His Best Friend's Baby. Susan Carlisle

His back was to her but he felt her presence.

      “I brought you something to drink.” She moved to the desk and placed the drink on it.

      Ryan stood from where he’d been tightening a screw on the back of the bed. He picked up the glass, took a long swallow of water and put it back on the desk again.

      Phoebe had an odd look on her face that quickly disappeared.

      Ryan said, “I guess I’m doing pretty well. I don’t think I’m going to have but two screws and one thingamajig left over.”

      She laughed.

      Had he ever heard anything more beautiful? It was almost musical. He vowed then to give her a reason to laugh often.

      “My father always said that if you didn’t have parts left over then you didn’t put it together correctly.”

      “Where did you grow up?”

      “In a small town about fifty miles from here.”

      “Is that where you met JT?”

      “Yeah. We had a military base nearby. I worked at a local restaurant and Joshua and some of his mates came in for dinner one night and sat at my table.”

      “And, as they say, the rest was history.”

      “Yes, it was. I was wondering if … uh, you might like to stay for dinner? I do most of my cooking on the weekends so that I don’t have to stand up any more than necessary during the week. How do grilled lamb chops with three vegetables sound?”

      When had been the last time he’d eaten a home-cooked meal? Ryan couldn’t remember. He grabbed what he did eat from the hospital cafeteria or from a fast-food place. The thought of sitting down to a real meal was more than he could resist. “That sounds great.”

      “Good. Then I’ll go finish up.”

      She’d already moved to leave when he said, “Phoebe, I couldn’t help but notice that you don’t have this room set up for a baby.”

      Making a slow turn, she faced him. “I don’t need you to make me feel ashamed. I bet you think I sank so far into feeling sorry for myself that I didn’t pay attention to getting ready for the baby. I was still in shock over Joshua when I found out I was pregnant. I just couldn’t bring myself to do anything for a while. Anyway, it has been pushed back. Maybe I’ll have time to do something after the baby comes.”

      That wasn’t going to happen. Ryan had also heard the new mothers talking about how they never got anything done any more. “I didn’t mean to make you feel ashamed or defensive. I was thinking I could help. I see you have paint. How about letting me do the walls for you? I could also move this desk and chair to where you want it and the books.”

      “I hate to have you do all that.”

      “I don’t mind. All you’d have to do is tell me where to put everything.”

      She rested her hand on her middle. A wistful look came to her eyes. “It would be nice to have the room ready for the baby. I had planned to buy some stuff for the walls.”

      “We could do that together.” It was the least he could do for Joshua. This was practical stuff that needed doing. He had a strong back and could take care of them. He couldn’t fix the fact she was having this baby all by herself but he could help with the everyday aspects of adding a new person to her household.

      “That sounds like I’m asking too much.”

      “You’re not asking. I volunteered. I’d like to do it. If JT were here, he’d be doing it. This will be my way of helping him out, like he did me.”

      Her eyes darkened for a second and then she nodded. “Then thanks. I’ll gladly accept your help, but I’m going to warn you that you may wish you hadn’t.”

      “How’s that?”

      “I have so many ideas for this room you’ll get tired of me telling you what to do.”

      “We’ll see. I’ll be through here in about ten minutes, then I’d like to get started on the painting. Do you have any paint supplies?”

      “They’re in the shed in the backyard. When you get done, come to the kitchen and I’ll take you out and show you where they are.”

      “Will do.”

      He watched her leave. Even with the bulk she carried she had a graceful stride. What had possessed him to get this caught up in doing a baby’s room? He made a practice of not getting involved.

      Guilt, pure and simple.

CHAPTER THREE

      PHOEBE HAD SPENT so much time without a man or his help it made her nervous to have Ryan in her house. While he’d been putting together the bed, she’d been in the kitchen, cooking. Still, she’d been aware of every clatter or thump that had come from the direction of the bedroom. On occasion she’d heard a swear word. She smiled. More than once her father had bloodied his knuckles, putting a toy together for her or her brother.

      It was nice to have someone in the house. She’d considered getting a dog or cat a couple of times just so there would be a living, breathing thing around. She’d decided to wait because she didn’t want the poor animal alone in the house all day.

      Ryan came around the corner. “All done. Come see what you think.”

      She put the plate on the table and headed down the hall, well aware of him following her. He’d pushed the bed up against the wall across from the window. It looked like the perfect place for it. She ran her hand along the railing. “It looks wonderful.”

      “Do you have a mattress for it?”

      “Yes, it’s in the other bedroom.”

      “I’ll get it.”

      He soon returned with a mattress covered in protective plastic. Together they worked to remove it. Ryan lifted the bedding and dropped it into place.

      “It almost makes it real,” she said with a note of wonder.

      “What?”

      “A baby coming.”

      He chuckled. “I would think that large mound you’re sporting out front would make it seem pretty real.”

      “It does but the bed is something tangible.”

      “What about a rocker or any other furniture?”

      She shrugged. “I’ll have to go buy something. I was hoping I could find some pieces at a garage sale that I could redo. I wanted to paint it bright and add animals and plants, that sort of thing.”

      “You mean like the other folk art you have in the living room?”

      She looked at him with a brightness that said they were talking about a passion of hers. “You know about folk art?”

      “Only what it is. I’m more a straight paint and stain kind of guy. Fancy painting isn’t my thing. So, if you’ll show me where you want these books, I’ll start moving them.”

      “They go in my bedroom.”

      She went out the doorway and turned toward the end of the hall, then went through an open doorway. Ryan followed more slowly. Why did it bother him that he had just been invited into his buddy’s wife’s bedroom? She hadn’t even thought about what she was saying. When she looked back he was standing in the doorway.

      “They go on this bookshelf. If you’ll bring them to me, I can shelve them.”

      Ryan returned with an armload of books. She’d taken a seat on the floor in front of the shelving while he’d been gone.

      He stacked the books on the floor and she went to work, putting