. “And you look as if you could use someone to talk to. I imagine it’s tough being all by yourself when you’re pregnant, wandering around that big old house all alone. There’s not even another house close enough that someone would hear you if you called for help, you know…if you fell or went into labor or something. You should get a dog, a big one for protection, or do you have one already?”

      Apprehension swelled inside her. “How do you know which I’m staying in?”

      “I was on the beach this morning. I saw you climbing the steps to go inside.”

      “I can take care of myself. Besides, I won’t be alone after today. My husband is coming in tonight.” A baldaced lie, but it made her seem far less vulnerable.

      “Really?”

      “Yes.”

      He dropped the subject, but she had the idea he didn’t believe her. The waitress appeared with the food and she ate hers quickly, forcing it down though her appetite had vanished. As soon as she finished, she took a ten-dollar bill from her billfold and dropped it to the table.

      “This should take care of my part of the bill. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment and I don’t want to be late.”

      He stood, a smile on his lips that softened his features and made him look more mischievous than sinister. “I did it again. I don’t know how I manage to upset you every time we talk, but I do. It’s that old foot-in-mouth disease. I have a terminal case.”

      “No. It’s just that I have a feeling that you’re following me, and if you keep it up, I’ll notify the police.” She hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but she’d had enough of him. If he was just a friendly tourist, he could think what he wanted about her. If he was dangerous, she’d let him know she wasn’t as vulnerable as she seemed.

      She felt his gaze on her as she turned and walked away, but she didn’t turn back to see. Her hands were trembling by the time she got to her car and tears burned at the back of her eyelids. She blinked repeatedly, determined to keep them at bay. The last time she’d cried had been at Jackie’s funeral, and she wouldn’t give in to tears just because—because her life seemed to be falling apart and she didn’t have the emotional energy to deal with all of it.

      Bart Cromwell. Her job. John. Dealing with the HMO. Thoughts of her mother. Memories of her grandmother. The baby that grew inside her and belonged to no one, certainly not to her.

      So why did she feel such an overwhelming bond to the baby growing inside her? Why did the thought of giving her up for adoption seem to equate with having someone reach inside her chest and rip out her heart?

      She climbed into the car, lay her head on the steering wheel and cried.

      THE MINUTE SHE WALKED through the door at Pelican’s Roost, Megan knew that someone had been there while she was gone. She sensed it the way a woman knows when someone else has cooked in her kitchen or borrowed her makeup. It was the little things, the ones she never thought of when everything was in place but that became conspicuous when they were moved.

      The rug by the back door was twisted and scrunched up in the middle instead of lying flat and straight. She always pushed the chair back beneath the table when she got up, but one of the chairs in the breakfast nook was pushed back and sitting at an angle. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and fear crawled the corners of her mind and skittered along her nerve endings.

      But the anxiety she’d been feeling the past two days didn’t mesh with the kind of security she’d always felt in the rambling old house. She took a deep breath and forced her mind to consider the possibilities. The housekeeper had a key. Most likely she’d come by and dropped something off or finished a cleaning task she hadn’t gotten to before Megan arrived. That had to be it. She was certain the door had been locked when she left and it was locked when she returned. So, whoever had come in had used a key.

      Breathing easier, she walked to the phone and punched in Fenelda Shelby’s number. While it rang, she pulled a butcher knife from the block on the counter. She ran her thumb and index finger along the edge, wondering if she’d have the nerve or the presence of mine to use it if a stranger appeared. If he were there even now, watching and waiting. A man like Bart Cromwell.

      Only she couldn’t blame this on him. He had still been inside the restaurant when she’d driven home. Unless he’d come out while she was crying, and she hadn’t noticed. No, she was being macabre. The house had basically been empty for two years and no one had so much as broken a window.

      “Hello.”

      “Hi, Fenelda, this is Megan.”

      “You sound upset. Is something wrong?”

      “No.” She struggled to steady her voice. She didn’t want the whole town thinking she was going nuts, though she was beginning to consider the possibility herself. “I was out for a while and I got the impression someone was in the house while I was gone. I was just wandering if it was you.”

      “It wasn’t me. Is anything missing?”

      “No, nothing like that. Do you know if anyone else has a key to this place?”

      “Oh, honey, knowing your grandmother, I wouldn’t be surprised if half the town has a key. She was always lending the place out to vacationing relatives of the locals when she took off on one of her trips. That woman was salt of the earth, bless her heart, one of the most generous souls in the world. But I don’t have to tell you that.”

      “Has anyone stayed here since Grandmother died?”

      “Not that I know of. No one but you. I’ve kept watch over the place like I told you I would, but I don’t go by there every day. I know I haven’t told anyone they could use it. I wouldn’t do that without your okay.”

      “I didn’t think so. I was just concerned when I realized someone had been here.”

      “I don’t know nothing about it, hon. It’s probably just one of your grandma’s friends going by to check on the place. But if you’re worried, why don’t I send my son over? Leroy will check everything