Margaret pushed the baby carriage down the narrow sidewalks of Loop Street. An occasional stranger stopped to smile at the baby, but the women of the town averted their eyes or crossed to the other side of the street to avoid Margaret.
Margaret did not even notice. She was looking for one person. Every day that the weather was fine, Margaret dressed the baby in one of his beautiful outfits and took him out in the baby carriage. At the end of a week, when Margaret had not once encountered Jamie on the streets, she realized he was deliberately avoiding her. Well, if he won’t come to see his son, his son will go to see him, Margaret decided.
The following morning, Margaret found Mrs. Owens in the parlor. “I’m taking a little trip, Mrs. Owens. I’ll be back in a week.”
“The baby’s too young to travel, Maggie. He—”
“The baby will be staying in town.”
Mrs. Owens frowned. “You mean here?”
“No, Mrs. Owens. Not here.”
Jamie McGregor had built his house on a kopje, one of the hills overlooking Klipdrift. It was a low, steep-roofed bungalow with two large wings attached to the main building by wide verandas. The house was surrounded by green lawns studded with trees and a lush rose garden. In back was the carriage house and separate quarters for the servants. The domestic arrangements were in the charge of Eugenia Talley, a formidable middle-aged widow with six grown children in England.
Margaret arrived at the house with her infant son in her arms at ten in the morning, when she knew Jamie would be at his office. Mrs. Talley opened the door and stared in surprise at Margaret and the baby. As did everyone else within a radius of a hundred miles, Mrs. Talley knew who they were.
“I’m sorry, but Mr. McGregor is not at home,” the housekeeper said, and started to close the door.
Margaret stopped her. “I didn’t come to see Mr. McGregor. I brought him his son.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know anything about that. You—”
“I’ll be gone for one week. I’ll return for him then.” She held the baby out. “His name is Jamie.”
A horrified look came over Mrs. Talley’s face. “You can’t leave him here! Why, Mr. McGregor would—”
“You have a choice,” Margaret informed her. “You can either take him in the house or have me leave him here on your doorstep. Mr. McGregor wouldn’t like that either.”
Without another word, she thrust the baby into the arms of the housekeeper and walked away.
“Wait! You can’t—! Come back here! Miss—!”
Margaret never turned around. Mrs. Talley stood there, holding the tiny bundle and thinking, Oh, my God! Mr. McGregor is going to be furious!
She had never seen him in such a state. “How could you have been so stupid?” he yelled. “All you had to do was slam the door in her face!”
“She didn’t give me a chance, Mr. McGregor. She—”
“I will not have her child in my house!”
In his agitation he paced up and down, pausing to stop in front of the hapless housekeeper from time to time. “I should fire you for this.”
“She’s coming back to pick him up in a week. I—”
“I don’t care when she’s coming back,” Jamie shouted. “Get that child out of here. Now! Get rid of it!”
“How do you suggest I do that, Mr. McGregor?” she asked stiffly.
“Drop it off in town. There must be someplace you can leave it.”
“Where?”
“How the devil do I know!”
Mrs. Talley looked at the tiny bundle she was holding in her arms. The shouting had started the baby crying. “There are no orphanages in Klipdrift.” She began to rock the baby in her arms, but the screams grew louder. “Someone has to take care of him.”
Jamie ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “Damn! All right,” he decided. “You’re the one who so generously took the baby. You take care of him.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And stop that unbearable wailing. Understand something, Mrs. Talley. I want it kept out of my sight. I don’t want to know it’s in this house. And when its mother picks it up next week, I don’t want to see her. Is that clear?”