Baby Makes a Match Read online

  He answered without thinking, “Chandler Chatam.”

  “Her name.”

  “Bethany—”

  She interrupted him, asking for and jotting down an address before thrusting the clipboard at him. “Sign here. You can take care of the rest later.”

  His mind whirling, he took the pen and signed.

  The other nurse shoved back the drape. He hurried back to Bethany’s bedside and took her hand in his again. Tears rolled from her eyes and into the hair at her temples.

  “I’m scared,” she whispered in a trembling voice.

  “Gonna be okay,” he promised, silently adding, Please, Lord. Please!

  Clasping his hand, she nodded, but her chin wobbled. He reached back and pulled a hard plastic chair close, so he could sit right next to the bed. Someone came in with a machine of some sort and peeled away the covers and gown to bare Bethany’s stomach. Embarrassed, Chandler kept his gaze trained on Bethany’s face as she maintained her crushing grip on his hand.

  Finally, the doctor came in. Like the nurses, she was no one that Chandler knew, no one that his sister, the nurse, or his older brother Morgan’s best friend, Dr. Brooks Leland, had ever introduced. Brisk and efficient, with a blond ponytail and a square, unadorned face, she identified herself as Dr. Andersen as she moved a rectangular instrument over Bethany’s belly.

  “Well, he’s not in position,” she noted after several moments of staring at a computer screen.

  “He?” Bethany said, sniffing. “It’s a boy?”

  The doctor shot her a look. “Oh, did I spoil the surprise?”

  Bethany shook her head. “No. They couldn’t tell before.” She looked at Chandler, whispering in a tone of wonder, “It’s a boy.”

  A boy. Chandler gulped, his chest suddenly feeling as tight as a big brass drum. Bethany was going to have a son. Chandler wondered what he would look like and what his name would be. He wondered if he would ever have a son, and he knew that if he were ever so blessed he would storm the gates of heaven for that child.

  He could do no less for Bethany’s child. If he didn’t, who would?

  The doctor said that she needed to examine Bethany, so he hurriedly stepped outside the curtain once again. The examination seemed to take forever, but Chandler used every moment of it to silently plead for Bethany and her son, just as he would have if that little boy had been his own. He wished suddenly that this baby was his, and for the first time he felt the kind of paralyzing fear that Bethany must be feeling. It was not just sadness and pity, not just a detached sense of possible disaster, but a bone-deep terror that something too precious for words was at stake, something that could never be replaced and would forever be missed if God did not extend His great mercy at that very moment.

  Closing his eyes, Chandler begged for that little life and the woman who carried it.

  “What does it mean that he’s not in position?” Bethany nervously asked the doctor.

  “Means he’s not ready to be born,” the doctor told her, having finished her examination. “You’re not ready, either.”

  One of the nurses opened the curtains and allowed Chandler back in. He came immediately to Bethany’s side.

  “You mean she’s not in labor?” he asked, obviously having overheard.

  “Not in real labor,” the doctor said.

  “Thank God!”

  The doctor went on to explain about Braxton-Hicks, which she described as a sort of practice labor. Bethany breathed out a sigh of relief even as the doctor mentioned that stress often exacerbated the cramps. She’d had plenty of that lately, but Bethany determined not to waste one more moment worrying over the past.

  “I’m going to order some meds, then if everything’s okay in a couple hours, she can go home,” the doctor said to Chandler. “Just make sure that she sees her OB-GYN as soon as possible.”

  Chandler opened his mouth, but then he closed it again and nodded. Bethany bit her lip. Obviously, the doctor thought Chandler was the father of her child. Bethany knew that she ought to correct that mistake, but she was too embarrassed to do so. Besides, what difference did it make when they might never see any of these people again? Chandler didn’t speak up, so she reasoned that she should follow suit.

  The doctor exited, leaving the curtains open. Nurses and techs came and went. After a while, the medicine did its stuff, and Bethany could finally relax.

  She discussed with Chandler whether to call her brother and his aunts, and together they decided not to at this point. Why panic everyone when there was no crisis? She felt a little foolish about that, but Chandler insisted otherwise.

