Becca's Baby

Cold in spite the day’s warm temperature, he moved on, studying her desk again for clues. More thorough this time, he went through the drawers and then, the notepad she kept by the answering machine. There were names he didn’t recognize, but that was nothing unusual. Becca dealt with a lot of people outside Shelter Valley in the course of performing her various charitable and civic duties. And she’d been looking furiously for a funding source for her newest project, Save the Youth.

The red suit she’d put on that morning wasn’t in the closet, so she hadn’t changed. Had she told him about a meeting out of town and he’d forgotten? Not likely. He was always aware of Becca. Came

from almost thirty years of loving her, he supposed. And close to twenty of worrying about her as they struggled through attempt after futile attempt to have a family. There’d been a time or two in years past that he’d been afraid the disappointment was going to kill her.

A time or two when it had nearly killed him.

Will jerked sharply when the phone in his hand pealed.

“Hello!” he said roughly. “Becca, is that you?”

“Will, it’s Randi.”

Randi. Biting back the crushing disappointment, he pinched the bridge of his nose. He was probably just overreacting. Strickland’s tragic story had been lingering in his mind all afternoon. Becca was fine.

“How ya doin’, sis?” he asked. A gifted athlete and his athletic director at the university, Randi held a very special place in his heart. He was glad he was the brother she kept in touch with the most.

“Fine.” She sounded a little subdued. “Listen, Becca was just here.”

His heart stopped, then started to pound. Thank God. “What was she doing there?” he asked, grinning with relief as he sank down on the side of the garden tub in their bathroom.

“She’s on her way home,” Randi said, not answering his question. Her tone of voice sent warning signals Will couldn’t miss.

“What’s wrong?”

“She just needs to talk to you, Will,” Randi said in a hurry. “But listen, you need to be nice to her, okay?”

“I’m always nice to her.” He stood up. “Tell me what’s wrong, Randi.”

“I…can’t, Will.”

“Is she hurt? Ill? Tell me, dammit!” he, who never raised his voice, yelled into the phone.

“Calm down,” Randi said, not the least bit intimidated. Which, ironically enough, relieved him somewhat. “She’s not ill and she’s not hurt and you’d better be patient with her, you hear me?”

His baby sister was yelling at him? Will looked around the huge bathroom, the double sinks, the Persian rug Becca had been so excited about finding. Was he in the right house? The right life?

“Have you ever known me not to be patient with her?” he asked slowly, deliberately, all the while sorting through myriad possibilities to explain this strange phone call. This strange night.

“No,” Randi conceded. “It’s just…she’s upset, Will. I’ve never seen her like this.”

He could have cheerfully strangled his sister. “Is there someone else?” He choked out the question. Becca had certainly had her share of male admirers over the years.

And he’d never felt the least bit threatened by any of them.

“Of course not,” Randi said, her voice sympathetic. “You know Becca’s only interested in you.”

Yeah. He did know.

“I can’t say anything more, Will. This is Becca’s to tell.”

“Come on, Randi,” Will muttered. “At least give me a hint.”

“She’ll be there soon, so I’m going to go. Just be nice, okay?”

Confused, with traces of fear still clouding his thoughts, Will gave up. “Sure.”

“I love you.”