Staking His Claim

by Karen Templeton

  Except for Mildred and Ned, who were forbidden to lift a finger, and Maddie, who was still trying to convince Amy Rose that mashed potatoes were not intended for use as hair mousse, all the other adults got up to help clear the table. As Dawn backed through the swinging door into the kitchen, her hands full of gravy boat and green-bean casserole, she overheard Hank say, "But if prices keep going down, don't you run the risk of losing the whole thing?"

  "Not if I'm careful," Cal said.

  Ryan took the casserole from Dawn, thunking it on the counter. "Look, Cal, there's no shame in lettin' go of something that's not working. You gave it your best shot—"

  "Where do you get off tellin' me if it's working or not?" Cal said, leaning one hand on the counter, the other jammed in his jeans pocket. "Yeah, things are rough right now, but if you think I'm throwing in the towel, giving up my home, at the first sign of trouble, you're nuts."

  "I'm just saying—" Ryan swung open the refrigerator to shove in the casserole "—it might be better to get out now while you still have a chance of makin' something from the sale." He let the refrigerator door swing shut. "Then you can start up again sometime down the road when things are better—"

  "You can't ask him to do that!"

  Every head in the kitchen swiveled in Dawn's direction. Especially Cal's, whose expression was nothing short of flabbergasted.

  "That farm was your father's dream!" she said, her cheeks heating, her gaze bouncing from Ryan's startled blue eyes to Hank's nearly black what-the-hell? ones. "And now it's…it's Cal's life. You might as well ask him to stop breathing as to give up his horses! And…" Her heart felt as though it was about to pound out of her chest. "And that's all I'm gonna say on the subject, since it's really none of my business, anyway."

  The swinging door nearly smacked her in the butt as she scooted back into the dining room, breathing deeply in an attempt to quell the tremors racking her body. An apple pie balanced in one hand, Ivy gave her a one-armed hug.

  Dawn grimaced. "I have no idea where that came from."

  "Don't you?" her mother whispered back.

  By the time dessert was served a few minutes later, the conversation had returned to less controversial topics, most notably Hank's and Jenna's upcoming wedding. Then, when everybody had at least one slice of the pie, or pies, of their choice in front of them, Ryan clinked his fork on his glass until it got quiet, except for Amy Rose who clapped her now pumpkin-pie-slathered hands and squealed, "Daddy!" After the laughter died down, Ryan stood, raising his glass of cider and smiling at Maddie at the other end of the table in a way that made Dawn's breath catch in her throat.

  "Since we've got y'all in one spot, I suppose this is as good a time as any to announce, being as this wife of mine and I are clearly out of our minds—" he winked at Maddie "—that come July, there's gonna be another baby in the house!"

  Delighted congratulations broke out around the table as Noah, Maddie's six-year-old son, yelled, "An' if it's not a boy this time, I'm sendin' it back!" Her ears ringing from the din of laughter that followed, Dawn's gaze bounced from person to person, each rapidly blurring face beaming with more joy than the next, until all the turkey and potatoes and yams threatened a major revolt in her stomach.

  In the happy confusion of handshakes and hugs, she fled.

  Chapter 9

  Cal found her out in the backyard, wedged into the rubber-seated swing Ryan had strung up for the kids from the tallest sycamore. She glanced up at his approach, clumsily catching her sweater coat when he tossed it to her, then pivoted so he couldn't see her face.

  "What's going on, honey?"

  "Nothing," she said to the tree as she punched her arms through the sleeves. "I just needed some air, that's all."

  Cal walked over and grabbed the rope, twisting it back around so she had to look at him. "Ah, hell…you're crying!"

  "Of course I'm crying! I'm always crying!" She dug a tissue from the pocket of those stretchy pants she was wearing and honked into it. "I'm a w-walking hormone dump! Yesterday, I got all teary be-because Ruby'd run out of split pea soup by the time I got there. Then she said she'd saved me the last piece of Maddie's lemon meringue pie, at least, and I cried even h-harder—"

  "Get out of the swing," Cal said.

  She glared up at him. And sniffed. "I don't want t-to."

  "Did I ask you if you wanted to get out of the swing? So come on."

