by Jill Gregory
Sophie turned, peered down the hall. “What room are they in?”
“Two-oh-four.”
She studied it, foolishly willing Tommy to come out with a relieved smile on his broad face, to tell them that Lissie and the baby were perfect. But, of course, he didn’t. The glum, beige hallway was deserted, save for a nurse reading a patient chart outside a room at the end of the hall.
Ivy looked ready to burst into tears as Sophie slipped into a chair beside her. “Everything’s going to be all right, you know. This might not be anything serious at all.”
“Do you really think that?” Ivy’s eleven-year-old eyes peered into hers, searching for truth. “Or are you just telling me that because I’m a kid and you don’t want me to cry?”
“There’s nothing to cry about yet. And hopefully there won’t be.” Sophie kept her tone positive. “My friend Rosie went into premature labor with her son, Oliver. He was born a month early, but he was perfect. And Rosie was fine. Want to see a picture of him?”
As Ivy nodded, a gleam of hope in her eyes, Sophie flipped through the photos on her phone. Rosie had been her manager at Sweet Sensations, and her son, Oliver, was now two.
“He’s so cute!” Ivy stared at Oliver’s eighteen-month picture. The little boy with the stick-straight black hair and dark eyes was perched on a miniature red truck, a toy football clutched in his chubby hands.
“Your little cousin’s going to be every bit as cute.” Sophie tucked her phone away. The longer she kept Ivy talking, the less time the girl would have to worry. “Did you get her a shower gift yet?”
“I can’t decide what to buy.”
“Walmart carries some adorable mobiles. Or you can order one online. There’s a great website called BabyBaby you should check out. I’ll write the addy down for you.” She dug in her purse for her note pad and pen. “I bought one for my friend Susan. It had ten tiny painted-wood puppies dangling from it. If that’s not cute, I don’t know what is.”
She’s good, Rafe thought, watching as he leaned against the wall near the magazine rack. He’d wanted to comfort his daughter, but he hadn’t known the right things to say. Sophie seemed to be getting it right. Reassure and distract. She did it effortlessly.
She’d succeeded in talking Ivy down from full panic mode. Hell, she might even have calmed him down too, except that he’d heard the fear in Tommy’s voice on the phone, along with Lissie’s muffled sobs in the background. A knot of worry tore through his gut.
It tightened painfully as Ivy suddenly looked down, and he saw her lips trembling.
“Ivy, don’t forget how tough your Aunt Lissie is,” he said quickly. “She had to be, growing up with me and Uncle Travis and Uncle Jake for brothers.”
“Aunt Liss promised I could babysit when I turn thirteen.” Ivy’s voice sounded muffled. “But right now I don’t even care if she lets me. I just want to have a baby cousin. I want her to be born and to be okay.” She stopped, drew a ragged breath.
“She will be okay,” Sophie said. “She’ll be great. Scares like this happen, they’re not all that uncommon. And everything usually works out fine. Little babies—and their mothers—are much stronger than most people think.”
“They are?” Ivy searched her face again, doubtful. Then peered at her father. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah.” Rafe cast about frantically in his mind. “Did I ever tell you about Uncle Travis, when he was born?” Easing into a chair at the table across from her, he covered Ivy’s small hand with his big one. “He was two months premature. He came out a tiny, wrinkled, bawling little squirt no bigger than my fist, and he had to stay in the hospital a spell before they’d let him come home. But he toughed it out. And look at him now.”
“He’s as big as you, Dad.”
“Almost as big as me,” he corrected, with a grin. “He’s only six-one, the runt of the litter. But we kept him anyway.”
Ivy laughed through the tears glimmering in her eyes.
“Girls can be tough too,” she said shakily.
“Don’t I know it.” Rafe spoke lightly, but Sophie heard something more in his voice—tenderness. And she realized as he looked across the table at his daughter that he was talking about her. Ivy’s toughness.
Ivy had toughed out her mother leaving her. Leaving them both.
