Expecting His Brother's Baby (Baby Bonds #3)

by Karen Rose Smith

  She was giving in to what he had decided was best after he’d returned. So why was he unsettled by the idea? It didn’t matter. It was a solution.

  Chapter Seven

  “There it is,” Garrett said, talking into his headset so Brock could hear him in spite of the Skyhawk’s engine noise.

  Saddle Ridge stretched out below, acres and acres and acres of it.

  When Garrett had phoned Brock on Wednesday afternoon and asked if he wanted to drive out to the hangar to see the Skyhawk, Brock had accepted the offer, deciding he could use some male companionship his own age. Dix was great, but sometimes they seemed worlds apart.

  After Brock had arrived at the hangar and looked over the plane, Garrett had asked if he wanted to go up.

  Recognizing landmarks, the curves and twists of Mustang Creek, the stands of Russian olive trees and cottonwoods on the north sections, the windmill not far from a fence line weathered more than some of the others, Brock told Garrett, “Those are the sections she’s planning to sell.”

  “Whoever buys that property will have a great view of the Painted Peaks.”

  Brock knew the property was prime real estate. He just hoped whoever developed it designed houses worthy of their surroundings. “You live in the foothills, don’t you?”

  “Sure do. You’ll have to drive over sometime to see the place. Come spring, we’re putting on that addition.”

  The two men were silent a few moments, taking in the purple and red hues of the mountains, the winter wheat, the sections employed for grazing cattle, others for sugar beets.

  “Are you coming to my wedding?” Garrett asked. “You’re invited.”

  “Thanks. Kylie mentioned Gwen said I could come along. Are you getting nervous?”

  “Nah. Not this time. But it’s Gwen that makes the difference, not the fact that I’m getting married again. I know this is right.”

  After a thoughtful moment, Brock asked, “You weren’t sure the first time?”

  “I’m not sure what I was the first time. Maybe I simply thought it was time to settle down. Maybe I was tired of sleeping alone. Whatever the case, I didn’t really know Cheryl. How about you? Gwen mentioned you’re divorced. Did you think it was right when you got married?”

  “When I married Marta, the pieces seemed to fit. We were in the same line of work. I thought that mattered.”

  “It didn’t?”

  “Not in a crucial way. In fact, it masked the differences between us.”

  “I can see how that would happen. When you meet, when you’re getting to know each other better, you’d have work to talk about. Other subjects might not come up.”

  “Exactly.”

  After both men spent the next few minutes examining the landscape, Garrett remarked, “I was years ahead of you in school. Did you play sports?”

  “No. Jack, my father, believed working on Saddle Ridge was better than any sport.” At least for Brock. While he had done chores, Alex had practiced roping calves or cutting cows. At least on weekends, Jack had let Brock work the horses, and that’s what he’d liked to do best.

  “This is a tough time for Kylie,” Garrett commented. “But she’s one strong lady.”

  “Too strong sometimes,” Brock muttered.

  Garrett cast him a quick glance. “I think Gwen and Shaye and Kylie have helped foster that quality in each other. They’re tight. I didn’t understand it when I first met Gwen, but now I do. I don’t think men form that kind of bond.”

  “I have friends I know I can count on, but you’re right. I think Gwen and Kylie and Shaye are more sisters than Alex and I were ever brothers.”

  “I don’t have brothers or sisters. Gwen’s the only person I ever felt an immediate connection with. That connection has grown stronger every day since.”

  Brock had always felt a connection with Kylie. “Are you going on a honeymoon?” Brock asked.

  “Just a short one for now. We’re flying to Las Vegas until the day after New Year’s. Commercial flight,” he added with a smile. “Gwen gets antsy when she’s away from Tiffany and Amy too long. She has Shaye on call in case Tiffany needs something.”

  “We’re around, too,” Brock offered, then wondered why it seemed so natural to say it.

  “Thanks. Gwen will appreciate knowing that.”

