Baby By Chance. M.J. Rodgers
head swung toward Ellie, his ears straight up as he made a noise of considerable doggie alarm. He grabbed his steak and ran for the doggie door leading out to the backyard.
“He sure doesn’t miss much,” Ellie said, laughing, as she watched him hop through. “Which reminds me. Did I miss anything at work this afternoon?”
“Nothing that won’t keep until tomorrow.”
“You covered for me,” Ellie guessed.
“Just like you would have covered for me.”
“Except you’ll never need me to.”
“You never know, El.”
“Oh, I know. Even when we were teenagers and my dingbat of a dad and your ditzy mom were screaming mad and taking their frustrations out on both of us, you never let either of them get to you.”
“I’d had a lot of practice dodging insults by then.”
“That’s what I mean, Suz. You know how to tough this stuff out. And you’d sure as hell never move in with the wrong guy and let him treat you like dirt.”
Susan put her hand on her friend’s arm. “Neither would you. That’s why you came here when you found out about Martin’s cheating. You had too much respect for yourself to stay there another minute.”
Ellie sighed. “I get soused on a bottle of wine and somehow you manage to make me feel proud.”
“You should be proud. When you give your word you keep it—not like those bozos you’ve been all too ready to believe. One day you’re going to realize how great you are. When you do, I bet you find a guy who really appreciates you.”
“I’d like to, Suz. I really would. But there are just so few men out there who want to make a commitment and settle down. You were so lucky to find Paul.”
She released Ellie’s arm, realizing her friend had missed the message she had been trying to send. But that was Ellie. She heard the things she wanted to and ignored the rest. Susan suspected she probably did the same thing.
“So, what’s on for you tomorrow?” Ellie asked.
“I’m driving over to the other side of the Sound. One of the staff at Camp Long called to say he saw a red fox bring food to a vixen at a den site. He thinks she might have a new litter. Some good pictures of the pups would make a cute spread in next month’s issue.”
“I suppose you’ll be leaving at the crack of dawn?” Ellie asked.
“Oh, long before it cracks. Red foxes hunt at night. If I’m in position at first light, I might get lucky and catch the male returning to the den with a late meal.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“Why afraid?” Susan asked.
“I don’t want to go back and move my stuff out of Martin’s apartment tonight. I was hoping I could stay here with you guys.”
“Not a problem if you don’t mind Honey jumping on the couch with you when I leave tomorrow morning. He hates being alone when I go out on an early shoot.”
“I never object to sharing my bed with a warm male,” Ellie said smiling.
“Then, that’s settled. There’s leftover chicken casserole in the refrigerator, twenty-three of our favorite romantic comedies on tape, and Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream in the freezer.”
Ellie laughed. “I keep getting my heart broken and you keep pulling the right medicine out of the Susan Carter doctor bag. Tell me, why am I always falling for the wrong guys?”
Susan knew Ellie didn’t really want to hear the honest answer to that question. The only time Susan had ever given her one, her candor had nearly cost her their friendship. Sometimes the most important part of being a friend was knowing when to keep your mouth shut.
“A gal can only choose from what comes swimming by,” Susan said as vaguely as she could.
“Which has to mean I’ve been fishing in a piranha pool,” Ellie said, with a sad shake of her head.
Actually, she wasn’t far off.
“At least I didn’t let go of my apartment this time,” Ellie said.
Yes, that was a good thing. Maybe Ellie was getting a little smarter. “You ready for me to heat up that casserole?”
“You can have the casserole,” Ellie said. “Just bring me the ice cream and a spoon.”
THE EARLY MORNING BREEZE was brisk and wet with mist. David hadn’t been able to feel his feet for the past half hour. But as he continued to watch Susan through his binoculars, she remained dead still, lying on her stomach within the photographer’s blind, high in the tree, her telephoto camera lens trained steadfastly on the fox hole on the other side of the clearing.
How she could lie so still he didn’t know.
They had told him up at the lodge that she’d been at the site since before dawn. She wore thick, black sweatpants, a black parka and black hiking boots. But there were no gloves on her hands and no hat to cover her ears. She had to be freezing, and her still position had to be wreaking havoc on her circulation.
“A dedicated professional,” Greg Hall, her editor, had described her, when David had called, identifying himself as a fan of the magazine. In truth, the magazine had been a favorite of David’s for some time. But to make his call credible, he had spent time the day before carefully looking through the local library’s copies of back issues.
Weaving a believable yarn when he needed to was part of a good investigator’s tools. But David soon found he had no reason to stretch the truth. The wildlife photographs packing the greatest punch had Susan’s name prominently displayed in the photo credits.
He’d discovered quite a bit more about her over the past few days from his other sources. Everything he’d learned had been unexpected.
David prided himself on being ready for anything, but since the moment he’d met this woman, she had been giving him one uncomfortable surprise after another. He prided himself on not judging his clients, but he’d sat in judgment on her and had let his unwanted reactions get in the way of his work. He prided himself on not jumping to conclusions, but he’d jumped to a conclusion about her—the wrong one.
David tried to tell himself that he’d made an honest mistake. Young widows whose husbands had been dead nearly three years didn’t normally still wear their wedding rings. But the reality was that he hadn’t acted like the professional he knew himself to be. His behavior reflected badly on him and on his family’s highly regarded firm.
He had thought about leaving a message on Susan’s answering machine at home. He had considered calling her at work. He had ultimately decided against both.
He was not a man for whom apologies came easily, but he did know that the only decent way to deliver an apology was in person. Of course, taking her case wouldn’t be appropriate, even if she still wanted to employ him—which he seriously doubted.
But his brother Richard would be available soon. And he would give her Richard’s card so she could call him.
David would see that she got the help she needed. He knew that was what he had to do to make this right.
But he had to wonder how long she could lie on that flat board, wet and chilled to the bone.
Finally, after what he figured had to be nearly three motionless hours, she started to move. He watched her progress through his binoculars. She first placed her camera in a protective case, then put the case in her backpack. Using a thick rope slung around the tree branch, she slowly lowered the backpack to the ground. Once the backpack was safely there, she began to snake backward toward the sturdy trunk of the tree.
He watched as she wrapped her body around the trunk. He was glad to see