His Badge, Her Baby...Their Family?

by Stella Bagwell

  “Oh, I thought it was mostly clothing she’d been carrying in the car. You mean she didn’t have her household goods and personal things shipped ahead of her?”

  As Vince stared out at the dry, barren landscape, he realized he felt just as empty as the desert hills. “No. I think she sold most of it to help fund the move.”

  “That’s too bad. You’d never know it by talking with her. She’s certainly not crying or whining poor pitiful me.”

  “I offered to help her replace some of what she needs, but she doesn’t want my financial help,” Vince conceded.

  Evan slanted a skeptical glance in Vince’s direction.

  “I always got the impression from you that Geena was the clingy, fragile sort. She doesn’t appear that way to me.”

  Vince grunted. “People change, Evan. And I’m ready to change subjects, okay? So where are we going anyway?”

  For a moment Vince got the impression that Evan didn’t want to drop their conversation about Geena. But thankfully, after a long pregnant pause, he moved on.

  “We’re headed to the Sagebrush Lounge. Out on 50—near the Storey County line. Someone managed to charm the guard dog and tear down the back door to a storeroom. Carried off thousands of dollars of beer and liquor. Took the dog, too. Guess they wanted a Rottweiler to go with a good cocktail.”

  “I hope he bites the bastards.”

  The men fell silent after that, and miles passed until town became a speck in the rearview mirror. In front of them, there was nothing but a few wild burros grazing on clumps of dried grass along the edge of the asphalt and a highway sign that read Silver City 5 Miles.

  Finally, Evan said, “You know, buddy, it won’t hurt anything to admit that you wanted Geena and the baby to stay with you.”

  Vince wiped a weary hand over his face. He’d always been able to function on very little sleep. In fact, both he and Evan had pushed through their shifts with only an hour or two of rest. But this past week, he’d lain awake counting the hours and minutes until Geena and little Emma would be leaving.

  “Okay, I’m an idiot. I can admit that and a whole lot more,” Vince mumbled miserably. “I didn’t want the two of them to leave. I even made the mistake of asking Geena to stay. She wouldn’t have it. I suppose once you divorce a woman she pretty much writes you off her list.”

  “You’ve been apart for years, Vince. You can’t expect her to just jump into your arms and start loving you again. Where you’re concerned, I figure she has a lot of concerns.”

  But she had jumped into his arms, Vince thought. She’d practically invited him to make love to her. If she’d been fully recuperated from going through childbirth, they probably would have ended up in bed together.

  Sex won’t fix our problems.

  He never should have said such a thing to her. Maybe sex wasn’t the entire solution, Vince reasoned with himself, but at least it would be a start, a connection to build on.

  “Concerns about me? Hell, I have all kinds of reasons to be concerned about her!” Vince exclaimed. “Don’t I?”

  Evan shook his head. “From what I can see, Geena is a stable, responsible woman. Like you said a few minutes ago, people change. Obviously she’s changed for the better. When do you think you will?”

  Vince glared at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means there are times you’re as stiff as a dead fish. And just about as cold.”

  In a voice dripping with sarcasm, Vince said, “Thanks, buddy. You’re really helping me out here.”

  “I’m damned well trying to,” Evan barked back. “I’m not that acquainted with Geena, but I am familiar with the opposite sex. Deep down a woman just wants to know her man loves her. That’s basically all she wants. Your love. Get it?”

  Vince bristled. “Yeah, I get it. I’m a failure in communication.”

  Evan suddenly steered the SUV off the highway, and Vince looked around to see they’d arrived at the bar and grill. The rambling wood-framed structure sat on a large dirt parking lot. Near one end of the building, a dusty red truck sat in the shade of a lone pine tree.

  Vince jammed a notebook and pen in his shirt pocket and reached to unsnap his seat belt.

  Behind the steering wheel, Evan appeared to be more concerned with Vince’s misery than the bar’s losses. He cut the engine, then stabbed Vince with a pointed look.

