Enchanting Baby

CHAPTER THREE

ASHLEIGH LOGAN STRUGGLED to arrange her girth in a comfortable position on the plump leather couch as she waited through a series of frustrating clicks while the long-distance connection went through.

Apparently, Enchantment, New Mexico, did not have the best phone service in the West. No surprise there. This place was isolated, all right. Her cell phone had gone into remote mode shortly after they hit the road that wound up from Taos, and the signal had ceased altogether when they got up on this mountain.

She surveyed the cabin that would be her prison for the next three months—at least she hoped she could hold out for the entire three months. For the baby’s sake.

The Coleman’s cabin was a lodgepole pine behemoth perched high on the mountainside, at the end of a steep, winding road. The decor of the place was rustic but luxurious. The great room where Ashleigh now reclined had a high ceiling spanned by twenty-foot-long cross beams with a moose-antler chandelier at the center. A wall of glass with a deck beyond framed the three highest peaks in the Sangre de Cristo range.

The rest of the place was all dark leather, rough-hewn cedar, native stone. Thick Navajo rugs. Huge, colorful Native American paintings interspersed with tall banks of windows.

Her mother was merrily clattering around in the adjacent kitchen, which would have been rustic, too, except for the marble countertops and heated travertine floors.

Ashleigh made a wry face. She supposed she could stand this joint.

“Hello?” Finally, Megan picked up.

“Hi, Sis!” Ashleigh forced a bright, upbeat note into her voice. “We’re in Enchantment. And I think we made it up here without being seen. Mom made sure the Suburban we rented had tinted windows, and I didn’t even stop for a potty break after we left Taos.”

Megan released a controlled sigh. “Ashleigh, let me say this again. I do not like this ill-conceived plan.” Ashleigh’s sister could cram more drama into one sentence than Ashleigh could milk out of a half hour of blather on her TV talk show.

“It’s not ill-conceived. The cops okayed it. My doctor approved it. Dr. Ochoa, the obstetrician in Enchantment, is one of the best in the nation, and Lydia Kane is simply top-notch—”

“But—”

“And we’ve already alerted the local police—”

“Well that’s good, because I’m trying to tell you something! After you and Mom left for Taos, a guy showed up here, looking for you.”

Ashleigh sucked in a breath and sat up straighter against the couch pillows. “What guy?”

“The cops said his name was Greg Glazier.”

“Never heard of him. Is he with the media or something?”

“No. He’s some kind of land developer. Has a great big horse ranch out east of Denver.”

“The cops told you that?”

“Yeah. They checked him out really well. Evidently he’s very well known and respected. And he’s a deputy sheriff. The cops don’t think he’s your stalker.”

“Then what did he want with me?”

“He told the cops you two had some holdings in common and he needed to talk to you about it.”

“Holdings in common? I never heard of this guy!”

“Exactly! Some stranger comes looking for you and the cops just let him go and now you’re way off in New Mexico. I don’t like any of this one bit!”

Ashleigh imagined Megan’s pinched little frown as clearly as if they were standing face to face. “Now, Megan, there’s no point in getting all upset. I’m doing everything reasonable to protect myself. I’ve practically become a hermit because of all of this.” Ashleigh rushed on before Megan could argue. “But it’s okay, because you should see this cabin. My gosh, it has every amenity you can imagine!”

“That cabin is also fairly remote,” Megan inserted quickly, going back to her point. “What if something happens and you need emergency care? Think of all you’ve been through to get this baby, think of—” Megan’s voice choked with threatened tears for a moment before she sputtered on with her argument against this plan—for the hundredth time.

Ashleigh listened to Megan’s diatribe, thinking that she didn’t need her sister undermining her resolve. Megan—a worrier, a crier, a sentimental sap—drove Ashleigh right up the wall with her roller-coaster emotions. But when it came to this baby, she supposed Megan was entitled to a little angst. From the start, this pregnancy had been incredibly emotional, for all of them. Ill-conceived. Ashleigh wondered if Megan realized how apropos her wording sounded.

Ashleigh had made her decision, firmly, six months ago, and in her heart, she knew Chad would support it. Ashleigh closed her eyes and bit her lip. She couldn’t allow herself to go into meltdown now. Her obstetrician in Denver had warned her about that. A woman battling preterm labor had to remain calm. Calm. Don’t think about Chad now, she warned herself. Think of the baby. His baby. At least you have his baby. Thank God they had decided to freeze Chad’s sperm before he had started his chemotherapy.

