Baby Comes First, page 2
“There are a lot good men out there,” her friend insisted.
“Most of the good ones are already taken, and those that are left, aren’t looking for someone like me.”
“You’re too hard on yourself.”
“Am I? If I didn’t know better, I’d think an evil fairy godmother had cursed my love life.”
Christine laughed. “What about that librarian?”
Hannah tried to remember his name. “Paul? We went out once, and he spent the entire evening telling me about a dreadful murder mystery he was writing. Besides, that was more than three years ago. Since then, no one has even tried to ask me out.” She sighed dramatically. “Whenever I’m interested in a man, he’s not. And if a man is interested in me, I can’t stand him.”
“You’re too picky.”
“Maybe. And it doesn’t help that whenever I’m around an eligible man, I get nervous. And when I get nervous, I can’t talk. I clam up like a – a –” Hannah searched for the right word.
“A clam?”
Hannah smiled.
Christine continued, “I think you just need to get out more and meet people. You spend too much time at that nursing home.”
Hannah taught classes at a local assisted living center two days a week. “It’s the only way I can spent time with my mom.”
“I guess you could always meet some rich old geezer who is looking for a trophy wife.”
“Rich old geezers don’t live at the Aldwick Senior Center. And even if they did, they’d want some cute blonde, like you.”
Christine frowned. “There’s got to be a way for you to meet men. Aren’t there any single men at your work?”
“They’re lawyers,” Hannah dead-panned.
“Oh, right, I keep forgetting. Well, even if they are lawyers, there might be one or two worth considering. You just have to give them a chance to get to know you.”
Hannah didn’t say anything. There was no point in arguing. Christine, cute and blonde, with a bubbly personality, didn’t understand. How could she? Her life experience was completely different. Christine had a steady boyfriend ever since she was fourteen. At twenty-five, she’d chosen Greg as the best of the bunch, married, and settled down. They bought the house next to hers, and a few years later, they started their family. Now they had two precious little girls.
Hannah tried not to be envious. Christine had what she herself had always wanted -- a family. She wanted someone to love and someone to love her back.
Suddenly alert, Christine sat up straight. “What have you got in your mouth?” she demanded of her oldest child.
“Nothing,” the four year old mumbled.
Christine hastened over to her and held out her hand. “Spit it out,” she ordered. The girl obeyed, and Christine stared at the tiny piece of plastic in her hand. “Where did you find this?” she asked, then said quickly, “It doesn’t matter. Just remember that only food goes in your mouth. Not toys.”
Christine showed Hannah the tiny plastic doll shoe. “See what you have to look forward to?” She sighed. “Sometimes I think she’s a human vacuum cleaner.”
Hannah shook her head in sympathy. Maybe watching Christine’s children had increased her own desire to have children, but it didn’t matter why she’d finally given in to the temptation, she now had to deal with the consequences. She was pregnant with Luke Jamison’s baby and starting tomorrow morning, she had to work with him. “I don’t know how I’m going to do it,” she murmured.
“Do what?” Christine asked.
“Work for my baby’s biological father.”
“How do you know it’s his baby anyway? I thought all that sperm was anonymous.”
“It’s supposed to be. But I stumbled across some confidential information.”
Christine eyebrows lifted. “Do tell.”
“One day at work, I had to help a secretary find a phone number in Mr. Jamison’s office. The place is a disaster, with papers stacked all over every flat surface. I’m surprised the firm doesn’t make him clean it up, but as long as he keeps winning multi-million dollar cases, I guess they don’t care. Anyway, while I was looking through the papers, I saw some correspondence between a fertility clinic and Mr. Jamison, asking him what he wanted to do with his frozen sperm.”
“The plot thickens.”
“Unfortunately yes. I thought it was a sign.”
“From God?”
Hannah shrugged. “It seemed like it at the time. I’d been considering either adoption or going to a sperm bank. But adoption agencies prefer couples and the waiting list was enormous. I was afraid I’d wait years, still not have a baby, and then it might be too late to have a baby on my own.”
“Your biological clock ticking?”
“Exactly. So when I saw the waiver that Mr. Jamison had signed to let others use his sperm, I thought, ‘here’s my chance.’ At least I’d know something about my baby’s father. I knew Mr. Jamison was tall, good looking, and smart.”
“A nice set of genes.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought. So I copied down his account number, went to the same clinic, and matched the numbers.”
“What was he doing having his sperm at a clinic anyway? It’s not like he was some starving medical student needing the money.”
“Apparently he and his wife couldn’t have children, and they were trying to get pregnant.”
“He’s married?” Christine frowned. “Eww. That’s not good if his wife can’t have his baby, and you can. That’s too weird.”
“No,” Hannah interrupted quickly. “He’s a widower. His wife died from some sort of cancer. No, I wouldn’t have used his sperm if he were still married. I agree that would have been too weird.”
Christine thought for a moment, then said, “I don’t know why you’re so worried about it. He agreed to let someone else have his sperm. Why should he care if you have his baby?”
“Because I’m going to be working for him.”