What must that have felt like? she wondered with a wrench of her heart. Her own father, despite all of his strictness and demands—and his cheating—had loved his family in his own hard-ass way, stayed with them, and would have continued to stay with them even after his infidelity was uncovered, if her mother had allowed it.
And her mother . . . Well, her mother had always been there for her and Wes, a gentle buttress, offering a soft smile and steady, encouraging words whenever Hoot’s expectations seemed impossibly harsh.
But to have one of them leave? On purpose, and not come back?
Sophie knew what it felt like to be left. The pain of what Ned had done to her still ripped through her like a hawk’s claws—and she was an adult.
Ivy had been a young child when her mother vanished from her life.
She couldn’t even begin to comprehend that kind of shock and loss.
But fortunately for Ivy, she had Rafe. He was a very different sort of father than Hoot had been to his children. As worried as Rafe was about Lissie right now, his entire focus was Ivy. Reassuring and encouraging her, trying to take her mind off what might be happening in room 204.
She took a breath, saying a silent prayer for Lissie and the baby. And she said more as another hour passed.
Why hadn’t anyone come out to tell them what was happening? She was trying not to read too much into that when she looked up and saw Tommy striding down the hall toward the waiting room. Sophie’s heart constricted at the raw tension in his face.
“Lissie’s doing okay,” he said immediately as they all jumped to their feet.
“The baby?” Rafe asked.
“Fine—for the moment.” He swallowed hard. “The doctors think that damned fall might have brought on early labor. They’ve given Lissie some meds, which they hope will stop it. We’ll see. We’ll know more in a few hours.”
“When can Aunt Liss go home?” Ivy asked in a small voice.
“Maybe in a couple of hours, honey, once the meds start to work. With any luck, sometime tonight. She’s going to need a lot of bed rest though.”
“I’ll come and help,” Ivy said quickly.
“So will I,” Sophie added.
“What about that fall she took?” Rafe still looked worried. “She break anything?”
“Only her pride.” Tommy drew a breath and grinned with the look of a man who’d been through a meat grinder and came out in one piece on the other side. “Don’t be scared,” he told Ivy. “It seems like the docs have this under control.”
Sophie felt relief as powerful as a northern gale sweep through her. It was all she could do to hold back tears of gratitude and relief.
“When can we see her?” she asked.
“Now. But only two at a time, that’s what Doc Laughlin said. She’s worn out, her hip is bruised, and she needs to rest. She . . .” He shook his head, and sighed. “I’ve never seen Lissie look so drained. But I know it’ll do her good to see all of you.”
Ivy bolted toward the door. “Come on, Dad, what are you waiting for?”
But Rafe held back. He glanced at Sophie. “Why don’t you go in first. I’ll wait and take the next round.”
The unexpected kindness took her by surprise. But it wasn’t right. He and Ivy should see Lissie first—they were family.
“Go in with Ivy.” Her eyes met his. “Now that I know Lissie’s all right, I can wait.”
He nodded but didn’t follow Ivy immediately. He held her gaze for a moment, and Sophie felt a rush of warmth. She was the first to turn away, picking up her purse and slinging it over her shoulder.
Her emotions were running too high. She needed to get herself under control. When she l
ooked up, Rafe had joined Ivy in the hall and they hurried toward Lissie’s room.
Sophie thought she was fine, but when she looked at Tommy, and no one else was around, suddenly the tears that had been threatening sprang to her eyes.
“Go ahead and cry.” Tommy hugged her. “I’d cry too, but if Lissie sees me bawling, she’ll think something more is wrong and that I haven’t told her the whole deal. So I gotta hang tough.”
Sophie blotted her tears with her fingers. “You’re doing better than me. Thank God they’re both all right.” She hugged him back. “Tell you what—I’ll come by later tonight and bring supper for the two of you. And I’m available tomorrow to keep her company and make sure she stays off her feet. Whatever you need.”
“You don’t have to do that, Sophie.”
“I want to. I’m going to leave now so the three of you can visit more with her. Tell Lissie I’ll see her tonight.”