“Listen, Megan,” she said, finally interrupting her sister. “I’ll be fine. The local cops have been alerted. And when we drove through town we even stopped to see Lydia Kane at the clinic.”

“Oh. The Birth Place? How was it?” This diversion worked. Like her sister, Megan was fascinated by anything that had to do with babies.

“It’s adorable! Quaint. Real adobe, nestled in pine trees.”

“But do the midwives seem competent?”

“I’m sure Lydia runs a first-rate operation.” It hadn’t been easy, convincing her Denver obstetrician to transfer her to the care of an isolated clinic. But when Ashleigh had told Dr. Hill that the clinic was run by Lydia Kane, the impressive midwife she’d interviewed on her show a year earlier, he agreed to her plan. Ashleigh thanked her lucky stars she’d had Lydia Kane as a guest on the show and that when she needed a place to hide, Enchantment had come immediately to mind. It was geographically close enough to make a cautious road trip without stressing her system, but remote enough that the Denver media wouldn’t follow her. The story of the baby guru becoming pregnant with her dead husband’s sperm wasn’t exactly breaking news anymore, but it was bizarre enough to attract a dogged follow-up.

She didn’t blame the media. Their pursuit of her was nothing personal. Ashleigh herself had hounded sources to the ends of the earth to get something fresh, something startling.

Most important, hiding in Enchantment put distance between herself and this nutcase stalker.

“Lydia even came out to the Suburban to talk to me—” Ashleigh continued to try to sound upbeat for Megan “—so I didn’t even have to walk in. Isn’t that sweet?”

“I remember when you had her and those two midwives as guests on your show.”

“Yeah. Remember that?” Ashleigh encouraged her sister as Megan’s tone became less glum. “She’s a real earth mother. She listened to the baby’s heartbeat with a handheld device she called a Doppler, and she said a midwife named Katherine would come to the cabin this evening to get the home monitor set up. I’ll send in a reading by phone every morning and then I’ll go into the clinic tomorrow, and then once a week a midwife will check up on me here at the cabin. The cops and the staff at the clinic are the only people who will ever see me. The clinic has a private entrance in the back that leads straight to the birthing rooms. I guess it’s so the moms in labor can arrive in their nighties and robes if they want to. When I’ve safely reached thirty-seven weeks, I can even have a home delivery with a midwife if I want. In the meantime, I’m getting plenty of rest. Right now, I’m stretched out on the biggest old leather couch you’ve ever seen, and that’s where I’ll stay until Mom fixes dinner, so stop worrying.”

Again, Megan sighed dramatically. “I’ll try. I just wish this were over. You know we’ll do anything we can to get this baby here safely,” Megan reiterated. “Anything.”

Ashleigh smiled and felt a wave of pure love for her little sister. “Right now, getting this cabin for me was the best thing you could have done. If I’m going to be on restricted activity, this is certainly the place for it. Lots of windows looking out over the mountains. Wonderful light. Very peaceful, you know?”

“I thought you’d like it. It’s about as far from urban chaos as you can get.”

“Are you sure I can stay here until I have the baby? Three months is a long time to use somebody else’s house.”

“The Colemans are good friends and they don’t mind. They hardly ever go to that cabin now that their kids are grown. And they can be trusted to keep a secret. How does Mom like the place?”

“You know our mother. She can cheerfully adapt to anything. She’s in there cramming the cabinets full of nutritious food even as we speak.”

“God, Ash.” Megan’s voice grew quiet, sad. “Three months. I’m sure going to miss you. I wish I could come and rub your back or your feet or something.”

Ashleigh knew that Megan meant it. But they could not risk a visit from Megan or even from Ashleigh’s dad. The stalker might try to locate Ashleigh through her family.

Now that Ashleigh and her mother had made it to this remote New Mexico town, the plan was to stay put until the baby came. No one, except for Megan, their father, the local cops and people at The Birth Place, would have the slightest clue to their whereabouts.

“You just take care good of little Tyler and Justin, sweetie. When my baby is safely delivered, he’ll want to play with his cousins.”

