Her Best Friend's Baby

From Megan Maitland’s Diary

Dear Diary,

I can’t believe Mother’s Day is right around the corner. Obviously we cherish the holiday at Maitland Maternity, but Mother’s Day holds special meaning for me this year. My firstborn son is alive! As a mother, I’m overjoyed that Connor is here in Austin, but I tremble to think of the ramifications for my family and Maitland Maternity when the truth comes out.

Still, I’m a lucky woman to be able to enjoy all my children. Some aren’t as lucky. My heart still aches for Mary-Jane Potter. She was so excited to be the surrogate mother for her best friend’s baby, and now that woman will never see her child. What a tragedy!

News like that reminds me to count my blessings. Even my darling Jake is back in town, although in typical Jake fashion, he’s come bearing trouble. I suppose he wouldn’t be Jake otherwise. The fact is, I wouldn’t change a thing about any of my children. They weren’t put on this earth to make my life easy, but every day they fill my heart with love.

Dear Reader,

There’s never a dull moment at Maitland Maternity! This unique and now world-renowned clinic was founded twenty-five years ago by Megan Maitland, widow of William Maitland, of the prominent Austin, Texas, Maitlands. Megan is also matriarch of an impressive family of seven children, many of whom are active participants in the everyday miracles that bring children into the world.

When our series began, the family was stunned by the unexpected arrival of an unidentified baby at the clinic—unidentified, except for the claim that the child is a Maitland. Who are the parents of this child? Is the claim legitimate? Will the media’s tenacious grip on this news damage the clinic’s reputation? Suddenly, rumors and counterclaims abound. Women claiming to be the child’s mother materialize out of the woodwork! How will Megan get at the truth? And how will the media circus affect the lives and loves of the Maitland children—Abby, the head of gynecology, Ellie, the hospital administrator, her twin sister, Beth, who runs the day care center, Mitchell, the fertility specialist, R.J., the vice president of operations—even Anna, who has nothing to do with the clinic, and Jake, the black sheep of the family?

Please join us each month as the mystery of the Maitland baby unravels, bit by enticing bit, and book by captivating book!

Marsha Zinberg,

Senior Editor and Editorial Co-ordinator, Special Projects

Her Best Friend’s Baby
Vicki Lewis Thompson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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A Note From The Author

I remember my first pregnancy as a time of great anticipation. My husband and I painted the nursery, bought baby furniture, debated names. My changing body was a source of wonder to us both.

Mary-Jane Potter has none of that, because she’s carrying a baby for her best friend. No nursery plans, no name discussions and worst of all, no sweet man to rub her aching back. I found myself becoming very emotionally involved with Mary-Jane’s plight. I was immensely relieved when it looked as if she might have the support of a wonderful man, after all.

Morgan Tate’s that special kind of guy—a man who loves children. Plus, he’s a pediatrician, so Mary-Jane’s in good hands. Very good hands. Add to that deep brown eyes and great buns, and you have the perfect antidote to pregnancy doldrums. Yes, Mary-Jane will be just fine….

To every waiter or waitress who has ever warmed up my coffee, made sure the food was cooked right, cautioned me about a hot plate and smiled no matter what.

Please know that along with my tip, I leave my gratitude for a job well done in a world that doesn’t always notice.

Contents

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 ONE

TWO WHOLE DAYS OFF.

“Freedom!” Mary Jane Potter closed the door of her rented town house and danced a little jig in the foyer. “You and me, babe.” She gave her tummy a pat. “We’re gonna pamper ourselves, that’s what we’re gonna do.”

Pulling off the scrunchy that held her hair, she toed off her sneakers as she walked toward the answering machine on her writing desk. “Sleeping in, reading trashy magazines, and then, if the urge moves us, we’ll row around Town Lake, or maybe drive out in the country to see what’s left of the bluebonnets.”

She punched the message button to rewind the tape on the answering machine. “One thing we’re definitely not doing is anything that involves standing, or catering to people who think they’re God’s gift. Not that a lot of folks do that at the diner,” she added, not wanting the baby to absorb a poor impression of Austin Eats. No telling how much information got through to the kidlet, but lately she’d started playing classical music when she was home. Couldn’t hurt.

Right at the moment, though, she was in the mood for the Smashing Pumpkins. The doctor had warned her that she’d have some mood swings, and lately she’d been a wee bit depressed. She didn’t do depressed, which was why she intended to have some fun in the next couple of days. Careful fun, of course. Nothing to jeopardize this baby girl she was carrying next to her heart.

The answering machine finally stopped rewinding and clicked to play.

Hey, girlfriend.