  The Skyhawk was headed west now and Brock picked up the binoculars he’d brought along, putting them to his eyes.

  “Looking for something in particular?”

  “Teepee rings near the watering tank—the stones that held the covers of the teepees to the ground. Hunting parties would watch for buffalo, deer and elk.”

  “And these rings survived?”

  “For the most part. In the winter you can usually see them. There,” Brock said, pointing to almost indistinguishable rock circles.

  As Garrett banked the plane and came around to fly over them once more, Brock was suddenly glad Kylie felt the way she did about Saddle Ridge. Another woman might sell the whole place to a developer without thinking twice. That shouldn’t bother him, but it did. He liked the idea that those rings might be there for another hundred years. He’d always been viscerally pulled toward them. When Jack made him feel as if he were an outsider, Brock had ridden to them, as if they were a shrine to his heritage. And, maybe they were.

  Right now they signified the circle he had to complete. When he’d left Saddle Ridge the first time, he’d been escaping, willing to make a life anywhere but here. This time, when he left, he’d do so without regrets.

  That’s why he had to stay away from Kylie.

  He’d make sure Saddle Ridge was on the road to prosperity again, so he could leave in peace.

  Kylie was sitting in the craft room at the table busily stitching a crocheted donkey’s head to its body when Brock came home. She’d heard the truck on the gravel outside. She’d heard the front door open and close. She’d heard his boots on the steps. As soon as he stood in the doorway, watching her, she was aware of him there, too.

  They’d stayed out of each other’s way since they’d kissed, obviously uncomfortable with what had happened between them. She’d told herself she’d been susceptible to their attraction because she was insecure about her attractiveness, because Alex’s betrayal had dented any confidence she had as a woman. Deep down, though, she knew none of that was true. Her feelings for Brock, even as a teenager, had gone deep and maybe now she was just realizing how deep.

  She saw he’d brought the mail in from the end of the lane. “Anything important?”

  “I don’t think so. I just looked through it briefly while I was carrying it up.” He nodded to the donkey in her hands. “If you get the kind of money I think you will for that land, you can buy Timmy and Amy anything you want for Christmas.”

  “I don’t count my chickens before they’re hatched,” she quipped. “How did you like Garrett’s plane?”

  “I got the same feeling up in the plane that I get when I’m racing Rambo across the south pasture. The plane’s older. It was his dad’s. But he’s kept it in great condition.”

  So she wouldn’t forget what she was about—Brock had the habit of making her do that—she dipped the needle into the yarn one last time, knotted it and snipped it with her sewing scissors. Then she set the grey, fuzzy stuffed animal on the table.

  Brock laid a stack of mail beside it. The corner of an oversized brown envelope shifted and she read the address. It was from the motel where Alex had stayed during his last rodeo.

  “What’s wrong?” Brock must have seen some change in her, and she felt the change in herself.

  Her fingers were a bit quivery as she picked it up. “The return address. That’s the motel in Las Vegas where Alex stayed. I spoke to the motel manager after Alex’s accident. He sent all of his belongings here to me.”

  “You won’t know what’s in the envelope until you open it.”

  That was practical reasoning. She pinched the clip on the manila envelope, then slipped a finger under
the flap to tear it open. Inside, she found a smaller manila envelope with a piece of hotel stationery clipped to it. The note read:

  Dear Mrs. Warner,

  A maid found the enclosed papers stuck in back of the desk drawer in the room your husband occupied. Obviously, our customers don’t normally use the desks, or our maids don’t clean very well, or this would have come to light sooner. All of us here at the Westward Ho send our condolences once more.

  Sincerely,

  Joe Conroy

  “A maid found these in the back of the desk drawer in the room where Alex stayed,” she explained.

  Quickly now, she opened the flap of the second envelope and reached inside. There wasn’t much—a promotional brochure describing the rodeo Alex had participated in. It was a tri-fold flyer and inside the first flap were two other items. One was a receipt from Alex’s entrance fee. The other was a plain white envelope. Opening it, Kylie expected to find ticket stubs or something like that. Instead, she found a piece of hotel stationery folded in half. Her name stared up at her from the first line…in Alex’s handwriting.

