by Carol Grace
He carried Morgan into the bathroom. With one hand he opened the medicine chest and pawed through it until he discovered what he was looking for—a rectal thermometer. He couldn’t do anything with it. Not by himself. He put Morgan back into bed and was about to run out to get Laurie when she came through the door.
“I was wondering what was taking you so long,” Laurie said, taking off her rain slicker and boots.
“It’s Morgan,” he said, gripping Laurie by the arms. “She’s burning up with a fever. I can’t make her stop crying.”
Laurie’s eyes widened with fear and they raced back to Morgan’s room.
Morgan was lying on her back waving her arms frantically. Laurie picked her up and pressed the back of her hand to the baby’s cheek. “You’re right,” she agreed. “We’ve got to take her temperature.”
He nodded and showed her the thermometer. She read the instructions then shot him a desperate look.
“I’ll hold her if you do it,” he offered.
Laurie nodded, her eyes suspiciously bright.
“You’re not going to cry, too, are you?” he asked.
“Of course not, but I’ve never done this before,” she confessed.
“Me, either.”
Somehow they did it, despite Morgan’s cries, and read the temperature.
“It’s 104 degrees,” Laurie said, alarmed.
Morgan was back in her arms, thumb in her mouth, still sniffling, still unhappy.
“We’ve got to call the doctor,” Laurie said.
In the kitchen, pinned to a bulletin board, was a list of phone numbers Gretel had left for her. The pediatrician’s was at the top of the list.
“Is she limp and lethargic?” the doctor asked when Laurie reached him.
“No, she’s kicking and screaming,” Laurie explained over Morgan’s cries.
“That’s a good sign. Is she eating and drinking?”
Cooper took Morgan out of Laurie’s arms and went to the refrigerator for a glass of orange juice. Morgan drank it thirstily. Laurie reached for a pad of paper to write the doctor’s orders.
When Laurie hung up she sat on the stool by the phone and sighed heavily. “He thinks it’s just a cold.”
“Some cold,” Cooper said as Morgan pressed her damp forehead against the front of his shirt. His clothes were slowly drying, but they were stuck damply to his body. He felt cold and clammy.
Laurie held out her arms. “I’ll take her. You change.”
He shook his head and leaned against the refrigerator. “If I move her she might start crying again.”
Laurie frowned at the two of them. “Well, sit down, anyway,” she said. They moved into the living room and he sat down on the chintz-covered couch, as carefully as he could so as not to disturb the suddenly very tired baby. Cooper leaned back into the cushions and closed his eyes. Morgan’s face was nestled against his shoulder. She took several deep, shaky breaths and then shuddered and fell asleep. He exhaled slowly.
Laurie stood in the middle of the room watching them. “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been alone with her,” she said, gnawing on her fingernail.
Cooper lifted his head and looked at her with half- closed eyes. “You would have done just fine,” he assured her.
“I hope you don’t catch her cold,” she said.
“That’s the least of our problems.” Did he say our problems? Since when did Laurie’s problems become his? Since the first moment he’d seen her. Since the first time he’d heard Morgan cry. Since the first time he’d had lunch with them in the hotel dining room. Since the time Laurie and Morgan came to his room and he drove them home. That was how long her problems had been his. It seemed like forever.
“Let’s try to get her to bed,” Laurie whispered. “You must be miserable.”
Miserable? He was uncomfortably damp, worried about Morgan, but with this little girl finally asleep on his shoulder, and out of her misery, he felt a strange kind of peace come over him. No, he wasn’t miserable. He was something else. Something he couldn’t put a name to. He stood up, slowly so as not to disturb Morgan, and with Laurie following, he walked down the hall and put her in her crib.
Laurie put the palm of her hand against his chest and the warmth from her hand filled his heart. “Thanks,” she whispered.