Mary Jane smiled. The sound of her good buddy Lana’s voice could always lift her spirits.

We just got a new shipment of baby duds at the shop. I know you’re scheduled for some days off. Come on by and take a look. You’ll positively drool. If it’s not too crazy around here, maybe we can do lunch.

Lunch sounded great to Mary Jane. She’d turned into a regular chowhound now that the morning sickness was gone. But looking at baby clothes…that might add to her depression.

As the machine beeped through several hang-up calls, she thought about whether she should have accepted Arielle and Morgan’s offer to pay for a couple of counseling sessions. Mary Jane had laughed and said she didn’t need no stinkin’ shrink. And she hadn’t needed one. Then.

When she’d agreed to be a surrogate mom, she’d been so sure nothing would make her happier than to carry this baby for Arielle, the woman who had been a big sister, mother substitute and best friend in the entire world. Mary Jane owed Arielle, big time. Doing something this major was the only way she’d ever settle that debt. She’d felt honored to have the chance.

But now, five months into the program, some other inconvenient emotions were getting her in trouble. Sometime after that first ultrasound, when she’d learned the baby was a girl, she’d begun having conversations with her. That had probably been a big mistake. Talking to the baby had started her thinking about how this little sweetheart would live in New York once she was born, and Mary Jane had no intention of ever leaving Austin.

That depressed her. Of course she had only herself to blame. She’d known from the beginning that once she turned the baby over to Arielle and Morgan, that was the end except for visits. Even if she flew to New York three or four times a year, which would be a lot, really, she’d still have only a tiny slice of this baby’s life to enjoy. She’d be pretty much a stranger to the kid for the first couple of years, considering how fast young babies could forget people between visits.

She wanted more than that. And wanting more made her feel darned ungrateful.

As if Arielle and Morgan could read her traitorous thoughts long-distance from New York, Morgan’s voice came on her answering machine.

Mary Jane.

He sounded hoarse. Probably a head cold, Mary Jane thought. The weather wasn’t so good there, and as a pediatrician Morgan had his share of germy kids breathing on him. Plus he worked long hours. Both he and Arielle seemed consumed with work.

Mary Jane liked Morgan Tate, but he sure was anal. In spite of his hectic schedule he’d found time to make constant phone calls in the past five months to remind her to exercise, take her vitamins, watch her diet, get her rest, yada, yada, yada.

Once after a particularly lengthy session, Arielle had come on the line. With a chuckle in her voice, she’d begged Mary Jane to be tolerant of her dear husband. Being a prospective daddy and a pediatrician had kicked Morgan into overdrive.

So here he was again, ready to give her another tip even if he was sick as a dog. There was a long pause on the tape, during which Mary Jane pictured Morgan covering the mouthpiece of the phone and sneezing his head off. Good thing germs couldn’t get through the phone lines.

Mary Jane, he finally said again, and he was in no better shape than the first time. I have something—

Well, he certainly did have something. The flu bug from hell, apparently. She listened for him to finish his message. Instead she heard a funny noise. It could have been Morgan clearing his throat, but it almost sounded like…a sob?

Then came a click, as if he’d hung up. There were no more messages.

A chill went down Mary Jane’s spine. She refused to acknowledge it as being more than her funky state of mind. There was a perfectly logical explanation for that weird message. Probably Morgan had called in the middle of a busy day to tell her he was sending a truckload of the latest mega-super-colossal prenatal vitamins he’d just discovered.

She could picture the whole scene, having paid one quick visit to Morgan’s bustling office when she was in New York. Right in the middle of trying to call her he’d had a bad coughing fit and had decided to hang up and try later. Then Mrs. Very Pregnant had suddenly decided to deliver triplets, and he’d been called to the hospital to attend to the babies.

Glancing at the clock, she figured the time difference. Morgan and Arielle wouldn’t be home yet. She’d put a message on their machine, anyway, so one of them could call her tonight and tell her what Morgan had wanted. Although Mary Jane complained to Lana about his fussing, she kind of liked it. Arielle and Morgan were the only people who had ever fussed over her.

It wasn’t only because of the pregnancy, either. Arielle had always treated her as a precious and unique human being, and Morgan had picked up on that same behavior in no time. Mary Jane wished they could see their way clear to live in Austin, but Morgan had his practice in New York, and Arielle had made it clear that she loved the excitement of living in the heart of Manhattan.

Mary Jane punched in their number and sure enough got Arielle’s voice on the welcome message.

Hi. You’ve reached Arielle and Morgan Tate. Please leave a message and we’ll get back to you as soon as possible. If this is an emergency, you can reach us at our pager numbers.

