by Rachel Lee
Daphne’s head was nodding. Blaine rose. “Bed or playpen?”
“Either one. I doubt she’ll sleep long. She’s staying awake more in the daytime.”
A significant change, Diane thought as she rose and went to look over her dinner choices. A three-pound beef roast was about as small as she could cook in the oven and hope to have it done just right. She hated when it grew so overcooked it tasted like cardboard. Plus, she loved cold roast beef sandwiches for lunch.
Then a wave of longing hit her so hard she gripped the edge of the counter and squeezed her eyes shut.
Her feelings about Blaine had only grown, she realized. The last month had fed them until there was no longer any doubt in her mind that she’d made the stupidest of decisions. It was probably too late now. The sense that she’d placed a barrier between them had grown, and he was observing it.
She heard his step as he returned to the kitchen. She had to face this, settle this one way or another. She had to know if her hopes should be buried.
“Blaine?” Her voice cracked. She turned to face him and saw him wiping Daphne’s drool from the book. To her surprise, he still carried a baby who had become suspiciously wide-awake.
He looked up immediately. “Is something wrong?”
Oh, man, those Irish blue eyes. She licked her lips.
“Well, go on,” he said gruffly. “I haven’t bitten anyone since I was two, I promise ya.”
She squeezed her hands into fists, fearing she was about to experience the worst failure of her life, but knowing she had to take the risk. “You said...you asked... Can we start dating or is it too late?” The words came out on a hurried rush and she stared at him, feeling her heart begin to sink when all he did was look at her.
“Good God, woman,” he said presently, “and just what d’ye think we’ve been doin’ these past weeks?”
She froze. His words struck her as if he’d just spun her around and left her dizzy. She closed her eyes briefly, swallowing hard. “Maybe—maybe you should tell me.”
A quiet chuckle escaped him. “First, Daffodil’s nodding off again, so I think I’d best check her diaper and put her to bed. She woke up on my first try, and I didn’t want to leave her to cry. My guess is she’ll be waking soon to eat, anyway.”
“Usually,” Diane agreed, still trying to collect herself. “The fresh air from our walks makes her sleepy and then the book you brought—anyway, she’ll be hungry soon. Well, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you.” Words grew less coherent as her mind struggled to make sense of what he’d said. She was chattering nonsense.
What did she think they’d been doing? Being friends, that was all. Nothing formal. He popped in and popped out whether at work or here. They’d had some great conversations, but he’d never tried to touch her again, not even to hold her hand.
What did she think they’d been doing?
He returned a short while later, smelling pleasantly of baby, and washed his hands at the sink.
“Your tea must be cold,” she said quickly. “Let me make you some fresh.”
But as she started to rise, he turned and his hand shot out, gripping her forearm gently but firmly. “I don’t need tea, Diane. But I think we need a bit of conversation, if that’s okay.”
The way he held her arm, she could have tugged free with the least effort. He wasn’t using force. But she didn’t care, because her body was lighting up like the Fourth of July, sparklers spreading anywhere. Time had cured none of her attraction to him. If anything, it felt stronger than ever.
Confident that she wasn’t leaving, he sat across from her.
“Now, I understood why you didn’t want to date. I told you, I’m not good at that kind of thing. Ya want romance, call an actor—you’ll get a better show. But I understood, and my ham-fisted way of going about it made it seem like this dating thing was all fraught with danger and formality.”
She started to open her mouth, but his entire face softened. “Di, be honest. When you heard that, did you kind of panic? Start to feel hemmed in? Like you were going to make a big mistake if you said yes?”
She sighed, lowered her head for a few seconds, then raised it. “I felt confused,” she agreed. “I was also...afraid I’d fail.”
He nodded. “I reckoned. Merely naming it made it a task you could either mess up or get right. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“So what have we been doing, Blaine?”
“We’ve been dating informally. Me dropping by, all that stuff. Bringing dinner over. Little things. And you haven’t told me to get lost yet. So yes, if you’ve changed your mind, I’m agreeable. Seeing more of you would be a pleasure. But we don’t have to press it. I don’t want to press it. Slow and easy.”
He looked away, staring out the window over the sink into the darkening evening. All anyone could see on the glass now was a reflection of this uninspired kitchen.
“I’ve got me own problems, Di.”
She caught her breath. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “You’re afraid of failing, aren’t you?”
Sadly, that was something she had no choice but to admit. “Yes. I told you about my mother.”
“And your father, to be fair. You said he was a vet?”
She nodded, her insides flip-flopping. “Vietnam. When I was growing up, I sometimes felt...that he was empty inside. That all he wanted was to be left alone. But then there were times—”
“The times that make you keep that chair.”
He was looking at her again, so she simply nodded.
