Becca's Baby

He smiled at his colleagues, then at his personal secretary as she brought him a freshly brewed cup of Colombian coffee. His mind had been on the finance meeting about to take place. Not on his personal life.

Although he should have been prepared. Becca had told her mother about the baby the day before. It wouldn’t have taken Rose twenty-four hours to let the entire town know the news.

“Thanks, all of you,” he said, hiding behind his coffee cup. He took a sip, and scalded his tongue. Damn.

“How’s Becca feeling?” Dr. Sherman Long, dean of Montford and Will’s right-hand man, asked him.

“Fine.” If you didn’t count how tired she was.

Will spread out his papers. John Strickland was in town; they had a meeting in an hour and he didn’t want to be late.

“When’s she due?” Associate Dean Dr. Linda Morgan asked.

“Early October.”

“Have you started decorating the nursery yet?”

Nursery? Hell, no. Hadn’t even occurred to him. He and Becca would have to decide which room they were going to give up. The guest room? But then where would people sleep when they came to stay? His office? Hers?

“Not yet,” he said, and then, noticing the looks of surprise facing him from around the table—due, at least in part, to his lack of evident excitement—he knew he’d have to put forth some real effort. “Give us a break, guys,” he said, smiling at them, allowing himself to feel, for just a moment, a bit of the very real joy that lurked deep inside him whenever he thought of the coming baby. “We’re just getting used to the idea ourselves. We can wait a week or two before setting up a college fund.”

A college fund. He’d been working with parents for years as they established funds for their children’s education. Odd, after all this time, to think of himself on the other end.

So many things to consider. So many changes.

Had Becca thought about college funds? A nursery?

Somehow he was fairly certain that she had.

AFTER MEETING with the expansion committee, another meeting that began with a shower of felicitations, Will and John Strickland headed out for a round of golf. It had been only a month since their last game, yet so much had happened to him in this quiet little town that Will felt like an entirely different man. An older man.

His shot was still on, though. He found comfort in that.

“So after twenty years, you finally get lucky,” John cajoled as Will entered in his birdie on a par four. Along with John’s one over par. “Must’ve been something I said.”

“Yeah,” Will grunted, rocking his weight from foot to foot as he lined up his next drive. It was a measly par three. He wanted to be on the green in one shot.

He made that and the putt in one, as well. And ended up with the best round of golf he’d ever shot. He could have been on the PGA tour playing like that.

Walking to the clubhouse, golf bags slung on their shoulders, the two men discussed John’s swing and whether the light breeze blowing across the desert could have affected a drive or two.

“You know,” John said, his voice different, quieter, “tell me to mind my own business if you want, but it seemed to me you were far more driven out there than that ball was.”

Was he? Will shrugged. But he had to admit it had felt damn good to send that little white ball sailing.

And to turn his energies to something he understood.

“I never would’ve noticed five years ago, but after the accident, you know, you live on a different level, become aware of things—of feelings—you’d never realized were floating around before.”

Will nodded. In the last month he’d learned a few things about himself. He’d existed on a superficial plane and hadn’t even known it. He’d always believed that growing up in Shelter Valley had been one of his biggest blessings, that the town offered him all he needed to live a happy productive life. But lately he’d begun to wonder if maybe he hadn’t been too sheltered. If growing up in the valley had somehow robbed him of the chance to test himself. For the first time, life was testing him, and he had no idea of his ability to pass muster.

He’d always thought he adored Becca. But his love for her had never been tested, either.

CHAPTER EIGHT

WITH THE SPRING SEMESTER coming to a close—and graduation drawing near—Will’s schedule picked up considerably. From teas to formal awards dinners, he was in demand, it seemed, every waking minute of every day those last few weeks in April. Many of the occasions required that Becca accompany him.

These were bittersweet times. Times he both welcomed and dreaded. Being with Becca was difficult these days. The rules had all changed, but he’d been unable to figure out the new parameters. And yet, sometimes when he was out in public with his wife, things seemed exactly as they’d always been. He could count on Becca. They functioned well together, read each other’s signals easily. A united front.