“But—”
“No buts.” Sophie was already out the door. She turned and sent Tommy a watery smile before heading for the elevator.
Riding down to the first floor, she thought again about Rafe telling Ivy about Travis’s birth. She had to admit that despite all of her reservations about him, he was a great father. He was impressively attuned to Ivy’s moods and needs, as much as any father could be with a girl on the verge of adolescence. And he was a good brother to Lissie too, she reflected as she raced outside to the hospital parking lot.
Which suddenly made her think of Wes. He’d moved away so long ago, she barely remembered what it was like to have a brother. Wes had come in for her wedding to Ned, but it had been touch-and-go up until the last minute as to whether or not he’d really show, since their father had been attending, and Wes couldn’t stand being in the same room as Hoot.
And she hadn’t seen Wes since that day. He popped her an occasional e-mail. Very occasional. But he wasn’t exactly in her life and didn’t seem to care that she wasn’t in his.
He called their mother about once a month, she’d heard. And that was it.
Sophie shook off the sense of loneliness that suddenly enveloped her as she remembered things were strained with her mom right now too. As she put the Blazer in gear and headed toward the parking lot exit, she reminded herself that Lissie was okay, the baby was okay, and that was all that mattered at the moment.
So what if her own family was a mess? They’d always been a bit of a mess. Whose family wasn’t?
But she kept thinking back to the gentleness Rafe had shown toward Ivy. She could still see the tenderness she’d glimpsed in his eyes as he spoke to her.
That tenderness didn’t fit with the image she’d always held of him. Not at all. Even though she’d been revising that image slightly ever since the night in the Double Cross, the discrepancy unnerved her. So he wasn’t the same reckless, immature boy who’d seduced every girl in sight and chased her and Lissie out of the barn with ferocious threats years ago—that didn’t make him Prince Charming. It didn’t make him someone she ought to be thinking about—even as a friend.
He was kryptonite—at least, he was for her. She’d always had a crush on Rafe Tanner and maybe she always would.
Which was why she needed to stay far away from him.
And she promised herself she would.
Buck Crenshaw tossed a glowing cigarette butt out his window as he waited for the light at Main and Third to change.
He’d been sent to town to buy feed and lumber for the Hanging W ranch and had taken a little detour to grab a beer at the Lucky Punch Saloon on his way. No one needed to know how long his errands had taken. So what if he was blowing off an extra hour of work? They weren’t paying him enough for all the crap he did in a day.
So he was in the right place at the right time to see Sophie McPhee’s Blazer cruise through the green light while he waited on the red.
She was headed toward the south edge of town.
Hoot McPhee’s stuck-up daughter never even noticed him. Why would she? He was a nobody, a lowly scumbag ranch hand. She was the rich, snotty brat of a man he loathed even more than his own father.
On impulse, he jerked the steering wheel sharply and followed her. Not too close—it wouldn’t be a good thing for her to see him. But he was curious where she was going.
He tapped out another cigarette and squinted at his watch. No one would know he was following the McPhee bitch on the Hanging W’s dime. It sure as hell beat going back to that dammed ranch and doing shit work along with all the losers on that crew.
The truth was, he’d never meant to shove Wade Holden into the McPhee woman that night at the Double Cross. It had been a total accident—and he hadn’t even recognized her until afterward.
But did Rafe Tanner give him the benefit of the doubt? No way. Just like Tanner hadn’t given him the benefit of the doubt before cutting him loose from Sage Ranch.
Maybe he’d made a couple of mistakes, but who didn’t? So he’d left the fucking push broom lying across the barn floor. Nobody died. The horses were all fine. And even if some horse did get hurt, have to be put down, Tanner could afford it. He’d just buy another one.
The thing was, Tanner had it in for him.
Well, payback time would come. Tanner would pay one of these days for firing him, and for what had happened last week at the Double Cross.
But how do I pay back a dead man? Buck wondered sourly, taking a deep drag on the cigarette. His fingers drummed on the steering wheel. He’d been too young back when Hoot McPhee was alive to kick his ass. He hadn’t been stupid enough to try.
