It was a little less than a mile to his house from here, and it looked like he was walking it. He picked his way across the bridge and then walked on the shoulder of the road, the grass crunching under his feet. He gauged he was about a quarter of a mile into his walk when a transformer blew with a loud boom and a shower of sparks somewhere between him and his house.
Ice storms like this one were more common in Alabama than snow, and when they came, power outages were inevitable because of the weight of the ice on the trees and power lines. He just hoped that Pop wasn’t freaked out by the sudden darkness.
He pulled off one glove and, with fumbling fingers, typed a text to Wynn, who was at his house with Pop. Transformer blew. Y’all okay?
The return text was immediate. We’re fine. ETA?
Um. How long did it take to walk three-quarters of a mile in freezing rain? Guessing fifteen minutes.
Be safe.
Fingers shaking, he turned on the flashlight on his phone and then shoved his fingers back into his gloves. Lights on the street this far out into the country were limited to nearby houses and gates. It was dark already, and when the lights went out, it was really dark.
Focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and not slipping, he felt like he was making good time, but he couldn’t see the gate to his property through the nasty downpour. He couldn’t wait to open the back door of his house and lay eyes on the two most important people in his life.
He didn’t mean to think that.
It was the kind of random thought that just meandered through your brain when you weren’t paying attention. The kind of random thought that you couldn’t escape from once you thought it.
His world looked very different in the dark, covered in ice. He fought a sense of disorientation, and when he finally saw a faint shadow of the drive leading to his home, he breathed a sigh of relief. His ranch-style house sprawled over the hilltop overlooking forty acres. He’d bought the house for practically nothing and restored it himself. It hadn’t needed too much. A few walls knocked down to open things up and some TLC, that was all.
Tonight Latham could barely see it, even though he must be getting close. His coat and hat were wet and frozen, his face burning from the cold. The freezing rain was supposed to continue for a few more hours and then, maybe, turn into snow. He didn’t know what Wynn’s plans were, but no one was going anywhere tonight.
As he got closer to the house, he picked out several spots of a warm yellow-orange glow and realized she’d put a light in every window. Lighting the way home for him.
Yesterday, after church, he’d been frustrated and wondering if she’d ever take a step forward without taking two steps back, and today, she’d literally put a candle in the window for him. He trudged across the yard, his clothes wet and heavy, and finally, he made it to the back door, where he could hear his dogs inside yelping at the door.
Before he could get the door to the mudroom open fully, the dogs were at his side nosing and snuffling his pockets for a snack. He scratched their ears, but he was exhausted and freezing.
A firm tone came from the door that went through to the kitchen. “Teddy, Frank, go lie down.”
The German shorthairs cut their eyes at Wynn, but obeyed her command, slinking back into the living room, where he assumed she’d put their bed.
She shut the door behind the dogs and rushed to him. She was beautiful, her pretty hair gleaming in the candlelight. Even wearing leggings and fur-lined boots, she was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
“Oh, Latham. You’re freezing. Why are you soaking wet?”
“Ha-had to l-leave the truck. B-bridge icy.” Now that the exertion of walking through the icy wind and rain had ended, his teeth were chattering, body temp dropping fast. He could barely get the words out and couldn’t put thoughts together enough to figure out what to do next.
“Latham. You could’ve frozen. What if you slid down into a ditch or something?” As she scolded him, she opened the dryer and pulled out towels, setting them on the nearby bench. She unbuttoned his coat and pulled it off as shudders racked him.
“S-sorry. Fingers d-don’t work.”
“You crazy man, I can’t believe you risked your life to get here.” His gloves were whisked off next and went with the beanie onto the pile of wet clothes. He didn’t even try to answer her, just focused on her voice and how she smelled, inexplicably, of banana bread, as she wrapped a towel around his shoulders and gently rubbed the dampness from his hair.
“Boots.” Her voice was firm, but he detected a fine tremor.
“Wynn, no. I can—”
She interrupted him. “Boots. Don’t argue. Even if I let you, your fingers wouldn’t work.”
He sat down on the bench, leaned his head against the wall behind him and set his foot out so she could work at the wet laces.
A few seconds later, he heard his pocketknife snap open and she sliced through the laces with one quick swipe. “Hey!”
“Hush. Laces are cheap. You need your feet.” She sliced through the laces on the other boot. “You take those off now, socks, too, and I’m going to get you some dry clothes. I’ll be right back.”
Still leaning heavily on the wall behind him, Latham swung his foot over his knee with way more effort than it should’ve taken and thunked one boot and then the other onto the floor. The mudroom was considerably warmer than outside, but he could still see his breath. He couldn’t remember a time when it had been this cold.
Wynn opened the mudroom door and handed him a pair of sweats and a thick pair of wool socks. “The fire’s going in the living room. Put these on and I’ll have a cup of coffee waiting for you when you’re done. Don’t dawdle.”
She turned around and left the room, closing the door behind her. He stood to do as she instructed and had to laugh. What had she said yesterday? In DC they went from crisis to crisis?
Well, if she handled crises of government with the efficiency she’d just handled him, she must’ve been pretty good at her job.
