Baby, I'm Yours. Carrie Weaver
then? Had Gabe had some premonition of his death?
Becca smiled, touching her stomach. It would be wonderful to have one more part of Gabe live on.
But what if the baby wasn’t Gabe’s? A wave of nausea made her tremble. No, it wasn’t possible. She remembered how insistent Rick had been about using protection, even in the throes of the most spontaneous lovemaking she’d ever experienced. Becca would be forever grateful for his consideration, because she’d been in no state of mind to consider the ramifications.
In his way, he’d given her a gift, too. Because she could, with certainty, know this baby was Gabe’s.
RICK FINISHED WORK around seven. He probably should swing by the gym, but he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that there was something going on with Becca.
Nodding to his staff, he grabbed a few files on his way out.
As he walked up the Smith driveway a short time later, Rick told himself he was worried about a friend, pure and simple. It was normal to feel responsible for his best friend’s widow.
Wasn’t it?
He rang the doorbell and waited.
Aaron answered the door and hollered, “Mom, it’s Rick.”
The boy left the door open, so Rick stepped into the entryway.
Becca staggered in, yawning.
“Hi, Rick. I must’ve fallen asleep on the couch.”
Even half-asleep and with dark circles under her eyes, Becca was beautiful.
Shifting, he said, “I brought you the damage files. Thought you might want to look them over.”
“Thank you.”
“Everything go okay at the doctor’s today?”
“Fine. I’m healthy as a horse.”
But she didn’t look healthy. She looked drawn and lifeless. There was something she wasn’t telling him. He’d known Becca long enough to sense when she was dancing around an issue.
He opened his mouth to protest, but Maya beat him to the punch.
Coming down the stairs, she asked, “You went to the doctor? Why didn’t you tell us? Is something wrong?” There was an edge of panic in her voice.
Becca raised her chin. “Absolutely not. It was a routine checkup, nothing more.”
“You’d tell us if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course.”
Becca’s overbright smile told him that she would do whatever was necessary to protect her daughter. But Maya seemed mollified.
The girl gave her mother a big hug. “Okay. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Mother and daughter were about the same height, but that was where the resemblance ended. Maya was all Gabe, with an olive complexion and expressive brown eyes.
“I’m going to Trina’s house to study.” Maya grabbed her backpack.
“Be home by ten.”
“See ya.” And she walked out the door.
“They are so self-contained at that age,” he commented.
“She worries too much. If I’m five minutes late, she calls. If she can’t reach me on my cell, she starts to panic. I think she’s afraid of losing me, too.”
“I can understand that.”
“Yes, but it makes things difficult sometimes.”
Rick hesitated.
“Do you want to come in?” Becca asked.
He had a feeling he was expected to decline, but instead said, “Sure, for a few minutes.”
“Maybe there are still some cookies left in the kitchen. Come on, let’s go check.”
He followed her to the kitchen, admiring the ease with which she handled his sudden appearance. Their lovemaking hadn’t shaken her as much as him.
Aaron was sitting at the kitchen table, his math book open in front of him.
“I thought you already finished your homework,” Becca commented.
“I forgot a page.”
“Hmm. Try harder to remember next time. I don’t like you leaving your homework till the last minute. That makes for sloppy work.” She ruffled his hair as she went to the counter. “Have a seat, Rick.”
He sat at the opposite end of the table, so their talk wouldn’t disturb Aaron’s concentration.
“Coffee? Water?” Becca asked, placing a plate of cookies on the table.
The boy snagged the first one.
“Water’s fine,” Rick said.
Becca returned with two glasses of ice water and napkins.
Selecting a cookie, Rick nodded toward the plate. “Still working on the leftovers from the wake?”
Becca’s smile faded as she sat down in a chair across the table from him. “They freeze well.”
Gabe’s mother, Irene, came in the kitchen. She glanced at him, unspoken questions in her eyes. “Hello, Rick. Good to see you again.” So soon?
“Good to see you, too. I brought some files for Becca.”
“Why don’t you join us for a snack, Irene,” Becca invited.
“No. But I’ll steal a couple cookies and take them out to Jim.”
“Is he working on something in the shop?” Rick asked.
“Yes. I haven’t seen it yet—he’s been very secretive about this project. But he did let it slip that it’s some sort of commemorative to Gabe.”
“Ah, so you’re trying to catch him unawares and the cookies are your excuse?” Becca teased.
Irene stiffened. “Absolutely not. That would be an abuse of his trust. Trust is very important, don’t you agree, Rick?”
Did he detect an undercurrent? Surely there was no way she could know what had happened with Becca the night of Gabe’s funeral.
He forced himself not to break eye contact. “Trust is very important.”
She nodded, her hand hovering over the cookies. Her stare was lethal.
He grasped at another reason for his visit. “Um, Becca, I also came by to talk to you about David.”
Becca frowned. “Did he take your parking space again? I talked to him about that. If it involves him working more hours, I would prefer that he spend the time studying.”
“I agree with you about the hours and I’ll back you up. He seems determined to be the man of the house now that Gabe’s gone.”
“I don’t want that for him and I’m sure Gabe wouldn’t, either. I want him to have every opportunity to be a young man before he has too many responsibilities thrust on him.”
“It seems to be something he’s taking on himself,” Rick said. “The kid’s wound pretty tightly. I need to find a replacement partner for racquetball, or I’m going to lose my court time at the gym. I was thinking it might be a good outlet for David to blow off steam.”
Becca smiled. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
“Hmmph.” Irene made a great show of wrapping cookies in a napkin.
“What do you think, Irene?” Becca asked.
“It’s fine, I guess. Nobody could replace David’s father,