The Baby They Both Loved. Nikki Benjamin
had wanted to marry Lucy three years ago and take her with him to Seattle, and Lucy had seemed to want what he wanted during those long, lazy days of their last summer together. But then she had dropped her bombshell on him. Not only was she pregnant, she was pregnant with another man’s child.
Devastated, Simon had gone away to lick his wounds, and he had stayed away till now, feigning disinterest in his hometown and the people there whenever one or the other of his parents brought up the subject.
His parents—
Muttering a curse under his breath, Simon understood at last the urgency behind his father’s insistence that he return to Belle immediately to take care of “family business.” Mitchell Gilmore hadn’t bothered to explain in detail the exact nature of the business. He had simply ordered Simon to come home at once, an order his mother, Deanna, had issued, as well, her tone holding an angry edge he’d never heard in her voice even during the most rambunctious of his teenage years.
Luckily he’d had vacation time coming—almost four weeks accumulated over the past couple of years. Traveling all over the world to shoot photographs and to write stories for the paper, he hadn’t really wanted or needed to get away from the office the way many of his fellow journalists did.
A good thing, too, he admitted now. Sorting out the situation he faced here in Belle was definitely going to take more than the week he’d originally anticipated having to spend at the ranch.
Simon had known a confrontation of some sort would be awaiting him when he arrived at the spacious, sprawling, one-story house built of cedar logs and stone twenty miles east of town. That was the main reason why he’d stopped first at the Dinner Belle Diner for a last bracing cup of coffee, a plate of eggs and bacon and a couple of Dolores Davenport’s homemade buttermilk biscuits.
No matter what news his parents had for him, he would have been better able to deal with it after a late breakfast at the diner where he’d enjoyed many similar meals since he was…well, Nathan’s age.
His thoughts turning again to the little boy who surely had to be his son, Simon finally understood the urgency and the anger he’d heard in his parents’ voices when they’d finally caught up with him two days ago. They must have only just realized themselves that the orphaned child left in Kit Davenport’s care was his son, their grandson.
And when they did, they must have assumed, as Kit so obviously had, that he had not only left Belle, but also stayed away the past three years, to avoid his responsibility to Lucy and their baby.
But that wasn’t true at all. He would have never abandoned Lucy or his child. He had fancied himself in love with her back then, and though he had since realized he’d been more infatuated with her freedom of spirit than anything else, he would have gladly married her.
She was the one who had ended their relationship, and she had done so in a way guaranteed to drive him out of her life for good.
But why had she treated him so hurtfully? Simon wondered. Had she been sexually intimate with another man? Had she really believed that he—Simon—wasn’t the father of her child?
He wouldn’t have thought she’d had the time or energy to fit another man into her life three years ago. They had been together every spare minute they’d had that summer. Kit Davenport, Lucy’s best friend, had spent a lot of time with them, too.
Kit and Lucy had been extremely close, sharing all sorts of intimate secrets. And if Kit’s hostility toward him in the diner was any indication, then she had been led to believe that he’d known he was Nathan’s father all along—
A sharp rap, rap, rap against the SUV’s driver’s-side window startled Simon out of his reverie. Turning, he saw Winifred Averill staring at him, an accusatory look in her eyes as the morning breeze ruffled her mop of frizzy iron-gray curls.
Just what he needed—a lecture from one of Belle’s oldest and most revered senior citizens, he thought as he rolled down the window. He had always admired the elderly woman’s independence, and he had often been amused by her outrageous behavior. But at that particular moment, he would have preferred not to be the focus of her unabashed attention.
Since he didn’t seem to have any choice in the matter, though, Simon met her gaze with a gracious smile. He had no reason to act as if he’d done anything wrong because he most certainly hadn’t.
“Good morning, Mrs. Averill. It’s nice to see you again. Weren’t you having breakfast in the diner earlier?” he asked politely.
“Good morning to you, too, young man, and yes, I was having breakfast in the diner earlier,” she acknowledged, though her tone was anything but friendly. “As for the pleasure of seeing you again, that’s yet to be determined. By my reckoning, you’ve been less than dutiful the past few years.”
He shouldn’t be surprised that Winifred Averill assumed the worst about him. The tone of his last conversation with his parents indicated that they had, as well. Yet he couldn’t recall doing anything in the past that would have made it so easy for people, especially those who should have known him best, to convict him without even hearing his side of the story.
Simon had never been intentionally cruel or neglectful in his life. But somehow he’d been painted as the villain where Lucy Kane was concerned. For the life of him, he couldn’t begin to understand why.
“I guess it wouldn’t cut any ice with you if I said that I only just found out about that little boy in the diner,” he replied, trying not to sound as defensive as he had begun to feel.
Winifred held his gaze for several long, silent seconds. Then she gave a nod of seeming satisfaction.
“Most anybody else told me that, I’d say likely story. But you always struck me as a decent young man, Simon Gilmore, and you surely come from decent folks. Lucy Kane never pointed a finger at you publicly. I doubt people would have been any the wiser if that child’s resemblance to you hadn’t become so obvious lately. You’re here now and you seem aware of your responsibilities. I imagine you’ll do right by the youngster and by Miss Kit, as well. I believe that’s what really matters.”
“I’ll certainly do my best, Mrs. Averill,” he assured her, though he wasn’t certain exactly how to begin.
Seeming to read his mind, Mrs. Averill tipped her head in the general direction of the diner, a few doors down the street from where Simon had parked his SUV.
“Might be wise of you to smooth Miss Kit’s ruffled feathers,” the elderly woman suggested. “She’s had a lot to deal with the past six months. First her mother got sick. Poor Dolores only lasted a few weeks before the cancer took her in December. Then Lucy Kane ran her silly self into a tree, and Miss Kit took on the boy. She’s been trying to sell the diner so she can go back to school in Seattle, but she hasn’t had any takers. I’d say she could use a strong shoulder to lean on right about now.”
“I hadn’t heard about Mrs. Davenport,” Simon said.
He understood even more how callous his behavior must have seemed to Kit. What had he been thinking, strolling up to her and kissing her the way he had?
That he’d been truly glad to see her just as he’d said….
“Not surprising with your folks gone as much as they are, but I’d head south for the winter if I could, too.” Mrs. Averill nodded agreeably, then tapped a bony finger on Simon’s arm. “You go on back to the Dinner Belle and talk to Kit. Take a few minutes and get to know that little boy of yours, too. He’s a fine one, if I do say so myself—just like his daddy, too,” she added, favoring him with a knowing smile before she headed off down the sidewalk to her rusty old pickup truck parked in front of the post office.
Daddy…
Overwhelmed yet again by the new reality he faced, Simon slowly rolled up the window and took his key from the ignition. He would take Mrs. Averill’s advice and talk to Kit again before he drove out to the ranch. He was going to have a lot of explaining to do when he finally saw his parents,