“Poor man,” he said. “He was the one who failed you, ya know.” He held up a hand before she could speak. “I’m not condemning the man. God knows what he went through to leave him such a husk. But it remains, you needed some support to deal with your mother, and you weren’t getting it. You felt like a failure because you couldn’t please her, and he didn’t stand up for you. But he was the failure because he wasn’t there when he was needed. Not that it really matters now. Damage is done and all that.”
She couldn’t speak, had no idea what to say. He was making sense, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to accept it. She’d made something of herself, yes, but it was almost in reaction to her mother, not because she was special in any way.
“Anyway, as I was sayin’. I have me own devils to deal with. I told you the story of Ailis, but I rather made light of it. She gave me a lesson and I still have the scars. I’ve never really let myself care. Too much danger there. But somehow, you’re different. Maybe because of Daphne. I don’t know how you got under my skin fast. So you’re not the only one who’s been a bit edgy about this.”
He smiled. “I say we date and take it as slow as we need to. Because you’re a special woman, Diane Finch, and I’m pretty well hooked. Fair enough?”
“Fair enough,” she agreed, her heart beginning to rise like a helium balloon. So she hadn’t lost him. And at some point, she hoped he would feel as sure as she was beginning to feel.
Right now, she couldn’t ask for anything more.
He extended his hand across the table and she took it, closing her eyes with absolute pleasure as she felt the warmth of his skin once again.
“After we get the daffodil down for the night, or most of it,” he said quietly, “I’d like to take you to bed.”
“Oh, please,” she whispered. “Please.”
But then Daphne woke again, her cries sounding cranky. Blaine went to get her, and Diane started their dinner, turning on the oven and scrubbing potato skins.
There was still hope. Thank God. She couldn’t believe she had almost thrown away her chance with a man like Blaine Harrigan.
A tear of happiness rolled down her cheek. They’d date. They’d see. And maybe heaven waited in the wings.
Epilogue
Daphne’s cries woke Diane, and
she looked at the bedside clock. “Three a.m.?” she asked under her breath.
“I’ll get her,” Blaine said groggily.
“No, I will. It’s the cold, I’m sure of it.”
But Blaine was already sitting up. “The medicine the doctor gave her isn’t helping?”
“Not a whole lot. Besides, who isn’t cranky with a cold?”
“Good question,” he replied. “I’ll check the humidifier then make us something warm to drink. This house is drafty.”
“I definitely need to rent a better place,” she agreed. Jamming her feet into slippers, wrapping herself in her warmest robe, she slid across the hallway and by the soft glow of the child’s bedside lamp, decorated with images of stuffed animals, she found Daphne on her back, blankets kicked off and looking mad as hell.
Diane changed her swiftly, aware of the drafts in the room. That sure didn’t make her daughter any happier. She heard Blaine behind her, fumbling with the humidifier, heard him pour more water and probably add more menthol to the cup. The place reeked of menthol right now.
Then she wrapped Daph snugly in a warm blanket and carried her out into the magic that had become her living room.
Blaine didn’t believe in half measures. A large Christmas tree, covered with lights and ornaments, filled the front window. She flipped on the lights, and the twinkling and sparkling immediately seized Daph’s attention. Her crying subsided to hiccups while Diane wiped her runny nose and wondered if she needed to use the suction bulb to clear her passageways.
At the moment, though, Daph didn’t sound totally clogged. Maybe some of that baby ibuprofen for her misery? How she hated not even being able to tell if the girl had a headache or something. She felt warm, but Diane didn’t want to undress her again to take her temperature.
Okay, then, she’d see how it went for a while before pulling out the medicine.
She heard the kettle whistle from the kitchen, announcing that tea or hot chocolate would soon arrive. She sat in her dad’s old recliner, next to the new one that Blaine had bought. A beautiful Christmassy scene, utterly wasted on Daph.
Well, not entirely, because the girl had become fascinated with the twinkling lights. Her cries steadily diminished until they sounded almost like an afterthought.
Blaine appeared with two mugs of hot chocolate and a bottle. “Do you think she can drink? Or should we aspirate her nose?”
“I’m wondering. Right now I’m not even sure she’s hungry.”
Daph quieted, still fixated on the lights, evidently liking the display.
“Maybe I should sleep here with her,” Diane suggested.
“Fine. I’ll join you. If the lights make her happy, we can stay here as long as it takes.”
She loved his generosity, his willingness to stay with her, the lack of cranky grumbling of his own as he shuffled back to bed. After all, there was no need for both of them to stay up.
She reached for her hot chocolate.
“Careful.”
It was hot, but not too hot to drink. How had he managed that?
“Look,” he whispered suddenly. “Me daffodil is nodding off.”
