Dixie caught Maggie's hand and pulled her back down on the sofa beside her. "Now, Maggie," she scolded gently. "You're just getting yourself all worked up again, when what you need to do is calm down."
Maggie balled her hands against her thighs. "But I'm so mad, Dixie. Furious! Every time I think about Ace giving that precious baby away, I want to hit something. Him! How can he be so blind that he can't see that he loves her? So heartless that he can't see that she needs him?"
Dixie patted her knee. "Now, honey, I know that you think you know what's best for the child. But are you sure you aren't the one who's having difficulty seeing? You forged a bond with that baby the minute Star placed her in your arms. But does that give you the right to dictate the child's future? To decide what's best for her and what's not? Star asked you to take her to the Tanners and that's what you did.
"Maybe you need to open up your own eyes and see what's really behind this anger of yours. You've been living out on that ranch with Ace, for what? Close to a month? I'd imagine, by now, you're sleeping with him."
Dixie didn't need confirmation from Maggie to know she was right. The stricken look on Maggie's face was enough.
Sighing, she gave Maggie's knee an understanding squeeze. "I figured as much."
"I love him."
Frowning, Dixie nodded. "I don't doubt that for a minute. You'd never have crawled into bed with him, if you didn't. But what about him? How does he feel about you?"
Maggie balled the tissue in her hand and rubbed a thumb at the fist she'd made. "I don't know. I thought he did … or at least that he cared." She turned to look at Dixie, tears filling her eyes. "He wouldn't have asked me to move to Kerrville with him, if he didn't care for me, would he?"
"Only Ace can answer that. He's the one who knows his heart. But I imagine once he suggested you move in with him, you started fancying yourself a family. Mama Bear. Papa Bear. Baby Bear. A big, fine home for the three of you to live in." She lifted a brow. "Am I right?"
Maggie stared, amazed at how accurately Dixie had depicted the sequence of her emotions, her thoughts.
Dixie reared back to look at her. "What? You think you're the first woman to let her dreams run away with her?" She shook her head sadly. "Honey, if I was to stand up behind you all the women who'd made that same mistake, the line would stretch for miles."
"Knowing that doesn't lessen the hurt."
"I doubt it does. But this isn't the end of the world, so don't you start acting like it is. You've hit a little rough spot, taken a spill. But you'll survive. That's what we women do. We survive."
Gulping back tears, Maggie leaned to rest her head against Dixie's. "Oh, Dix. What would I do without you?"
Dixie wrapped an arm around her and gave her a hard squeeze. "Oh, you'd do all right. You've got a good head on your shoulders. A good heart. You'd find your way."
Sniffing, Maggie blew her nose. "Eventually, I guess." She angled her head to look at Dixie. "You know, Dix," she said thoughtfully. "It's a shame you never had children. You'd have made a wonderful mother."
Dixie snorted a laugh. "You're just saying that to butter me up. Probably want your old job back."
Chuckling, Maggie blotted the last tears from her eyes. "No, but I'd sure like to have it, if it's still available."
Dixie pursed her lips, as if considering. "I suppose by now you've forgotten all I taught you. How to tote a loaded tray without strainin' your back. How to dodge a strayin' hand without insultin' the man whose hand did the strayin'."
Laughing, Maggie hugged Dixie against her side. "No. I haven't forgotten."
"Then I suppose you're back on the payroll."
* * *
Dixie stood at the rear entrance of the Longhorn, watching as Maggie climbed into that rag-tail car of hers. She'd been tough on the girl, she thought with regret. But Maggie had needed a good shaking up, to jar her out of the doldrums before they swallowed her all the way up.
It hadn't been easy for Dixie to give her that shaking, though. Not when what she'd wanted to do was wrap her arms around the child and soak up all her pain. But Dixie had discovered long ago that you couldn't spare another from hurt, no matter how badly you wanted to or how hard you tried. Sometimes you just had to sit back and watch 'em take the fall. Oh, you could pick 'em up and dust off their knees, afterwards. Slap a bandage on the hurt. But you couldn't spare them the pain. Life had a way of getting in its blows no matter how good you got at duckin' and dodgin' 'em.