  “Don’t even go there. How were you supposed to know it was false labor? Even if you had suspected, you’d have had to be sure.”

  That was true. “You don’t know how terrified I’ve been. Every time I’d get one of those cramps, I’d worry that something was wrong.”

  “This has been going on for some time, then?”

  “A few weeks.”

  “Didn’t you discuss it with your doctor back in Humble?”

  She shook her head. “I thought they were just cramps, so I intended to bring it up at my next scheduled visit. Then everything blew up, and I hit the road.”

  “Blew up?” he echoed, and Bethany could have bitten off her own tongue. “What do you mean?”

  “Chandler!”

  Another nurse suddenly breezed in through the opening in the curtain. Young and attractive, she wore pink scrubs and a surprised expression.

  “Oh, hey, Linda. How are you?” Even as she let out a relieved sigh, Bethany cringed inwardly. So much for never seeing these people again! He looked at Bethany and made the introductions. “Linda, this is Bethany. Bethany, this is Linda Shocklea, a friend of my sister’s.”

  “Everything okay here?” Linda asked.

  “Yeah, I think so,” Chandler replied. He gave her a quick explanation.

  “Ah,” said Linda. “Glad it’s nothing more serious.” She beamed at Chandler, exclaiming, “I haven’t seen you in forever! What do you hear from that sister of yours?”

  “Nada. She and Stephen should be home from their honeymoon soon, though.”

  “I knew they were hung up on each other even before I heard about the engagement,” the woman said, sweetly smug, “but no one said anything about you! I didn’t even know you were married, let alone about to be a daddy.”

  Chandler looked at Bethany. And said nothing.

  Linda chattered on for a few minutes before the doctor strolled in to announce that Bethany could go. Chandler turned a tight smile on Linda as he smoothly rose to his feet.

  “Looks like they’re kicking us out of here,” he said needlessly. “Good to see you.”

  “You, too.” She smiled at Bethany. “Nice to meet you.”

  Bethany nodded as the other woman turned away.

  The nurse arrived as the doctor left and handed some papers to Chandler. He glanced over them and muttered, “Be right back.”

  Knowing that, at the very least, she owed him an apology, Bethany verbally reached out. “Chandler.”

  He turned back, glanced at the nurse, nodded grimly and slipped away before Bethany could say another word. She told herself that it would serve no purpose to blurt the truth now, but deep in her heart, she knew that she hadn’t spoken because she was ashamed—and because she so desperately wished that Chandler was the father of her son.

  Chandler knew that he should have set the record straight from the very beginning, but it hadn’t occurred to him until it was too late, and now the whole hospital was going to think that he was married! That, however, was surely better than having everyone assume that he was about to become an unwed dad, as his very own father did. Besides, he couldn’t bring himself to embarrass Bethany by blurting the truth of her situation, what he knew about it, anyway, which was that she was pregnant and unmarried. All in all, Chandler told himself, it might be easier just to marry the girl and forget about trying to explain this mess.


  He carried the papers that the nurse had given him to the checkout desk and waited impatiently while a distraught woman argued with the implacable clerk. As he waited, he fished his wallet from his hip pocket. He wasn’t responsible for the charges, of course, but Bethany certainly could not pay, and someone had to. Besides, as insane as it was, he wanted to pay. Or maybe what he wanted was to be what he was pretending to be, her husband and the father of her child. Like that could happen.

  When his turn came, he laid down his debit card. He couldn’t afford a family, he told himself, but he could manage this; then, when he saw the actual fee, his stomach dropped. This, he knew, was just the tip of a financial iceberg big enough, no doubt, to sink a battleship, let alone a struggling rodeo cowboy. She needed someone with a steady paycheck and a settled lifestyle. That being the case, he couldn’t help wondering why God had allowed him to get caught up in this situation. God surely had a purpose, though, just as the aunts asserted. Maybe this was it, this one act, that and getting her to safety at Chatam House.

