It no longer felt safe to go anywhere. When had the world become such a dangerous place?
With a groan, she pulled the covers over her head. She wasn’t going to answer the phone. Whoever was calling could leave a message on Booker’s answering machine. It was probably for him, anyway.
After another few moments, blessed silence fell, and Katie began drifting off to sleep—only to have the phone start ringing again.
“Go away!” she yelled at it. But whoever was calling wouldn’t give up. If she wanted any peace at all, she had to answer.
Stumbling out of bed, she moved slowly into the hall. Hatty’s house was too old to be wired for a phone in the bedroom, and Hatty had been too set in her ways to change that.
“Hello?” Katie snapped.
“Katie?” It was Booker.
Katie softened her voice. “Yeah?”
“Where’ve you been?”
“Uh…in the shower,” she said, because she didn’t want to tell him the pathetic truth.
“Are you going over to the bakery to talk to your father?”
“I was thinking about it.” Not. She’d pretty much decided it was useless. Her parents hadn’t even called to check on her. She could be living on the streets for all they cared. Which was a distinct possibility for the future. But she wouldn’t think about that. That made her feel even more tired, and she was barely moving as it was.
“Well, don’t bother,” he said.
She could hear the wind outside, the trees brushing against the house. If she hadn’t been staring at the sun streaming in through the window of the closest bedroom, she would’ve thought it was storming. “Why not?”
“I’m working on a different plan. We’ll talk about it when I get home.”
“Fine.” She covered a yawn, too indifferent to wonder what he meant, let alone ask. Nothing Booker did would make any difference. Straightening out the mess she’d made of her life was something she’d have to do on her own. Only she couldn’t manage it today. She’d deal with it tomorrow, when she felt better.
“I’ll be home at six o’clock,” he told her.
“Okay. I’ll have dinner waiting,” she said. But then she went back to bed and slept the entire day.
WHEN BOOKER AND DELBERT got home, there was no dinner on the table. The place was dark and seemed empty.
“Where’s Katie?” Delbert asked as he and Bruiser followed Booker inside.
Booker couldn’t hear anything. No TV or radio. No one speaking on the phone. “Katie?” he called.
“She’s gone,” Delbert said, and Booker felt a trace of hope. He’d been planning to offer her a bookkeeping job at his garage. Even though he knew it wouldn’t be easy to spend so much time around her, he hadn’t been able to think of anything better. But maybe someone had come to pick her up. Maybe she’d found another place to stay and a job that wouldn’t require her to be on her feet. If so, her problems, which had become his problems, might already be solved….
If only he could be so lucky.
Heading upstairs, he knocked on the walls as he neared Katie’s bedroom to announce that he was coming. “Anyone home?”
No answer. Darkness had fallen outside, but her door was shut, and there wasn’t any light glowing beneath it. “Katie?”
“Did you find her?” Delbert asked, standing at the bottom of the stairs.
“Not yet.” Booker turned on the hall light and knocked softly on her door. No answer. He looked inside to see a round lump in the middle of the bed—a round lump that was beginning to stir.
“What? Who is it?” Katie sounded groggy. Shoving herself into a sitting position, she blinked against the light spilling into her room.
Booker let the door swing wide, and leaned against the lintel. “This shouldn’t come as any kind of a shock, since I own the house, but it’s me.”
“Booker?”
“You got it.”
She groaned and fell back. “God, I thought I was only dreaming that I was pregnant and broke and having to rely on the pity of someone who hates me.”
Booker felt a wry smile claim his lips, and stuck his toothpick in his mouth to stave it off. He wasn’t about to let his heart soften where Katie Rogers was concerned. Not after the way she’d thrown his proposal back in his face two years ago. “What did you do today?”
“Nothing.”
“Is she there?” Delbert called up to him.
“She’s here,” Booker said. “Go ahead and make yourself a sandwich.”
“Oh, good, she’s here,” Delbert told Bruiser, as though the dog was especially worried, and galloped to the kitchen.
“What time is it?” Katie asked.
“Six-thirty.”
“Six-thirty!”
He pulled the toothpick from his mouth. “Time flies when you’re having fun, hmm?”
“Ugh.” Her voice sounded muffled because she’d ducked completely under the covers.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“I just slept the whole day away and I still feel too tired to move.”
“Tell me that has something to do with the pregnancy.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been pregnant before. But then, I’ve never been shunned and penniless, either. This is all new to me.”
Booker couldn’t help chuckling. “You’ll get through it.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” she told him, now sullen. “You’ve never been pregnant.”
“No, but I’ve been shunned and penniless most of my life.”
No response.
“Are you getting up?” he asked.
“No.”
“Do you think you might get up later?”
“No.”
“You’re not making me feel particularly comfortable here.”
Nothing.
Booker searched his mind for something he could say or do. “Can you feel the baby move yet?” he asked at last.
The question obviously took her off guard. Rising onto one elbow, she stared at him. “I felt the baby move for the first time while I was driving here.”
“What did it feel like?”
Her expression mellowed. “Like…like a butterfly’s wing inside my belly. Why?”
“Because you need to remember that moment. Tomorrow you’ll get up for the baby,” he said and left.
LETHARGY WAS SPREADING through her like a slow-moving drug, incapacitating one muscle after another until she felt almost paralyzed. She’d been in bed for two nights and a day, but it didn’t seem to matter how long she slept. She was more tired now than when she’d first hit the sack. Worse, she knew she looked terrible, but she didn’t