“I hope so. She’s been so miserable.”
“And it’s Christmas Eve,” he remarked. “I hope next year it’s better for her.”
“Really? It’s Christmas Eve?”
“We passed midnight a few hours ago, darlin’.”
She almost laughed. Daph being so sick had evidently cost her her mind. “I forgot.”
“I haven’t. Think she’ll sleep for a bit?”
“She seems comfortable now.”
“Then there’s something I wanted to do on Christmas Eve, and I don’t see any reason to wait until tonight. Seems like with an infant you take your time where you find it.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” she answered wryly.
There were wrapped packages under the tree, mostly toys and clothes for Daphne, but one or two surprises for the two of them. She’d been staring at a huge box with her name on it for days now, wondering what the red-and-gold foil wrapping concealed.
She’d tucked a few things for him under the tree, too. He was a man who didn’t seem to want much, so she’d bought him a chamois shirt that nearly matched his eyes and a new set of double-layered gloves. And...well...she hoped he’d understand the Saint Brigid’s medal.
He rose now and reached around the back of the tree. In his hand he held a small red box. “I know how you’re liking small earrings, studs, right?”
“Right. I love studs because they don’t catch on things. And Daph here isn’t likely to yank one out of my ear. But that can wait, can’t it?”
“No. This is special, and she might only sleep a few minutes, sick as the tyke is.”
Then he knelt in front of her and passed her the red box. “I hope you like my taste. I can always exchange...”
She didn’t hear anything else he said, because she opened the box and found an absolutely beautiful ring, a diamond surrounded by tiny emeralds. “Blaine? Blaine?”
“I’m in the way of asking you to marry me, Diane Finch,” he said quietly. “And I’m hoping you can answer me before I die of the suspense.”
She lifted her gaze from the box and looked into the blue eyes of heaven. “Yes,” she whispered, her heart swelling until it felt it would burst. “Oh, yes. I love you so...”
He took the box, removed the ring and slid it onto her left hand. Then he looked straight into her eyes. “I’ll be loving you with my last breath, Diane Finch. You are the reason my heart beats. And I wouldn’t mind hearing that again.”
“I love you,” she said more strongly, but any other words were suddenly buried against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her as close as he could without disturbing the baby.
“My heart,” he said, and twisted enough to kiss her to the depths of her being.
Daphne decided to protest, but they looked at one another and laughed with joy. Perfect. Everything was perfect, including the cranky baby.
* * * * *
Don’t miss other stories in Rachel Lee’s
emotional miniseries,
CONARD COUNTY: THE NEXT GENERATION, available now from Harlequin Special Edition:
A SOLDIER IN CONARD COUNTY
A CONARD COUNTY COURTSHIP
A CONARD COUNTY HOMECOMING
AN UNLIKELY DADDY
A COWBOY FOR CHRISTMAS
A CONARD COUNTY BABY
Keep reading for an excerpt from HER WICKHAM FALLS SEAL by Rochelle Alers.
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Her Wickham Falls SEAL
by Rochelle Alers
Chapter One
Taryn Robinson checked her reflection in the full-length mirror attached to the closet door. She’d selected a black wool gabardine pantsuit, white silk blouse and black suede booties to meet her prospective employer, who had informed her that she had passed his background check.
It had been ages since she’d had to interview for a job; the last time was years ago when she’d walked into a school building in downtown Brooklyn. At that time, she was a twenty-two-year-old with an undergraduate degree in early elementary education, a graduate degree in reading and a teacher certification. She had sought a position in a school where she could not only teach but also make a difference.
Her idealism had come from her social worker mother, who went above and beyond for her disadvantaged clients, and it was no different for Taryn, because she saw firsthand how some children had fallen through the cracks when she was a student-teacher in a less than desirable Washington, DC, neighborhood. However, she was realistic enough to know she couldn’t change the world but only begin with one child at a time. Fast-forward nearly ten years, and she’d just resigned her position at that same school to leave all that was familiar to put down roots in a new state.
This was her third trip to Wickham Falls, the town with a population boasting less than forty-eight hundred residents and two traffic lights. The first time she’d come was to visit her former Howard University roommate, earlier that summer, and the second was to stand in as Jessica Calhoun’s maid of honor when she married Sawyer Middleton.
Now she had returned to the house to dog-sit for the newlyweds honeymooning in the Caribbean, and interview for the position as a live-in teacher to homeschool single father Aiden Gibson’s preschool daughters. Her backup plan, if Aiden decided not to hire her, was to apply for a position as a reading specialist or a permanent substitute teacher with the Johnson County school district where Jessica taught fifth grade. Taryn still could not believe that she was willing to trade the nonstop energy of New York City for the slow and easygoing pace of a small town in West Virginia.