  “Vince, I’ve seen you break a suspect with just a handful of words. Surely you can find the right ones to say to Geena.”

  “Geena isn’t a suspect,” Vince muttered. “She’s my ex-wife.”

  Evan grinned. “See, you’re already making progress. You’ve figured out the difference.”

  Biting back a curse word, Vince yanked open the vehicle door. “Come on, let’s get to work before I decide to gag you.”

  *

  A week and a half later, Geena was finally beginning to feel as though she was getting her life back in order. At least, the parts she could control.

  She now had a dependable car to drive and a phone to keep her connected. The furniture she’d purchased had been delivered and her little house was beginning to look more like a home. Yesterday, she’d met the principal of the school where she’d be starting her teaching job in a few days. The woman had been friendly and outgoing and as she’d toured Geena around the building, she’d begun to feel excited about getting back to work. Especially since Annie had agreed to become Emma’s nanny.

  Yes, things were finally coming together, she thought as she sat on the front porch, holding her sleeping daughter in her arms. She was far removed from the lost woman who’d stared at the walls of a hospital room and strained to remember her own name. And yet she couldn’t deny that, in spite of all her blessings, she felt like something was missing.

  Not something, Geena. Someone. Vince is missing. And no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be completely whole without him.

  Sighing at the little voice going off in her head, Geena looked across the quiet residential street to where a man was mowing a small patch of lawn in front of a brick house. Nearby in the driveway, a boy, somewhere around six years of age, dressed in nothing but a pair of shorts and sandals, was trying his best to dribble a basketball.

  The last time he chased the ball down the driveway, the child happened to notice Geena and immediately waved at her.

  As soon as Geena smiled and waved back at him, the dark-haired boy carefully glanced up and down the street for traffic, then raced across to her driveway.

  “Hi,” he called as he bounded up the steps. “What’s your name?”

  “My name is Geena,” she told him, while thinking what a little charmer he was with his toothy grin and freckled nose. “What’s yours?”

  “Randal Ray Morgan. Everybody calls me Randy, though.” He drew closer, his gaze riveted to Emma. “Is that your baby?”

  “Yes. Her name is Emma.”

  “I’m six. How old is she?”

  “She’s about a month old.”

  The boy’s brown eyes widened. “Gosh! She ain’t even one yet?”

  Geena stifled a laugh. “Not until next summer.”

  He shoved at a hank of hair poking his right eyebrow. “I don’t have a sister. I wish I did. I’d push her around in my red wagon. Where is Emma’s daddy?”

  Geena told herself not to let the boy’s innocent question get to her. “He’s not here right now.”

  “When will he be here?”

  When, indeed, Geena asked herself. So far she couldn’t imagine any man being in her and Emma’s lives, except for Vince. And that just wasn’t going to happen.

  “I don’t know for sure. Maybe—”

  “Randy! Get over here where you belong!”

  The booming male voice had the boy glancing anxiously across the street. “That’s my daddy calling,” he explained in a rush. “I’d better go. He gets mad if I leave the yard. Can I come see Emma again sometime?”

  Geena smiled. “Of course you may. Just make su
re you get permission first.”

  “I will! ’Bye, Geena!” He raced off the porch and back to his own yard.

  Her heart heavy, Geena watched him follow his father until the two disappeared around the side of the house.

  By the time Emma got to be Randy’s age, would she have a dad to love and protect her, to praise her when she was good and scold her when she was bad?

  Her gaze dropped to Emma just as her daughter was opening her bright blue eyes. Smiling tenderly, Geena bent her head closer so the baby could focus on her mother’s face.

  “So you woke up and decided to look around,” Geena spoke softly. “Aw, and you just missed seeing the cute little neighbor who came to visit. He had a really nice smile, too. Just like…”

  Just like your daddy’s.

