Drive-By Daddy & Calamity Jo

by Cheryl Anne Porter

  “No, you won’t, Darcy.”

  “But I could—”

  “But you won’t, Darcy.” He pivoted and captured her arms, forcing her to look at him. “Have you heard one thing I’ve said? You won’t forget to do anything you need to do for Montana. You won’t. Because you’re a good mother, and you love your baby. And that’s all there is to it. The rest of it will follow with experience.”

  Darcy wanted to believe him. She really did. “You promise?”

  He nodded. “Yes. Sam told me she had the same fears with her first baby. And I expect your mother and all those other ladies felt the same way about themselves with their kids when they came along.”

  Darcy thought about that. “Well, that’s true. Mom did say something like that the other day. And Jeanette—one of Mom’s friends, you met her the other day—never had children. So what does she know?”

  “Well, maybe a lot. You pick things up along the way—”

  Darcy’s expression fell.

  Tom changed course in midsentence. “—but you’re right. What does she know? If you can’t rope a calf, you shouldn’t go around telling those folks who’re trying to learn how they should be doing it, right?”

  On board with this idea, Darcy blurted, “Right.” Then she frowned. “What?”

  “I don’t know,” Tom assured her. “But it sure sounded good—and that’s what I want you to realize, Darcy. You’ll be a good mother. You’ll make mistakes, I’m sure. But your heart is in the right place. I believe in you, Darcy.”

  And that was when Darcy finally heard him. Instantly, her heart filled with emotion. She stared at him, memorizing his features. He believed in her. He really did. He thought she could do this. Before she could put her emotional guard up, she said what she was thinking. “Has anyone ever told you what a great guy you are, Tom Elliott?”

  Tom looked embarrassed and released her arms. “Not lately.”

  Still feeling the impression of his touch on her bare skin, Darcy turned in the swing. “Well, you are. You’ve made me feel much better.” She looked over at him now and smiled her thanks.

  Tom nonchalantly put his arm around her shoulders again, this time, gently rubbing her upper arm in an intimate gesture that had Darcy’s skin tingling. “Well, good,” he said. “Then my work here is done.”

  Darcy’s breath caught. She didn’t like the final tone of his last words. Stretching her bare legs out, she pretended to contemplate her sandals. “So. Your work here is done, huh? Does that mean it’s ‘Heigh-ho, Silver, and away’?”

  “Heigh-ho, Silver, and—? Oh, I get it. The Lone Ranger.” He chuckled. “No. Not all my good deeds here are done. Still got a few to attend to.”

  Darcy exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Oh. Well…good. Like what?”

  “Oh, like all the things out here that your mama wants me to see to. As long as I’m here anyway, she says.”

  Darcy stared at him. “Great. My mother’s made you her ranch hand. I told you she was a piece of work.”

  “That you did. And yet I didn’t run, did I?”

  His expression was so intense, so full of unspoken emotion that Darcy had to look away. She swallowed. What was he leading up to here? “No,” she said quietly. “You didn’t. But you don’t strike me as a man who would run.”

  He nodded. “That’s good to know.”

  Darcy shot him a shy glance. “You should have run, though. A smart man would have.”

  “Well, I never have been accused of being too smart.”

  “I’ll bet you have.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe once or twice. Not enough for me to believe it.”

  After that, the moments stretched out silently. The sun continued to sink beyond the horizon. The evening sky darkened and cast its shadows. The gentle breeze stilled. All around her, Darcy felt warmth and contentment. She wondered—and worried—about what degree these good feelings welling up inside her were a result of the nearness of the man who sat so quietly to her right. She looked over at him.

  He was staring at her. Or contemplating her profile was more like it. When Darcy caught his attention, he didn’t look away. She saw the yearning in his eyes and had to look down. Drawing circles on the porch, with her sandaled toe, Darcy said, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?”

  She met his gaze. “Like you…” Words failed her. She took a breath and started over. “Like you…I don’t know…like you care.” Hearing herself, she sat up straighter. “That sounded like I was in junior-high school again, didn’t it? Almost as bad as passing a note in class that says—”

  “Check here if you like me?”

  Darcy grinned. “I see you’ve gotten one of those.”

  “Gotten and sent.”

  “Really? I wouldn’t have figured you for a sender.”

  “No? Hmm. I need to work on that.”

  “On what? Showing your feelings?”

  “My feelings? Is that what you meant?”

  “Yeah. What’d you mean?”

  “I meant my note-passing skill.”

  “You did not.”

  “Did, too.”

  Darcy fought a smile. He was so charming. And funny. Quiet. Intense. Confident. Steady. Strong. Intelligent. Handsome. A girl could really fall hard for him. Whoa! “So, Tom,” she blurted, desperate for anything to say. “What do you think my mother’s up to now?”

  Surprising the life out of Darcy, Tom leaned over until he could whisper in her ear. “I think she came to get the baby purely as an excuse to let us be alone out here.” Having said that…and having caused goose bumps to break out on Darcy’s flesh…he started to pull back.

