The Sweetest September

* * *

JOHN OPENED THE door for the woman who he suspected was either crazy as hell or suffering the start of a breakdown. Could be both, but either way she’d rolled into his world and pulled the rug out from beneath him. He’d hit the proverbial dirt so hard his proverbial ass had bruises. On an actual literal level, his head throbbed and the churning in his gut was something no antacid could cure. World rocked was an understatement.

He could get perspective later, though. At present he needed to convince her to stay in town.

Which could be a huge problem on a lot of levels, but still...he couldn’t help the inclination he felt to press Pause. He needed some time to think, some time to figure out possibly the rest of his life.

Shelby climbed inside the truck, allowing him to assist her, looking contrite after laughing like a cuckoo bird in the doctor’s parking lot.

He shouldn’t have been surprised. That night months ago, her vivacious laugh had first attracted him to her. Okay, if he were being honest, her body had been the first thing, but when she’d laughed, telling him lame jokes, he’d felt almost normal again. And then she’d flirted, pressing her polished nails against his chest, gazing into his eyes, telling him how good he made her feel...how much she needed someone like him to make her forget about the world.

That goddamn bright smile of hers and those baby-blues. By the time he was on his fifth beer, Shelby had been the answer to his prayers and he wanted to sink inside her, allow her to take the damn pain away and replace it with something as light as her laughter for just a little while.

God, send me something to take this damn pain away.

In John’s mind, God had answered, delivering Shelby with her perfect teeth and lush body.

Yeah.

God liked to play jokes...or maybe it was more his punishment for Rebecca’s death. Thanks, God. Good one.

John fired the engine, sliding a glance over to the woman who now sat solemnly, clutching her purse like it held the antidote to a horrible disease. Her knuckles were white.

“My sister has a bed-and-breakfast. You’ll be close by so I can check on you.”

“I have a hotel in Baton Rouge...all my things are there. Staying at your sister’s place isn’t necessary.”

“This isn’t just about you.”

She didn’t say anything, so he gave her time, rolling onto Main Street, heading back toward home. The postman gave him a curious glance...along with the woman who worked the dry-cleaning counter. John waved because it was expected, but he knew they wondered why he wasn’t out in the fields...and why a blonde sat next to him.

“True,” Shelby said finally, settling her gaze on him. “I get that you’re trying to do the right thing...that you feel bad about what happened that night—”

“You need help.”

“I don’t. That back there was a weird reaction to stress. I can’t help myself sometimes,” she said, looking sheepish, “but I’ll be fine on my own.”

“So beyond the half breakdown you nearly had, are you okay? I mean is the baby okay?”

“Yeah, Dr. French thinks it’s an infection.”

“I heard through the door. He said no traveling.”

“He recommended no flying.”

“Stay in Magnolia Bend.” He tried to keep his tone neutral. Half of him wanted her to fly out of his life, but the other half clung to the thought this woman carried his son or daughter in her womb. He didn’t want to feel anything for her. At all. But he couldn’t let her go.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she said. “I don’t belong here and it doesn’t seem fair to you to invite questions. I bet your town is full of Shannons who will be disappointed in their golden boy.”

John’s mind flipped to an image of his parents. They’d be very disappointed, along with his brothers and sister. Well, maybe not Jake. Then his mind flipped to his former mother-in-law, Carla Stanton, and the churning in his gut intensified. When Carla found out he’d fathered a child with a random woman, she’d be devastated. The idea he could lose everything popped into his mind. But if he let Shelby leave, he could lose something even more unimaginable—his child. “Having time to decide how we’ll handle this trumps what everyone else thinks. I shouldn’t care what anyone thinks.”

Not even Carla.

“But you do. You just sneaked me in the back door of the doctor’s office. You had a life...”

“Key word is had,” he said, his heart tripping over the truth Shelby had unearthed. He was ashamed of what he’d done that drunken night. He’d been untrue to Rebecca, sullying the day she’d left this earth with selfish desires. He’d sown this discord in his life and now he’d have to deal with the reaping. “Look, I don’t know how to feel. I wish I could say I didn’t give a damn about what people thought about me and the way I live my life, but—”

“You do?”

“I haven’t attended a single social event in town since Rebecca died. I’ve been in mourning and people accepted that. So to show up in town with a beautiful woman at my side, having people stare makes me feel...” He left off because he didn’t know.

Vulnerable? Guilty? And, yeah, maybe embarrassed he’d been so stupid. Getting a girl pregnant was a bonehead move and so unlike the salt-of-the-earth reputation he’d established in the town that had been home to the Beauchamps since the Civil War. Maybe if he hadn’t been such a part of the community it wouldn’t matter. Shelby was right. They weren’t living in the ’50s...though sometimes the small Louisiana town felt very much that way.

They passed the general store run by the Burnsides who were cousins on his mama’s side and the old men sitting outside playing checkers and lying about the fish they caught raised hands in greeting. He then tooted his horn at his uncle, Howard Burnside, who stood outside the courthouse wearing his sheriff’s uniform. “My whole family lives here.”

“Strange.”

“That’s the way it is in these small towns. I know almost everyone who lives here...and they know me.”

“So having me sit here pregnant from the one time you decided to take off your mourning clothes is a bit like crawling out from under a rock only to get pissed on?”

He had no reason to smile, but, damn, she’d nailed it. “I’d say that’s an accurate depiction.”

“So why do you want me to stay?”

“I can’t let you traipse off to Baton Rouge and hole up in a hotel room without someone to look after you.”

“Why? I’m a grown woman. I have a cell phone.”

She had a point, but something inside him balked at her leaving. He didn’t know exactly what he wanted in regards to the child, but if Shelby left Magnolia Bend, he might never know. Her leaving felt wrong. “Look, I know you can take care of yourself, but do me this solid—stay here. If something goes wrong, you’ll have someone to help you. I’ll get your things from the hotel. My sister won’t pester you or ask questions. I swear.”

“You’ll be working so what does it matter if I’m here or in Baton Rouge?”

“I can visit you each evening. We can get to know each other better.”

“Better than sex on a bathroom sink?” she snorted.

“Yeah, not my best moment.”

“I’ll say.” After a moment, Shelby continued, “I don’t need you to apologize for what happened or feel guilty. I don’t blame you anymore than I blame myself. We both screwed up and fiddler’s bill is steep.”

“Yeah, but I wish the dance had been a little better,” he said, recalling the cheap linoleum, the naked lightbulb and the way he’d made her feel when the realization of what he’d done washed over him. Not well done of him. Cheap, shoddy and now that he knew Shelby a little better, not deserved. “But it’s too late for regret. Best both of us can do is to move forward, doing what is best for our baby.”

“Our baby,” she repeated, her voice sounding lost.

Right as he pulled onto the highway, Shelby touched his arm. Her hands were small, still polished and soft looking. Nothing like Rebecca’s hands, worn from washing them too often at the preschool where she’d taught. Shelby’s touch sparked something in him, something he’d rather ignore and keep hidden.

Hunger for something more than what he’d lived for the past year and nearly three months.