to slide his fingers through her silky, dark hair. And touch her soft skin. No, all he wanted was a dining companion. Dropping by the library just at closing had become a habit, though. Dinner with Emma had become something he looked forward to. Then he’d gone home with her.
To talk.
And had spent the night.
He hadn’t gone back to the library for three weeks. He’d felt too guilty to show his face. She wasn’t a virgin, thank God. He felt enough guilt without that. But she hadn’t been experienced, either.
And when he went back to the library, she’d never said a word about his absence.
Just as she hadn’t said a word about the baby.
“Ryan? Are you all right?” Beth asked, bringing him back to the present.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll go now. I have someone else to visit.”
“Who?” Jack asked, a frown on his face. “I hadn’t heard of any friends—”
“No one you know!” Ryan exclaimed, backing to the door. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but he wasn’t ready to tell his family what had happened. He waved and hurried out of the room.
Emma felt the tears seeping from her closed eyes, getting sopped up by her hair. She didn’t know why she was crying. It must be because she was so weak. And frightened about the future.
“You knew he would be upset,” she muttered to herself. Especially to find out from someone else. Maybe one of the nurses had told him. After all, she’d put his name on the birth certificate.
That had been a mistake.
But she’d intended to tell him about the baby. Only she’d been so tired, so sick, she hadn’t had the strength to deal with him.
And she’d been desperately afraid he’d insist on an abortion.
There was no way she’d agree to such a thing. She’d been left on a doorstep when she’d been born. At first, she’d been sick, so no one had wanted to adopt her. The years slipped away, and she moved from one foster home to another. She got healthier, but she’d never been the “cute” baby anyone wanted.
She’d vowed that her baby, if she ever had one, would be loved, wanted. And that was a vow she’d keep, no matter what. She had to be back at work next Monday, but she’d prepared a little space for her baby behind the counter. She’d take Andrea with her.
So far, however, she couldn’t even get out of bed without assistance. She hoped and prayed she got better fast. Because she couldn’t afford too much time in the hospital. And she couldn’t stay in bed at home. It was going to take her forever to pay the hospital bill as it was.
Her door opened again, and the man she loved, the man who hated her, came back into the room. At least he wasn’t yelling this time. But she reached for the call button anyway. She was too weak to deal with him now.
“Emma, are you all right?”
His softly worded question took her by surprise. But she knew better than to read anything into it. The nurse had probably warned him not to be so noisy.
“I’m fine. I’m sorry someone told you—”
“They didn’t. I was looking at—at the babies when they brought yours in. With the card listing me as the father.”
Yours. He couldn’t have chosen a better way to make it clear he had no interest in the baby. “I’m sorry,” she whispered and looked toward the small window.
The door opened again. “Ryan Nix, I told you not to come in here again.” Margie Long, the nurse who’d thrown him out last time, glared at him.
“Come on, Mrs. Long, I’m being civilized. I just wanted to ask a few questions,” he protested, glaring at Emma because he’d probably figured she’d summoned the nurse.
“Emma, dear, do you want visitors?”
Emma kept staring toward the window, knowing if she looked at Ryan, she wouldn’t be able to send him away. “No, I’m tired.”
“Emma!” Ryan protested, but she continued to stare at that tiny window, using it as a lifeline to get her through his visit.
“Sorry, Ryan, but new mothers are the bosses around here. Out you go.” She took him by the arm and tugged him out.
Emma didn’t move until she heard the door close. Then she stared where Ryan had been, wishing she’d had the strength to stare at him. To memorize those features, to remember his gentle touch. His loving.
She’d believed his touch had been loving. Instead, it had just been sexy. She didn’t know a lot about men, hadn’t believed they could make love and feel nothing.
Now she knew. Ryan had made it very clear.
So it was just her and baby Andrea. She’d prepared in every way she could so they wouldn’t need help. But she hadn’t planned on being so weak. Still, they’d make it, the two of them.
She was determined.
“Didn’t you read that birth card?” Ryan demanded, angry again. “She says I’m the father. Doesn’t that give me some rights?”
“Sure does, if you’re also the husband. Otherwise, nope. Have you told your mother?” she asked, a scolding tone in her voice that irritated him even more. He didn’t need her to tell him his mother would be upset with him.
“No. Damn it, I just found out a few minutes ago!”
“Oh.” The woman pressed her lips together. “We were all a little surprised ourselves.”
He thought about all the trips to the doctor Beth had had. “Didn’t she have prenatal care?” his voice rising in concern and anger.
“She said she did, in Buffalo.” There was doubt in Mrs. Long’s voice. Buffalo, Wyoming, wasn’t large, but it did have a bigger hospital than Franklin, their town.
“Buffalo? Why there?”
“I guess she didn’t want anyone here to know. There were a few whispers, but she wasn’t dating anyone, so we all thought she’d just gained weight. She wore loose clothing.” After another pause, she added, “You two broke up a long time ago, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe she started seeing someone else, but she put your name on the certificate.”
Fierce protectiveness wouldn’t allow him to let even the whisper of such a tale get started. “No! No, the baby’s mine.”
“Okay.”
“What’s wrong with her? I know you said it’s because she just gave birth, but I saw Beth, and she’s doing fine.”
“Miss Davenport had complications.”
“Is the baby okay? She seems small.”
“Oh, she’s a fine little darling, as sweet as can be,” Mrs. Long said, a grandmotherly smile on her face.
“Then why is Emma so pale?”
They’d reached the nurse’s desk. “She’s normally pale, I believe,” Mrs. Long said.
“Don’t give me that,” Ryan snarled. “I want to know what’s wrong.”
“You’re not her husband, Ryan. You don’t have the right to know her health status.”
“Is Steve her doctor? Did he deliver the baby?” he asked, naming an old friend, the man who’d delivered his son, the man who’d tried to save both Merilee and his child after the accident.
The elevator opened and another nurse arrived at the desk. “Sorry I’m late, Margie. Hi, Ryan. You here to see Beth’s baby? I heard she delivered today.”
“Yeah,