  But Darcy surprised him—and herself—by stopping him. She put a hand to his clean-shaven cheek, encountering warm, taut skin and a strong jaw. Then locking his gaze with hers as they both acknowledged the moment, she captured his lips and put everything she had into kissing him.

  IT WAS THE middle of the night. Tom lay awake, his hands clasped behind his head, listening to the muted sounds coming through the wall. Darcy was up again with Montana. The baby’s mewling little cries and Darcy’s crooning brought a tender smile to Tom’s face. He shifted until he could see the digital clock beside the bed. Three forty-five a.m. They’d last been awake at midnight. “Whew. Poor kid,” he muttered, thinking of Darcy. She’d be exhausted tomorrow. Well, later on today, was more like it.

  Unable to stop himself, Tom threw the covers back and got out of bed. He reached for his jeans and pulled them on, working the button fly until it was closed. Then he shrugged into a white T-shirt and, barefoot, quietly crossed the room and opened the door. Only then, when he stood on the room’s threshold did he hesitate and question himself. He had to admit that he had no idea what he thought he was doing or even why.

  All he knew was…he wanted to see Darcy. In the middle of the night. With her child. As if they were his family. He felt so outside their world, so isolated from them. And after Darcy’s kiss this evening, he couldn’t stand that. She’d burned him with her touch. He’d known she would, as sure as if she’d branded him. She made him, for the first time in his adult life, want to belong. To be a part of a family. One of his own.

  Of course he was a part of Sam’s family. She was his sister, after all. But she and Luke and their kids lived across the state from him. He didn’t see them that much. Until now, the few times a year he saw Sam and her brood—his only remaining family—had been enough. But no longer. Now he wanted more.

  Like hell, Elliott. You don’t just want more. You want Darcy.

  “Yes, I do,” Tom whispered into the darkness. “I want Darcy.” He didn’t let it get any farther than that in his mind. Because if he did, he knew reason would set in. And right now, in the middle of the night, with his body still burning from her kiss, from her touch, and craving just the sight of her, the last thing Tom intended to listen to was reason. He knew what it would tell him—the reason she’d
as much as jumped up and fled after kissing him was because she’d regretted it. It had been a whim, or she’d been taken by the moment. And that was all.

  Like hell, it was. He rounded the corner into the hallway and took the few steps he needed to put him in the opened doorway of the room Darcy shared with her daughter. And there they were. Tom’s breath caught, his knees felt weak. He leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. He felt as if someone had punched him in the gut, so powerful was the emotional impact of the scene before him. Darcy hadn’t seen him yet, but she would at any moment. All she had to do was look up…look up from nursing her daughter.

  Tom had never seen such an intensely satisfying sight before. But this moment, one he knew he had no right to witness, was incredibly beautiful. There Darcy sat, in a padded rocking chair, bathed in the muted golden light of a bedside lamp. She gently rocked the chair as she held her daughter to her breast and sang softly to her. Darcy’s black hair tumbled around her pale face and fell against her long white nightgown. Tom knew right then he’d never forget this sight as long as he lived. Never.

  Darcy looked up. The song died on her lips. Her expression sobered. Tom jerked upright, away from the wall. “I’m sorry—”

  Darcy shushed him, a finger to her lips. She then pointed to Montana and mouthed She’s asleep. Feeling foolish already, Tom started backing up, his hands held out as if to again say he was sorry. But to his surprise, Darcy motioned him into the room. Tom stopped…and then mouthed back You sure? She smiled and nodded, again waving him in. Tom approached with reverence…and trepidation. He didn’t know what to do. He knew what he wanted to do, but didn’t know if he should. He wanted to hunker down on the floor next to Darcy’s chair, and he wanted to watch her feed her child, a baby he felt in his heart was truly his own.

  But in the end what he did was stand awkwardly next to Darcy and just stare down at the two of them. He smiled and put a hand out, only to withdraw it. Then he scratched his head.

  “It’s okay,” Darcy whispered, taking his hand and tugging him down beside her. “Come see her.”

  Even as thrilled as he was by her invitation, Tom felt really awkward. He knew that in the daylight, Darcy wouldn’t have allowed this familiarity. After all, her breast was exposed…except for the part that Montana still had a hold of. But here in the darkness, it was, as Darcy’d said, okay. Tom hunkered down, resting an arm along the rocker’s arm. Every breath he took enveloped him in the scent of warm woman. Tom wasn’t sure he could catch a breath, let alone a good deep one.

  “She’s beautiful,” he finally whispered to Darcy, trapping her tender gaze with his own. His fingers ached to touch the baby, but he didn’t want to wake her. More than that, he wanted to touch Darcy’s cheek and tell her she was beautiful.

  But Darcy had made herself plain about her current hurt feelings towards men. He didn’t blame her. The last thing he needed to do, then, was to declare himself to her. Like a skittish foal, she’d shy away even further from him. Tom thought he was mature enough to understand that he shouldn’t read too much into her kiss earlier or make too much of the tenderness of this moment right here. She had her moments of weakness—she was allowed them. Tom just wished he could be here for every one of them.