Cooper pressed his lips together in a tight line, his emotions too near the surface to speak. He couldn’t help thinking what it would have been like if things had been different, if there’d been no tragedy in his life. He’d missed his one chance for happiness, for a full and happy life. Suddenly the unfairness, the randomness of his wife’s accident hit him with the force of a flash flood, roaring through a dry gully. That was him, a dried-up riverbank, growing older by the minute watching life and love pass him by. He turned and went to the guest room to change his clothes.
When he came back to the living room Laurie was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked under her, her arms wrapped around her. He crumpled some newspapers and laid a fire in the fireplace. The flames crackled and the kindling caught fire and the flames burned once again in his blood. He tried to ignore her, but that was impossible. Deep worry lines were etched in her forehead. He was worried, too. Worried about Morgan, worried about Laurie and worried about the apple crop.
He glanced at Laurie and willed her to look at him. He wanted to tell her, reassure her... But when her gaze met his he forgot what he was going to say. Something snapped inside his head and all the tension, the worry, the anxiety over Morgan burst like a bombshell.
She got to her feet and came to him like a sleepwalker, her gaze tangled with his. And she didn’t stop until she’d walked into his arms. Her arms tightened around him and her breath was warm against his cheek.
“Cooper,” she said. “This is crazy.”
He turned her face with his thumb under her chin. “Here’s to craziness,” he said under his breath.
She smiled, an achingly lovely smile. “Another one of your Irish toasts?”
He trailed his lips down her throat. The desire built and threatened again just as it had that night at the talk. Did she feel it? Did she want it too?
Her heart was beating wildly against his. That was all he needed. He cupped her head with his broad palms and angled her mouth for a deep, profound kiss that went on and on and on. She poured herself into it, seeking release from the hours of worry, of tension. Reaching out to take and to give and to take again.
Laurie knew that if no phone rang and no baby cried there would be no stopping her this time. If she couldn’t have all of Cooper, she’d take what she could get. If he wanted to make love with her, she wanted it more. If he walked out tomorrow, then she’d have tonight. She knotted her fingers behind his head and molded her lips to his hot hungry mouth. She wanted him close, closer. She wanted to lose herself, to forget the past, not worry about the future.
She wanted to do it here in front of the fire. On that hand-woven Indian rug. She wanted the heat from the flames on her bare skin, wanted to see the flames reflected in his dark eyes along with the passion she’d only glimpsed before. He groaned deep in his throat and she knew he wanted it, too.
When he ran his hands under her shirt warming her skin she sighed deeply. “Your skin is like silk,” he murmured against her ear. His fingers slipped under her bra and unhooked it and she trembled. The heat built low in her belly, while her head floated somewhere above her body, too light, too dizzy.
Cooper molded her breasts to fit his hands, marveled at their size and their weight and thought he might die if he couldn’t possess her soon. But first he had to say something, something that was simmering in his mind like the chicken curry on the stove. He took her by the hands and brought her to her knees on the rug in front of the fire. The firelight turned her hair to gold, her skin the color of honey. God, how be wanted her, all of her, not just her body, but her mind and her soul.
He leaned back against the couch and took a deep breath. She was watching him,
breathing hard, gripping the folds of the rug in her hands.
“You must know how I feel about you,” he said gruffly.
She shook her head.
“No, how could you?” He stared into the flames. Wishing he could just make love to her and that would solve everything. But it wouldn’t. “I’ve always thought I’d never love again after what happened.” He glanced at her and her eyes were on his, waiting, watching. There was an ache in his heart, a giant lump in his throat. It was guilt and he had to get around it. “I thought I couldn’t, I knew I shouldn’t. But here I am, falling in love again.” Her eyes widened. “With you.” He took both hands and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know where it’s going. I don’t want to tell you it’s going to lead to happily ever after, because I don’t know that.” He stopped and shook his head. “Am I making any sense?”
“I think so,” she whispered.
“I can’t stand to see you hurt again, Laurie. But I want to give it... us... a chance. To see if something could work out between us. Something real and permanent. Right now, I think it can. But maybe it’s just lust, sex, chemistry.” He rubbed his forehead. “What do you think?”