  "Why?"

  "Because, Hormone Hannah," he said on a weary sigh, "I can't hold you while you're in the damn swing."

  "I don't want—"

  He reached over, grabbed her hand and tugged her onto her feet and into his arms.

  And what's more, she let him.

  "Did you really mean all that back there in the kitchen," he said softly, rubbing her back, "about how I shouldn't give up on the farm?"

  Judging from her flinch, this was not what she expected. Frowning, she reared back to look up at him, her eyes huge. "Of course I meant it, doofus. The farm means the world to you!" She sniffed. "And I can't believe Hank and Ryan don't understand that."

  "I think the way they see it is, they're just trying to look out for their baby brother. And your eyelash stuff is smearing."

  "You're nobody's baby anything, Cal Logan!" she said, swiping underneath her eyes. "And they've got no right, none, to give you grief for following your heart. Besides, who the hell are they to talk? Ryan, especially—trying to make a go of it as a country doctor in this day and age?" She gave a sharp laugh. "Yeah, like that makes a whole lotta sense. But I'd like to see anybody try to talk him out of it. So don't you dare let them try to boss you around, you hear me?"

  Since she'd missed at least half the smudges, Cal took the tissue from her and gently wiped at them himself. "Wow—look up, wouldja?—I had no idea you felt so strongly."

  "Neither did I," she said on a little sigh. "Except I know it's something you've wanted ever since you were little. Did you get it?" she asked when he handed her back the tissue.

  "Yeah," he said, and she tucked her hand between her cheek and his chest and said, "Besides, I also know how it feels to have your dreams threatened."

  "Well, just for the record, darlin'—" he wrapped his arms a little more tightly around her "—my brothers can bluster and blow all they want, but it takes a lot more than a little hot air to blow a Logan off course. Which, if either of them stopped to think about for a minute, they'd figure out."

  "So…you're not listening to them?"

  "Oh, I'll listen. Doesn't mean I have to pay attention, though."

  "Good," she said.

  He rested his cheek in her hair and said, "Now. You got any idea what's really bugging you?"

  She stiffened. "I told you. Nothing."

  "Right. Honey, in my experience, women don't bolt from a room over nothing." He frowned. "Let me rephrase that. You don't bolt from a room over nothing. So my guess is…there was just a bit more happiness going on in that house than you could stomach."

  That got a tiny, muffled laugh. "How'd you know?"

  "Because it was driving me nuts, too."

  She looked up. "Yeah?"

  "Yeah," he said, trying not to think about how much he wanted to kiss her.

  A small frown marred her forehead. "Why?"

  "Because…everybody else has got their lives figured out but me. Because I don't know how I'm gonna keep this business afloat, and I've got a baby on the way and I don't know how to make you happy—"

  "Whoa, buster! It's not up to you to make me happy!"

  "Doesn't mean I don't want to. Dammit…" He gathered her close again—as close as her big belly would let him, anyway—because he had to. Because this way, he didn't have to see that damned indignant expression. "Nothing makes any sense right now. This isn't…it's just not how I ever saw becomin' a father, you know?"

  "Well, hell," she said, "it's not like this was exactly my first choice, either! And believe me, things would be a lot easier if I didn't care about you. If I…
" She stopped.

  "What?"

  "Never mind."

  "Oh, no…don't you pull that 'never mind' crap on me. One thing I could always count on with you, and that was you being up-front with me, no matter what. Even when we were kids, you always said exactly what was on your mind. I didn't always like it, and I sure as hell didn't always understand it, but at least I never had to wonder what you were really thinking. So don't go hiding behind those hormones now, you got that?"

  After a moment she pulled away, cocooning herself in her sweater. "I always thought I knew what I wanted, what I was going to do with my life, who I was. But now…" She walked back to the swing and wriggled her butt into the seat. "I'm having a blast working in Sherman's office, much to my shock. That should make me happy, right? But does it? Noooo, because if I'm happy here, that means everything I've believed about myself before this has been a sham. It means…I might not even want to leave."

  Cal's heart rocketed into his throat. "And the problem with that is…?"

