The Baby Race (15 page)

"Can I slide down the banister, Claire?
Grandmere says Uncle Jackson and his brother used to do it all the
time. Now, Rachel and her sisters do it. Mr. Dabner puts a mattress
at the bottom so we won't gets hurt. Can I? Please!"

Claire had wondered about the banister at the
Reed mansion. Apparently, despite Amelia Reed's patrician air, love
and laughter had rung through the grandiose halls of the Reed
mansion.

"Maybe," she hedged, unwilling to agree to
something that might be dangerous without checking it out
first.

Content with the answer, Bobbie Sue turned to
Race. "Race, did you slide down the banister when you were
little?"

"No," Race answered. "I didn't live here
then."

Curiosity aroused, Bobbie Sue asked, "Where
did you live?"

"I lived with my mother."

Sandwiched between Race and Claire in the
front seat of his pickup, Bobbie Sue looked at him, a puzzled frown
creasing her forehead. "Huh? Uncle Jackson's your dad. Isn't Aunt
Cindy your mom?

Claire started to shush her, but Race
answered.

"Claire is your mom now, right?"

"Yeah, the 'doption papers said so," Bobbie
Sue said proudly.

"But you had another mom before Claire." Race
explained patiently.

"Yeah, she died. I don't remember her too
good. She and Daddy traveled a lot. Claire took care of me." She
patted Claire's arm.

"Well, I had another mom before Aunt Cindy
married Uncle Jackson. My first mom died when I was sixteen. By the
time I came to live with them, I was too old to slide down
banisters."

"I'm never getting too old to slide down
banisters," she insisted. "I don't call Claire mom, because she's
my sister. Why don't you call Aunt Cindy mom?"

Race shrugged. "Just didn't feel right, I
guess."

"You should. Aunt Cindy would like it."
Bobbie Sue ended her questions with that blunt statement and fell
thoughtfully quiet.

Was Bobbie Sue unhappy about not being able
to call her mom? Claire hadn't suggested the change in name, but
perhaps it would be a good idea to do so. Bobbie Sue needed to feel
normal and safe. "Would you like to call me mom?" Claire asked.

Bobbie Sue's eyes brightened. She threw her
arms around Claire. "Can I? Really?"

"Of course, sweetheart. I'd be honored to
have you call me mom." Claire's heart swelled.

"My dead mommy won't mind?"

"No, she loved you very much and she'll
always be your mother. But since she can't be here with you, I
don't think she'd mind if I stood in her place."

"That's great! Then I can call Race daddy,
too."

Claire's heart skipped. Her startled gaze
flew to Race's hard profile. He'd warned her not to let Bobbie Sue
consider him her father. What would he say to her request? Don't
let him crush her.

Race listened with half an ear to the
conversation flowing around him. He'd never had the opportunity to
slide down those highly polished banisters. Amelia Reed had made
sure of that. His mouth tightened. By paying his mother to leave
his father, she'd denied him a real relationship with his father.
Denied him his rightful place in the Reed family.

His place in the Reed family? Where did that
thought come from? He didn't want any more ties to the Reed
family.

Then why had he come back here? He could have
started his horse rescue ranch in a dozen different states. Why
just outside the town practically owned by his grandmother? What
was he trying to prove? To her? To himself? The questions nagged at
him.

"Can I, Race?"

Bobbie Sue's voice broke through his
thoughts. He glanced over and met Claire's worried frown. What had
the kid asked? "Sure. Why not?"

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" The little girl
bounced up and down on the seat then hugged him tight. "Daddy."

*****

The strained atmosphere at the lavishly set
dining table soured Claire's already non-existent appetite. She
toyed with the moist turkey and now cold mashed potatoes. Her
stomach rolled in revolt. At least Race hadn't recoiled in horror
when Bobbie Sue called him Daddy. In fact, he'd accepted the title
with little more than a non-committal grunt, but his look promised
more discussion later.

Seated regally at the head of the lavishly
set table, Grandmere seemed oblivious to Colin and Lizzie's
un-subtle verbal battle, as well as Race's sullen silence.