“Oh…” Megan’s stifled squeak at the mention of the baby sounded as if she might start to cry again. “Don’t…don’t let anything h-happen,” she choked, “to either one of you.”

“I won’t. I’ll be careful, and Mom will be careful, too, okay? I’ve got really good medical care. Now, don’t cry. We’ve got to hang up now. This phone bill will probably be ridiculous.”

“Okay.” Megan sighed dramatically one last time. “Bye, Sis. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

When they hung up, Ashleigh felt immediately bereft. She scooted down on the couch and turned onto her left side, as her doctor had instructed her. She cradled an arm under her growing abdomen and tried to imagine Chad’s face, wondering if the baby would look like him. But after five years, she couldn’t clearly conjure up his features without the help of a picture. With a pang, she realized she hadn’t brought a picture of Chad with her. She consoled herself by thinking that soon she would see their baby’s face, and that was all that mattered. All she had to do was hold on and stay safe for the next thirteen weeks. Thirteen weeks that already felt like thirteen years.

She looked at her surroundings and felt like an ingrate with her grumpy attitude.

As she’d assured her sister, the Coleman cabin was exceptionally comfortable, built to accommodate a large family on ski vacations. It wasn’t as if the place was claustrophobic. A high deck wrapped around the great room and master suite, facing the mountains, and several upstairs bedrooms were connected by open walkways that looked down over the great room. At the back of the long, sunny kitchen, down a short flight of steps, there was a large, airy mudroom, with coat hooks and storage lockers for skis and winter apparel, a deep enamel sink, even a washer and dryer. She surveyed the beautiful but foreign surroundings again, then closed her eyes and steeled her emotions, ordering herself not to give in to self-pity.

She hadn’t closed her eyes for long when the phone rang. Megan, she thought, stop your worrying.

But the caller wasn’t Megan. It was Ashleigh’s new midwife from The Birth Place, Katherine Collins.

“Ms. Logan, there’s a man here at the clinic,” she explained in a rush. “He’s looking for you.”

“Oh, my gosh,” Ashleigh breathed. “You didn’t tell him where I was, did you?”

“Certainly not. Lydia’s on another line, calling the police right now.”

“Oh, my gosh.” Ashleigh sat upright, fighting to stay calm, for the baby’s sake. She placed a protective hand on her belly. “Did he say what he wants?”

“No. But don’t panic. He could just be somebody from the media or something.” But Katherine’s voice didn’t sound too sure.

“What does he look like?”

“Tall, muscular, dark hair. Early thirties, maybe. Actually, he’s sort of decent-looking—handsome, even. Except he’s dressed kind of rough. Threadbare flannel shirt. Worn jeans. Scuffed boots. A heavy five o’clock shadow. But he’s driving a new-looking champagne-colored Lincoln Navigator. I’m looking at it out the window of Lydia’s office, but I can’t make out the tag. Hold on.”

Ashleigh heard Katherine talking to someone, then the midwife came back on the line.

“Lydia just told me that an officer is on his way up to your cabin.”

“Good,” Ashleigh said confidently.

But after she hung up she and her mother waited for the police to arrive like two women anticipating a jury verdict. Pensive. Intermittently clasping hands. Finally Maureen insisted on making hot tea, her cure for everything, but Ashleigh couldn’t even swallow a sip.

What if Megan was right? What if this whole plan to go into hiding turned out to be…ill-conceived? What if her fanatical stalker had traced her to this remote town? Where could she go to be safe then?

It occurred to her that she should have asked Megan for a description of the strange man who had appeared at her door. What was his name? Greg Glazier? She was about to call Megan back when they heard a car engine outside.

Her mother went to look out the front window of the cabin. “It’s the police,” she assured Ashleigh.

The officer, an older guy with a paunch, told the women not to worry, that Officer Eiden had taken the man at the clinic into custody for questioning. He told them he’d stay parked outside until they got word.

The next time the phone rang, Maureen answered it. She said the caller was Miguel Eiden, the handsome cop who’d talked to Ashleigh and Maureen when they’d first arrived in town.

Maureen McGuinness took the phone out on the deck so Ashleigh couldn’t hear. After the cop had assured her he’d keep a close eye on the Coleman cabin while Ashleigh was hiding up there, his tone had shifted, as if he had bad news. Now he was informing her that a man named Gregory McCrae Glazier had tracked her daughter all the way to Enchantment, New Mexico.

