Memories: A Husband to RememberNew Year's Daddy (Hqn)

by Lisa Jackson

  “Why’ve you got crutches?” Kurt asked, obviously in awe of the other boy.

  “Fell down skiing. On the mountain.”

  “Can I try ’em?” Kurt was on his feet in an instant, the plastic blocks forgotten.

  Bryan glanced at Ronni and his father with the worried look of someone who’s looking for a means—any means—of escape. “A teenage boy’s nightmare,” Ronni said, watching the exchange. Even Amy gave up decorating cookies and scurried into the living room where she planted herself near Bryan, as if staking her claim.

  “How about some coffee?” Ronni offered.

  “I can only stay a minute.”

  “Oh?”

  “Bryan and I were talking. He’d like to take some skiing lessons or...snowboarding lessons, either alone or with a group of kids his age when he gets better—probably next season unfortunately—and I suggested you or someone you know.”

  “I don’t know how good I am with a board,” she admitted. “I’ve only tried it a couple of times and I wasn’t that great, but I can get him in touch with someone up on the mountain who’s worked with kids and could place him in the right class.”

  “Would you?” Travis said, seeming relieved. “I’d like him to meet some boys his age.”

  “No problem.”

  “Thanks.” He shifted restlessly from one foot to the other and then, casting a look at the kids to see that they were all occupied, he grabbed Ronni by the crook of the elbow and shepherded her onto the back porch. The horses were huddled together near the fence line and a solitary hawk swooped through the sky, but otherwise the day was still. “Look,” he said once they were alone outside, “I know I blew it the other night. I pushed too hard. I thought—er, I was hoping...oh, hell, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say here.” Frowning, his eyebrows beetling over his steady eyes, he cleared his throat. “I thought maybe there was a chance that we could start over.”

  “Start over?” she repeated, curling her hands over the railing and staring at the snow-covered remains of her vegetable garden. A soft mist gathered in the trees and a few solitary flakes fell from the darkening sky. “You mean, go back to square one?”

  “I wish I knew what I meant.” Impatiently, he shoved a hand through his hair and muttered something unintelligible.

  “Let me guess,” she suggested, unable to resist goading him. “You want to be friends? You know, wave when we meet at the mail box, feed each other’s pets when one of us is out of town, work out the fence line and...oooh!”

  He yanked her close to him and this time she knew she’d pushed him too far. His mouth was razor thin, his speech clipped with a patience that seemed to forever elude him. “What I want, lady,” he said, the intensity of his stare laser bright, the fingers of his hand curved over her forearm in a white-knuckled grip, “is downright indecent. If you want to know the truth, what I want is to kiss you until you can’t think straight and then carry you to bed so that I can make love to you all night long.” His expression was stark with strain, his skin stretched tight over high, bladed cheekbones and there was a desperation in his voice that he failed to hide. “What I want, very simply put, is you. All of you.”

  Ronni’s throat went dry and she tried to back away, but he caught her and squeezed her up against the door. “Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I’ve wanted you and I’ve tried to be patient and play the game, be the friendly neighbor, but it’s just not my nature and—” he gazed at her lips so hard that she licked them nervously “—and you seem to have a way of bringing out the worst in me.” Before she could argue, he pressed the length of his body against hers and kissed her with a fever that spread from his lips to hers and slid through her bloodstream to melt her very bones.

  Breathing was difficult, pulling away impossible and she gave in to the hot impulses that fired her blood. She sagged against him, and as desperately as a starving person, she kissed him back, her pulse thundering in her ears, her breathing ragged and short. Her arms wound around his neck of their own accord and when he fit his legs between hers, his fly rubbing against hers, she felt a warmth begin to flow.

  Somewhere in the distance bells began to ring and Ronni was vaguely aware of the noise. Travis lifted his head and cocked it to the side.

  Another sharp ring and the scramble of anxious feet on the hardwood floor as she heard Amy race for the phone.

  “Expecting a call?”

