by Zoe Chant
“Will you be coming home for a visit now that fire season is over?” his mother said, sounding wistful. “I’d love to meet your mate.”
“I do want you to meet—” he caught himself just before he said them. “Ah, her. But there are…a few things I need to take care of first, before that can happen.”
“I understand. Complications.” She sighed. “I’m glad you’ve got Rory and the rest of the gang there with you, at least, even if I can’t be there. Promise me you’ll let them help?”
“They already are.”
“Good. Just remember you aren’t alone.” Her voice softened. “Love you, Callum.”
“Love you too. And I’ll let you know as soon as anything changes.”
He hung up, before his father could grab the phone and start babbling about alpacas again. He stared at the two names and phone numbers he’d scribbled down.
He felt a bit like Schrodinger, contemplating a metaphorical box containing a cat that could be either dead or alive (at school, the analogy had completely baffled him until he’d finally realized that other people needed to open the box to determine the state of the cat). At the moment, he could still be Beth’s father. But once he made these phone calls…
He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and started with the easier one. As his mother had predicted, Connor’s phone went straight to voicemail. He left a brief, curt message: It’s Callum. Call me as soon as you can. It’s important.
That left the other one.
Given how early it was in the morning, he’d somewhat expected to have to leave a voicemail on Conleth’s phone too. But to his surprise, his brother picked up on the second ring.
“Conleth Tiernach-West, Tiernach Enterprises,” his brother said, crisp and professional. He clearly wasn’t in bed.
“It’s me.”
This, apparently, wasn’t enough.
“I’m sorry, who?” Conleth sounded distracted. He could hear the rapid clickclickclick of a keyboard in the background. “Who is this?”
“Callum.” For the sake of clarity, he added, “Your brother.”
“Callum?” Conleth’s typing ceased abruptly. His voice sharpened, taking on a raw edge of alarm. “What’s wrong? Is someone hurt? Mom? Dad?”
Why did everyone act like him calling was some kind of national emergency? “Nothing’s wrong. Can we go to video?”
He could practically hear Conleth’s eyebrows raising. “Why? Forgotten what you look like?”
Despite the mockery, the screen flickered, showing him his brother. As usual, he was sleek and sharp in a dark, tailored business suit, with a red-gold silk tie that perfectly matched his hair. The wide window behind him showed a gray, misty view of the London skyline, the early dawn light turning the city into a pencil sketch of itself.
Although he’d been braced for it, the familiar brief stab of envy went through him at Conleth’s effortlessly elegant, sophisticated appearance. They might technically have exactly the same face, but Conleth always made it look better.
“You’re at the office already?” Callum said, a little surprised.
Conleth wrinkled his nose. “There’s always some bullshit crisis requiring my attention. Sometimes I think the whole business connives to generate drama just to keep me chained to my desk.” He hunched forward, evidently peering at his own phone screen. A crease appeared between his brows. “Where are you, a cave? Is that why you’re calling? I mean, I can pull some strings and scramble a helicopter and a SWAT team if you’ve fallen down a well or something, but I warn you, I’m never going to let you live this down.”
“I’m fine,” he said, through gritted teeth. “I’m at my base. In Montana.”
“I do know where you live, you know.” Conleth leaned back in his leather executive chair, idly swiveling back and forth. “So why are you calling in the middle of your night? Just because you were missing me?”
“No,” he said, emphatically. “I have news. I met my mate.”
All traces of mockery fled Conleth’s face. He’d never before seen his brother look so entirely nonplussed.
“Uhh…congratulations,” Conleth said, sounding like he expected some kind of trap. “And you’re telling me this why, exactly?”
“Mom. You know she’d like us to be closer.”
It was, after all, the truth. Just not the whole truth.
You keep telling yourself that, his pegasus murmured.
Ignoring his unhelpful inner beast, he tapped at his phone screen. “Her name’s Diana Whitehawk. Here. I’m sending you a picture.”