And when Officer Eiden told Maureen why Greg Glazier had tracked Ashleigh here, she was glad she’d retreated to the deck. Because it was all she could do to keep from dropping the phone.

CHAPTER FOUR

MAUREEN SAT IN A BOOTH by the wide window of a small coffee shop, watching as the police cruiser rolled up at the curb. At the sight of it, her chest tightened with dread.

She reminded herself that Ashleigh trusted Officer Eiden. And for that matter, so did she. He had shown her the papers on the man from Denver and had convinced her that this man’s story checked out with the sperm bank in California—the same one Ashleigh had used.

But before this man dropped his terrible news on Ashleigh, Maureen had convinced Eiden to arrange this meeting. Her daughter had endured enough stress in the last three days, the last three weeks. Truth be told, for the last five years.

Why did Ashleigh’s life seem to only get more and more complicated? All Maureen McGuinness wanted out of life was for her driven daughter to settle down and be happy and for her type-A husband to finally retire and share some golden years with her.

But Marvin was working harder than ever, and her beautiful, talented daughter kept having one major crisis after another. Chad’s illness had been so hard on Ashleigh, and Maureen had watched her daughter struggle to regain her balance ever since.

Maureen hadn’t approved of this controversial pregnancy, not at all. She’d wanted her daughter to look to a real future, with a real relationship, instead of finding one more way to wallow in the past. She’d wanted Ashleigh to find a good man and enjoy a happy marriage, the way her sister Megan had. But Ashleigh had forged ahead, intrepid as always, making her own tough decisions, executing her own bold plans. Maureen sighed. She did admire her daughter’s spunk.

But now it appeared all of the torture of Ashleigh’s decision had been for naught. This baby, apparently, wasn’t even Chad’s. It was a stranger’s baby.

Maureen’s jaw tightened with resolve as a dark head and a pair of broad shoulders emerged from the passenger’s side of Officer Eiden’s cruiser. They would make the man prove his claims beyond a shadow of a doubt. She supposed the only logical answer was that they would perform paternity testing on the newborn. Ashleigh’s baby. Her grandchild. That man’s baby.

She rubbed her brow, having no idea how to proceed. What was the proper course of action in such a bizarre situation? After all, this was Ashleigh’s child and therefore Ashleigh would have to make any decision about its welfare. Maureen was only the grandmother. Maybe Ashleigh would actually be glad to have a father for her child, if he was decent and kind…. Then a troubling thought struck Maureen. What if this man had been watching Ashleigh on TV and had some kind of thing for her? What if he was the stalker?

No. That didn’t make sense. Eiden had shown her the report. Oh, it was all so confusing. She had to realize she couldn’t make everyone’s life perfect. And if Ashleigh found out that Maureen had secretly met with this man… Maureen felt like she was wading into very deep water here.

She hated leaving Ashleigh alone at The Birth Place, but she trusted Lydia and the midwives to watch out for her, and it was the only way to talk to this Glazier man alone. They didn’t have much time. She was pretending to get milk. She would have to remember to stop at the store before she went back to the clinic. Maureen sighed. She despised subterfuge.

The little bell above the door of the café tinkled as it swung open, and there stood Officer Eiden. From behind him a handsome young man about Ashleigh’s age studied Maureen as curiously as she studied him. His dark hair needed a trim, but he had compassionate gray eyes that conveyed a worried, saddened state of mind. Well, this was a sad situation, wasn’t it? The fleeting thought that this man would probably father pretty babies crossed her mind, but she quickly banished that idea. Ashleigh did not want this man’s baby. She wanted Chad’s baby. What this man was claiming would throw her daughter’s whole world into chaos.

The two men approached her booth, but when the young officer started to speak, she raised a hand to silence him. “Not here.”

She slid from the booth, and with a jerk of her head indicated that they should follow her out onto the café’s wraparound deck, which featured a panoramic view of the mountains. When she was satisfied that the picnic tables out there were unoccupied, she pulled the collar of her jacket up around her ears, folded her arms tightly under her bosom and faced the two men.

“We don’t have much time. My daughter expects me to pick her up at the clinic soon. First of all, let’s get one thing straight. I don’t want my daughter to know we’ve had this conversation.” With an impatience that betrayed her anger, she slapped a silvery strand of hair away from her eyes. “Is that understood?”