  "The problem is, if I stayed here, it would be all too easy to get caught up in what everybody else wants for us. What everybody else in your family has." Her eyes glistened with new tears. "Don't you see? It's not…" The sentence got cut off on a little gasp; he could see her focus inward, like he wasn't even there anymore. Only he was, and she was making him nuts, and no way was she getting away with not finishing that sentence.

  "Dawn?" he said, more sharply than he intended.

  She glanced up, slightly dazed, then motioned him over.

  "The baby's moving," she said on a whisper, like it might stop if it heard her.

  Cal moved closer and crouched down, letting her guide his hand to a spot low on the outside of those stretchy pants. He glanced up at her face, his heart melting at the look of wonder that had, for the moment at least, erased most of the worry.

  "Sorry, honey, but I don't feel—"

  "Shh," she said, still whispering. "Think subtle. No hooves. There!" She laughed. "It kind of tickles!" Her hand over his, she moved it a fraction south. "Right…there."

  This time he felt it, a tiny ripple against his palm. Emotion dammed up inside him, making him feel like a sap—he was hardly the first man to experience this, for Pete's sake—but he didn't care, they'd work it out somehow, everything would be okay…

  "At least, I can give you this," Dawn said, blowing his endorphins or whatever they were all to hell. When he met her gaze again, the worry was back. In spades. "It's very tempting to believe, at moments like this—" she removed his hand, tugging her sweater back down over her bulge "—that we could make it work. Because we both love this child. Because we're good in bed together."

  Before he could say anything, she bracketed his face with her hands. "I don't want a pretend relationship. And I know you don't. And that's all we'd have, no matter how good the sex might be, no matter how devoted we'd both be to this baby. Because I have no idea what it takes to—" she cut herself off, then finished with "—to keep a relationship going."

  Cal stood up before his legs cramped permanently in that position. "Who the hell does? I mean, it's not exactly something you're born knowing, is it?" At her implacable expression, he blew out a sigh. "Dammit, Dawn…Okay, so maybe this is one of those things you have to take on faith. Learn from other people's examples or something. Like, I don't know…Faith and Darryl. Or Maddie and Ryan. Seems to me they've got a pretty good handle on things."

  "I think Faith's more resigned than happy, to be honest. And Maddie and Ryan haven't exactly withstood the test of time, have they?"

  "Fine. Then how about Ruby and Jordy? Luralene and Coop? Faith's parents?" He paused. "My parents?"

  "And for every example you can give of a couple who has it together," she said quietly, "I can name you two more that started out just fine, but for one reason or another broke up."

  Like he'd said, there was no arguing with the woman once she'd made up her mind. And with that realization, hopelessness spread through him like frost. He crossed his arms. "And this really doesn't have a damn thing to do with anybody else, does it?"

  She frowned. "I don't know what—"

  "Dawn, be honest. It all boils down to one simple fact—you don't want to be with me."

  "It's more complicated than that—"

  "No it's not. Do you or don't you?"

  She got up and would have headed back toward the house, but he grabbed her arm, making her face him. "Answer me, dammit."

  This time there was none of that aggravating ambivalence in her eyes. This time all he saw was pure, unadulterated fear, so much that he jerked, her arm falling from his grasp.

  She blinked, once, then turned and walked away.

  * * *

  Two days before Christmas, the brutal wind practically shoved Dawn into Ruby's, blasting the paper place mats right out of the nearest booth and making the tacky tinsel decorations hanging from each suspended ceiling fixture—could they really be the very same ones Dawn remembered from high school?—shimmy frantically.

  "Wondered if you were gonna make it today," Ruby hollered from the kitchen, peering through the serving window.

  "It's later than usual."

  "Sorry," she said, shrugging out of her down coat and snagging it on a hook by the front door. "Is there anything left?"

  It was nearly three; Ruby officially stopped serving lunch at two, so the diner was basically deserted. But she always kept a pot of coffee on for anyone who wanted to come in and visit for a few minutes, and she'd told Dawn in no uncertain terms that she could come in for lunch anytime, didn't matter when, but she was not to neglect that baby, was that clear?