His heart thudded at the swoosh of the file transferring from his phone to Conleth’s. He’d sent Conleth the second photo he’d taken of Diana—the one that didn’t include Beth. He focused on his brother’s face, watching for any sign of reaction.
Conleth’s eyes flickered over the photo. His expression didn’t change in the slightest. “She’s very pretty. I’m happy for you.”
He let out the breath he’d been holding. It wasn’t Conleth.
Thank God. It was going to be hard enough to explain things to Diana as it was. If he’d had to reveal that Beth’s actual biological father was the sophisticated billionaire who’d twice beaten out actual princes to be named ‘England’s Most Eligible Bachelor’ by three different gossip magazines…well, he might as well have given up and booked Diana and Beth’s plane tickets to London now.
“Thanks,” he said. “Bye.”
“Wait!” Conleth jerked upright, reaching out as if to physically grab him through the phone screen to stop him from hanging up. “Is that really the only reason you called?”
He paused with his thumb over the ‘End call’ button. “Yes. Why?”
“Well…” Conleth dropped his hand, looking uncharacteristically awkward. “You know. I thought maybe you wanted to talk about the last time we saw each other face-to-face.”
His new-found relief lurched. That had been the ill-fated bachelor auction, of course. How had Conleth known? Had his own expression given something away?
He masked his alarm with his best withering, stony-faced stare. “Not really. Why? Something you need to tell me?”
Conleth fidgeted with some papers scattered across his desk. “Just...look, did you know Connor ended up having to take your place?”
“I heard something about that,” he said, cautiously. “But I thought it might have been you.”
“Hell no. Even Connor couldn’t talk me into that one. He only convinced me to get involved in the first place because…never mind.” Conleth shook his head. “Look, the point is, you won, okay? Connor bitched about it for months. So for once in your life, can you please just let it go? How long are you going to keep holding this stupid grudge?”
You have no idea. “Goodbye, Conleth.”
This time, he managed to hang up before his brother could interrupt. He switched his phone off before dropping it back into his pocket, feeling like he’d spent two hours running up Thunder Mountain with a double-loaded pack. Phones were exhausting.
He closed his eyes for a moment, losing himself in the small, soothing energies of the nocturnal creatures going about their private business all around. He’d always preferred the base at night, when the distracting glare of human lives dimmed into dreams. He could think better.
And thinking was exactly what he needed to do.
So. It’s me or Connor.
Either way, it was clear that Diana had fallen for Connor’s charm. He couldn’t blame her for that, even though it made him want to punch Connor in the face even more than usual. Everyone liked Connor. He was wild, funny, charismatic…
And totally unsuitable to be a father.
Which…gave him the faintest glimmering outline of a plan.
He flipped over to a fresh page in his notebook, and started to make a list.
Chapter 11
Miracle of miracles, for once Beth slept through the entire night. Diana awoke at the positively luxurious hour of six o’clock in the morn
ing, to find Beth just starting to stir at her side. Soft golden light winked through the crack in the curtain. She yawned, stretching—and immediately there was a quiet tap on the door.
“May I come in?” Callum’s voice said from the other side. “I have coffee.”
She hesitated, self-conscious. She always looked terrible in the morning. Then again, it wasn’t like she was trying to seduce Callum.
More’s the pity, whispered some part of her that definitely wasn’t Gertrude.
Diana shook away the silly thought. She sat up, pulling the sheet over her bare legs. “If you have coffee, you can definitely come in.”
He entered, carefully balancing a tray. Beth shrieked in excitement, crawling over to him at top speed. Diana’s heart thudded in alarm, but Callum deftly side-stepped Beth’s grab at him, still holding the tray perfectly level. He set it down on the bedside table, then scooped up the baby.
“Hello,” he said softly, gazing into her eyes.
Beth gurgled, beamed, and, with an unmistakable loud, triumphant noise, filled her diaper.
“Oh dear,” Diana said, as the smell permeated the small room. She tugged her t-shirt down over her panties as best she could, preparing to get up. “Sorry about that. I’ll change her.”