Star was to blame for all this, Dixie thought, trying to stifle the resentment that came with the thought. Saddling Maggie with the responsibility of her baby. Another person would've delivered the kid, as Star had requested, then walked away and wiped her hands of the matter. Not Maggie. She'd taken on the responsibility as if it was her life's work and now suffered a tremendous guilt because she thought she'd failed.
But if anybody understood that kind of dedication, Dixie supposed she did. She'd made a similar promise a few years back, one she still felt bound by today.
She'd made the promise to Patricia Dean.
Maggie's mother.
* * *
Ace sat slumped over the kitchen table, his chin resting on its edge, a bottle of whiskey between his hands, turning it slowly around and around, while he tried to work up the enthusiasm to pour himself a drink. It wasn't his brand. Not that he had a favorite. The truth was, he'd never particularly cared for the taste of whiskey.
But he did have a hankering for the escape it promised. Scowling, he shoved the bottle away and flopped back in his chair.
Hell, he couldn't get drunk. Not with a baby in the house and him the only adult around to take care of it.
But remembering that didn't take away his hankering for escape. It only served to remind him that Maggie was gone.
Slumping lower in the chair, he folded his arms across his chest, his anger with her returning. Packing up her stuff and tearing out like the devil himself was chasing her. What the hell was wrong with her? It wasn't as if he'd lied about his intentions. He'd told her from the get-go that he wasn't keeping the kid. So why had she turned on the waterworks and begged him to keep her?
Frustrated that he didn't have an answer to the question, he heaved himself up from the chair. "Women," he muttered.
At the sink, he twisted on the tap and sent hot water splashing over the bottles and nipples he'd left in the sink. Maggie should be doing this, he thought, as he squirted a generous stream of dishwashing liquid over the bottles. She'd always washed and prepared the baby's bottles for the next day. Not him. And she'd done a lot of other things that now fell to him. Things like feeding the baby, playing with her, giving her her baths.
The hell of it was, he didn't begrudge Maggie the work she'd left him to do. What he resented was that she'd left at all.
Daisy barked at a sound in the hall, startling Ace from his thoughts. He whirled, sure it was Maggie returning, figuring that she'd realized she'd made a mistake. That she'd finally reconciled herself to the fact that Ace was turning the baby over to Star's family.
When it was Rory who appeared in the doorway, not Maggie, Ace turned back to the sink to hide his disappointment.
Snatching up a bottle scrubber, he growled, "What do you want?"
"A man has to have a reason to visit his family home?" Ace rammed the brush into the bottle and scrubbed furiously. "Funny to me, you never cared about visiting until Maggie showed up."
"So that's what's been eating you."
Ace rammed the brush hard into the bottle, then swore when it busted through the opposite end, sending shards of glass flying over both sinks.
"Now look what you've gone and made me do," he complained.
"I didn't make you do anything."
"You damn sure did. You made me break the bottle."
Rory moved to Ace's side and looked down at the shattered glass. "I didn't make you do that. Your jealousy did."
"Jealousy!" Ace cried. "And who am I supposed to be jealous o
f? You?" He snorted a breath. "In your dreams, little brother. In your dreams."
"Then explain to me why you acted like an ass the night I took you to the emergency room to have your ribs X-rayed?"
Ace tensed. He didn't remember much of anything that happened that night … not after about the fourth glass of whiskey he'd drunk. Had he said something to Rory about Maggie? He remembered Maggie telling him the next morning that he owed Rory an apology for cussing Rory when he'd helped him to bed. But what had he said to Rory at the emergency room?
Deciding a defensive stance the safest to take, he said, "Probably because you provoked me."
"Which proves my point."
"And what point is that?"
Smiling smugly, Rory braced a hip on the counter and folded his arms across his chest. "You're jealous."
Ace yanked his hands from the dishwater and snatched up a towel to dry them. "What would you have that I'd be jealous of?"
Rory curled his fingers to study his nails. "It's not what I have. More like what you're afraid I might get."
Ace turned for the table and the whiskey bottle he'd left there. Twisting off the cap, he arched a brow in warning, as he lifted the bottle to his lips. "You try stealing my dog, little brother, and I'll kick your butt all the way to Dallas and back."