  The remainder of her words were spoken silently as she realized the direction her thoughts had taken. Brad’s image hadn’t been anywhere in her mind. No, she’d been picturing Vince as Emma’s daddy. Something she’d been doing ever since he’d stood next to her in the delivery room and cradled her newborn child as if she’d been his own.

  Dear God, what was wrong with her? she wondered. It had been so easy for her to put Brad completely out of her mind. So easy to forget the few short weeks she’d been married to him. Why couldn’t she do the same with Vince?

  Because you didn’t love Brad. You told yourself you cared about him. You believed he could fill the missing gap in your life. You had the rosy idea you could start over and build the family you always wanted with him. You overlooked the real fact that Vince has never left your heart.

  Emma squirmed and let out an annoyed cry that closely described the turmoil going on in Geena’s head.

  Lifting the baby to her shoulder, she patted her back and spoke to her in a low, gentle tone. “I know, little darlin’. Vince would be a good daddy for you. He even offered himself up for the position. But I was so scared. Too scared to ever think the three of us could be a family.”

  She was still soothing the baby and thinking about the night of the shower, when he’d come to her bedroom…when a familiar dark truck pulled up in her short driveway. By the time the driver’s door opened, she realized with a start that the man stepping out of the cab was Vince.

  He was dressed in a pair of worn blue jeans and cowboy boots. A faded black T-shirt was stretched taut against his broad chest and lean waist, while a pair of aviator sunglasses shielded his eyes from the late-evening sun. In spite of the casual clothing, he looked incredibly handsome, and as she watched him slowly climb the steps to the porch, her heart began to race with foolish excitement.

  “Hello, Vince.”

  A faint smile touched his face. “Hello, Geena.”

  “I’d say drag up a chair and have a seat,” she told him, “but I only have this one.”

  “That’s all right. I need to stand anyway.”

  Feeling like all the oxygen had been sucked from her lungs, she tried to breathe without sounding like she’d just run a mile. “I never expected to see you in this part of town.”

  He leaned a shoulder against one of the carved posts supporting the roof of the porch and swept a mindful glance at the connecting neighbors. “I should have called before showing up like this. But I didn’t want to give you the chance to come up with some excuse not to see me.”

  Geena was glad she had Emma to hang on to. Otherwise her hands would be shaking badly. Since she’d moved out of Vince’s place, he’d called her twice. Just to check on her and Emma, he’d said. And during both of those calls, he’d never hinted that he wanted to see them. Why was he here now? To make sure she hadn’t slipped back to drinking?

  Stop it, Geena! Vince might not trust you to be an understanding wife. But he can see you’re not about to revert back to the broken woman he used to be married to.

  “Why would I do that? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  He pulled off his glasses and hooked the earpiece on one of his belt loops. Then looking directly at her, he asked, “Is that what we are?”

  Why did she suddenly feel like bursting into tears? There wasn’t any reason for her to have such a ridiculous reaction to this man.

  “That’s better than being enemies.”

  His lips took on a wry twist. “Yes, much better. So how’s Emma? She looks like she’s grown a foot since I’ve seen her.”

  The tight coil in her stomach loosened enough for her to rise to her feet and cross the short space between them.

  “Here. Why don’t you hold her and see for yourself?”

  She handed the baby over to him, and her heart winced with bittersweet pain as she watched him cradle the baby in the crook of his arm and smooth the hem of her dress over her diaper.

  “Wow, she looks like she can really see me,” he said as he bent his face toward Emma’s. “Her eyes look bright and focused.”

  “She’s nearly five weeks old now. She’s starting to see things close up to her.”

  He smiled down at the baby. “She’s so pretty now. Just imagine how beautiful she’s going to be when she’s all grown up.”

  Geena laughed softly. “I don’t want to think of her grown up just yet. That will happen all too soon.”

  “So are you going to ask me in?” he asked. “I’ve not seen your place yet.”

  “Sure. I’ll fix us some coffee or something.”