  “No—” Shelly! “Oh, yes. It could be news about my sister.”

  It was. Victor, still at the hospital, was on the other end of the line and he gave her the sketchy news—that Shelly was all right, though still spotting. The doctor had ordered her to bed, no work, no frantic Christmas shopping and complete rest until the crisis resolved itself. There was still a chance she could lose the baby, early as it was in her pregnancy, but if she took care of herself, the risk was lessened.

  “The boys will stay here.” Ronni decided when Vic finished telling her as many details as he could remember. What she was going to do with two rowdy six-year-olds she wasn’t certain, but somehow she’d figure it out.

  “Oh, no, I can handle ’em,” Vic told her. “They’ll be with me at the lot and when I need a break, Mandy, our neighbor—she’s divorced, you know—offered to help out. I figure we can trade off. I’ll stack some cordwood for her and fix her kids’ bikes in trade.”

  “But the boys are more than welcome here,” Ronni insisted.

  “I know, I know, and believe me I’ll probably be askin’ for your help, but now that Shelly’s...well, laid up, you won’t have a secretary or worker in the warehouse and you’ve already got your end of the business, the ski patrol and Amy and...Lord, girl, I think you’re plate’s about full, as it is.”

  “But Shelly—”

  “She’s right here. Hang on.”

  A few seconds later, Shelly’s voice, filled with a falsely cheery ring, sang over the wires. “How are the boys? Have they worn you out yet?”

  “Don’t worry about them. How are you?” Ronni wound the cord in her fingers and glanced at Travis who had walked into the living room and was having a discussion with his son.

  “I’ll be fine. It’s just the baby—they’re not sure if, well...if I can go to term or even to the next trimester.” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “It’s scary, Ronni,” she admitted. “I know this baby wasn’t planned and it’s poor timing and everything but—”

  “Shh. It’s all right. The baby’s going to be fine.”

  “I hope so,” she whispered. “Anyway, I’m just about on my way home. Vic will come by and get the boys—”

  “No way. Tonight they’re staying here. We’ll talk more tomorrow morning. Go home and take it easy, Shell. You can call me when you’re awake.”

  Shelly started to cry and Ronni wished she could console her sister. Obviously Shelly was worried sick and Ronni, too, felt a dull ache in the middle of her belly, a pain that she could only describe as dread.

  “Problems?” Travis said once she’d hung up. She felt cold to the bone and rubbed her arms to shake the chill that had started in the middle of her heart.

  “A few.” She gave him a sketchy rundown of what was happening in her sister’s life including Shelly’s pregnancy and worries about having to move in order for Vic to find a steady job. All the while Ronni tried to keep her voice low enough so as not to be overheard by the boys.

  While she spoke, Travis found a mug in the cupboard near the refrigerator and poured her a cup of coffee. “I could help,” he offered, handing her the steaming brew.

  “You? How?”

  “Well, not with the baby, obviously. That’s up to the doctors and nature. But Vic could work for me.”

  Ronni leveled him a look that was meant to convey, Don’t tease me on this one, Keegan.

  “I’m serious.” H
e poured the remains of the coffeepot into a cup and snagged a finished cookie from the drying rack.

  Sighing across the top of her mug, she said, “I’ve seen the equipment you’ve got set up. Vic wouldn’t know a fax machine from a word processor, and as for linking up to the Internet, forget it. He’s a sawmill man. Born and bred for generations. He’s not a three-piece suit kind of guy.”

  “I was talking about helping me get the house renovated and updated. I’ve had to hire contractors and subs for the tough jobs that require a lot of expertise and licenses and such, but there’s a lot of work that I’d hoped I could share with Bryan which isn’t going to happen for a while—at least not until he’s off crutches—and some of the jobs won’t wait.”

  She wavered as she sipped her coffee. It slid in a warm path to her stomach and chased away some of the cold fear that had settled there. Travis was offering a much-needed helping hand to a man he barely knew. “Vic’s proud, almost to a fault. He won’t want your pity or accept anything he construes as a handout.”