Callum shook his head. He tucked the giggling Beth under his arm like a football, squatting down to reach for a towel. “I’ll do it. You have your coffee.”
“Are you sure?” Diana said anxiously, as he spread the towel on the floor.
“Yes.” His sweet, hesitant smile briefly lit up his face. “It’s definitely my turn, after all.”
He laid Beth down on the his impromptu changing mat, arranging a diaper, wipes, and a plastic bag around her. For a moment he studied the scene, with the air of a man preparing to perform complex brain surgery. Then, a little gingerly, he unfastened the snaps at the bottom of Beth’s romper.
He’ll get it wrong. He won’t wipe her properly. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. You should take over.
Diana forced herself to keep her mouth shut, despite Gertrude’s fretting. No one had taught her how to change a diaper, after all. Callum was a grown-ass man. He could work it out.
He flashed her a rather wry look, wrestling one-handed with Beth, who had decided this was the ideal moment for a spot of morning yoga. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Not saying anything.”
“Well, I reckon if you can put out forest fires, you can handle a baby.”
He let out a breath of near-silent laughter. “Fires are easy. This is hard. Don’t forget your coffee.”
Leaving Callum to his epic battle, she investigated the tray. There was a battered thermos full of pitch-black coffee, along with a tin mug, a scratched spoon, a handful of tiny creamer pots, and some packets of sugar. Despite the well-worn appearance of the implements, the whole thing was laid out as carefully as room service at a fancy hotel—packets fanned, spoon peeking out of a folded paper napkin, creamers neatly stacked. He’d even put a tiny spray of wildflowers next to the mug.
She shook her head in amazement. “You did all this for me? This early?”
“It’s not early for hotshots. Crew gets up at five, most days.” He was trying to stuff Beth back into her romper, while she did her best rendition of the Hokey-Pokey. “Er. Is there a trick to this?”
“I usually distract her with a toy.” Smothering a smile, Diana dangled the coffee spoon over Beth’s head. “Hey, baby, look at this.”
Beth made a grab for the spoon, giving Callum time to finally finish clothing her. He sat back, a little out of breath, looking down at his daughter with the pride of someone who had just ascended Mount Everest…and then muttered a swearword.
Diana giggled. “Hey, for a first attempt, it was pretty amazing.” With the deftness of long practice, she undid the crooked snaps, fastening them correctly. “I once managed to put her romper on upside-down. She looked like a little baby seal, flapping her footie-flippers, with her feet sticking out the arm-sleeves at the bottom. Took me an embarrassingly long time to work out what on earth I’d done wrong.”
“I’ll get better.” He stood up, gingerly holding the plastic bag with the dirty diaper in it. “I’ll go throw this out. Do you like chocolate chips in your pancakes?”
“Yes,” Diana said automatically, and then blinked. “Wait, what?”
“Breakfast.” Apparently he felt that this was all the explanation necessary. He nodded down at Beth, who was now enthusiastically banging the spoon on the floor. “Can she eat pancakes?”
“She’d eat gravel if you put chocolate chips in it.”
His heart-melting smile flashed again. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t go anywhere.”
He slipped out the door without waiting for a response, closing it softly behind him. Beth squawked. She crawled over to it, plopped down onto her bottom, and screwed up her face in preparation for a wail.
“Oh no. He’s coming right back, baby. Don’t do that.” Diana hastily snatched up the napkin and draped it over her head. “Look! Where’s Mommy? Peek-a-boo!”
Beth cast her a look of deep and withering scorn. Clearly peek-a-boo was a game for babies. Then again, it had never really held her interest. Even when she’d been four months old, she’d always seemed to know exactly where Mommy was.
“How about a cuddle?” Diana picked her up, trying to settle her on her lap. “Some milk? No?”
Even boob was no consolation for lack of Daddy, apparently. Beth firmly pushed away Diana’s attempts to feed her, kicking her in the stomach. Her face was turning an ominous shade of tomato, heralding an incipient tantrum.