Cindy did her best to smooth over the more
obvious comments, attempting to steer the hostile adults as she
might her kindergarten class. Claire smiled at the analogy. They
were all acting like five-year-olds, each of them wallowing in
their own misery, determined to see that everyone around them
suffered as much as they were suffering

She glanced over at the children's table
where Vicki held court. She easily kept Bobbie Sue and her three
young cousins amused. Despite her seventeen years, she didn't
object to being relegated to the children's table. Childish
laughter cut through the tense silence like sunlight through fog.
Claire wished she had the courage to join the happy little
group.

"I'm pregnant." Lizzie's announcement took a
moment to sink in.

His face a stony mask, Colin surged upward.
His chair tipped backward and crashed to the floor. "I'm going to
have a drink." He threw down his napkin and stomped out of the
room.

Everyone sat openmouthed. The children fell
quiet; their faces alight with curiosity at the strange adult
behavior. Even Grandmere looked nonplused.

"Shall I fetch some champagne?" Dabner bent
toward Grandmere and asked.

"Yes – yes of course." Unlike her usual
reserved façade, Grandmere's smile looked strained. "This is cause
to celebrate. Bring the Taittenger and a bottle of non-alcoholic
sparkling grape juice for our new mother-to-be."

Lizzie's lips tightened into an angry line.
Tears glistening in her eyes, she lurched to her feet. "Don't
bother, Dabner. I'm out of here." She turned on Grandmere, said, "I
hope you're happy. You're going to get what you want, no matter
what it costs everyone else." She whirled around and stalked out of
the room. The roar of an engine came a few minutes later. Seconds
later another engine squealed out of the drive.

Always ageless, suddenly Grandmere's face
showed every one of her seventy-five years. She sagged in her
throne-like chair. "Cancel the champagne, Dabner." Though Claire
had little sympathy for the way Grandmere manipulated people, she
worried that this shock would do the old woman harm.

Cindy started to say something, but Jackson's
hand on her arm stilled her words. They both remained silent. Other
than Vicki, the children seemed unconcerned by the commotion.

Race leaned close and whispered into Claire's
ear, "Lizzie's mother is a drunk. Her father ran out on them years
ago. She blames Grandmere."

"Why?" Claire asked. Over the last few months
Claire had become friends with the sometimes caustic Lizzie. The
young woman presented a casual, cynical attitude toward life, but
Claire sensed a deep well of unhappiness within her. Maybe because
it reflected her own. Involved with their own troubles, neither
tried to push the friendship past occasional lunches and
shopping.

Race shrugged. "I don't know. Colin does, but
he's not talking. I think he used what he knows to force Lizzie to
marry him. Looks like he's going to win Grandmere's Baby Race. What
I can't figure out is, why. He doesn't need the money. Besides his
successful contracting firm, he inherited a substantial estate from
his mother's family."

"Maybe he loves her." Claire couldn't keep
the wistful tone out of her voice.

Race looked at her sharply. "Did that look
like love? The two of them detest each other. Always have."

"What does love look like? Whatever Colin and
Lizzie feel for each other, it isn't hate."

Claire watched Race as he turned to speak to
his father. Though she knew Race felt estranged from Jackson, to
Claire the love between the two strong-willed men was obvious. When
he looked at his son, pride lit Jackson's eyes. Race's respect for
the older man came through his every word. Why couldn't they admit
what they felt for each other?

Over their heads Cindy's eyes met Claire's in
wordless understanding. A giggle bubbled in Claire's throat.

Race heard the soft sound of laughter in
Claire's muffled cough. What could she find humorous in this
situation? He shot her a sharp look and her unborn laughter died.
Immediately he missed her smile. Like Bobbie Sue, Claire smiled and
laughed easily, finding joy in the most inconsequential things in
life.

Distracted by thoughts of Bobbie Sue, Race
fell silent. How had it happened? In the car, one moment they were
discussing sliding down banisters, the next she was calling him
Daddy. He should have objected then and there, but the pleading
look in Claire's eyes and the joy in Bobbie Sue's had stilled his
tongue. Now he was stuck with the title. So why wasn't he more
upset? Bit by bit they'd moved into his life, filling empty places
he hadn't know where there.