  “I think that can be managed,” Travis replied, a mischievous light gleaming in his eyes. “Would you feel better if I promised to work off his behind?”

  “Not me, but Victor would. A proud, stubborn, hardheaded man, that one,” she said as if to herself, but inside, the wheels of her mind were turning ever-faster. Travis’s plan might just work. Business at the tree lot had slowed. With only a week before Christmas, sales had fallen off drastically and it was only a matter of days before her brother-in-law would be unemployed again. Tilting her face up, she eyed this complex man who could be hard-hearted and seemingly ruthless one minute, compassionate the next, and sexy as all get out, to boot.

  “You don’t know Vic.”

  “I met him the other night. Seemed conscientious enough to me—personable to the customers at the tree lot and someone who wasn’t afraid of hard work. Unless he was just putting on a show for me by delivering the tree and sticking around to see that it fit into the stand.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Then he’s got a job if he wants one.”

  She was stunned. “That’s how you hire people? From meeting them once?”

  A small smile twisted his lips. “It’s one way. When you can’t get a résumé or don’t have time to do background checks, then you have to rely on gut instinct.” He lifted one shoulder. “Usually, it’s right on.”

  “Oh?”

  “It was right about you.”

  She squinted up at him. “How’s that?”

  “Pretty. Intelligent. Serious, with a wild side that needs to be explored.”

  “Oh, right,” she mocked just as Kurt, struggling on tiptoe, crutches stretched out in front of him to accommodate his small size, fell into the room. He let out a yelp, then held his tongue as his brother, who was forever getting the short end of the stick, in Ronni’s estimation, started to laugh.

  “Kurt! Oh, be careful,” she admonished, then picked up her nephew and hugged him. For all his bravado, he was just a little boy and he sniffed loudly, though she suspected his pride was injured more than any part of his body.

  Bryan sent his father a baleful look and Travis took the hint. “I promised Bryan he could rent some movies this afternoon.”

  “What? And give up entertaining the troops?” she said with a teasing grin. “I can’t imagine why he’d want to do that.”

  Travis was suddenly sober, his eyes dark with emotion, his voice low enough so as not to be heard over the television. “It’s all part of our new deal—peace treaty really. Bryan’s agreed to spend the rest of the school year here, with me, then if things don’t work out, he’s moving to Europe to be with his mother.”

  “Oh, Travis.” She read the pain in his eyes and knew that only a child could wound so deeply.

  “I just hope he gives Cascadia a chance,” he said, finishing his coffee. “Come on, Bryan, we’ve got money to spend at the video store.” In an aside to Ronni, he added, “I could take the rest of the kids, too, if you want to go visit your sister for a while.”

  The truth of the matter was that she was itching to see Shelly, but she wasn’t about to dump the load of kids on Travis. “I’ll see her in the morning,” she answered. “She needs to rest now and we’ve—that’s a collective we, meaning the children as well as me—have a kitchen to clean.”

  “I’ll call Vic,” Travis promised. “Now, about those lessons?”

  At that point, Bryan hobbled over to the front door.

  “When do you get off the sticks?” Ronni asked.

  “Probably next Monday,” Bryan answered curtly.

  “Two days before Christmas? Good.”

  “Yeah and I’m gonna try snowboarding that day!”

  “I don’t think so,” Travis said.

  “I’m not waiting a year!” Bryan insisted, glowering. “No way.”

  “We’ll see what the doctor says. Hopefully snowboarding will be better on your knees. There’s less chance of reinjuring yourself when you get good enough not to fall all the time. The problem with learning something new is that you’re bound to fall over and over again. When you fall and lose control, that’s when there’s the danger of reinjury.”

  “Not me. You don’t know, I could have a natural ability,” Bryan said.

  “It’s possible, I suppose, but my guess is that you might land on your backside more often than not on the first day,” Travis told him, setting his empty cup in the sink.