  "For you, baby," Ruby said, her crepe-soled shoes squeaking on the linoleum as she came into full view, "there's always something left, you know that. Another big storm coming in, according to the weatherman." She set a cup of piping-hot mint tea in front of Dawn, who immediately picked it up to warm her frozen fingers, inhaling the sweetly scented steam. "I suppose it might be nice to have a white Christmas, but after that, it can go someplace else as far as I'm concerned. This'll make, what, the fourth storm we've have since Thanksgiving? So…we're all out of the meat loaf, though I've got more in the oven. But Jordy can make you up a hot roast beef sandwich, how's that sound?"

  "Like heaven."

  Ruby yelled out Dawn's order to her husband, then got herself a cup of coffee and settled in on the other side of the booth, as she did most days. "So. Sherman's practice keeping you busy?"

  "To say the least. Who knew a town of this size could generate so much legal work?"

  "Think you might stay, then?"

  Dawn clunked the thick ceramic cup into the saucer. "That's called leading the witness, Ruby."

  "Since this ain't a court of law, I'm not worried. Well?"

  "I don't know yet," she said softly. After that conversation with Cal at Thanksgiving, she'd been more muddled than ever. For the past month, all she could think of was the look on his face when he'd confronted her about whether or not she wanted to be with him…and she'd been unable to answer. Their awkwardness with each other at Jenna's and Hank's wedding. The merciless, taunting yearning in his eyes that she could only withstand by avoiding altogether. Which brought home the fact that, no matter whether she stayed or left, she was going to hurt him, a prospect—an inevitability—that was making her ill.

  "But it's an option, at least?" Ruby said.

  Dawn smiled into the hopeful dark eyes. "We'll see."

  Ruby chuckled, patting her inch-long white 'fro. "Well, at least you didn't say hell, no, so that's something. And maybe you'll have made up your mind for sure by the time this baby comes—"

  "Speaking of babies coming…" They both looked up as Ivy, who'd popped up out of nowhere, slid into the booth beside Ruby, a cup of coffee in her hand. "Faith just had hers a couple hours ago. A gorgeous baby boy, seven pounds and change! They're callin' him Nicky. For St. Nicholas, 'cause he was born so close to Christmas—!"

  "Da
mmit!" Luralene Hastings yipped as the door slapped her in the butt. Then the sixty-something Lucille Ball redhead scurried across the floor, teeth chattering, her arms strangling her ribs over her violently violet Hair We Are smock. "That wind is downright mean today!"

  "Well, for heaven's sake, woman," Ivy said, frowning.

  "Why the hell don't you put on a coat?"

  Shaking so badly her already bouffant hairdo looked twice as big—AquaNet and the teasing comb being Luralene's main weapons in her war against bad hair days—she batted away Ivy's concern. "For a thirty-foot walk? Not hardly worth the effort. But I'll tell you what," she said, toting her coffee to the table and wedging herself in beside Dawn, "if this weather keeps up, I may just dig out that fur-lined bra from Frederick's of Hollywood that Coop gave to me for Valentine's day a couple years ago!"

  That merited an appropriate pause for reflection, until Jordy shattered the silence by asking was anybody gonna pick up this roast beef sandwich or what?

  Since Dawn and Ruby were both trapped, Ivy got up and retrieved Dawn's lunch, chiding her for not having a vegetable to go with it.

  She held up her tea. "This is green, right? Close enough."

  Ivy shook her head.

  Some time later, as Dawn was trying to digest both her second piece of apple pie and the latest gossip, Charmaine came in with her boys, her face pinched with worry.

  "I'm sorry, Ruby, but I had to bring 'em again today…"

  "And I told you not to concern yourself about that," her boss said, getting up from the booth. "Your mama not feeling well again?"

  A furtive look crossed the woman's features. "Yeah," she said in that leaden way of somebody worn-out from twisting the truth. "I'm thinkin' I really need to get somebody else, one of these days. Is it okay if they go into the office for a bit, get started on their homework?"

  "Sure, baby. And tell Jordy I said to give 'em something to eat. Put some meat on those skinny little bones."

  After Charmaine and the boys had gone, Dawn asked, "I take it Charmaine's mother gets sick a lot?"