“But as long as he doesn’t know you’re carrying his baby, what’s the big deal? Just keep your mouth shut and do your job, and no one will know the difference.”
“But I’ll know.”
“Think of it this way -- you’ll get to learn more about him, so when your baby grows up, you will be able to tell him all about his father.”
“Or her.” Cristina made it sound so reasonable, so simple, but Hannah knew it wouldn’t be. It was going to be awkward to work for the man, knowing every minute that his child was growing inside her.
“And if it’s terrible, you can always quit.”
Hannah said, “I plan to quit right after maternity leave.”
“Okay then, so you’re only talking about a few more months?”
“Seven and a half months.”
“That’s not that long. You can do it.”
Easier said than done.
#
The next morning, Luke Jamison did not bother with the formal niceties of polite behavior like saying, “Good morning.” Instead, he strode into the office, saw Hannah sitting at her new desk and started giving orders. He handed her several hand written drafts of motions to finish before noon, three letters with his signature to send out, and an mp3 recorder with sound files for her to transcribe. “I don’t listen to my voice mail,” he informed her briskly. “You’ll need to listen to the messages and write up a summary.”
Hannah felt as if she’d been thrown in the path of a tornado. “Yes, sir.”
“And I don’t want to be disturbed before ten. After that, you can bring me any messages and report on what you’ve finished.” The door to his office closed loudly behind him.
There was no point wasting time, so she turned to her computer and began working. At exactly five minutes after ten, she knocked on his door. “Yes?” he bellowed.
She opened the door. “I’ve finished the work you gave me this morning,” she began, “and you have several phone messages.”
“Let me see them,” he said, putting his hand out for the little slips of pink paper.
Hannah walked toward his desk, but as she neared, she stepped on a piece of paper, slid several inches and lost her balance. The papers in her hands went flying, and she landed smack on her rear, sitting with her legs sprawled in front of her.
He hurried around the desk. “Are you all right?” he demanded.
Stunned, Hannah spoke without thinking. “No, I’m not,” she snapped. “This office is a health hazard as well as a fire trap.”
He held out his hand to help her to her feet.
She took his hand and stood. With shaking fingers, she straightened her taupe skirt that had twisted up above her knees and re-tucked her blouse. She rubbed a place on her hip that felt as if it might be bruised.
He frowned. “Are you hurt?”
Her hand paused. Was that concern she heard in his voice? “I’ll let you know if I file a claim with worker’s compensation,” she said dryly, suddenly embarrassed. There was nothing like acting like a klutz to make a great first impression.
He visibly relaxed as he recognized the humor in her response. “Then you’re all right.”
She could tell he was a man who wanted everything spelled out precisely. But she wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily. “I’ll be fine, but that doesn’t change the fact that it could have been worse. What if a client had slipped?” She pressed her point home. “You can’t leave papers on the floor. It’s unprofessional, and it’s not safe.”
He considered this for a moment, then agreed. “I’ll take care of it.”
“How? You don’t have any more places to stack it without creating an avalanche.”
He looked about the room, scowling. Finally, he said, “I don’t want the firm to be liable. Take care of it, Ms. Hansen.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll start working on your filing system this afternoon.”
#
Ms. Dulane accosted Luke Jamison as he waited for the elevator later that afternoon. “Mr. Jamison. How is Ms. Hansen working out?”
“Fine,” he said tersely, not wanting to discuss the matter.
The Human Resources Director seemed surprised. “Good. Let me know if I can help you further,” she said and retreated back to her office.
Luke thought about his new secretary as he stepped into the elevator. Hannah Hansen was an irritating woman. She was too smart for her own good -- telling him to clean up his office and subtly threatening a worker’s comp case. The fact that she was completely correct in her assessments -- his office was a tort case waiting to happen -- merely made her more irritating.
But he sensed that like competent opposing counsel in a trial, she would be good for him. She’d keep him on his toes, making him do his best work.
And judging from her output this morning, she’d be an excellent secretary.
The only potential problem was her remarkably attractive legs. That was the first thing he noticed when she slipped that morning. Her legs were long and slim and beautifully shaped.
He did not want to let them distract him from his work. No doubt, in time, he’d become accustomed to the sight and no longer notice, but until then, he’d have to be careful. In the courtroom, he had learned to focus on a female witness’ or a juror’s face if she wore a low cut blouse. He would apply the same discipline now, with Ms. Hansen. If he ignored her legs and that sexy sway to her walk, there shouldn’t be any difficulties.
#
Hannah turned a page on her desk calendar. It was August already. The past four months had slipped by quickly.
She had never worked so hard in her life, but it had not been as difficult as she feared. Luke Jamison could be an ogre, but his bark was much worse than his bite. The secret was to work quickly and accurately and to anticipate his needs. That way, he had little to complain about.
She’d also been fortunate that he’d had two trials, which kept him out of the office much of the time, and when he was in the office, he had numerous meetings with junior attorneys and paralegals. Sometimes Hannah went days without seeing him, communicating only through text and email.