  “It’s from Alex to me,” she murmured, her voice a low whisper.

  “A letter he never sent?”

  “I guess. It only looks half-finished.” She began to read.

  Kylie,

  Because I’m here for a week, I decided to write down some of my thoughts and send them to you. We aren’t talking very well these days, and I guess that’s my fault. We didn’t leave anything in good shape before I left. I didn’t get a goodbye kiss, and I didn’t deserve one. There’s so much I need to tell you and I can’t do it over the phone. My words would get all jumbled up. You said if I didn’t go to counseling with you, you’d leave. I can’t even get my words out to you, let alone sitting in front of a third person. But I guess that’s part of the process we might need. I know I didn’t react well when you told me you were pregnant. Of course I shouldn’t have blamed you. I was definitely there. When you told me you were going to have a baby, all I could see were more bills. More ties. More reasons I couldn’t get away.

  I can hear you now, darling, asking, “Alex, why do you want to get away?”

  Maybe that’s what I need a third person to tell me. I’m not sure why. I just know I can’t abide the thought of you leaving. I want to change, darling. I really do. But I don’t know how.

  I do know the thought of a baby makes me want to run harder and faster than I’ve ever run. Me? A father? I wouldn’t know what to do first. But maybe you can help me figure it out. Maybe someone else can help me figure it out. I’ve gotta go now, because Bumble Buck is calling. He’s supposed to be the meanest and wildest of the bulls here. When I get back tonight, I’ll finish this. Maybe I’ll put down some of the things that will be hard to tell you face to face.

  Tears were coursing down her cheeks and she hadn’t even been aware of them. Now she looked up at Brock. “He never finished it.”

  “Do you mind if I read it?” Brock asked evenly.

  Shaking her head, she handed it to him.

  After Brock read it quickly he said, “You were going to get what you wanted. My guess is he would have confessed his affair and asked you to forgive him.”

  “Do you think he meant what he said?”

  “There’s no way to know. You’ve got it in black and white, so believe it if you want to.”

  She did desperately want to believe Alex’s words.

  Brock could obviously see that. “I’m going to check in with Dix.”

  As he left, she closed her eyes.

  Could her life get any more confused than it was?

  When Brock found Kylie in the baby’s room the following evening, she was placing bibs in the drawer. They hadn’t discussed Alex’s letter last night. What was there to say? That letter would cause Kylie’s grief to cut deeper, her loss to loom even bigger.

  Brock was in turmoil about all of it himself. About his desire for Kylie that seemed rooted in the past, and a yearning that had no future. She’d been distracted last night and he’d left her alone.

  “It looks as if you’re ready,” he said as an opener. The baby cradle had a mattress now and it was covered by a sheet in blue and pink stripes. A baby monitor sat on the chest and three packages of diapers were stacked near the changing area.

  “The end of January is coming fast. I’d better be ready. I got one of those pay-as-you-go cell phones in town. I hung the number on the refrigerator.”

  He handed her a legal-sized envelope. “The man who bid on the mechanical bull came and got it. There’s the six thousand dollars in a cashier’s check.”

  “You keep it,” she said quickly, not touching the envelope. “You bought the truck.”

  “You don’t have to repay me for the truck.” It was no surprise Kylie was going to be stubborn about this, but he could be stubborn, too. “This will hold you over for a little while until we get the land listed and sold.”

  “I don’t want to be indebted to you.”

  “Why? If Alex had asked, I would have helped him out. You’re no different.”

  When she looked ready to protest, he went on, “If I had needed a truck, would you have helped me?”

  After a few moments of silence, she nodded. “Yes.”

  “Okay, then. The next time I need a truck I’ll call you.”