* * *
Wynn poured the coffee from the carafe she’d filled earlier into an insulated mug. When he’d texted her, she’d had no idea the man had been walking home in the quickly deteriorating weather. He was lucky he was just a little cold. What if he’d fallen and been hurt? He could’ve died before anyone found him. She stuck a spoon into the sugar, but her hands were shaking so badly, she couldn’t get it into the cup. “Stupid, stupid man. He was walking. In this.”
“Hey, now.” Pop put his arm around her shoulders. “It’s all right. He’s here and he’s fine. A little cold, maybe, but he’ll warm up right quick by the fire.”
She closed her eyes and turned her face into Pop’s flannel shirt. His arms closed around her and he patted her shoulder. “Sweet girl.”
The door from the laundry room opened and Latham closed it quickly behind him, tossing his towel on the floor and shoving it in the crack to seal the heat in the room. “Hey, Pop. I heard there was coffee in here.”
Wynn handed Latham the mugful of coffee, trying to ignore the pang she got hearing the weariness in his voice. She met his eyes and quickly looked away before he could see all the things she felt that she wasn’t ready to even name, much less share. She turned him toward the living room. “Are you hungry?”
“I’m starving. Did you—is it my imagination or do I smell banana bread?” The dogs’ tails thumped as he got closer to where they lay by the fire.
Pop laughed as he crossed the room and sat in his recliner, kicking his feet up. “Son, Wynn here has prepared us for snow-mageddon. As soon as we realized we were probably going to get hit by the storm, she started baking. We’ve got banana bread and brownies. Corn bread to go with the soup that’s still warm in the oven. I’m pretty sure there’s pumpkin muffins tucked away somewhere in there. She filled every container in the house—including the bathtubs
—with water. The thermoses and that carafe are filled with coffee.”
“That’s really amazing. I can’t believe you were able to get all that done.” He held his hands out behind him, and she could imagine how good it felt, the fire slowly warming him from the outside as the coffee warmed him from the inside. “Did you let your mom know you’re staying here?”
“Yes. I figured the roads wouldn’t be passable by the time you got here.” She crossed the living room to stand beside him. “We’ll have enough wood until morning, probably, and then we’ll have to bring in more.”
He glanced to the side where he usually kept a small stack of logs, but where she and Pop had stacked as much as they could carry to keep it dry. “Wynn...”
At the warning tone in his voice, she turned to him, eyes wide. “Pop carried the wood. I just helped a little.”
He put his arm around her and pulled her into his side. She closed her eyes, just so thankful he was okay. He dropped a kiss in her hair, and the sweetness of that simple gesture loosened the tension coiled inside her.
“You have to be tired. You’ve been on your feet all day. You sit and I’ll bring you supper. Pop? You want some soup?”
Pop waved him off and put his reading glasses on. “I ate some already. I think I’ll work on my crossword for a little while, if I can see it.”
Wynn shook her head. “No, sir. Your job is to stay by the fire and recover from that crazy trek through the ice storm.”
By the time Wynn came back into the room with their supper, Latham had overtaken one corner of the sofa with a fleece blanket over his legs and Pop was already snoring in his recliner, the crossword book on his chest.
Latham laughed as Wynn handed him a tray. “He’ll be like that till morning.”
“He worked hard today as my assistant.” She settled in the corner of the love seat opposite him and took a spoonful of the soup. She made a face. “It didn’t stay as warm as I hoped it would. The oven was still pretty hot when I put it in there.”
“It’s perfect and so is the corn bread.”
“I think you’re just hungry because you nearly died.” She leveled a stern gaze at him, and he laughed again.
“I’m fine. I wasn’t even cold until I stopped moving.” He took another bite and then said, “You got an amazing amount accomplished this afternoon.”
“It’s what I’m good at—breaking a huge task into manageable chunks, making lists, strategizing.” She took a bite of the lemon chicken soup. Even if it wasn’t piping hot, it was one of her favorites.
“You always were good at that. I remember you had the homecoming committee hopping the year you were on there.”
She tilted her head and shrugged. “I mean, really, all they needed was a little direction, and someone had to be in charge. It turned out great.”
“Did you know then that you wanted to be in public service?”
She shot him a grin. “Back then I wanted to be the president. I think I might’ve been overreaching just a little.”
“I wouldn’t underestimate that dream. First the city council, then the White House.” He smiled, the corner of his mouth tilting up, but she could see a hint of sadness in his eyes.
“I’m beginning to think that a cottage at Red Hill Farm is better than the White House.” She surprised herself, saying it out loud, realizing that she was thinking in terms of staying instead of going. She sighed. “You were right when you said that thing about changing the world for Claire and Joe’s foster kids. Maybe my perspective is changing, too.”
“It happens to the best of us.” He rose to his feet. “I’m going for a brownie. Want me to take that for you?”
Wynn handed him her plate. “Do you think you’ll ever go back to finish your PhD?”
He put the dishes in the sink of soapy water that she’d drawn earlier and rubbed the scruffy beard he always had by this time of day. “I don’t know. I take a course now and again, when work’s not too busy. I get to teach, though, so it’s not that much of a compromise when I think about the time I’ve gotten to spend with Pop.”
