Her Baby's Father. Rebecca York
was glad Pam had asked. The questions about her work were tying her more firmly to the present. And she was relieved to discover that the answer came more easily than she might have expected. “On eBay. I get ones that have hard use and fix them up.”
Pam made a dismissive sound. “How can you fix up a metal casserole?”
“With spray paint.”
“Clever.”
“Of course, you can’t put them in the oven,” she added, anxious to make a full disclosure.
“Nobody’s going to cook in them. And they’re a lot more interesting than the plastic food you see in so many model houses.”
As Sara showed Pam the property, the scene became increasingly real to her.
She remembered carefully draping the colorful Peruvian shawl on the tan sofa and arranging candles in the fireplace.
She and the boys had done only one bedroom, but it was a masterpiece of sophistication, using earth tones with touches of bright color.
“If this doesn’t hook Ted Morgan, nothing will,” Pam murmured.
Ted Morgan? Not the right Morgan. “I’m sorry. I forgot who he is,” she stammered.
Pam took in her perplexed look. “Come on. Morgan Enterprises. They’re into everything from construction projects to oil exploration.”
“Uh-huh,” she murmured.
Pam put a hand on Sara’s arm. “Stay here with me after he arrives, okay?”
Sara’s heart started to pound. She remembered this conversation from the first time.
“You’re nervous?” she managed to ask.
“A little. Ted’s a big deal around here. He’s getting married, and he wants a family home.”
“This is the kind of house where the kids and the parents would never have to see each other.”
Pam laughed. “If that’s what he wants, fine with me. He’s a very rich man who can get me a six percent commission on two million dollars.”
“Well, that does put him into perspective.”
Sara knew Pam was doing well as a real-estate agent and living a high-flying lifestyle she wanted to maintain. Sara, on the other hand, wasn’t into “lifestyle.” Instead she was willing to live modestly to build her business. Money had never been that important to her. Well, it had become more important when she’d discovered she’d need to support a baby on her own. And the Morgans were doing their best to make her want to move away. But that was getting way ahead of herself.
There was no baby. Not yet.
She shook her head, grappling with the continuing confusion of what was then and what was now. But she suddenly knew what day this was. The day she had met Jack Morgan. The father of her child.
Because she couldn’t simply stand there, she turned and headed back to the kitchen to stow her purse in one of the lower cabinets. Straightening, she gripped the kitchen counter, the hard surface helping to anchor her.
Outside, the sound of a car pulling up made her heart begin to pound inside her chest with a mixture of excitement and dread.
She understood the excitement and struggled to banish the dread.
Pam rushed to the window and peered out. “He’s here.”
She kept staring, and Sara waited to hear what she was going to say.
What if this was the wrong day? What if Sara was totally crazy?
Pam’s next words settled the question. “I guess Ted doesn’t trust his own judgment. Or he wants outside approval. He’s got someone with him. I think it’s his older brother, Jack Morgan.”
Jack Morgan!
Oh, Lord. The reality of hearing Pam speak his name was like a kick to the solar plexus. This really was the day everything turned golden—and at the same time started to unravel.
Thank goodness the other woman was already out the door and starting down the steps, because Sara knew her face must reflect the jumble of emotions surging through her.
Anticipation. Shock. Relief. Fear. Sadness.
All of those.
“Jack,” she whispered. “Oh, Lord, Jack.”
She felt numb. Jack was dead. He’d been murdered ten months ago. Or ten months in the future if you granted the outrageous idea that Sara had been sent back to her own past by forces she would never understand.
But one thing she knew for sure. Jack’s death was in the future of this current reality because he was alive now. Through the open door she could see Pam hurrying down the steps to meet him and his brother.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” she said to the other man—Ted Morgan. The one who cared about having a grand house he could show off to visitors.
Which was so different from Jack’s attitude about his home. She knew he didn’t give a fig about appearances. He’d never been into flaunting his wealth. And his stint in the army had helped solidify his values.
He trailed behind his brother, looking like this was the last place on earth he wanted to be. Feeling light-headed, she steadied herself with a hand against the side table in the hall, trying to arrange her features and her understanding of what was happening.
A few minutes ago she’d been driving alone in a snowstorm, on her way to the hospital to deliver Jack’s baby. The baby who would never know his father. Now she was going meet him for the first time.
That couldn’t be a coincidence. It must mean something important.
Or was this all a cruel joke? A reminder of how much she’d lost? Maybe there was another explanation for what she thought she was experiencing now. Just the opposite of what she’d been thinking. She’d been in an auto accident. Was she lying in the hospital in a coma, hovering between life and death, dreaming all this?
She pressed her hand against the surface of the table. It didn’t feel like a dream. It felt as real as the first time she’d lived through this day, only every moment was overlaid with what she knew about the future.
She wanted to scream a warning to Jack. And to pledge to whoever had put her here that she wouldn’t waste this opportunity.
Dimly she remembered the conversation that had swirled around her after the car crash. She hadn’t seen who was talking, but she’d heard two voices arguing about her fate. And now here she was being given a second chance to make everything come out differently.
But how? Last time she and Jack had been relentlessly swept along by events they couldn’t control.
She straightened her spine. This time, since she knew what was going to happen, she could change everything. Well, she knew the end result. But that wasn’t enough. Could she figure out who wanted Jack dead and why? Then stop the killer from murdering him?
She clenched her fist, digging her nails into the tender flesh of her palm.
If she wanted it badly enough, maybe she could change history. Well, nothing so grand as the history of the world. Just Jack’s history—and her own.
Her pulse was pounding as she watched the two men come up the walk with Pam. The real-estate agent was engaged in an animated conversation with Ted. Jack followed a little behind, walking with the slightly awkward gait of a man who’d almost lost his leg, then spent months getting the muscles and ligaments to work properly.
The injury was the result of a roadside bomb in Afghanistan. It wasn’t the only consequence of the explosion. He’d been thrown forward in the vehicle, dislocating his shoulder. Shrapnel had peppered his chest and midsection, and a few shards had dug into the skin of his face.
He’d