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Her mother was lying, trying to protect her. She knew that. Maya reached the kitchen, eyed the filled coffeepot and longed for some real caffeine, and the phone rang yet again.
She snatched it up before her mother could.
“Hello, is this Maya Brand?” a strange voice asked.
“Who wants to know?” She walked to the coffeepot, took a mug from the tree and filled it.
“I’m Ben Kylie, a reporter for the Herald, ma’am. Do you have any response to the story in this morning’sDaily Exposè?”
“I don’t read trash, Mr. Kylie, so I have no clue what story you mean.”
She eyed her mother, who was sending her a look of pure worry.
“You mean…you haven’t seen it?”
“No, I haven’t. And I’m very busy today, so if you could get to the point…”
“Sure. The point is theExposèsays you’re carrying the child of Cain Caleb Montgomery III, as the result of a drunken one-night stand last spring. It claims you yourself are the illegitimate progeny of a bigamist with connections to organized crime and a barmaid, and that your family’s main claim to fame is that you have a sister who poses nude for men’s magazines. Is this basically accurate?”
Her mouth had fallen open as the man spoke, and now she drew the phone away from her ear to stare at it in disbelief.
A firm, warm hand took the telephone from her, and she looked up through welling tears to see Caleb standing there. “Ms. Brand has no comment at this time. However, rest assured that her team of lawyers are even now preparing their libel suit. I would be extremely careful about what I printed if I were you.” He clicked the phone down, held it two seconds, gently unplugged it from the wall jack. His eyes met Maya’s. “I’m sorry. My God, Maya, I’m so sorry.”
She held his gaze, even though hers was swimming now. “Did theDaily Exposèprint what that man said it did?”
“I…what did he say?”
“Don’t avoid the question, Caleb. You know what he said. Have you seen the story or not?”
He licked his lips. “Yes.”
“And do you have a copy with you?”
He shook his head side to side, hard. Too hard.
She held out her hand.
“No.”
“Fine. I’ll go to the general store and buy my own copy.” She reached for the door.
“Maya, for crying out loud, you’re barefoot and in your pajamas!” her mother said, reaching past her to press a palm to the door.
“So what, Mom? You afraid the neighbors will talk?” Her voice broke just a little with the irony.
“Look, it doesn’t matter what that rag sheet said or didn’t say, Maya. All that matters is how we respond to it.”
Maya sank into a chair at the kitchen table, lowered her head onto her arms. “If it doesn’t matter, then why won’t you let me see it?”
Her voice sounded muffled, even to her. But he could hear her. She knew he could.
“Maya…try to understand.” He sat down in the chair beside her, and his hands closed on her shoulders. “You’re carrying my babies. I want to protect you from this kind of garbage. I want to stand between all that ugliness and my family.”
Very slowly, she lifted her head. She knew her eyes were probably wet and red, and her hair was likely sticking up all over. She hadn’t even showered yet this morning. And yet he looked at her with kindness, tenderness, and caring, in his eyes.
“Isn’t that what a father is supposed to do?” he asked her.
“It’s what a mother is supposed to do, too, Caleb.” She sat up a little straighter. “Thanks for reminding me of that.”
