The Baby Agenda by Janice Kay Johnson Page A

weeks—to find one, he’d have had to drive into Mutare, the city closest to the Mozambique border, and it hadn’t seemed worth the bother. One of the pleasures of getting home was anticipating email: responses to questions he’d asked of the foundation headquarters, and especially to hearing from Clay, Sophie and Jack. Will missed them more than he’d expected.
    The early evening was cool enough to remind him of home as he walked the half a block to the two-story stucco-fronted office building. He’d become accustomed to the rich scent of the air: diesel fuel, wood smoke, ripe fruit and the heady scent of flowers in bloom. September was spring here, south of the equator, still dry, the reverse of seasons in the Pacific Northwest. The hard rains, he was told, fell during the summer in Zimbabwe, therefore at the same time as they would be falling in Washington State.
    The front door to the foundation headquarters was still unlocked, although he was greeted with silence inside. He’d started up the stairs when a light went out in an office at the top and Perry Marshall rushed out. Another American, he’d arrived only a few weeks before, and would be acquiring the equipment, furniture and supplies for the clinics as they were built.
    â€œWill!” He paused on the stairs. “Good trip?”
    â€œYeah, I think so.”
    â€œCan we talk in the morning? We’re having a dinner party, and Rachel’s going to kill me if I’m late. You’d be welcome to join us,” he added.
    Will smiled. “Thanks, but I suspect Jendaya will have dinner ready. And I’ve got to tell you, I’m beat.”
    The other American’s bushy gray eyebrows rose. “Then what are you doing here?”
    â€œJust wanted to check email.”
    â€œInternet’s slow today,” Perry warned him, and kept going.
    It was, but Will got on eventually and relaxed in his chair, glad the building seemed otherwise empty, as he watched a dozen messages load. Good, a couple from each of his siblings. He liked hearing from them so often. There was one from an unfamiliar address and he clicked on it first, figuring it would be a quick delete. But it wasn’t the junk he expected. It was short, only a paragraph, and ended with Moira. His pulse quickened.
    His mysterious redhead. What the hell? His thoughts had turned to her with disturbing frequency, but if she hadn’t tried to get in touch in four months, why now?
    Â 
    Will, I’ve hesitated over contacting you at all, but I think you deserve to know that I’m pregnant. I don’t know what happened; I suppose the condom tore or something. You need to know that I don’t hold you responsible. I invited you to stay, I knew you weren’t offering anything but the one night. Heck, I was the one who provided the condom. But…I am pregnant. I intend to have the baby, and am well able to afford to raise him or her. I have friends and family. I’m not asking for help from you, or any involvement. I’ll be honest. I’m not even sure I would welcome either. Since you don’t know me, you may not even believe the baby is yours. That’s okay, too. I thought I should tell you, and now I’ve done that.
    Moira
    Â 
    Stunned, he stared at the computer monitor, rereading the email a second time, a third time.
    She was pregnant.
    The first wave of anger took him aback, because it was a stupid thing that pissed him off. Did she really think he wouldn’t believe her when she said the baby was his? He’d have had to be an idiot not to recognize her essential innocence. His redhead didn’t sleep around.
    â€œI haven’t done this in an awfully long time,” she’d said. He’d wondered then how long that actually was. A year? Five years? She’d been incredibly sexy but also… awkward. Unpracticed. No, if she was pregnant, it was his baby she was carrying. Not if. After four