Morning Light

by Catherine Anderson

  “I’m glad,” Trevor said tremulously. “My mom didn’t like to be away from me. She always cried when she had to go on trips, and she called me a gazillion times a day so she could talk to me and cry some more.”

  “Well, she’s not crying now,” Clint assured him. “You’ll miss her a lot longer than she’ll miss you, because time is different up there.”

  Trevor yawned. Clint pushed to his feet and drew the sheet up under the child’s chin. “We need to stop talking, partner. You’re getting tired.”

  With his good hand Trevor grabbed Clint’s wrist, his tiny brown fingers barely curling over one side of his father’s forearm. “My grandma says all my blood drained out, and you filled me back up again with all of yours.”

  Clint swallowed hard. “Not all, and they gave me some more. You don’t need to worry.”

  “I’m not worried.” Trevor fixed him with a wondering, dark gaze. “It’s just that Grandma says that makes you kind of like my new daddy, ’cause now all my blood is your blood.”

  Clint sank back down on the chair as if a blow had been dealt to the back of his legs. “She did, did she?”

  “She says maybe God sent you because he knows how sad I am right now.” Trevor’s bottom lip quivered. “I don’t have a mom or dad anymore, and Grandma says, as much as they love me, they’re getting too old to do lots of fun things with a little boy. Grandpa’s back hurts, and he’s got a bad knee. He can still play with me right now, but in a couple more years he might be too old to do all the things I like.”

  “Bummer,” Clint said tautly. “What kind of things do you like?”

  “I like camping. My dad taught me how to do lots. He said no man should ever go into the woods without knowing how to take care of himself.”

  “Your dad was absolutely right,” Clint agreed. “He must have spent a lot of time teaching you camping stuff. You did a great job of taking care of yourself out there.”

  “Until I cut myself. Daddy always told me not to hold the ax halfway up the handle ’cause it might jump back, but I forgot.”

  “One little mistake. You did a grand job of surviving out there otherwise, Trevor. I’m sure your daddy was up there watching and felt very proud of you.”

  “Nana helped. She’s got real thick fur that kept me warm, and she’s a real good hunter. I tried to catch fish in the creek.”

  “Any luck?”

  “Nope. I made a spear, just like my dad showed me, but the fish weren’t where I thought they were, and I always missed.”

  “It takes lots of practice to spear fish. The water acts like a magnifying glass and distorts your vision.”

  Trevor gave Clint a startled look. “That’s what Daddy said. He was real good at spearing fish. Are you good at camping stuff, just like him?”

  “Fair to middlin’. I’ve speared a couple of fish in my day, though.”

  “My dad speared lots.” Tears filled Trevor’s eyes again. “Mommy used to cook ’em in a skillet over the fire. She made them taste real good.”

  “I’ll bet she did.”

  “Lots better than rabbit without salt.” Trevor brushed at his cheeks. “We had lots of fun.”

  “It’ll take a while for you to stop missing them and start feeling better, Trevor. When you lose your folks when you’re only eight, it’s a very hard thing.”

  Trevor’s gaze clung to his father’s. “Did you lose your mom and dad?”

  “Only my mom. I was about your age. It took a long time before I started to feel better.”

  “How long before it stops hurting like I swallowed an ice cube?”

  Clint’s face reflected the pain he felt for his child. “That part goes away after a couple of weeks, but you still feel like crying sometimes. When you do, you just need to do it. That helps a lot. My dad used to tell me that God gave us tears to wash away the pain. So don’t feel embarrassed. It’s okay to cry, even if you’re a guy. He told me that one time when he found me hiding in the closet, ashamed for anybody to see me bawling. Afterward I still hid in the closet sometimes when I needed to cry, but I wish now that I hadn’t.”

  “How come?”

  “Because there’s no shame in loving people and feeling really sad when you lose them. Every tear tells the world how much you cared. Your mom and dad were the best. Right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, then, they deserve all your tears, and crying will make the ice cube feeling in your chest go away.”

  “It will?”

  “Guaranteed.”