"It wasn't your dog I was thinking of stealing. I was thinking more along the lines of Maggie."
Ace slammed down the bottle, without ever having taken a drink, and leveled an accusing finger at Rory. "I knew it!" he cried. "I knew you had the hots for her all along."
When Rory only smiled, it angered Ace all the more. He dug down in his arsenal and selected a weapon sure to draw blood.
"What's wrong, Rory?" he taunted. "Aren't there enough women in San Antonio to satisfy your sexual appetite? Or have you grown bored with them all?" Snorting a laugh, Ace turned away. "You're so much like the old man, it's scary."
"Why, you—"
Rory was across the room, before Ace knew he'd even moved. Grabbing Ace by the arm, he spun him around.
"You've been lookin' for a fight for weeks," he said angrily and gave Ace a shove. "Well, bro, you just found yourself one."
Ace squared off, ready to go head-to-head with Rory, but a wail from the monitor he'd left on the table had him dropping his hands.
"Now look what you've done," he snapped. "You woke up the kid."
Rory took a taunting jab at Ace's shoulder. "Let Maggie get her. You and me are going to settle this once and for all."
Ace turned away, heading for the hallway. "Maggie's gone."
Rory slowly lowered his hands to stare. "Gone?" When Ace kept walking, Rory took off after him. "What do you mean she's gone?"
"As in vamoosed. Skedaddled."
"Where'd she go?"
"Back where she came from."
Opening the nursery door, Ace reached to turn on the lamp, then moved to the crib.
"Hey, kid," he murmured softly, as he leaned to pick Laura up. "What's the matter? Huh? You hungry?"
"Hungry?" Rory repeated. "Haven't you fed her?"
Ace gave him a withering look. "Well, of course I've fed her. What do you take me for? An imbecile?"
Rory lifted a shoulder. "Well, you let Maggie go."
Scowling, Ace moved to the changing table and laid the baby down. "I didn't let Maggie do anything. She got mad and quit."
"Mad about what?"
Wishing he'd kept his mouth shut, Ace gestured for Rory to pass him a diaper. "The detective thinks he's close to finding a relative of Star's."
Rory handed him the diaper. "Why'd that make her mad? I'd think she'd be tinkled pink, Star being her friend and all."
Frowning, Ace held up the baby's feet, doused her behind with some powder, then lowered them to snug the diaper into place. "She wanted me to keep the kid."
"You?" Rory hooted a laugh. "Is the woman crazy? You don't know anything about raising kids."
Ace turned his head and gave him a long look up and down. "You look like you survived the experience without too many scars."
"Well, yeah," Rory said. "But I'm a guy. I was easy."
"Easy?" Ace snorted and picked the baby up. "You were a royal pain in the butt. All of you were."
With the baby draped over his shoulder, Ace headed for the door, leaving Rory to trail behind.
"Is that why you never wanted to have kids?" Rory asked.
Ace slammed to a stop, then turned to look at Rory. "Who told you I never wanted to have kids?"
"Sheila."
"When did you talk to my ex?"
Rory held up his hands. "Uh-uh. I'm not walking into that one. Next thing I know, you'll be accusing me of hustling your ex-wife."
Scowling, Ace headed for the kitchen again. "Like she'd be interested in you."
"Is that what busted up your marriage?"
"You? Hardly."
"No," Rory said in frustration. "You not wanting any kids."
Ace pulled a bottle from the refrigerator and popped it into the microwave, set the timer. "Among other things."
Hooking his thumbs through his belt loops, Rory hung his head. "Man, Ace. I feel really bad."
"About what?"
"Ruining you for fatherhood. If not for me and the others, you might've had kids."
"You didn't ruin me for anything," he told Rory, then added, "well, not entirely, anyway."
"If not us, then what did? Sheila said you were emphatic about not wanting any kids. Said you'd even talked about having a vasectomy."
"Did she discuss our sex life with you, too?"
The microwave dinged, saving Rory from having to answer. Holding the baby against his shoulder, Ace removed the bottle and tested the milk's temperature on his wrist, as he moved to sit at the table.