Mary Jane listened to the pager numbers, which she also knew by heart, and wondered if she should try Arielle’s. Morgan obviously wasn’t free or he would have called again. But she hesitated. Arielle had said something about getting ready for a huge show for a big-name artist. Mary Jane didn’t want to interrupt her in the middle of that.

Besides, a call on the pager might make Arielle think something was wrong with the baby. So instead she left a cheery message on the machine, asked them to call her when they got a chance and hung up.

Then she turned on her CD player and headed for the kitchen to grab some eats. She’d call Lana later, after she’d decided whether or not looking at baby clothes would make her want to cry.

For the next two hours she tried to forget about Morgan’s phone call, but she couldn’t settle down to anything. The tabloids she’d bought to amuse herself didn’t seem as exciting as they had on the rack, and she couldn’t find the right music to suit her mood, either.

She prowled around upstairs looking for projects, but didn’t feel moved to give herself a manicure or sew on a button. Even her favorite hobby, crocheting, didn’t intrigue her tonight. She went downstairs again, watered all her plants and picked off any yellow leaves, but that didn’t take long. Finally she plopped down on the living room sofa with the remote. She then proceeded to channel surf and make way too many trips into the kitchen for more snacks.

Good thing Morgan couldn’t see what she was eating, she thought as she popped a cherry Jolly Rancher into her mouth. Once that was gone, she chewed on a carrot stick to ease her conscience.

The phone remained silent, and her restlessness grew. She walked to the small table that held the phone and answering machine to replay Morgan’s message. Then she ran it again and turned up the volume, trying to decide what that last noise had been. The more she played it, the more it did sound like a sob.

Damn, now she was getting paranoid. If only she knew someone connected to Morgan and Arielle, someone she could call on a very casual basis to make sure everything was okay. She could think of no one. Arielle’s parents had died when she was a teenager, which was one of the reasons she’d taken the job as nanny to Mary Jane all those years ago. As for Morgan’s parents, Mary Jane had never met them and doubted she ever would. Arielle had admitted her in-laws weren’t in favor of the surrogate mother project.

Against her better judgment, Mary Jane called the New York apartment again and left another message, this one even cheerier than the first, so they wouldn’t think something was wrong.

An hour later she finally gave in and put a message on each of their pagers, but she began by assuring them nothing was wrong with either her or the baby. She made a joke that her hormones were to blame for all these calls. But she emphasized that she wanted a return call, no matter how late the hour.

Until she found out that all was well in New York, she wasn’t going to have a very good night. She’d postponed calling Lana, postponed going to the store to stock up on food, postponed a long soak in the tub. No doubt she was making herself crazy for nothing, but the sick feeling in her stomach wouldn’t go away no matter how she tried to distract herself.

And still the phone didn’t ring.

Finally she decided to get ready for bed. Damn Morgan for calling her like that, anyway. If she didn’t hear from one of them, she was going to have a tough time sleeping, which wasn’t good for the baby. She’d probably mention that to Morgan next time she talked to him. Hey, Morgan, you know all those lectures about getting enough sleep? Then stop leaving me weird messages with no follow-up call. I didn’t sleep a wink that night!

That should get him. He hated any hint that she wasn’t in peak pregnancy mode. Stripping off all her clothes, she posed sideways in front of the mirror. Yep. Definitely preggers now.

She spread her hands over her stomach. “How’re you doing in there, sweetie? Which did you prefer, the Jolly Ranchers or the carrot sticks? Like I don’t know, you bad girl. Just like your moth—” She caught herself. Not a good thing to say. Arielle would be her mother, and Arielle didn’t eat candy.

Mary Jane cupped her smallish breasts and decided they were bigger these days, too. Of course, how her breasts reacted was of no consequence, since she’d never breast-feed this kid. That was another thing that had started bothering her. Well, she’d have to get over it.

With a sigh she pulled on the oversize pink T-shirt that had the arrow pointing down to the words Baby Girl. Until a couple of weeks ago, the arrow hadn’t had much to point out. But she was finally bulging, and because she was small-framed and on the skinny side to begin with, she’d soon look like a watermelon smuggler.

As she brushed her teeth, she decided to ask Lana to take a few more Polaroids of what they’d begun calling The Belly to send to Arielle. Come to think of it, maybe she should organize a girls’ night out instead of meeting Lana for lunch. They could all catch a movie, like old times.

