“Safe how?” he asked, looking over at the woman who was still such a stranger to him. And had his baby growing inside her. “As in, are we going to get mugged, or robbed by a gold-panning squatter, or taken captive by an Indian warrior?”
“Indian warrior?” Caroline asked with an arched brow. “I was talking about the nonhuman variety of danger.” Her boots barely made a sound as she trod slowly down the path that led to a rocky ledge. It overlooked a surprisingly green ravine up ahead.
Careful to keep enough distance between them so he wouldn’t be inhaling the fresh lilac scent of her hair—he supposed it was the kind of shampoo she used—John shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and shrugged. “Yeah, the desert can be dangerous, but not if you’re careful.”
She slowed, glanced over her shoulder at him. “So those javelina I read about on the Internet, are they around here? Or only up in the mountains?”
“They’re here,” John said, focusing on both sides of the path—playing a game of name that plant. Cholla. Prickly pear. Palo verde. It was either that or look at her nicely rounded butt moving back and forth in those threadbare jeans. “But javelinas usually stay out of sight. Mostly you want to watch for rattlesnakes. As long as you don’t step on one, they’ll leave you alone. And you never, ever, want to be out here without water. Something as simple as a sprained ankle could leave you out in the desert for hours or days.”
Her step picked up again. “I’m guessing you’ve got water in that pack thing you’re carrying?”
“Yep.” The leather pack had been a Christmas gift from Becca and Will two years before. “A bottle for each of us. And a first-aid kit, too. I go with the theory that if I have one, I won’t need it.”
“Good theory.”
John enjoyed the silence that fell as they continued their walk. Maybe on the way back he’d point out some of the different varieties of Arizona desert plants they were passing. For now, he was feeling more peaceful than he had in days.
As long as he didn’t think about that body ahead of him—and the life it was hiding. Then he felt the need to unbutton his long-sleeved corduroy shirt and let in some air.
They reached the rock Will had shown him that first day and sat, not quite touching, facing the ravine.
“Did you know that saguaro are only found here in Arizona, Mexico and a few places in New Mexico?” she asked, staring out. He had known that, but wasn’t familiar with many of the other facts she regaled him with during the next ten minutes. And he’d spent the past couple of years making a point of picking up information on one new plant a month.
“How do you know all this stuff?” John finally asked.
She shrugged, her ponytail sliding up and down her back with the movement. “The Internet.”
He should’ve guessed. She’d found a college that way, too. And Caroline seemed like the kind of person who’d make it her business to find out everything there was to know about whatever she was doing.
Including having a baby?
“We have to talk about it, you know,” he said, glancing at his watch. They couldn’t keep meeting like this—casually chatting, getting to know each other. They had to get on with business. It was the only reason he’d called her.
There was no marked difference in her, just a changed energy in the air around them. She said nothing.
So, fine. Probably easier like this. Just state his facts, come up with a plan that was agreeable to both of them and go their separate ways.
“Have you chosen a doctor yet?”
Head turned away from him, she appeared to be taking in the desert beyond the rocky hill that descended down to green bush and wild grass below them.
“Really,” she said, her voice small, “you don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?” he asked, although he knew.
“Be involved.”
“I’m as responsible for this predicament as you are.” The words weren’t news to him; he just hadn’t confronted them head-on until that point. “There is no way I can go on with my life as usual while yours is being turned upside down.”
“It’s not a predicament.”
He didn’t know what he’d expected her to say. But it hadn’t been that. They had real issues to discuss here.
“Sorry.”
She turned, her green eyes narrowed and filled with a fire he hadn’t seen there before. “We’re talking about a person here, a child’s life. My child’s life. He or she is not and will never be a predicament to me.”
“Okay…”
“Just because I didn’t choose to have a baby—or choose the father, for that matter—does not mean this pregnancy is any less valid than one I’d planned and hoped for. Because the life that results will be just as valid.”
He had the most incredible urge to pull her toward him, kiss her forehead, rub her back. He sat on his hands. “True.” The temperature was only sixty-three degrees, but in the sun, John was starting to sweat. The breeze coming over the ravine was a relief. With the sudden tightness in his chest, he was finding it a little hard to breathe.
He waited to see if she had anything more to say. And then, when it appeared she didn’t, he told her, “All the more reason for me to be involved.”
He heard her sigh. And felt it, too. “Look.” She turned on the rock until she was facing him. “You’re right. Part of the reason I came here was so you could be involved in this baby’s life if you chose. He deserves a father just like everyone else. Deserves to know his biological father if you’re interested in having him know you.” She wasn’t even stopping for air. “So, after he’s born, if you want to be involved, we’ll set up whatever visitations you need. But until then, this is just about me and the job my body has to do.”
“I disagree.” Shut up! his mind screamed. She’d just given him exactly the out he needed. And wanted. “There’ll be costs. And hardships as you find it more difficult to do certain things. For instance, what if you have to take your computer in for repair? Once you get further along, you won’t be allowed to lift heavy things.”
He was winging it. And afraid that was exactly how it sounded. Why the hell had this suddenly become so important? Just because she’d told him no?
He’d never been a man who had a problem with women in authority.
“Don’t believe everything you hear, Strickland,” she said, her tone reminding him of the friendly woman he’d known so briefly that weekend between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Very different from the self-conscious though still capable Caroline she’d been since arriving in Shelter Valley. “Kentucky women come from strong stock. Goodness, if they had to slow down the whole time they were pregnant, their families and farms would be in trouble. A small farm doesn’t run itself, you know.”
An iguana—a desert lizard—scooted by an inch from John’s shoe. Caroline watched it go.
“They’re kind of cute,” she said as it scurried away. “I read that they’re good to have around your yard at home because they eat crickets.”
“And other bugs,” John agreed. He didn’t want to talk about desert plants or wildlife anymore.
“Listen, Caroline,” he said, not even sure what she’d be listening to. Compelled by an uneasy feeling inside, he continued anyway. “As you say, that baby you’re carrying is as real as any other child conceived. He’s also my flesh and blood, and I’m not the type of man who can turn away