  Trevor’s eyes welled up. “Do you still cry?”

  Clint wiped under one eye. “Oh, yeah.”

  “You’re crying now. How come?”

  “Because.” Clint shrugged. “Like I said, your mama was really special to me, and you’re her little boy, so seeing you hurt makes me hurt.”

  “Do you like to play soccer?”

  Clint chuckled. “I haven’t done that for a few years, but I used to be pretty good at it.”

  “I’m real good at soccer and baseball. Grandpa says I’ve got such a great pitching arm on me I could be the next Cy Young.”

  “Wow. That’s a high recommendation.”

  “Yep. The doctor says it’s a good thing I cut my left shoulder, ’cause I pitch with my right arm.”

  “Definitely a plus. It’d be a shame for the next Cy Young to hurt his pitching arm.”

  “Yep.” Trevor began fiddling with the sheet again. “Grandma says I’m going to need a new dad before I get much older, somebody closer to my real daddy’s age, somebody who isn’t too old to play ball with me.”

  “I can see the problem,” Clint agreed. “Every boy needs to practice his soccer and pitching.”

  “Grandma thinks, since you gave me all new blood from out of you, maybe you’d like to be my new dad someday.”

  Clint said nothing for several long seconds, and before he collected himself, Trevor added, “If you think it’d be a bunch of trouble, I won’t be mad at you or anything,” Trevor added. “My dad used to say I was more trouble than two cats fighting in a gunnysack.”

  Clint chuckled. “All dads say things like that, son. They’re only joking.”

  Trevor smiled sleepily. “Yep. My dad told lots of jokes.” His lashes fluttered back up. “Do you like jokes?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Clint replied in a thick voice. “Especially when they’re on me.” He glanced at Loni. Then he looked at Trevor again. “I don’t have a little boy. I’ve always wanted one. Now that we’ve got the same blood, maybe we should work out some kind of an agreement. Do you want to be my little boy?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Clint’s dark face fell. “Oh. Well. That’s okay. It’s pretty soon after losing your dad to be thinking about getting a new one.”

  “Nope,” Trevor replied. “My daddy talked to me once. He said if anything ever happened to him and Mommy, they’d already picked me out another dad who’d take care of me and love me just like they did. Grandma says you’re the dad they picked.”

  “Really?” Clint’s Adam’s apple bobbed again. “Well. In that case.” He rubbed a big hand over his burnished face and blinked. “Sounds to me like maybe I’m the man for the job.”

  Trevor frowned around a huge yawn. “I got a big dog. She sheds all over, and sometimes, ’cause she’s so tall, she snitches food off the counter or table. You might not like her.”

  “Nana?” Clint smiled. “I love that dog. If she ever comes to visit at my house she’s going to be served sir-loin steak.” Clint regarded his son with a bewildered frown. “I take it the deal’s off if I have a problem with your dog.”

  Trevor nodded. “I can’t ever leave Nana. She’s my best friend.”

  Clint settled back on the chair. “Well, I’ve got horses, and they’re my best friends. You like horses?”

  “A lot. I’ve only seen them in movies, though.”

  “One of these days maybe you can come to visit at my ranch, and you can see some for real.”
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  Trevor nodded again. “If I like horses and you like Nana, maybe we’ll like each other, too. For when Grandpa can’t play ball with me anymore. Maybe then, if you still want a boy, we can see how it works.”

  “I think that’s a very good plan.” Clint’s eyes were sparkling with tears when he looked at Loni. “Go to sleep now, partner. I’ll come visit you again tomorrow.”

  Trevor’s lashes fluttered closed.

  Loni and Clint sat in silence, watching the child sleep. Loni occasionally saw Clint wipe beneath his eyes. She kept her gaze fixed on Trevor, allowing Clint to shed his tears.

  When Sharon Michaels returned to the room, Clint rose from the chair, gathered her into his arms, and gave her a fierce hug. “Thank you,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “Paving the way for me.”

  Sharon cupped Clint’s face between her hands. “You gave him life, and now you’ve saved it. It’s nothing more than you deserve. I have only one request.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Let us have him for visits as often as you can. It’s going to be hard when I have to let go.”