  He followed her into the house, and after fastening the storm door behind them, Geena gestured to the couch. “You can lay Emma there while I show you around. There’s no danger of her rolling off—yet, that is.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d rather carry her with me.”

  Not wanting to read too much into his desire to keep holding the baby, she smiled at him. “I don’t mind. She likes it when you walk with her. Come on, I’ll show you how I fixed her little nursery.”

  A few minutes later, after she’d shown him through the small house, he sat holding Emma at the kitchen table while Geena prepared a fresh pot of coffee.

  “You have everything looking neat and livable,” Vince told her. “Have you had any visitors yet? Other than me?”

  “Marcella has stopped by a couple of times after her shift at the hospital. And Noelle came by yesterday. She was in town getting a load of feed for the ranch.”

  She turned away from the cabinet counter to see his expression had gone solemn.

  “I guess you know she and Evan are going to have another baby.”

  Geena nodded. “She told me the night of the shower.”

  “You didn’t mention it to me.”

  She shook her head. “No. I figured Evan should be the one to give you the news. You two are very close.”

  And we’re not? Even though he didn’t ask the question, Geena could feel it hanging in the air between them.

  Relieved to see the coffee had finished dripping, she quickly busied herself with filling two cups and carrying them and a plate of cookies over to the table.

  “You probably should take Emma now,” he said. “I don’t want to take the chance of dripping hot coffee on her.”

  “I have her little infant seat right over here,” she told him.

  She fetched the brightly colored chair from a corner of the room and set it in a safe spot in the middle of the table. Emma fussed when she lifted her from Vince’s arms, but the baby quieted as soon as Geena got her settled in the comfy seat.

  “You must’ve gotten work wrapped up early today,” Geena remarked as she sank into a chair angled to Vince’s left elbow.

  “The past week has been rather light in the way of crimes. At least, most of them haven’t needed detectives on the scene. What about you? School should be starting soon.”

  She stirred powdered creamer into her coffee. “I start work next week. Tomorrow I’m going pick up a few things and finish getting my classroom ready. Not that there’s much I need to add to it. The school has already stocked it with all sorts of art supplies.”

  “You think you’re going to like
it there?”

  She nodded while wondering why they had to be so nice and polite to each other. Why did she have to sit here and behave as though he was nothing more than an old acquaintance instead of the man she wanted to kiss and hold and beg to let her back into his life?

  Because you’re a coward, Geena. It’s safer to sit here and pretend than to hand your heart over to a man who’s already divorced you once.

  “So far, I do. The staff all seem very friendly. And my room is really pretty. It has lots of windows that will give the students great natural lighting. And the view is a park across the street.”

  He smiled. “I thought teachers didn’t want rooms with windows. Don’t kids get distracted easily?”

  “I teach art, Vince,” she said with a laugh. “If I can’t keep their focus on a subject that enjoyable, I’m in trouble.”

  He reached for a cookie. “You’ll probably meet some nice men who work there. Maybe a big tough football coach with an eye for a blonde,” he said.

  Geena’s short laugh was wrapped in disbelief. “Do you honestly think I’m going to be looking for a man? After all I’ve gone through?”

  The cookie didn’t quite reach his mouth as he slanted her a pointed look. “You told me you’d like to have a father for Emma,” he reminded.

  Her gaze instinctively drifted over to her daughter’s cherub face. Right now it was impossible to imagine any man fathering Emma—except Vince. And that was a scary, impossible thought.

  “Well, yes, I did,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going on an immediate search for one!”

  He downed the cookie in two bites. “I’m glad.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  His gaze caught hers, and Geena’s heart thumped erratically.

  “I don’t want you to be hurt again, Geena.”

  He was concerned about her being hurt? All this time she’d believed he was thinking about his own feelings, not hers.

  Completely shaken by the idea, she left the table and walked over to where a paned window exposed a view of the tiny backyard. As she stared at the single piñon and the bare spots scattered among the scraggly grass, she swallowed hard and forced herself to speak.