Noticing Rory's hangdog expression, Ace heaved a sigh. "Look, Rory. Sheila and I had problems before the question of kids ever came up. That's not what ended our marriage."
Rory twirled a chair around and straddled it. "I don't get it, Ace. Why don't you want to have kids?"
Ace looked down at Laura and shook his head. "I don't know. A combination of things, I guess. Mostly the old man." He frowned, then glanced over at Rory. "Haven't you ever wondered what kind of father you'd be? A good one or a bad one? Or like the old man? Invisible?"
Rory pursed his lips thoughtfully, as if considering. "No, I can't say that I have."
Ace blew out a long breath. "Well, I have. And there's enough doubt there to keep me from testing the theory."
Rory reared back to look at him in disbelief. "You gotta be kidding me! You'd make a great father, Ace."
"Yeah. Right," Ace said wryly.
Rory pushed up from the chair. "No. I'm serious. Ask Woodrow or Ry or even Whit. They'd tell you the same damn thing. I know we were pains in the butt and acted like ungrateful jerks most of the time. What kid doesn't? But you were there for us, Ace. When we needed you, you never let us down.
"We may have resented you bossing us around, but we would've resented you for that even if you'd been our real father and not just a stand-in. And just look at you," Rory said, gesturing toward Ace and the baby. "You're taking care of her. You've got what it takes to be a father. You're a natural."
As Ace stared down at the baby, Maggie's words rose up to taunt him.
No child deserves to have a father who's incapable of loving or caring for it.
Was he incapable of loving the kid? he asked himself. Unsure of the answer, he shook his head. "No. I can do the basics. Meet a kid's physical needs. But that's it. A kid need someone who can love 'em and that's where I come up short."
"Like hell you do!" Rory shouted. "Who held my hand when I had to have my stomach pumped, after I swallowed an entire bottle of headache pills?"
Ace snorted a laugh, remembering. "I did."
"And who taught me how to ride a horse and rope a steer?"
"I did. But—"
"And who let me crawl in bed with him in the middle of the night
, when a storm blew in and I was too scared to sleep in my own bed?"
Grimacing, Ace muttered. "I did."
Rory dropped a hand on Ace's shoulder and hunkered down to look him square in the eye. "If those weren't acts of love, bro, then you tell me what is."
* * *
Ace lay on his side, his head propped on his hand, staring down at the baby who slept beside him. This was the fourth night in a row that he'd had to put the baby in bed with him in order to get her to go to sleep.
Maggie had warned him, he remembered. She'd told him he was starting a bad habit when he'd put the baby in bed with them that first time.
But how the hell was a man supposed to get any rest with the kid screaming her lungs out?
Screaming her lungs out? his conscience prodded.
Well, maybe not screaming, he acceded grudgingly. Probably more like crying.
Crying?
Okay, already! he thought in frustration. So it was a whimper. But what was I supposed to do? The kid was lonely in that big old room all by herself.
Who was lonely?
Groaning, he dropped his hand and let his head fall to rest in the bend of his elbow. Me, he admitted miserably.
"But I'm not the only one who's lonely," he murmured. Reaching out, he brushed a finger over the baby's cheek. "You miss her, too, don't you, kid?"
At his touch, Laura shuddered a sigh, then smacked her lips, as if searching for the missing pacifier.
Ace plucked the pacifier from the pillow he'd propped up on the other side of the baby and rubbed the nipple across her lips. She latched onto it, sucked furiously for a moment, then her jaw went lax and the pacifier slid to dangle from the corner of her mouth. It was a game they repeated several times a night. The baby makes a sucking sound; Ace fetches the pacifier; the baby sucks a minute, quits; the pacifier falls out of the baby's mouth; the baby makes another sucking sound, sometimes a whimper; and the game starts all over again.
Ace felt something cold nudge the back of his leg and looked over his shoulder to find Daisy staring up at him. "No way," he said. "I may be a sucker, but I'll be darned if I'll let you sleep with me, too."
The dog dropped her chin to the edge of the mattress and whined pitifully, looking up at him with sad brown eyes.
Five Brothers and a Baby Page 14