The man, the one claiming to be the father of Ashleigh’s child, pushed a lock of his dark hair back against the mountain wind as well, then spoke quietly. “I assume you are Ashleigh Logan’s mother?”

She nodded tightly, flustered that she’d charged ahead without the proper introductions. Normally, she prided herself on her self-control and impeccable manners. But this was not a Junior League tea. This was a squaring off in a strange little town, facing a man who could destroy her daughter’s peace of mind, what little was left of it. A man who could simply be lying, for whatever twisted reason.

“I’m Greg Glazier.” He stuck out a strong, wind-chapped hand, but he quickly withdrew it when Maureen kept hers tightly closed in the folds of her jacket.

“I am Maureen McGuinness,” she said tersely.

He continued in a calm voice. “Thank you for letting Officer Eiden arrange this meeting.”

Eiden had stepped away and propped a boot on the rail of the deck, keeping his back to them.

“I’m not sure I had a choice, considering your outrageous claims.”

The aspen trees beside the deck made a golden flutter, and the pines whispered with a gust of wind that made Maureen shudder.

Seeming to notice her discomfort, the young man called to Eiden, “Is there somewhere where we can sit and talk privately, out of the wind?”

“I’m fine.” She pressed her lips together.

“Well, to tell you the truth, I’m not.”

Maureen examined Greg Glazier more closely. He did look a little wan. His eyes, she noticed again, were kind and sincere. Not the eyes of a liar.

“Greg’s not well,” the cop explained as he stepped up.

“Altitude sickness,” Glazier elaborated. “It’ll pass.”

“I refuse to go anywhere where anyone could overhear us.” Maureen stood firm. “My daughter has endured enough negative publicity and speculation and gossip and stress as it is. I don’t want to take a chance that some hideous rumor might get back to her that might upset her again. And I don’t want any media to get wind of this.”

“I understand that, ma’am,” Greg Glazier replied mildly. “I agree.”

“We can go sit in the squad car,” Eiden offered, in an effort to temper Maureen’s palpable antagonism.

Maureen gave a short nod of agreement, and they rounded the side of the café and descended the plank steps to the sidewalk. Officer Eiden opened the back door of the cruiser for Maureen. “There’s a Plexiglas shield. So I’m afraid you’ll both have to get in the back seat if you want to have a private conversation. But I’ll be right here in the front seat if you need me.”

“Thank you.” Maureen climbed inside.

The space inside the cruiser was cramped, and with his long legs and broad shoulders, Greg Glazier made it seem even more so. As she settled herself next to him, he adjusted his muscular frame and held it stiffly canted so that his knees didn’t crowd Maureen.

Maureen did not waste words on niceties. “What is this about switching the sperm samples, Mr. Glazier?”

“It’s true.” Glazier scrubbed a hand down his handsome face and released a tense breath. “Even though it’s hard to believe. The cryo bank in California contacted me about a month ago.”

“California Fertility Consultants?” Maureen bit her lip. She shouldn’t have given him any additional information. She reminded herself to be careful with this stranger. He could be some kind of weird imposter, trying to get near Ashleigh. He could have made all this up, based on the storm of publicity that Ashleigh’s pregnancy had created. He could even be the stalker, although that seemed unlikely. Apparently he was a former deputy sheriff.

“Yes, ma’am. California Fertility Consultants. They informed me that the mix-up actually occurred way back at the time of…the storage.”

“Five years ago?” Maureen bit her lip again, rueing the slip, but she found this whole story utterly incredible.

“Yes. Your daughter’s husband and I both elected to bank our sperm at the same time, in October of ’98—”

“I know when it was, Mr. Glazier. It was just before my son-in-law started chemotherapy.”

“I’m sorry he didn’t make it.” Again the man’s hand scraped down his face. He was nice-looking, but right now his skin looked pale, clammy. Was that because he was lying? Maureen wondered if Marvin knew anything about this Greg Glazier. She’d have to make it a point to ask him, the next time she caught him between meetings.

“With the passage of time, our family has adjusted to Chad’s death.”

“I know how that is, believe me. And believe me, I don’t want to cause your family any more pain, but you’ve got to hear me out.”