She licked her lips. “Yes, I think there’s a lot of that going on, what you said,” she said, her cheeks tinted rose, her hair gold. “I’d... I’d be willing to take a chance. I mean, I’m a big girl. I’ve been hurt before and I’ll probably be hurt again. But I recover. I have a lot of resilience.” She smiled and he felt tears spring to his eyes. She’d take a chance on him. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve her. But when was it against the law to want something you didn’t deserve?
He took her in his arms and held her. The warmth of her body infusing him with hope and strength. “In the meantime I’m going to try my level best not to get you into bed or onto any more carpets because somehow you cloud my mind and I want to think clearly.” She whispered “okay” in his ear and he continued. “It’s going to take all my willpower, but I really am going to try.”
“It’s a deal,” she said, pulling back and holding out her hand.
He pressed her fingers to his lips. And tasted sugar and spice and all that was good about her. He helped her to her feet. They went to the couch together and sat next to each other, her head on his shoulder and watched the flames dance in front of them. And as the afternoon wore on, they took turns walking down the hall to look at Morgan, to pick her up, to give her a drink, and to walk her back and forth until she fell into a restless sleep again.
Laurie didn’t ask Cooper to take turns with her. She didn’t ask him if he was sure about his feelings and about wanting to take a chance on love again. She didn’t need to. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch when he brushed by her in the hallway or in the kitchen. She was afraid to think about it, afraid to hope, but being human, she did anyway.
They continued that way for the next two days. And nights. Laurie would hear Morgan cry in the night and she’d stagger to her feet and into the nursery to find Cooper there ahead of her, pacing back and forth beside the crib with Morgan in his arms, or sitting in the rocking chair holding her until she fell asleep. Laurie was too tired and too worried about Morgan to realize how strange it was. How incredible that this man who only recently professed to not want any type of emotional involvement with women and children was now in the middle of caring for a sick baby and contemplating a future with a woman he barely knew.
The apples suffered during this time. Between the two of them, they were only able to pick in short bursts, and then rush back to check on Morgan. When the skies cleared, Morgan’s head cleared, too. And the deer cleared out. One morning Laurie went to the barn to see what she could use for a roadside stand. She’d been intrigued by the idea ever since that family came looking for one. And now that Morgan wasn’t sick, she wanted something to do, something that would take her mind off Cooper and their new relationship.
It was awkward, knowing that he was trying out his new feelings, and knowing that she would follow him to the ends of the world’s rivers if he said the word. The word was love, and he hadn’t said it yet. Oh yes, he said he was ‘falling in love,’ but that didn’t mean he was there yet. Or that he’d ever get there. And what about children? He hadn’t mentioned taking a chance on children. And she understood. She really did. If she’d lost a child she’d be too heartbroken to try again.
It was going to be hard to leave Morgan. Even though she slobbered all over Laurie’s clean shirts, kept her jumping with her demands for attention, Laurie would miss the little arms wrapped around her neck, her sweet baby smell, her cooing and her toothless smiles. Taking care of Morgan had been an eye- opening experience, one she wouldn’t have missed for the world. Especially if she never had children of her own.
With the scrap wood and the wooden horses in the barn she and Cooper made a roadside stand and together they hauled boxes of apples to the road. They posted signs on the power poles along the road. An old scale served to weigh the apples and they kept the cash in a cigar box.
The customers who came admired the farm and Morgan in her miniature overalls playing in her playpen. The air was cool and crisp, the apples crisp and delicious. Laurie exchanged a proud smile with Cooper after a successful Saturday. The money box was full, the apple bins were empty and Morgan was content. What more could anyone want? Laurie knew the answer to that.
Chapter Nine
“Today is another one of those days that makes you want to go out and buy apples, isn’t it?” Laurie asked Cooper on Sunday morning as she dressed Morgan in a plaid shirt and denim coveralls that almost matched Laurie’s own work clothes.