But now . . .
He was old enough to stand up for himself and kick some McPhee butt. Only Hoot wasn’t around.
But his pretty little daughter sure was. And if Hoot McPhee was watching from his private little spot in hell, he wouldn’t like it one bit. And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
Buck pulled into a space half a block back when she parked near the Lonesome Circle apartments and sashayed her way inside the front entrance without so much as glancing around.
When opportunity knocks, you answer it. Isn’t that what his ma had always told him?
With the cigarette dangling from his lips, he waited, watching until old Hoot’s girl came out of that apartment building again. Now she was holding the leash of some stupid little dog.
He waited some more, thinking, thinking hard. He sat there until she got in her rig and drove away. Then he flung the butt out the window and grunted.
Hoot, old man, payback starts now. And it’s a bitch.
Chapter Ten
Sophie found a note from her mother on the kitchen table when she arrived home.
Having supper in Bozeman. Pot roast in fridge. Won’t be late.
Sophie knew exactly who she must be having supper with in Bozeman. But her mom still couldn’t bring herself to mention Doug Hartigan’s name to her.
That says something right there, she thought, and tossed the note in the trash.
Unloading the groceries she’d bought for Lissie and Tommy’s supper, she realized that they’d need to hash this whole thing out sooner rather than later. But it wouldn’t be an easy conversation. She had no right to dictate to her mother who she could or couldn’t date, but it was impossible to understand what her mom saw in that stick-up-his-butt geometry teacher—or how she could have any kind of feelings for a man who’d made Sophie’s junior year of high school a raging hell.
Her mom knew everything she’d gone through trying to pass Geometry. And she knew just what a rock and a hard place Hartigan had placed her in.
He hadn’t shown any sympathy for her struggle to master his favorite subject, and her father had for a long time refused to accept her nearly failing grade as evidence of anything but slacking off.
Sure, her mom had hired a tutor to try to help her get by. She’d even gone to school to talk to Hartigan about how hard Sophie was working—not that it had done any good.
Was that when this all
started? she wondered suddenly, going still as a stone as she was about to pour kibble in Tidbit’s bowl. Had her mom become attracted to Doug Hartigan all the way back when Sophie was in high school?
No, it couldn’t be. Bad enough her father had cheated—her mother wasn’t the type. Diana had been the peacemaker in the family, the one who tried to balance out the rough edges and soften the harsh standards of a demanding husband and father.
Despite all of Hoot’s flaws, including his relentless toughness, he’d loved them all—her mother, Wes, and Sophie. And her mother had loved him back. Sophie had seen that, seen the love between them.
But what the hell did her mother see in Doug Hartigan?
Sophie’s brows knit in frustration as she tossed together a salad for Lissie and Tommy, then spooned a light Dijon sauce over chicken breasts before sliding them into the oven to bake alongside a pan of rosemary potatoes.
She didn’t linger long after delivering the meal. She stayed only long enough to reassure herself that Lissie was all right. Tommy told her the meds were working, and the contractions had stopped. Lissie looked wan and exhausted in the big king-sized bed, but she’d managed a tired smile when Sophie hugged her and smoothed her hair back from her face.
Still, it was dark as she headed home, Tidbit on the passenger seat beside her, only a misty half-moon swimming in the star-studded vastness of a purple sky. Night had brought shockingly cold air sweeping down from the Crazies, a biting reminder that summer was on its way out the door.
Sophie didn’t know if her mom would be back from her date yet, but if she wasn’t and hadn’t already lit a fire, Sophie intended to do that straight off, before getting to work.
Her to-do list was nearly as long as Squirrel Road and included writing up a final menu for the bakery’s opening week, checking on delivery of all her ingredients and the additional bakeware and mixing bowls she still needed, interviewing Karla Sommers, and a dozen other tasks. She was so engrossed in reviewing everything that still had to be done that she didn’t even notice anything wrong until there was a jolt that made her hands tighten on the steering wheel.
