“Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” She held her hands against her mouth in shock. Recovering quickly, she rifled through the other photos, hardly able to take her eyes off the smiling dark-haired woman. Her stomach clenched tighter as she read the letter.
For so many years she’d wondered and the truth was nothing like she’d imagined. Her mother was a stripper who her father had paid to have his child. She was that child. All the protection, the sheltering and smothering was to keep her from having any contact with Angela—her mother. And…and…
She quickly closed the folder, snatched it up and ran from the room.
“Jessie!”
She didn’t stop. She rushed into her room, slammed the door and locked it. Sliding to the floor, she held the folder to her chest.
The doorknob turned. “Jessie, open this door.”
“No.”
“Jessie, please.”
His voice washed over her like warm soothing water. Why wasn’t he running in the other direction? She was the daughter of a stripper who was paid to have her? And…she couldn’t even say the rest in her head. It was too awful.
“Jessie, please.”
Oh, that strong, compelling voice had her. Getting to her feet, she unlocked the door, crawled into the middle of the bed and sat cross-legged, the folder clutched against her chest.
As Cadde entered, she said, “Please go away.”
He sat on the bed, facing her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Why?” She brushed away a tear and held out the folder. “Haven’t you read this?”
“Yes. You now know the circumstances of your birth and who your mother is. Why would that affect me other than to be concerned for you?”
“Because I’m just like him.”
He frowned. “What?”
“He paid Angela for a baby and I tricked you into having one. I’m a horrible, horrible person just like my father.” She dissolved into tears and couldn’t seem to stop them.
“Jessie, stop crying.” He tucked strands of her hair behind her ear and she wanted to absorb herself into him, not caring that the letter had clearly pointed out her selfish inherited faults. “Our situation is completely different from Roscoe’s and Angela’s. We’re married and building a life together and you didn’t trick me into anything. I went into our marriage with my eyes wide-open.”
“But you didn’t want a baby.” For her own sanity she had to point that out.
“I do now. And we tore up the agreement, remember?” He stroked her wet cheek and once again she burst into tears. He was so gentle, so kind and she didn’t deserve it.
“Jessie, please…wait, I’ll get you some tissues.”
As he walked into the bathroom, she tried to stop the tears, but couldn’t. The more she wiped them away, the more they flowed.
“Jessie,” Cadde called. “There’s a pregnancy test on the vanity and there’s two pink lines in the window. What does that mean?”
“What? Oh…oh!” She’d forgotten about the test. She leaped from the bed and frightened Mirry. “It’s okay, Mirry,” she reassured the dog, and dashed into the bathroom to gaze at the results.
“What does that mean?” Cadde asked again.
“It means I’m…uh…we’re pregnant. We’re pregnant!” She jumped up and down in excitement.
Cadde grabbed her and swung her round and round. “We’re pregnant,” he said in awe.
The wonder in his voice brought on more tears and she sank to the floor in a blubbering heap, totally confused with her reaction.
He squatted in front of her. “Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know!” she wailed.
“I’m happy. You’re happy, right?”
“Yes!” she wailed louder.
He scooped her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. Gently depositing her on the bed, he lay beside her, boots and all. Pulling her against his side, he said, “Cry all you want.”
And she did just that. She could hear this insane woman boohooing and she thought it surely couldn’t be her. But it was. All the heartache from her past ebbed from her system. It was replaced with the bright glow of the future.
She rubbed her wet face on his white shirt. “We’re having a baby.”
“Yes,” he replied, and she felt him stiffen.
“Why did you do that?”
“I’m waiting for more tears. I’ve heard pregnant women get emotional.”
She wiped her face against him again. “I’m through crying.”
“Good.” He pulled her closer.
“I look like my mother,” she murmured, playing with a button on his shirt.