Second Chance Pass (Virgin River #5)(70)

She sighed, put her hand in his and let him draw her to her feet. He drove her to the offices of Mary Jensen, M.D. They filled out a lot of paperwork, Paul put his credit card on the visit and a very kind and gentle woman doctor fired up the ultrasound. Since Dr. Jensen, a friend of Cameron’s, knew the purpose of the visit, there wasn’t much talking in the room. It took only moments for the doctor to establish that the pregnancy was closer to four months than three, perhaps a few weeks advanced of Paul’s contact with Terri.

But something happened to Paul as he watched the life inside her, moving around, kicking and squirming. For a big tough guy, things like this were his undoing. Pregnant women were beautiful to him; he hadn’t been great with women but he’d always wanted a wife, a family. Knowing that baby wasn’t his didn’t really give him the relief he expected. Had it been established that the baby was his it wouldn’t exactly have made him proud, either—he’d been trying to keep Terri safe from that complication. He was ambivalent. And he felt a deep sadness for Terri, who despite all her attempts to mislead him, was in a very difficult position. He had sad feelings for the baby, who would not have the love and protection he could offer as a father. The urge to keep the vulnerable safe, to protect the weak with his strength, was natural for Paul.

Terri said nothing at all. She walked ahead of him out of the doctor’s office and jumped in the truck. As Paul got in and started the engine, she looked into her lap, silent. There, she seemed to be saying without words. Done. Over.

He was also quiet as he drove her back to her office. When he got to the law firm’s parking lot, however, he didn’t turn in. He drove around the block and, instead, pulled into that same little park they’d visited earlier. He got out of the truck, went to her side and opened the door for her. He put out his hand. “What are you doing?” she asked. “What now?”

“Let’s talk a minute,” he said softly, gently.

“Paul,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes. “Please. Enough. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Come on,” he said, pulling her out of the truck. He dropped an affectionate arm around her shoulders and led her back to the bench, and as he did so she leaned against him and began to softly cry. “Sit down, Terri,” he invited her. “Tell me something. Does the baby have a father?”

“Obviously,” she wept, digging around in her purse for a tissue.

He pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. “I mean, a man who is standing by. Supporting you. Ready to take his share of responsibility.”

“’Fraid not,” she said, accepting the hankie and dabbing her eyes.

He ran the back of his finger along her cheek, wiping away a tear. “Is that why you told me it was mine?”

She turned liquid eyes up to him. “Partly,” she said quietly. “There’s more to it than that.…”

“Was it about money?” he asked.

She laughed without humor. “No,” she said. “It was because neither of us had anyone in our lives—at least that’s what you said. It was because of the way you are—telling me that story about how you were with your best friend’s wife when her baby came, and it tore you up but it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. It was the way I felt when I was with you.” She shrugged. “I thought you’d be a good father. A good…Never mind.”

“We weren’t together very much,” Paul said, shaking his head.

“I know. It was stupid. But I thought if you grew to love me…” She leaned against him and let the tears flow. “If you thought I was having your baby, maybe we’d be together more. And if we were together, maybe…” She wiped at her eyes. “I thought I’d…I thought we’d be safe with you. I felt a lot more for you than you did for me. But what I did…It was wrong. I’m sorry.”

He put an arm around her and held her. “Terri—you had to know I’d find out eventually…”

She shrugged and sniffed. “Maybe not. At least not until we’d had some time together. And if you got attached, if there were more children…It was a stupid risk, I really don’t know if I’d have been able to go through with it.” She looked up at him. “I’m not a dishonest person. I probably would have told you the truth before…” She took a breath. “It took me a while to accept that you just weren’t into me,” she said. “You didn’t call, you left town all the time. You were right—there wasn’t much between us. But that didn’t keep me from wishing there was.”

He put a large hand over her barely swollen middle. “And this little one’s father?”

“Not interested, either,” she said.

“Does he know?”

“I told him. He could care less. He told me I’d have to sue him to—Well, it didn’t take me long to decide I was better off.”

“Loser,” Paul muttered under his breath. “How did this happen?” he asked.

“I’ve always been bad about those pills. Missing them, forgetting. And he didn’t use anything. It’s my screwup. All mine. I’m pretty lucky a baby is all I got from him.” Her eyes were large and round. “The condom didn’t fail, Paul, and I was tested at my first appointment. I didn’t give you anything.”