That was assuming she and Lana could pry Beth and Ellie away from their love nests with their new hubbies. Mary Jane had always known that she and her three friends wouldn’t be bachelor girls hanging out together forever, but she hadn’t expected to lose two out of four to the holy bonds of matrimony so quickly—Ellie over the New Year and Beth just last month. But then, Beth and Ellie were twins, so having them get married so close together made a kind of crazy sense.

Mary Jane wasn’t sure if she counted as a bachelor girl anymore, either, now that she was PG. For one thing, she’d taken herself out of the dating scene for the duration. No point in trying to explain the situation to some guy. As luck would have it, she’d never felt more interested in sex than she did now, right when she’d decided to forgo the pleasure. From her reading she’d discovered that was common for pregnant ladies, and apparently she was a textbook case.

So. Ready for bed and still no phone call. She padded downstairs barefoot and toured the house, making sure that she’d turned off lights and appliances. In her distracted state, she might have forgotten something.

She stared at the answering machine and picked the phone up to check the dial tone. “I tell you, baby, we’re giving those people a piece of our minds when they finally—”

The doorbell rang.

Her heartbeat quickened as she glanced at the digital clock on the TV. Nearly midnight. Hardly anyone she knew would show up unannounced at midnight. Maybe Lana. Lana might be silly enough to ring her doorbell at midnight, but that was the only person she could imagine standing on her small front porch. Damn, were her friends out to scare her to death today?

She snapped on a light before walking to the door. Then she stood on tiptoe to peer through the peephole.

Morgan.

The breath went out of her as she twisted the dead bolt latch. She was nearly crying by the time she pulled the door open. Gasping, she stared at him.

Unshaven. Eyes red. Clothes wrinkled. Trench coat hanging open as if he didn’t have the energy to button it.

She wanted to slam the door. Whatever he’d come to her door to tell her, she didn’t want to hear it. She never wanted to hear it. Mary Jane. I have something— She began to shake.

His mouth opened, but no words came out.

Don’t say it, she wanted to scream, but she couldn’t speak. No. No. This was a nightmare. She’d gone to bed, and now she was having a bad, bad dream. The worst kind of dream. Wake up, Mary Jane.

His mouth opened. His words slurred. “She’s de—”

“No!” Mary Jane hurled herself at him, beating her fists against his chest. “Don’t you say that!” she screamed. “Don’t you ever say that!”

Tears pouring down his face, Morgan took the blows as if he couldn’t feel them. Then he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against him as she screamed, and screamed, and screamed some more.

She struggled, trying to get away from him, away from what he was trying to tell her. He wrestled her inside the house and still he wouldn’t let her go.

“Listen to me,” he shouted, his voice raw as he kicked the door shut. “Arielle—”

“No!” She fought him. If she could get away and go upstairs to her bedroom, this nightmare would be over. She would wake up, and tomorrow Lana would take Polaroids of The Belly, and they’d send them to—

“…a wreck,” he said, gasping as he crushed her against him. “Oh, God, Mary Jane. Don’t do this.” He began to sob. “Don’t do this, Mary Jane. Please.” He sank to his knees, pulling her down with him. “Help me.”

She stopped struggling. With a wild, keening cry she wrapped her arms around him, pressing his head to her chest as if his tears could somehow stop the pain that burned there. She rocked back and forth, clutching his head with one hand and his heaving shoulders with the other.

“It’s a mistake,” she whispered. “Somebody made a mistake.”

He shook his head and continued to sob.

“A mistake,” she insisted again. “A m-mistake. A—” Then her throat closed and she bowed her head over his, pressing her open mouth against his hair to stifle her cries.

“The baby…is all…I have.” He gulped for breath and held her tighter. “All I have left.”

This couldn’t be happening. She tried to escape to some faraway place, but his words kept coming, dragging her back to the pain.

His voice was toneless, muffled against her breast. “She was on her way…to the airport. To get…that artist. Raining…slick…she…skidded. It was instant.”

The blood roaring in her ears was loud but not loud enough. She heard what he said. She ached all over. “I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t believe me, either. But it’s true.” He clutched her tighter. “It’s true.”

“No.”

“It happened yesterday. No. The day before. I…don’t know anymore.”

Arielle. She started to get up. “We need to go.”

“Why?” He held her in place. “She’s gone.” He broke down again. “Oh, God. G-gone.”

“No!” She tried to pry herself out of his grip. “We have to do something. She needs…” She searched for the words, couldn’t make herself say them. “A…tribute.”

He lifted his head, his face twisted with anguish. “She didn’t want that,” he whispered hoarsely. “She told me…after we got married. If she died, she wanted no funeral. Nothing.”

