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Vidalia nodded and glanced at Mel. “Agreed?” she asked.
“No. Someone ought to contact that man and make him face his responsibility.”
“Mel, it’s not your place—”
“I’m the babies’ aunt,” she said. “Anyone who wants to hurt them or slight them is gonna have to go through me to do it. Why should they be sleeping in…in twenty-year-old cribs or riding in that used minivan Maya bought, while their father sleeps in a mansion and drives around in a limo or something! It’s not fair to the babies.”
Maya eyed her sister. “We got by just fine without mansions or limousines, Mel. My babies will, too.”
Mel pitched the newspaper onto the floor and stomped out of the room. And while Maya looked after her worriedly, Vidalia only sighed. “Give her some time. She’s always seen herself as the protector of the family. She’ll cool down in a day or two.”
“I hope so,” Maya said. But deep down, she wasn’t so sure.
CHAPTERSIX
Caleb sat in his father’s office, in his father’s chair, trying to keep the most prestigious law firm in Oklahoma up and running while his dad slowly made his peace with retirement. But despite the weight of the job, not to mention the decision hanging over his head, or the nip of winter in the air outside, his mind was far away….
It was in a little town in springtime. By a waterfall. With a girl named Maya Brand.
Hell, it had been more than eight months. He should have forgotten about her, about that night, long before now. She certainly must have forgotten about him. Then again, he wouldn’t know if she hadn’t. He’d lied about his name that night. She had no clue who he was. Hell, she’d been worried about him having enough cash for the boarding house, as he recalled.
He sighed deeply. That had been real, that night with Maya. He hadn’t spent a real, genuine night with a woman since. He’d been trying, with his frequent jaunts to political functions and state events. But mostly, the women who were on his arm were after something. Prestige, standing, power. Money. Usually money. They were phony, done up, made up, cinched up, dressed up, surgically enhanced, and polished to the point where the genuine parts were too well hidden to detect.
Maya hadn’t wanted anything from him. She didn’t think he had anything to offer. But she’d liked him anyway. She’d liked him enough to want to spend the night in his arms. It had been so honest, and so simple, and so incredible with her….
Hell, he had to stop thinking about that woman.
He glanced at the stack of memos and unopened mail on the desk, and began flipping through it to distract himself. The sight of a manila envelope with a Big Falls, Oklahoma, postmark caught his attention.
Odd.
He grabbed the envelope, tore it open and reached inside. Then he pulled out an 8 x 10 glossy photo of a woman who looked to be about eleven or twelve months pregnant. He smiled a bit at the sight of her belly, stretched to the size of a beach ball. His gaze moved slowly upward over the figure in the photo. She stood with one hand on the small of her back, a strand of mink brown hair hanging in her face, her eyes….
And then he froze. That face. Those eyes.
An expletive burst from him without warning.
His office door flew open, and Bobby McAllister, his ambitious right-hand man and future press secretary, should he decide he needed one, burst in, looking around with wide eyes. “What’s wrong!”
Blinking slowly, licking his lips, his head spinning with disbelief, Caleb turned the photo over. There was one word on the back. Congratulations.
Caleb’s throat went just as dry as desert sand. All this time…my God, she’d been alone, all this time….
“C.C., what is it?” Bobby asked again.
Caleb bit his lips. “Exactly how long has it been since April first?” he asked.
“April Fools’ Day?”
Caleb almost moaned, but instead only nodded.
Bobby thought for three seconds, then said, “About…eight or nine months. Why?”
“Abouteight or nine months? I need to know exactly.”
Blinking, Bobby whipped out his pocket calendar, flipped pages and said, “Thirty-seven weeks and two days.”
“And how long does it take a woman to give birth?”
