Cherokee Baby Part 19

Bobby's heartbeat blasted his chest. He didn't need another conscience, another troubled voice. "Don't do this to me, Mike."

"But it isn't fair to the baby."

"I'll be good to my son or daughter. I'll do whatever I can to make the child's life secure. That baby means everything to me." "I know. But it'll still be a b.a.s.t.a.r.d." Michael blew a rough breath, pushed his chair back and glanced at the wet bar. "I could use some coffee. Do you want some?"

Bobby tried to act casual, tried to act as if his heart wasn't steeped in guilt. "That sludge you make?"

"I suppose not." The younger man rose to pour himself a cup of the thick, dark brew. "I just wanted to tell you how I feel."

"And I respect your feelings. I understand them. h.e.l.l, I'm the one who instilled those values in you."

Michael tasted the coffee. He stood near the window, the light s.h.i.+ning behind him. "That's right, you did.

And you told me that if I ever got a girl pregnant I should marry her. That I shouldn't do what my dad did." "This is different." "Is it, Uncle?" "Yes, it is," Bobby said, although at the moment he couldn't find the words to explain why. * * *

On Friday morning the doorbell rang, sending Julianne rus.h.i.+ng from the bathroom into the living room, fussing with her appearance along the way. She wasn't expecting Bobby, not this early. She was dressed, but she'd yet to do her hair or makeup.

Why didn't he call? Warn her that he was on his way? Breathless, she answered the door and discovered Maria on the other side. TheLatinawoman smiled. "SenoritaJulianne, I came to welcome you." She held up a platter of what appeared to be brownies. "You've been here almost three weeks. I should have stopped by sooner."

Touched, Julianne accepted the gift. "They smell heavenly."

"I made them especially for you.Senor Bobby says you have cravings."

"Yes, thank you." She felt her heart flutter, her mind race. Bobby had been talking about her to his

employees? "Come in, please."

She offered Maria a cup of tea and they sat at the breakfast nook, sipping chamomile and enjoying double-fudge brownies. "SenorBobby is happy man." "He is?" "Si, yes. Very happy about the baby." "I'm happy, too." She touched her tummy. "I've always wanted children. Do you have a family?" "No. No husband, no babies." Maria laughed, patted her salt-and-pepper hair. "I'm too old now." So am I, Juliannethought. Older than most first-time moms. She looked at Maria and wondered if the woman was still in love with Lloyd, if he was the man she'd hoped, many years before, to many and have children with.

"Did you grow up in this area?" Julianne asked.

"Si,and I've worked here sinceSenor Bobby built the ranch." Then Maria had been around when Bobby had marriedSharon. The mystery wife. The ghost. The ladyJulianne wanted to know more about.

Dare she ask?

She reached for another brownie. One simple question wouldn't hurt. She lived inSharon's old house.She had a right to be curious about her. "Maria?" "Si?"The woman glanced up from her tea. She sat at the cozy table, the morning sun spilling in from the window beside her, illuminating her colorful cotton blouse.

"Did you know Bobby's wife very well?"

Maria sighed. "Si, yes, I knewSharon. But I did not approve of her. I felt badly about that later. So ashamed."

For a moment Julianne merely stared. Maria didn't appear to be judgmental, a person who would discount someone so readily.

"Why did you disapprove?"

"I thought she was too young forSenor Bobby."

"Too young?" A familiar pain shocked Julianne's system. A pain of betrayal. A pain of disbelief. "How old was she?"

"Twenty when they started dating, twenty-one when they married.Sharonwas the same age a.s.senor Michael, notSenor Bobby. To me, it seemed strange. Mixed up, no?"

"Yes." Strange. Mixed up. Hurtful. Bobby's wife had been as young as his nephew, as young as the boy he'd raised seventeen years his junior.

Yet Bobby had never said a word, not one single word. Not even when Julianne had confided in him about her ex-husband's affair with a younger woman.

"Wa.s.sharonpretty?" she asked, fighting tears.

"Si. Very pretty. A college student." Maria dropped her gaze. "I should not have disapproved of her."

Julianne blinked back another threat of tears, doing her d.a.m.nedest to steel her emotions, to tell herself that Bobby's past didn't matter.

She wouldn't cry, d.a.m.n it. She wouldn't lose her composure over this.

Maria looked up. "I never toldSenor Bobby how I felt. I did not think it was my place."

Is it my place?Julianne wondered, battling the ache in her chest.My right to confront him?

Or should she let it go? Ignore it? Pretend she'd never found out?

"Maybe we should talk about something else," Maria suggested. "Something happier."

Julianne nodded and then faked her way through a lighthearted conversation.

Fifteen minutes later, after Maria left, she went back into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

To work on her appearance, to look presentable, to stay strong.

But even after she'd curled her hair and applied cosmetics to her face, she knew her efforts were in vain.

She'd made herself look as pretty as possible, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make herself twenty again.

She couldn't compete with Bobby's attraction to younger women.

And because she couldn't, she turned away from the mirror and started to cry.

In the next instant her knees buckled and she sank to the floor, allowing tears to flood the gaping hole in

her heart.