  “You’ve got it.”

  When Loni and Clint exited the hospital, the cold embrace of the wee-hour air felt fabulous. They both dragged in huge drafts and then laughed simultaneously.

  “I miss our campfire,” she said.

  “Me, too.”

  He curled an arm around her shoulders as they walked toward his truck. “That was one of the most difficult conversations I’ve ever had, but one of the greatest, too. Thanks to Sandra’s mom, Trevor’s accepting a connection between us.”

  “Yes, he is. And I suspect that his grandpa’s pitching arm will be wearing out in only a few months. In the ER waiting room he and Sharon both made it clear that they want you to raise Trevor. They feel that they’re getting a bit too old to keep up with him.” She went on to tell him all that had been said, giving him her spin on why Sandra had lied to him about being pregnant. “I know you feel angry and betrayed, but from this point forward I hope you’ll be able to come to a peaceful place and be patient about getting custody of Trevor.”

  He glanced down at her and smiled. “For the first time in my life I can understand how devastating it would be to lose the love of my life. Doesn’t mean I’ll immediately come to grips with what Sandra did or forgive her for it. But she was a fine person, and I’ll get there. As for being patient about custody, I know I’ll have to, but, man, it’s tempting to take him home with me as soon as he gets released.”

  “All in good time. Meanwhile you’ll visit and ease your way into a solid relationship with him. That will be best for Trevor.”

  “I know,” he said with a sigh. “If I take you home to grab a change of clothes, will you sleep over at my place tonight? I don’t want to be alone, and I really need to stay at the ranch, just in case Dad and the boys roll in with my horses. They’ll be needing some TLC.”

  Loni had been worrying about Uriah all day. She liked the thought of being present when the gelding arrived at the ranch. She also liked the thought of being with Clint for a few more hours before everyday life forced them to separate. “If I stay with you, we’ll have to behave ourselves.”

  Clint bent to kiss her cheek. “Do I have idiot branded on my forehead? I definitely do not want to tell Father Mike that I sinned not once, but twice. He’ll cut me some slack over one mistake. His patience will bottom out if I go in as a repeat offender.”

  “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

  “I’ve got spare bedrooms.”

  “Well, then.” She rested her cheek against his arm, loving the flex of muscle under his shirtsleeve whenever he moved. “I’ll sleep in the spare bedroom, then.”

  “Like hell. I need you close. We’ll build a barricade or something.”

  “A what?”

  “A barricade, kind of like those traveling-salesmen jokes, where the guy gets stranded and has to sleep with the farmer’s daughter, so they pile pillows between them.”

  “What help would that be?”

  He chuckled and bent to kiss her again. “No help at all. That’s exactly the point.”

  Loni giggled and wrapped both arms around his waist as they walked the remaining distance to his vehicle. Now that loose-hipped swagger that she’d secretly admired so many times became a very personal thing, her thigh bumping against his hard one with every step they took. Yum. But she’d already played Eve, tempting Adam with the apple. She’d be strong tonight. She would.

  “We can’t go there again,” she said. “Physical intimacy between a man and woman should be a sacred thing.”

  “I absolutely agree. We have to be strong.”

  “Anything worth having is worth waiting for.”

  “You are so worth waiting for.”

  “How many pillows do you have?”

  “Not enough. Nowhere near enough.”

  An hour and a half later, after showering separately, Loni and Clint crawled onto his bed with a mountain of pillows between them. Clint had collected them from every bedroom in the house, and they were piled like a wall from the top of the bed to the foot. Loni was exhausted. It felt so good to be clean, with freshly brushed teeth, clean pajamas on her body, and a head-ful of shampooed hair that had been blown dry and had no tangles. She almost groaned at the sheer, sleepy delight of it.

  Clint searched for and found her hand, enveloped it in long, hard, deliciously warm fingers, and rested their wrists atop the barricade. “This is kuh-nuts.”

  Loni stifled a yawn and blinked awake. “I’m sorry?”

