You're My Baby by Laura Abbot Page B

identified several unfamiliar faces. Which one was Andy? The burly Scandinavian-looking boy by the window? The short, tense little guy withwire-rimmed glasses? Then she spotted him. She’d have known Andy anywhere, with his rangy body, deep blue eyes and Grant’s thick brown hair falling over his forehead. He sat on the back row, his long denim-clad legs sticking out into the aisle. With an air of detachment, he had his nose in a Stephen King paperback. His body language sent a clear signal—leave me alone.
    Her heart went out to him. He must be a master of camouflage. Sure enough, none of the other students was paying him the slightest attention.
    She allowed herself a glimmer of hope. If he was a Stephen King fan, maybe she could capture his interest with Edgar Allan Poe. She always started the sophomore year with Poe’s classic short story “The Tell-Tale Heart.”
    Only when she began speaking did he put aside the novel, but he never once looked at her, instead studying his fingernails with the intensity of one discovering the Rosetta stone.
    When the class ended, she stopped him at the door. “Andy, you’re new here, right?”
    â€œYeah.” He fidgeted with the strap of his backpack, as if he was late for a pressing appointment.
    â€œI just wanted to extend a special welcome. I hope you’ll enjoy Keystone.”
    â€œThanks.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “Is that all? Can I go now?”
    â€œYes, that’s all. Bye.” She watched him walk away, eyes averted, melting into the river of students flowing toward the next class.
    She leaned wearily against the doorjamb, then closed her eyes. Thank God her planning period was next. She didn’t know when she’d ever been so tired.
    â€œPam, are you all right?” Connie’s voice brought her to attention.
    â€œOh, sure. It’s been a long day, that’s all, and I just met Andy Gilbert for the first time.”
    Connie stepped inside the empty classroom. “And?”
    She sighed, rubbing her hands together, oddly aware of her vacant ring finger. “I think Grant and I have our work cut out for us.”
    â€œWhen does Grant plan to tell Andy about you?”
    â€œSometime today. Before I move in.”
    â€œAre you scared?”
    â€œStepmother is a role I haven’t played before.”
    â€œIt’s a challenging one, but if anybody can pull it off, it’s you.”
    â€œI wish I shared your confidence.” Added to the demands of the day was the overwhelming sense that she had gotten herself into something way beyond simply providing a father for her unborn baby.
    A bell shattered the air, and Connie patted Pam’s shoulder. “I’m late. Not setting a great example, huh?” Then she hurried off toward her history class, leaving Pam wondering how she and Grant could have been so naive.
    Â 
    I MMEDIATELY AFTER SCHOOL Andy disappeared upstairs, claiming homework. He’d spent most of last night unpacking and arranging his room. Then on the way home from school today, when Grant had hoped to tell him about Pam, he’d pulled out a portable CD player, plugged in the headphones and played air drums on his knees to music Grant could hear only as a disjointed metallic beat.
    Grant found himself prowling through the house, unable to settle to any task. How long was the kid goingto shut him out? He knew better than to pry. Yet he had to tell Andy about Pam. Hell, she was supposed to move in tonight. Maybe the family dynamic would change for the better with her around. He’d never met a kid who didn’t warm to Pam. Surely Andy would be no exception.
    Okay. He’d bite the bullet at the first opportunity.
    That settled, he wandered into the kitchen and began patting out hamburgers for the grill. Then he tossed a can of pork and beans into a dish, stirred in some brown sugar, catsup and pickle juice and put the casserole in the oven