Cooper opened the living room window and inhaled the clear fresh autumn air. “You’re right,” he said. “In fact here comes somebody now. She can’t even wait for the stand to open. She’s coming right up to the front door.” He closed the window and went to the door. “What can we do for you?” he asked the long-legged teenager who stood on the Welcome mat with a backpack and a cheerful expression on her freshly scrubbed face.
Her eyes widened. “I’m Lucy the baby-sitter. Mrs. Lundgren hired me. You know, the cruise?”
Cooper turned to Laurie. “Do you know anything about a baby-sitter?”
Laurie wrinkled her nose. “No. Wait a minute. She did say something about going on a cruise. Then in all the excitement I forgot.”
While Laurie went to the kitchen to check Gretel’s calendar, Lucy came into the living room, made herself at home by playing a game of peekaboo with Morgan. It was clear they had a long-standing, friendly relationship, Cooper thought as he watched the game from across the room. When Laurie came back into the room she was holding a pair of tickets in her hand.
“These were pinned to the bulletin board,” she explained. “Two tickets to a cruise on the Niagara River. I think they were for Gretel and me. She must have gotten her dates mixed up.”
Lucy looked up from the floor where she was sitting with Morgan. “My mom and dad went on that cruise. For their anniversary. They said it was great.”
“Do you want to go on a cruise?” Laurie asked Cooper.
“Sure, but...”
“What about the apples, the stand, the customers, the business. What about Morgan?”
Cooper shrugged. “Morgan seems to be okay. It’s a shame to waste the tickets.” He surveyed her carefully, noting the tiny lines etched in her forehead. “And you need a break.”
She surveyed him just as carefully. “So do you.”
He smiled. “Let’s go for it.”
Laurie smiled back, feeling a rush of excitement. She told herself it wasn’t as if they were sailing to the Caribbean for two weeks. It was just brunch on the river. But that didn’t slow the quickening of her pulse. If she were sensible she’d forget the tickets and go right back to the stand, haul the apples, sell apples and make money for Gretel. But she could almost hear Gretel’s voice telling her to go, to enjoy. But what if Gretel knew that she was falling in l
ove with a man who really didn’t want to get married again? Then what? She might tell her to stay, stay. To send him away before it was too late. As if it wasn’t already too late.
Cooper went to change clothes. Laurie explained Morgan’s schedule to Lucy, then went down the hall to the master bedroom to find some cruise clothes. A half an hour later they were walking out the front door with the directions to the Buffalo Harbor in hand.
As they walked to the car Laurie stole a glance at Cooper. In his gray slacks, navy blazer and blue oxford shirt, the man was incredibly handsome. But it wasn’t the clothes. He was equally good-looking with his wet, dirty shirt plastered to his skin. She tried to keep her eyes on the road as they drove through the countryside, but she couldn’t help looking at Cooper, studying his profile, memorizing it, afraid that one day he’d be gone.
She smoothed the pale pink silk of her dress, thankful she’d packed it alone with a matching sweater. She felt ten pounds lighter today without a crate of apples in her arms, or a baby on her hip. The silk rustled against her skin, her hair fell loose and brushed her shoulders. She felt—how was it? young and single again? Or married and out with her husband? She wasn’t sure which.
At Buffalo Harbor the Niagara Princess was waiting at the dock, white and sleek and streamlined, with brightly colored flags flying from her upper deck. Laurie felt a shiver of anticipation as they walked up the gangway. The purser in his white jacket welcomed them aboard just like on the Love Boat.
Laurie told herself this was just a river. Just a brunch that would last a few hours and then be over. But she couldn’t shake the picture of a cabin for two, a porthole, romantic ports of call and Cooper... Cooper under the sun, Cooper under the moon. Cooper dining across the table in a well-tailored tux, Cooper in her bed, making love to her all night long. As she stood at the rail her face flamed. She told herself she’d seen too many movies. The band struck up “Anchors Away.” The horn section finally blew Laurie out of her trance. Someone above them threw confetti from the upper deck. In another moment she was waving goodbye to a handful of dockworkers with Cooper’s shoulder pressed against hers.
