Second Chance Pass (Virgin River #5)(13)

“Sure,” she said, looking into her menu. She lifted it up so he couldn’t see her face and he noticed a movement behind the menu that suggested she wiped her eyes before lowering it again. “I’ll just have a salad,” she said. And then the waiter was beside them with water and iced tea.

“I’ll have lasagna,” Paul said. “And bread. And bring the lady a minestrone soup with her salad.” When the waiter had gone he said, “Don’t worry, Terri. This will get easier.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Have you told your parents yet?”

She looked down. “I told my mom. She and my dad are divorced and I haven’t had that much contact with him.” She looked up shyly. “She’d like to meet you sometime.”

“Sure,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “When we’ve had some time to sort things out a little, huh?” And she nodded. This woman was a far cry from the little pistol he’d met a year ago. She was subdued, self-conscious and submissive today. He didn’t know her well but, at the moment, it was as if he didn’t know her at all. As much as he wished this wasn’t happening, he couldn’t help but see it was harder for her than him. She’d been so good to him; he hated that he’d hurt her.

“Have you told your parents?”

He laughed a little. “No,” he said. “I think I might hold off on that a while.”

“Will they freak out?”

He chuckled again. “Oh, I think it’ll surprise them. In fact, maybe I should brush up on my CPR.”

“Ew,” she said, a hand going to her tummy.

Paul immediately reached for her other hand and held it supportively. “Terri, you don’t have to worry that they’d be a problem for you. My parents are real decent people. Even if they were thoroughly disappointed in me, they’d treat you and your child with kindness. Respect.”

“Our child,” she said softly after a moment of silence.

He was quiet, not responding to that. He might get there eventually, but he wasn’t there yet. He kept thinking of this as her baby or his baby but not their baby. “You’ve seen the doctor?”

“Just once, to confirm what I already knew. I’m not very far along, you know.”

He knew exactly how far along. Almost to the minute. “And you’re due…?”

“November. The twentieth.”

“Are you happy with the doctor?”

“She’s nice.” Terri shrugged. “She was recommended…”

To Paul’s great relief, the food arrived. He waited for Terri to take a couple of bites before he started on his; he found himself watching her to be sure she was eating. They sat in uncomfortable silence. After a few minutes, he pulled a card out of his shirt pocket, turned it over to be sure it was the right one and slid it across the table. “My home, work and cell phone numbers,” he said. “I have your home phone, but I don’t know where you work. Secretary, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “Legal secretary. I’m thinking about applying for a paralegal course.”

“Hey, that’s great,” he said.

“Well, I was thinking about that, before…”

He liked that she had goals for herself, something to look forward to, since he wasn’t giving her much in that department. And she would improve her earning potential, he thought. Because she was going to be a working mother. Or… Maybe she shouldn’t have to work. His head started to spin. “Listen, it’s hard to make long-term plans when you have a short-term complications, but if that’s something you really want to do, don’t give up on the idea. Not yet. Things always seem to work out the way they’re supposed to. You’d be surprised.”

“Right now it’s a little hard to figure things out. Things like that…”

“What other things have you concerned?” he asked.

“Well, I live in a one bedroom, upstairs apartment. It’s a nice apartment—you’ve been there. Single women like the upstairs—it’s safer. Fewer means of entry, for one thing. But single mothers probably have a hard time with things like that. Babies come with a lot of gear. You know?”

Stroller, diaper bag, car seat, swing, Port-a-Crib, etcetera. He’d spent years watching his brothers tromp into their parents’ house, hauling all the baby stuff. The stairs to her apartment were steep. She should live in a house, he thought. In a safe neighborhood. He thought he felt a migraine coming on. The first one of his life.

“I don’t have any savings,” she said. “I make a decent living, not a great one. My office has paid leave for six weeks and optional time off without pay up to six months. I already feel like six weeks isn’t enough. Not for a new baby. And then—what about child care? I haven’t even felt this baby move—and I’m already worried about leaving him with some stranger. Or her. Him or her.”

Paul smiled kindly. “Try not to worry about things like that yet, Terri. You’re not going to have to make those decisions alone. Don’t let it keep you up nights. I’ll be pitching in.”

“Pitching in? How?”

“Well, financially and, hopefully, with child care.”

“Helping me pay for childcare? Is that it?”