Chapter 10.

Bobby left the barn and climbed into his truck, preparing to get Julianne for their outing. What was he going to do about her? About the frustration? The need? The all-consuming attraction? He couldn't marryher, he couldn't bring her that deeply into his life. Yet he wanted to make love with her.

He took the tree-flanked path, barely conscious of the road, of the climbing and descending hills, of the

picture-perfect scenery leading the way. If he didn't get this off his chest, he was going to explode.Which meant he had to talk to Julianne. And say what? "I want you to be my lover?" Whydid this have to be so d.a.m.ned complicated? Why couldn't he just remain friends with her? Because he wanted her too badly, that's why. And he suspected she wanted him, too. Bobby arrived at her doorstep in a bundle of masculine nerves, preparing his speech and faltering with every antic.i.p.ated word.

There would be terms attached to a s.e.xual relations.h.i.+p, conditions Julianne would have to accept. And he wasn't sure how to broach the subject. Finally he gave up and rang the bell. He didn't have to rush into this. He could play it byear, say it when the moment seemed right. She didn't answer, so he pressed the b.u.t.ton again. Where was she? He knew she had been looking forward to their outing, to getting ideas on decorating the nursery. A minute later he checked his watch. It wasn't like Julianne to be late. Once again he tried the bell, but this time when she didn't answer, he panicked. What if something had happened to her? To the baby? Because he didn't have a key to the cabin on him, he reached into his pocket for his cell phone, but he came up empty.

He'd left his cell at the barn.

d.a.m.n it.

Not knowing what else to do, he tried the door, praying it was unlocked.

When it opened he thanked the Creator and rushed inside, calling her name.

"Julianne!"

She didn't respond.

He tried the master bedroom first, afraid of what he might find. But the room was empty, the bed neatly made. Then he heard m.u.f.fled sobs coming from the adjoining bathroom. Without thinking, he pushed open the door.

She sat on the tiled floor, her knees drawn to her chest, crying like a shattered little fairy.

Dear G.o.d.

"Julianne." He said her name softly and she looked up. "What's wrong, honey? What happened?" He crouched on the floor in front of her. "Are you hurt? Is it the baby?"

"No." She wiped her tears and got to her feet.

He rose to his full height, as well. "Did you get bad news from home?"

"No." She gulped a shaky-sounding breath and grabbed a box of tissues from the counter. "I just felt like crying."

He watched her dry her face. "Why? Tell me why."

She gazed at him with dark-rimmed eyes. Sad, lonely eyes. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. It has something to do with me, doesn't it?" He could feel the painful connection, the emotion that bound them. "I did something to hurt you."

"I don't have any right to feel this way." She blew her nose and tossed the tissues into the trash. "But I can't help it."

"Feel what way?"

Her breath hitched. "Betrayed."

His heart went still. "I betrayed you? How?"

"You didn't tell me how youngSharonwas. Why didn't you tell me, Bobby?"

Oh, G.o.d. He looked into her eyes and saw his own shame. "I'm sorry. It isn't easy for me to talk about my wife. To go into all that."

"I know. But it makes me feel so old." She started crying again. "So ugly."

"No." He shook his head and reached for her, pulling her into his arms. She buried her face against his chest and continued to cry. "You're not old and you're not ugly. You're in the prime of your life and you're beautiful." He pressed his lips to the top of her head. "So beautiful."

She pulled back to look up at him and he could see that she didn't believe him.

"I thought you were beautiful from the first moment I saw you," he told her, hoping she would see herself through his eyes. "You bewitched me. You still do." He slid his hand to her tummy. "And you're having my baby. No other woman has given me a child."

"But your wife was only twenty-one when you married her, Bobby. That's so young."

"It wasn't her age that first attracted me to her. It was the similarity in our backgrounds, our culture." He paused, explaining the best he could. "We were both raised in traditional homes, with some of the same ideals. The same spiritual beliefs."

She sniffed and dried her eyes. "Her age was never a factor?"

He shrugged and tried to contain the tightness in his chest, the guilt that surroundedSharon's memory. "I was flattered that she was interested in me. It was exciting in the beginning. But the newness wore off." "I don't believe you. How can being around a young, beautiful woman wear off? How can that kind of excitement ever go away?"

"I don't know. It just did." He wasn't sure what to say, how to delve into this without revealing too much. Sharonwas dead. He'd put her in the grave. How could he speak ill of her? He glanced at his ring, faced the clench of the past. "Sometimes she argued about things I thought were silly. And sometimes she wanted more attention than I could give her."

"Why?"

He tried for a little humor, hoping it would dull the ache. "Maybe I was just old and boring. Turning gray too fast."

"I should have tried it," she said. "I should have found a young lover."

Bobby frowned. "Why? Because guys with gray hair are losing their appeal?"

She made a teasing face. "Maybe."

"Oh, yeah?" He tickled the side of her rib cage and they both laughed.

A second later they fell silent, two people caught in an emotional situation.

"I need to fix my makeup," she said. "I'll be ready in a few minutes."