The rest of the meal passed without further
incident. Neither Colin nor Lizzie returned to join the rest of the
family in the parlor for the obligatory attendance to the family
matriarch – Amelia Reed.

Only slightly subdued by Lizzie's
announcement and Colin's desertion, she held court in the mansion's
formal parlor. Twenty by thirty feet, tastefully and expensively
furnished, the room reeked of money and class.

Jackson, Cindy and Claire sat, along with
Grandmere near the room's large fireplace. A warm fire blazed in
the hearth lending the room a false air of coziness. Race perched
on the edge of a spindly chair that probably cost more than he made
in a year. He tugged at the suddenly tight collar of his
turtleneck.

Vicki and Dabner had taken the children to
the foyer to test out the banister.

Though he spent as little time as possible in
this mausoleum of a house, Reed much preferred the smaller family
room tucked off the kitchen. At least there a man could breathe.
Here, he felt like a plow horse standing just outside the winner's
circle at a horse race – unwelcome, unwanted and uncomfortable.

He stood and walked over to the well-stocked
bar. Colin's untouched Scotch made him pause.

"Well, despite their lack of enthusiasm, I'm
delighted with Colin and Elizabeth's news. As soon as they resolve
whatever little tiff they've had, I'm sure they'll be delighted as
well. Aside from her mother's unfortunate addiction, and her
father's lack of responsibility Colin and Elizabeth have excellent
bloodlines. They will produce a beautiful son. I wonder when their
baby is due?" Grandmere shot a pointed look at Race. "Is there any
other goods new to give thanks for today?"

Grandmere's smug tone grated on Race's taut
nerves. All he could think about was the process of how a baby was
made. No matter how hard he worked he couldn't banish the image of
Claire, naked and smiling in his bed. He groaned in
frustration.

For the last three months he'd been telling
himself to give up and sell out to Colin. He considered himself a
realist, but every day he found another excuse to delay making the
call. Each night he worked in the barn until long after Claire
retired. When he finally crawled into bed, he lay alone, wishing he
had the right to kiss her awake, to bury himself in her sweet flesh
again and again until they both collapsed. Then he'd remember
Grandmere's Baby Race and desire would turn to self-disgust.

"Stop playing god. What if they have a
daughter?" he taunted softly.

"Of course, a great-granddaughter would be
welcome – in more ways than one. A girl would open the playing
field, wouldn't it?" Grandmere came right back.

Race gulped down Colin's Scotch and turned on
her. "You might have forced Colin and Lizzie to satisfy your
twisted need to see the exalted Reed bloodline continue, but Claire
and I won't be coerced or bought."

Grandmere arched her brow at him. "Oh,
really."

The color drained from Claire's face.

"Don't push," Race growled.

"Race." Jackson's tone warned Race that he
was treading a dangerous path.

Cindy looked ready to jump in and play her
usual role of peacekeeper.

Race slammed down his glass. "Stay out of
this, Jackson. It's time someone stood up to this petty dictator.
She's been manipulating us all for years. And we let her. Why?
Because she's old? Because she's rich? I'm tired of it"

Claire touched his arm. "Race, stop now
before you say something you'll regret."

He shook her off. Striding to where Grandmere
sat, he leaned over and glared down at her. Claire followed and
positioned herself next to Grandmere, as if to stand guard over the
old harridan. He spoke softly so his voice wouldn't carry to his
father and Cindy. "You'd better hope Lizzie's baby is a boy,
because one way or another I'll make sure you'll never have a
great-grandson from me."

The tough old bird didn't blink. Grandmere
glared right back. Reluctant respect threatened to sidetrack
him.

Standing right next to Grandmere, it was
clear Claire heard every word. Her already pale face went white.
Race caught her when she crumpled.

As Claire listened to the argument, a dull
roar in her head drowned out their voices. Her chest tightened, and
her palms started to sweat. Darkness blurred the edges of her
vision as it pulled inward. Then there was nothing.

She blinked and looked up to find Race's
worried face looking down at her. Grandmere hovered over his right
shoulder while Jackson and Cindy crowded close by his left.

Race straightened and herded them back. "Give
her some air."

Claire tried to sit up, but Race held her
gently down.