  “Kuh-nuts, as in crazy. This lends a whole new definition to the term pillow talk.”

  Loni struggled to keep her eyes open. Dimly it occurred to her that he’d probably slept through his transfusion. She, on the other hand, had been pacing the halls. When she recalled the last twenty-four hours, just the thought of all that had transpired made her weary.

  “Where’d you get the Snoopy pajamas?” he asked with a faint note of disapproval. “When a guy imagines what a beautiful woman like you wears to bed, Snoopy is not on his list. Haven’t you ever heard of Victoria’s Secret?”

  Loni smiled drowsily. “Of course. But what was the point? When a woman lives alone, Snoopy pajamas work just fine.”

  “You gonna change your habits once we get married?”

  “Only if you’re paying. Lingerie is expensive.”

  “How many thousands do you need?”

  Loni came wide-awake and giggled. “How much variety do you want?”

  “Five thousand dollars’ worth might cover it. I want mostly strings, with no actual material unless it’s see-through.”

  She laughed again. “I’m sorry my PJs disappoint you.”

  “What’s under them doesn’t.” He released a long sigh. “You wanna go take a shower with our clothes on?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Father Mike might fall for another I-don’t-know-how-it-happened incident.”

  “You don’t answer to Father Mike.” Loni drew her fingers from his grasp, rolled partly onto her right side, snuggled her cheek into the pillow, and tossed her left arm, limp with exhaustion, over the top the barricade to clasp his hand again. “You answer to God.”

  “You ever hear the term wet blanket?”

  “Yes. I’ve also heard the term wet T-shirt. I’m pretty sure my Snoopy top will be just as bad if it gets wet.”

  “Bad isn’t the word. Irresistible is the word. How about a bubble bath? I’ll even scrounge up a candle.”

  “Nope. We’re going to be good.”

  “I’ve got whiskey downstairs. How about if we get roaring drunk so we can’t be held responsible?”

  “That won’t work. We’d be responsible for drinking so much whiskey that we lost control.”

  “You drive a really hard bargain.”

  “We agreed that we’d be good from here on out. It’s not my bargain.”

  He sighed heavily
. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m so weak. Maybe I’ll just get drunk so I can fall asleep.”

  Gathering all her strength, Loni pushed up on an elbow to peer over the pillows at him. “Are you in that much discomfort?”

  “I knew you were over there somewhere.”

  She grabbed a pillow and shoved it over his face. “You are impossible.”

  “I got a rise out of you. You wanna try to get one out of me?”

  Loni figured the rise had already occurred. She flopped back down on the mattress. “You may be able to tempt me tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? Do you realize how many seconds that is from now?”

  “Yes. Sixty seconds in every minute, sixty minutes in every hour, and I plan to sleep through every millisecond until about noon. I’m exhausted.”

  “Ah, honey, I’m sorry. Of course you’re exhausted. You want me to rub your back?”

  Loni turned her face into her pillow to smother another laugh. “Go to sleep, cowboy. I’ll see you in my dreams.”

  “What fun will that be? All you ever did was look at me.”

  When Loni awakened the next morning, Clint’s side of the bed was vacant. As she sat up, squinting against the bright sunlight that slanted through the vertical blinds, she saw a note on the nightstand. Smiling sleepily, she unfolded it to read the masculine scrawl. Horses came in. At the arena. Coffee’s fresh. Bagels and cream cheese for breakfast. Love, Clint.

  “A man of few words.”

  Loni went into the large master bathroom to luxuriate under another hot shower. After drying her hair, getting dressed, and applying a light layer of makeup, using what she’d brought from home last night, she hurried down the stairs to the main floor, taking in one bare wall after another en route. Clint had a beautiful post-and-beam home, but it was pathetically lacking in decor. The furniture was utilitarian at best, and he truly hadn’t hung a single picture. In the kitchen above the phone a calendar had been tacked on the wall, but that was it.

  While sipping a cup of coffee, Loni went on a snooping expedition. Finding the promised bootjacks in every room made her smile. At least they were relatively small. If this became her home, she could work around them.