  She gave him a smile, but it wasn’t a real, Kylie smile. There was more effort behind it than genuine emotion. Finally taking the envelope, she looked at it for a while, then back at him. “I’ve been thinking about Alex’s letter.”

  “I figured you might be.”

  “I want to believe he meant what he said in it.”

  “But?”

  “But you knew Alex. He could say one thing today and do something different tomorrow. That night, maybe he really felt the sadness. Maybe he didn’t want me to leave. But as far as changing… Do you believe people can change?”

  “I think it’s tough. I think they have to have motivation. Maybe you walking out or the baby being born would have given him motivation.”

  “Then there’s Trish. What was he going to do about her?”

  “You’ve got to stop beating yourself up over Alex’s mistakes.”

  “Why did he start up with her, Brock? Why?”

  He closed his hands on her shoulders and held her. “It was not your fault he slept with another woman. I honestly doubt that she was the first.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  Swearing, he shook his head. “No. Of course it’s not. But it shows you a pattern. You weren’t the one who was lacking. Alex was. Can’t you see that?”

  “I can only see that my marriage didn’t work. That something was wrong, maybe from the very beginning.”

  “Maybe he was the wrong man for you.”

  “Maybe I was the wrong woman for him.” As Brock started to protest, she kept going. “Maybe he married me because I was safe. He knew I wouldn’t demand too much. He knew I wouldn’t make him give up his rodeoing. Maybe he even knew he could pull the wool over my eyes. What does that say about who I am?”

  “It says that you expected him to be true to his word, just like you were true to yours. That’s all it says, Kylie.”

  When she would have pulled away, he brought her close for a hug. Just a hug. He breathed in her scent, ran his hand down the back of her hair, felt desire fire up and want to run rampant. But he just held her, comforting her, knowing that was all he could do at this moment. All that she would accept. All that he should give. She had too many questions and no answers.

  But maybe he could get a few of those answers for her. Maybe he could pay a visit to Trish Hammond to find out if she was everything Kylie thought she was. After all, monsters in the dark were always bigger than monsters chased down by the light of day. Maybe Trish Hammond wasn’t as important as Kylie thought. Of course, the mistress wouldn’t reveal that to the wife. But she might admit it to him.

  When Kylie pulled awa
y from him, her eyes were wet, and he just wished he could bring some joy and happiness into her life again. Christmas was only eleven days away. He was going to think of something special that would put a sparkle back into her eyes and bring a genuine smile to her lips.

  “Thank you, Brock,” she said, backing up a few steps. “If I have a little boy—”

  “Don’t say you’re going to name him after me. This kid needs a fresh start. Pick a name no one in this family has ever seen before.”

  She laughed. “Shaye did give me a book of baby names. Maybe I’d better start looking through it if I expect the right one to just pop up after the baby’s born.”

  “Speaking of, I don’t want you to worry about what the hospital’s going to cost. Your health and the baby’s are more important.”

  “Actually, I was going to bypass that whole thing.”

  “Just how are you going to do that?”

  “By using a midwife and having a home birth.”

  “You can’t be serious!” Just the thought of Kylie in labor put him in a tailspin. She needed to be in a hospital with doctors who knew what they were doing.

  “I’m not going to have a major argument with you about this. A home birth can even be better for the baby—without the bright lights, the noise, the loud voices.”

  “The doctors and nurses who know what they’re doing—” Brock interjected.

  “A midwife is trained and an obstetrician and a pediatrician are on call. It would be safe. I wouldn’t do anything to put this baby in harm’s way. You should know that.”

  “Kylie, you shouldn’t let money dictate what you do.”

  “I’m not. Honestly, I’m not. I talked to my obstetrician about this. Wanda Lassiter, who’s a certified midwife, is stopping by tomorrow. If you want, you can meet her.”

  “I want,” he said tersely.

  “You know, sometimes I think you’re a throwback to a time when men believed women should just stay home and have babies.”

  “I respect professional women. I respect what you do with horses. But don’t you want to stay home and have babies? Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”