Then, suddenly, she stopped thrashing. Her head swiveled, turning toward the door. For no apparent reason, she giggled.
“What is it, baby?” Puzzled, Diana listened, but couldn’t hear anything that might have attracted Beth’s attention. “Are you seeing ghosts again?”
Sometimes she genuinely wondered if Beth could see ghosts. Or at least, whether she had abnormally sharp hearing. She often seemed to be paying attention to something that Diana couldn’t perceive herself.
Perhaps Beth had heard Callum coming back. Shifting her daughter to one arm, she went to the door, opening it. She took a step out into the common room—and her foot bumped something soft.
A dead rat! She bit back a yelp, jerking back—and then realized that the limp thing was bright blue, which made it unlikely to be a real animal.
A little gingerly, she picked it up. It was fuzzy and floppy and had clearly been well-loved. It was missing an ear, but she was pretty certain that at some point it had been a stuffed rabbit.
Callum must have left it out for Beth to play with. From the well-worn look of the bunny, it must have been a treasured childhood toy.
Sweet that he still takes it with him wherever he goes. A bit strange, but sweet.
It probably reminded him of home, she decided. He’d mentioned that he had family back in England. It had to be tough, being apart from them for half the year.
“Buhbuhbuhbuh!” Beth pronounced, stretching out her arms in demand.
“That’s right, sweetie. Bunny.” Diana gave the toy a quick once-over. It seemed safe. The eyes and nose were embroidered on rather than plastic, so Beth couldn’t chew them off. Setting Beth down, she gave her the toy. “You like Bunny? You want to play with him while Mommy has her coffee?”
“Buhbuhbuh!” Beth seized the rabbit, squeezing it with all her strength. It made a loud, unexpected squeak!, which Beth clearly found to be the most hilarious thing ever.
Who puts a squeaker in a baby’s teddy? Someone who didn’t have children, Diana could only assume. Still, at least it was keeping Beth amused. Trying to ignore the persistent squeaksqueaksqueakSQUEAKsqueak as Beth practiced the Heimlich maneuver on poor Bunny, she went back to her coffee.
Drawing back the curtain, she gazed out as she sipped her steaming mug. Callum’s cabin was set right at the edge of the hotshot base, a little
way off from the other buildings. Her window faced downslope, giving her a spectacular view out over the surrounding forest. A faint haze hung over everything, as the autumn sun slowly burned off the morning dew. Mountains shimmered on the horizon, looking like they had been painted in watercolor.
The peaceful surroundings warmed her soul as much as the coffee warmed her body. As a kid, she’d often gone on long camping trips with her parents. That had stopped after her mom had passed away, though. Her dad had always claimed that he just enjoyed the comforts of modern life too much to want to sleep in a tent, but she’d always suspected that actually the wilderness reminded him too much of what he’d lost.
As an adult, she’d always gone out hiking whenever she could, but that had all come to an end with Beth’s arrival. This was the closest she’d gotten to nature for a long time. Something inside her seemed to uncurl, stretching out like a flower unfurling to greet the sun.
A flash of movement at the edge of the forest caught her eye. Something was picking its way through the undergrowth, pale coat glimmering in the mottled shafts of sunlight.
A deer? A white deer? She held very still, though her heart beat harder in excitement. White animals held special meaning to Lakota, like they did to many other tribes. To see a white deer on her first morning here felt like a sign—an affirmation that she was on the right path.
She could sorely use a bit of reassurance on that point. She held her breath, silently entreating the deer to step forward just a little bit more, so she could see it properly.
As if it had heard her, it picked its way out of the forest, placing every hoof as delicately as a dancer. It was small—bigger than a fawn, but still with the adorable gangliness of youth. Its coat was pure white, without a single blemish. Against the gold and greens of the forest, it shone like a star.
It turned its head, seeming to meet her eyes through the window. It pricked up its small, pointed ears.
It wasn’t a deer.
Diana stared. She rubbed her eyes, and looked again.
