âRossâ¦â Jennifer said
She went to him. Stepped close and put her arms around him, her bellyâwith his brotherâs babyâpressing into his.
He held her tightly. She leaned into him and cried.
âI thought Iâd be able to hate him for the rest of my life,â he said.
They stood like that for a moment, frozen, and then he kissed her. This kiss was nothing like their kiss nine years earlier. Nothing like the one the other night. No romance, just raw need, and her body responded instantly.
âJennifer,â he said.
A statement and a question rolled into one, and she knew what he needed. Knew she needed it, too.
Yes, she said, not with her voice but with her hands and lips.
He took her upstairs and undressed her. Made love to her slowly and reverently, worshiping her. And he held her and he wept.
I love him, she thought. I always haveâ¦.
Dear Reader,
After my daughterâs birth I understood something about my own parents. Though Iâd felt quite clearly that they loved me, I hadnât grasped how much. Weâd gone through the usual ups and downs and I knew theyâd made plenty of mistakes, as all moms and dads do. I knew, too, that a parentâs love for a child is supposed to be one of the most powerful you can experience. But did I really, truly get it? No. Not the way I did when I had a baby of my own. Oh, I thought, this is what itâs like. And it blew me away.
Although her baby hasnât yet been born, Jennifer Burns has an inkling of the intense protectiveness and devotion sheâll feel. Already sheâs determined to do whatever it takes to give her child the best possible start in lifeâwhich includes a relationship with the father. As you read, youâll learn why this is so very important to her. Youâll also watch her definition of a ârealâ father evolve throughout the book as she realizes Ross Griffin may be the best man for the job. Though heâs not the biological dad, he has the most important qualificationâa deep capacity to love and cherish her child.
Iâd enjoy hearing what you think of Her Babyâs Father. You can write me at P.O. Box 1539, Eastsound, WA 98245.
Best wishes,
Anne Haven
For H.H.T., because you kept your daughterâs letters.
Many thanks to Kristen Bernard and Jharna Morrissey at River Valley Midwives, for their inspiration and guidance with firsthand research; to Kim Bressem, for looking after The Bean; and to Donna Miller, for proofreading and emotional support.
Iâm also indebted to Dr. Robert Weitzman, for answering medical questions; to Sam Thoron, my father-in-law, for also helping with research; and to Joshua Wolk, for his consultations on arm breaking.
Any technical errors in this fictional work are mine.
Bev Sotolov is an incredible editor and I feel privileged to work with her.
Ruth Kagle has been a supportive and diligent agent. Thanks also to Annelise Roby and to everyone at Rotrosen.
Finally, I must acknowledge that this book would not exist without the help of my husband, Joe Thoron, whose contributions are too numerous to list.
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
BUCK UP, HONEY. Time to be strong.
Jennifer Burns repeated the words as she slowed her dusty old station wagon in front of Ross Griffinâs house in Portland, Oregon. She parked at the curb, cut the engine and sat. Cupping her rounded stomach, she fortified herself with thoughts of the new life inside her.
She was doing this for the babyâs sake. That made everything worth it.
Jennifer studied the large Victorian where Ross lived. It sat on a hill above the city, with a sloped front lawn and a low hedge lining the walk. The house was pale yellow, the trim painted in darker shades of peach, giving it a warm glow in the pre-dusk June evening. A blue Camry sat in the driveway. A flower pot hung from the roof of the porch.
Rossâs home appealed to her. She wondered what his life there was like.
And wished the reason for this reunion could be anything other than what it was.
The car door gave its usual creaky groan as she opened it. Stepping out onto the smoothly paved road, she eased her body to a standing position. Her limbs felt stiff from the two-day drive and her lower back ached dully. As she crossed the front yard she was strongly conscious of her pregnancy, of her unmistakable waddle and the ripeness of her curvesâso different from the last time sheâd seen Ross. Sheâd been seventeen, a kid, still scrawny.
This was going to be quite a surprise.
Jennifer hadnât been able to bring herself to call him. Sheâd tried three times and had always hung up before dialing the last digit. It was silly and illogical and she knew it. But after what had happened with his brother, she didnât know what to expect from Ross. Their pastâthe friendship she and Ross had once sharedâmight not mean a thing to him. And they hadnât parted under the best circumstances. He could try to brush her off. He could hang up on her.