  Stuffing the receipt into his pocket, he strode back toward the treatment area. Just as he was about to turn away, he caught sight of his truck still parked at the curb in front of the emergency room door. A yellow slip of paper fluttered in the breeze, caught between the wiper blade and the wind-shield. Groaning, Chandler rushed outside and snatched it free, knowing that he was going to find a parking ticket.

  Okay, God, he prayed silently, You’ve got my attention now. Big-time. Just tell me what You want, and You’ve got it. I’ve been stupid, and I’ve been foolish. Worse, I’ve been deaf, but I’m listening now. Just tell me what to do.

  On the trip home, Bethany apologized and apologized. Chandler shook his head, muttering about circumstances and misunderstandings, but Bethany felt awful about the whole thing, so awful that she didn’t even think about the emergency room bill.

  Garrett and the sisters had come in to find Bethany gone and were on the verge of calling 911 when she and Chandler arrived. After a rushed explanation, Bethany took a seat in one of the comfortable armchairs at the end of the room. No sooner had she relaxed than Garrett asked how she’d paid the bill.

  Bethany slapped her palms to her cheeks and gasped. “I didn’t! I—I guess they’re going to bill me.”

  Chandler, who had been prowling around the front parlor like a big, restless cougar ever since they’d come in, finally struck a pose, leaning against the ornate plaster mantle with his arms folded. “I took care of it.”

  While Bethany gaped, Garrett faced Chandler. “Why would you do that?”

  Chandler shrugged. “Someone had to.”

  Garrett looked at him thoughtfully. “Thanks, man. I’ll pay you back.”

  Chandler pushed away from the fireplace and strode toward the doorway, one hand reaching into his shirt pocket. He paused in front of Garrett and proffered a crumpled sheet of yellow paper. “Take care of this and we’ll call it even,” he said gruffly, walking out of the room.

  Garrett smoothed the slip of paper against one palm, studying it, and turned a surprised expression on his sister. “It’s a parking ticket. Illegal parking in an emergency zone.”

  The sisters traded looks before turning their gazes on Bethany. Magnolia tilted her head, saying, “Chandler seems awfully troubled over a simple parking ticket. Is there something you haven’t told us, dear?”

  Bethany couldn’t bring herself to confess that Chandler had been mistaken for the father of her child. Again. Then she remembered the best news of all.

  “I’m going to have a little boy!”

  The sisters erupted with expressions of delight. Talk turned to such things as names. Bethany looked at Garrett and knew they were both thinking the same thing.

  “Our father’s name was Matthew,” she noted softly.

  Garrett smiled. “I’m sure Dad would have liked to have his grandson named after him.”

  Teary-eyed, Bethany beamed. The baby moved, seeming to roll from one side of her abdomen to the other. Grinning, she smoothed her hands over her distended middle. “I think he likes it, too!”

  “Halfway there,” Magnolia said approvingly. “Now all you need is a middle name.”

  “First, I need an OB-GYN,” Bethany said. “I have to find a local doctor right away, but I’ve already called everyone in the phone book, and no one can see me.”

  “Time to call Brooks,” Magnolia stated flatly. Rising, she went for the phone.

  Ten minutes later, Bethany was speaking with Brooks Leland, general practitioner and Chatam family friend. After hearing what the emergency room physician had said, Dr. Leland promised to arrange an appointment for her with a colleague who was an OB-GYN, saying that his office would get back to her within forty-eight hours.

  “Well,” Hypatia declared after Bethany had ended the call, “we have much to give thanks for.” She fixed Bethany with a regal eye, adding, “I’m sure you’ll want to attend worship tomorrow in praise for today’s blessings.”

  Smiling weakly, Bethany nodded, knowing that no excuse would be sufficient to keep her at home tomorrow. Accepting her fate, she tried not to dwell on the uncomfortable prospect of attending services at Downtown Bible Church. Perhaps everyone she had known had moved on by now. Perhaps she wouldn’t even be recognized. Besides, Hypatia was right. She had too much to be thankful for not to attend worship.