Staring at the fire, she thought about the years she’d lost with her family when she’d been away. A few holidays weren’t the same as living life together. Maybe it was time to return home for good and use what she’d learned to make a better life for the people she loved right here. She couldn’t believe she was even thinking it, but as she rubbed the place on her tummy where the baby kicked, there was nothing more perspective-changing than finding yourself unexpectedly pregnant.
Latham came back into the room with a couple of brownies on a paper towel and sprawled out on the floor by the fire. “Join me?”
“For a brownie? Sure.” She sat cross-legged opposite him, where she could reach the paper towel. She broke off a piece of the gooey chocolate and popped it in her mouth, elbowing one of the dogs when he got too close to the remainder of her brownie.
She caught Latham’s amused glance. “What?”
“If only I’d known in high school that chocolate was the way to your heart.” He took a bite and with his mouth full said, “But really, these are unbelievable. What’s your secret?”
“If you promise you won’t tell...” She laughed as he nodded with another mouthful of brownie. “Cinnamon and chili powder.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “If you don’t want to tell me, just say that.”
“I’m serious.”
“Okay, then. You don’t have to worry about my telling anyone. No one would believe it.” He rolled to his feet and put another log on the fire, using the poker to get it into just the right position where it burst into flame. “This wood is burning great, but it’s so dry, we’re going through it like crazy.”
“I stacked—I mean, Pop stacked some more right outside the back door under a tarp.”
“Mmm-hmm. Pop was so busy today that you need to put your feet up.” Latham dropped back to the floor, stretching out his legs beside her. He’d blown out the candles on the last trip to the kitchen. The room was dark, the only light from the flickering flames. “Oh, I meant to tell you I heard a name the other day that I thought you might like.”
“A baby name?”
“Yeah. Have you ever heard of Ada Lovelace?” The light from the fire was mirrored in his eyes.
“I don’t think so. Who was she?”
“An Englishwoman who people say was the first computer programmer. In the early eighteen hundreds.”
“Wait—eighteen hundreds?”
He grinned. “Yes. She was a mathematician and, incidentally, the only legitimate child of Lord Byron. I’d say she had an independent spirit or, at the least, an independent mama since she ended up being about as far from a poet as you can get. So,” he shrugged. “Ada.”
Wynn stared at him, caught by the simplicity and thoughtfulness of his explanation of a name he’d heard that made him think of her and her baby.
He sat up, abruptly, knee to knee with her. “I’m sorry—did I overstep?”
“No!” She leaned forward, her hands on his knees. “I love it, I absolutely love it. Ada. I was thinking about Jane, too. I loved the book Jane Eyre. I loved that Charlotte Bronte made her strong, and even though her life was hard, she never lost the capacity for love.”
“Ada Jane. I like it.”
Her hand on her tummy, she laughed. “Me, too. It’s perfect, actually.”
He was so close and just so precious to her, with his strong mind and steady heart. Without thinking, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. For a second he hesitated, then gently slid his hand into her hair, his other covering her hand on her belly. He kissed her once, twice, before leaning his forehead against hers.
Insulated against the world and all the decisions and responsibilities, she could only think about him and what he meant to her. If only. If only.
She j
umped and laughed. “Oh! Did you feel that?”
Taking her hand from underneath his, she pressed it against the spot where she’d felt Ada move. His eyes widened. “Whoa, she’s doing flips in there.”
Wynn giggled. “She is. I think she likes her name—or the brownies.”
His gaze softened. “Wynn—”
“Stop, please. Please don’t say anything.” She loved his face, the angles and curves highlighted now by the fire, and her fingers itched for her sketchbook. His deep brown eyes were on hers, the laughter gone, replaced by a wariness she wished that she hadn’t put there. “Just for tonight, can we let this be what it is and not talk about it?”
He looked into her eyes for a moment longer and brushed a kiss across her lips. “Okay. We won’t talk about it tonight.”
Pushing to his feet, he said, “I’m going to bring in more wood so we have enough to last till morning. Need anything?”
“No, I’m good.” She watched him go, then crawled onto the couch, curling up in the corner, her arms wrapped around baby Ada, the warmth and glow of the fire soothing her into a lull of contentment.
She barely registered the cold air when the door opened and he brought the firewood in, but through her almost closed eyes, she saw him tuck a blanket around Pop in his recliner. A few seconds later, she felt him tuck one around her, too.
He settled at the end of the couch, his hand on her feet. She could see only his silhouette as he watched the fire, but he was standing guard so she could sleep, safe and warm.
Chapter Thirteen
“Thanks for the hospitality.” Wynn turned to Latham, her eyes bright blue against the white, white world, a police SUV her brother had sent for her idling in the drive. The dogs were romping in the yard, but his eyes were only for her.
“I’ll be snowed in with you anytime.” Latham smiled, but he wasn’t ready to say goodbye, didn’t want that cocoon they’d been in last night to be invaded by anyone.
Their Secret Baby Bond Page 12