And then Mary Jane knew this horrible moment was real. A steel band of grief tightened around her chest. Arielle had always said that she didn’t believe in any of that. A person should be allowed to slip quietly out of this life, she’d said, without making such an embarrassingly big deal out of it. Mary Jane had thought that very sophisticated, very evolved. Now it made her furious.

“How could she?” she cried. “How could she leave and not let us…not give us a chance to…”

“She didn’t think how it would be.” Morgan reached up and brushed his knuckles over her wet cheeks. His voice rasped in the stillness. “How it would be for us.”

Mary Jane stared at him for a long time. Her mind didn’t seem to want to work. “What should we do now?”

“I don’t know.”

She’d never felt so empty in her life, or so chilled and weary, as if she’d been forcing her way through a violent storm. He looked as if he felt the same way, as if he hadn’t slept since… She still couldn’t say it to herself. Maybe tomorrow she could say it. Or the next day. When she wasn’t so battered.

“You need to rest,” she said finally.

“I’ve tried. Can’t sleep.”

But he would collapse soon. She could see that. “Come upstairs and lie down. I’ll stay with you. Maybe then you’ll sleep.”

“You need your sleep, too. For the baby.”

She couldn’t imagine going to sleep now, but she wouldn’t tell him that and upset him even more. “I’ll try to sleep, too.”

“Good.”

“Tomorrow we’ll think about what to do next.”

He nodded. Slowly he stood and helped her to her feet. Supporting each other like war casualties, they made their way up the stairs.

In her bedroom, Morgan stripped down to his T-shirt and shorts with mechanical detachment and climbed into bed. She left the light on as she crawled in beside him. For the first time since she’d been four years old she was afraid of the dark.

He pulled the covers to his chin. “I can’t seem to stop shaking.”

“Me, either.”

As if by mutual agreement they turned and scooted into each other’s arms, holding each other close.

Fine tremors ran through him, as if he had a fever, and his bristly chin scraped her cheek. “I tried to call,” he said.

“I know.” Not minding his scratchy beard, she snuggled closer, needing the body contact while she tried to keep her own shakes under control, tried to get warm.

“That was stupid. Trying to tell you on the machine. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay.” She wanted to rewind the day and go back to that golden moment before she’d played her messages. That moment when she’d been excited about two days off. She would work every day of her life if she could make this not be true.

“It’s not okay. What if…what if the shock of hearing it on the phone…what if something had happened to the baby?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth against the wail of despair that strained at her throat. Arielle’s baby. And the little girl was Arielle’s, in every sense except that she would develop in Mary Jane’s womb. And now Arielle would never see her daughter.

A heavy steel door seemed to have slammed, separating Mary Jane from the woman she loved, the woman she would do anything for. Now she could do nothing. Nothing. “Oh, Morgan.” Her voice was thick with tears. “I wanted so much to give her this baby.”

“I know,” he said roughly. “The baby is all that’s kept me going.”

“Oh, Morgan.” She began to cry again, and so did he. They held each other desperately, shuddering with anguish.

He choked out the word baby and put his hand over her stomach.

“The baby… Arielle’s still here,” she said, crying.

“Thank God.” He kissed her hair, her wet cheek. “Thank God, we still have the baby.”

She hugged him close as tears streamed down. “Yes.”

“The baby.” He kissed her throat between choked sobs.

“It’s okay.” She needed to comfort him, needed it more than anything in the world. She pressed his head to her breast. “It’s okay, Morgan. Everything will be okay.”

“Oh, God.” He rubbed his damp, bearded face against her breasts, almost as a baby might. “I need to feel….” He slipped his hand under the hem of her T-shirt and flattened it against her belly. His howl of misery echoed in the small room. “Arielle!”

Her heart broke into a million pieces. And she understood what she’d never wanted to know, that death and birth are spokes of the same wheel. Instincts older than time moved within her. Laying her hand over his, she guided it down between her thighs.

“She’s here,” she murmured.

He lifted his head and looked into her eyes.

“Here.” A wisdom handed down through the ages urged her to open her thighs. A wound this deep could only be healed with the ultimate bonding of man and woman. “Come to me.”

Moving like a sleepwalker, he held her gaze as he discarded his shorts and moved over her.

They came together smoothly, as if they’d been making love to each other for years. He said nothing as he thrust again and again into her, his teeth clenched against the sobs racking his body.

Concentrating on his face, she clutched his shoulders and rode the crest of the wave carrying her toward the only salvation they could find tonight. He seemed to understand it, too. As they neared the crest, the despair in his eyes gave way to a new light. At the moment before they climaxed, she drew strength from that light. Then she tumbled with him into chaos, bearing with her the faint yet steady glow of hope.