  Still, Bethany quailed at the thought of encountering old friends who would undoubtedly ask about her “husband.” Some might even remember Jay attending her mother’s funeral with her. She tried to convince herself that it would be okay to say that she was divorced, but she didn’t know if she could get the words out of her mouth. Perhaps she could just say that she was no longer married and pretend not to hear any other questions. Faint hope, at best.

  Chandler missed dinner that evening, which was just as well, and he was nowhere to be seen again on Sunday morning, either. Somewhat relieved, Bethany got ready for church, wearing the same navy-and-yellow outfit that she had worn to her job interview, and allowed herself to be bundled into the sisters’ town car. She even meekly submitted to being included in their senior women’s Bible class, deeming that safer than seeking out women of her own age. She balked only when she found herself herded ahead of Garrett through the great arched sanctuary and into the center of a long pew already occupied by none other than Chandler Chatam. Bethany could do nothing but drop down next to him, smiling weakly.

  He nodded in greeting, but he could not seem to keep still during the service, as antsy as a puppy. Bethany tried to concentrate on the sermon but was too aware of him to do so. Deeply thankful when the service ended, she rose and pushed as close to Garrett as possible while she waited to exit the pew. The Chatam sisters were in no apparent hurry, however, and stood in the crowded, busy aisle, chatting with various individuals. One of them, a rather portly old gentleman with a bald head undisguised by a thin comb-over, a rakish bow tie and a brass-headed cane, had attached himself to Odelia and showed no sign of moving out of the way. Garrett finally managed to ease out into the aisle behind him. Bethany had a bit more difficulty.

  The only way she could slip past the old fellow was to lean as far back as possible to get her belly out of the way. Unfortunately, at the last moment, she stepped on a hymnal that had fallen unnoticed to the floor. The book slipped, and with it went her foot. She’d have toppled backward over the pew if Chandler had not lunged forward and scooped her against him.

  For a long moment, they stood there, staring into each other’s eyes, until she became aware that the sisters were anxiously inquiring as to her well-being.

  “I’m fine,” she told them, pulling away to finally step out into the aisle. “No harm done.”

  Chandler edged past her and quickly cleared the way, sweeping his long arm in a broad arc. Bethany ducked her head and doggedly began to weave her way around one cluster of individuals after another to the double doors at the back of the sanctuary. The instant she passed th
rough those massive doors, however, she found herself face-to-face with the dreaded past.

  “Bethany!”

  Cleo Ann Mathis had once been Bethany’s best friend. As girls, they’d shared sleepovers, birthdays and childish dreams, but as Bethany’s home life had deteriorated, so had their friendship. By high school, they’d been nothing more than nodding acquaintances. The intervening years had been good to Cleo Ann. A little heavier, she now wore her light brown hair short and spiky and bleached almost white, but the smile was quintessential Cleo Ann. Quaking inside, Bethany allowed herself to be embraced.

  “Hello, Cleo Ann.”

  “I can’t believe this! Just look at you. No one said a word.”

  Who would, Bethany asked herself, with her brother gone from town, too?

  A number of other women had gathered around by now. They began shooting questions at Bethany.

  Bethany tried to order the questions in her mind. “Uh, d-due date is mid-October. It’s a boy, and yes, I’ve moved back here.”

  “Let us give you a shower, then,” someone said. “We’d be glad to.”

  Before she could decide how to reply to that, Cleo Ann asked, “So how and when did you two meet?”

  Bethany looked at her old friend helplessly. You two?

  Suddenly, a hand gripped her arm and a familiar voice said, “Excuse us, ladies. Gotta run.”

  Bethany felt herself propelled forward. Cleo Ann and the others called farewells, to which Bethany replied with an apologetic wave. Hurrying to keep up with Chandler’s long strides, she allowed him to guide her through the foyer, out the front doors, along the sidewalk and around the corner to his truck, which was parked parallel to the curb.

  “First the whole hospital, now the whole church,” he muttered.

  She gasped, reality crashing down. “They think we’re married!”

  “Big surprise, right?” he said, handing her up into the passenger seat.