  Bryan rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t forget what I promised about the horses,” Ronni said, hoping to cheer the boy. “Anytime you’re ready.”

  “I’ll see you later,” Travis said, touching her arm in a familiar gesture that caused her pulse to race.

  “I’d like that,” she admitted, surprised at her reaction. How could this man she barely knew make her heart thunder, her mind wander to long-forgotten fantasies, her lips curve into a smile? She wondered fleetingly if she was falling in love, then gave herself a quick mental shake. Love was an emotion that had to be nurtured over the years, that came with respect and trust. No, what she was feeling was lust—basic primal chemistry between a man and a woman. Travis was a sexy man with an easy smile, quick wit and quiet charm. She’d just been too long without a man—that was all there was to it. Nothing more. She stood on the porch, letting the cold winter air swirl around her as she watched him drive away. Silly though it was, he seemed to take a piece of her heart with him.

  * * *

  “I’m going to be fine and the baby’s going to be fine, too. Just quit worrying,” Shelly scolded from her worn plaid couch. From her position, she had a clear view of the side yard and the swing set where all three kids, despite the snow, were playing. Dressed in snowsuits, boots and stocking hats, they ran in crazy circles around the slide and teeter-totter.

  “Worrying is what I do best,” Ronni admitted as she set a red poinsettia on the coffee table near the platter of cookies the kids had baked.

  “This is too much, you shouldn’t have,” Shelly protested, but she smiled as she fingered a silky scarlet petal.

  “No way.”

  “It’s not as if I can’t do anything for myself, you know.”

  “I know, I know, but let me pamper you, okay?” Ronni hesitated at the front door. “Besides, I owe you. There was a time when I was a basket case. If it wasn’t for you and Vic, I don’t know what Amy and I would have done,” she said, her heart squeezing when she remembered how Shelly, mother of two rambunctious two-year-olds, had put her own life on hold to help Ronni find herself in those brutal, dark days after Hank was killed. Vic, too, had stepped in awkwardly to provide whatever emotional support he could. “You just stay there on the couch for a second while I put a few things together,” Ronni said.

  She made a trip to the car and carr
ied in a casserole dish filled with meat loaf and potatoes. After setting the timer and temperature, she shoved the dish into Shelly’s small oven on timed bake. “That should do it. There’s a green salad in the fridge, rolls in this basket and a chocolate cake on the counter.”

  “You’re too much,” Shelly said, her voice clogged with emotion.

  “I just want you to get better and, with that in mind, I brought you my own special brand of medicine.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Oh, believe me, you’ll love it.” She ran out to the car and returned with the latest edition of Shelly’s favorite movie magazine.

  “You know my weakness,” Shelly said, her eyes crinkling at the corners in delight. She’d given up her subscription when Victor had first been laid off.

  Ronni handed her the slick magazine and sat on the corner of the coffee table. “Now, the truth, how are you feeling?”

  Absently, Shelly thumbed the magazine, then looked across the room to a spot only she could see. “The truth?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Okay, I’m scared. I hate to admit it, but I am. I want this baby desperately but I can’t afford to be off my feet, and Vic—he needs me healthy. He’s coming around, though. The thought of losing the baby frightens him.” She glanced down at the magazine cover with a picture of one of her favorite stars. “He’s made a couple of calls to guys he knows who moved to California, because once the tree lot closes, he’s out of work and his unemployment benefits ran out a long time ago.” She let out a long sigh. “It’s just a rough time right now, but I tell myself that we’re all healthy—well, everyone else is, and this—” she motioned toward her belly “—it’s in God’s hands now, I guess.”

  “I might know of a job,” Ronni ventured, unable to hold her tongue.

  “For Vic? Around here?”

  She hated the hopeful sound in her sister’s voice. “I talked to Travis Keegan last night. He came over in the middle of our cookie-baking adventure.” She went on to describe most of her conversation with Travis and Shelly’s eyebrows drew together in concentration.