She was still uncomfortable, knowing that she was carrying his biological baby, but as the weeks passed without incident, she began to hope that she’d be able to work until the baby was born without any problems.
She checked his schedule on her computer screen. A Ms. Gardner had an appointment at noon. Hannah had spoken with her on the phone, the week before. Ms. Gardner was one of Mr. Jamison’s pro-bono clients. Although he specialized in contract law, he had also developed expertise in helping single mothers obtain support payments from delinquent fathers.
Once, when she realized that the women he helped were not paying for his legal services, she had tried to compliment him on his community service. He’d brushed her off with a terse, “All attorneys are encouraged to do pro bono work. It’s good public relations for the firm.”
She couldn’t decide if he was embarrassed by the compliment or merely trying to keep their communication on an impersonal, businesslike level. She didn’t mind his brusque manner, because it allowed her to keep her distance as well.
Ms. Gardner arrived ten minutes early. Hannah was surprised by her age: she was less than twenty and already looked worn out by life. Her hair was limp, and she had gray circles under her eyes. Hannah hoped single parenthood would not prove to be as difficult for her.
Ms. Gardner carried a fussy baby on her hip. Hannah smiled with sympathy as the young woman covered her mouth to hide a yawn. “Sleepless night?” Hannah guessed.
She nodded. “Teething.” She wearily sank into a high backed upholstered chair. “I’m dead on my feet.”
Hannah said, “Mr. Jamison will be with you in a few minutes. While you wait, would you like something to drink?” The law firm kept a refrigerator full of soft drinks and fruit juices for clients.
The baby squirmed and let out a lusty cry. Ms. Gardner shook her head. “What I really need is to find the ladies’ room.”
“I’m afraid none of the restrooms have changing tables, but you –”
“Not for her, for me.” She struggled to lift her crying baby and the diaper bag.
“Down the hall. Fourth door on the left.” Hannah hesitated. “Would you like me to hold your daughter for a few minutes?”
Ms. Gardner’s face lit with gratitude. “Would you?”
Hannah walked around her desk and held out her arms. “I’d be happy to. It will be good practice.”
The young mother noticed her rounded stomach and asked, “When are you due?”
“Around Thanksgiving.” Hannah took the blonde, curly headed baby and smiled down at the chubby tear-stained face. “Hi sweetheart,” she murmured, and the little girl stared at her in surprise. She smiled back; she must be at least five months old. Hannah turned to the mother. “She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”
“Sophie.”
Hannah said, “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of her.”
“And I’ll be just a minute,” Ms. Gardner promised. “Thank you again.” She hurried down the hall.
The baby noticed that her mother was gone and burst into tears again. “Shhh,” Hannah crooned, jostling the child up and down. “Your mama will be back soon.”
Mr. Jamison burst from his office. “How’s a man supposed to think with all that noi--” he demanded, then stopped mid-sentence as he saw Hannah holding the baby.
Hannah smiled at his confusion. “Your noon appointment, Ms. Gardner, was a little early. This is her daughter, Sophie. Isn’t she darling?”
The minute the words were out of her mouth, Hannah winced. Mr. Jamison might be a charitable man, but he was not the kind to go gaga over a baby.
“Loud is the description I would have used,” he said dryly. He stepped closer to the baby. “Why is she crying?”
“Probably for a combination of reasons. Strange environment. Strange person holding her. She wants her mother.” She rubbed Sophie’s back, but that only made the little girl angrier, so she stopped.
“Where is her mother?”
“Down the hall. She’ll be back any minute.”
He frowned. Hannah guessed that he disapproved of her babysitting, but it was too late for him to do anything about it.
He leaned closer, whether intrigued or appalled by this tiny, screaming creature, Hannah couldn’t tell. She stiffened, uncomfortable with his standing so close to her.
“You’ve got a good set of lungs there, little girl,” he said, and smiled.
Mr. Jamison rarely smiled, and to be so close to the receiving end of it was startling. His smile made him look younger, more approachable. Hannah wondered if there was a special woman in his life who also received those dazzling smiles, then reminded herself that her boss’s social life was none of her concern.
Seizing the opportunity, Sophie grabbed Mr. Jamison’s red tie and stuffed it into her mouth.
Hannah hastily pried the tie out of the baby’s tiny fingers. “I’m so sorry,” she said as she wiped at the sodden end of his tie with Sophie’s faded receiving blanket. Deprived of her new toy, Sophie resumed crying. Hannah bounced her up and down with no success.
He motioned to his tie. “It won’t hurt her, will it?”
“Of course not.”
She watched in amazement as Mr. Jamison loosened the knot at his throat, pulled the tie off over his head, and handed it to her. “Here, she can chew on this.”
Sophie clutched the tie with glee, and once again, quieted.
Hannah’s jaw dropped. “But your tie!”
“It will shut her up, won’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then it’s worth it,” he said gruffly. “Besides, I have another in my office.” For a few seconds, he watched Sophie gnaw his Italian silk tie. His eyes were dark and brooding. He reached out to touch the baby’s soft cheek in a gentle caress.
He’d make a good father, Hannah thought with surprise.