  But the truth was, he wouldn’t be. She’d rejected his trust fund. She’d almost rejected his offer of a name. She felt threatened by all the well-meaning advice on child rearing she’d received by her mother and her mother’s friends. And she’d certainly already had a craw-full of Johnny Smith and Vernon Whatever-his-name-is trailing after her.

  Tom didn’t want to add his name to the notches on her belt. She didn’t want him or anyone else. That much was obvious. So all he could do was soak up what he could of her and Montana…and then be on his way. As early as Wednesday. Less than two days from now.

  9

  BEHIND TOM, the door from the kitchen out into the garage opened and closed. “Did you get in touch with your foreman up there in Montana?”

  Halfway up a ladder, Tom turned from putting the finishing touches on the automatic door opener he was installing. There stood Margie Alcott. “Yep. Thanks. He said things were going smooth, that they hardly missed me. He also said I should take my time here.”

  “Smart man.” Dressed to the nines in a flowered blouse and stretchy-looking pants, with heavy gold jewelry dripping off her, Margie patted down her hair. “And did you tell him you would?”

  A look…and a grin…passed between them. The old gal wanted him to hang around and court her daughter. “Well, I told him my time here pretty much depended on your hospitality.”

  Margie waved. “Don’t fret yourself over that. We’re pleased to have you here.”

  “Well, you are. I’m not so sure about your daughter, though.”

  “Now, Tom, you’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

  Tom frowned. “Some. I wouldn’t want to force myself—”

  “Oh, pooh. I’m the one who asked you to stay on here.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I know. And that’s why I think I—”

  “Quit thinking so much. Darcy’s as thrilled as I am to have you here.”

  Tom raised an eyebrow. “You think she knows she’s thrilled?”

  “Of course she does. Well, she might. Maybe. Anyway, don’t you worry about that. Now, tell me how upsetting it was to find out your place up in Montana can run just fine without you.”

  Tom realized Margie was purposely changing the subject on him, but he allowed it. After all, Darcy was the one he should talk to about how she felt having him around, not her mother. So he good-naturedly answered the question put to him. “Not disconcerting at all. I like to think my holdings can do that because of good management on my part.”

  Margie shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s because a bunch of cattle just don’t need constant supervising. After all, what have they got to do but stand out in the pasture and eat? It’s not like they’re passing laws, you know.”

  Tom chuckled. What a pistol she was. “Well, I can’t argue with that, Margie.” With a screwdriver gripped in his fist, he braced his hand against his thigh and looked her up and down. “You look mighty nice today. Where’re you off to?”

  She made a face. “Oh, I’ve got to go into the hospital for a bit. Some of those old setting hens have their britches in a wad.”

  Tom bit back his mirth. “Is that so? Over what?”

  “Oh, over the schedule I made up of their hours. You know—to cover my absence since I’m needed here with Darcy and the baby for a few weeks. But I swear, if I—as the head volunteer—don’t go straighten it out, they’ll pluck the feathers right out of each other. And who wants to see that?”

  “Well, not me, for one.” A surge of friendly warmth for this older woman washed over him. “I don’t know what they’d do without you, Margie.”

  She nodded soberly. “I’ve told Darcy the same thing.” But then she became all business. “Well, after that, I’ve got the bridge club meeting at Barb’s. And I need to buy Montana some more diapers. Oh, yeah—I made y’all some lunch, so that’s taken care of. Right now, Darcy’s bathing the baby. Well, as much as you can bathe one until that nasty navel thing falls off. Anyway, it’s her first time to handle Montana’s bath on her own, but I think she’s ready. It’ll do her good. And I’m not expecting any company, so it should be a quiet day out here. Don’t you fuss none about supper, either. I expect to be back in time for that. Although, I think I’ll just pick up some pizzas. Nobody’ll probably feel much like cooking. And how about you? You need anything from town? Shaving cream or the like?”

  Tom had been so caught up in nodding in time with her monologue that it took him a second to realize he’d been asked a question. “Oh. No. But thanks anyway.” He was secretly glad that the Buckeye Bridge Beauties, as Darcy had told him they were called, weren’t meeting here today. Because that was about the last thing Darcy needed—another dose of horror stories. “You go on and have a good
time. I’ll have this done in a bit. And when you get home—” He turned to pat the motor casing he’d just mounted to the garage ceiling. “—you’ll be in business.”

  Margie brimmed with happiness. “Well, won’t that be great? I swear, neither me nor Darcy can get that heavy door up sometimes. It’s just so nice to have a man around the house to do these things. You know, a frail widow like myself has to pay a man to come out and do these chores.”

  Tom didn’t think there was anything the least bit frail about Margie Alcott, but he wisely kept that observation to himself. “Well, I don’t mind earning my keep by helping out. Seems like there’s plenty of work here to go around.”

  “That’s the truth.” Then Margie Alcott stepped up closer to the ladder and her expression again sobered. “I guess I ought to tell you, Tom, that I think Darcy is beginning to suspect the real reason you’re out here. And I don’t just mean in the garage, either.”

  “Is that so? And what is it you think she suspects?”

  A pure conspirator now, Margie looked over her shoulder at the house and then stepped up onto the first rung of the ladder. Tom found himself leaning down toward her. This had to be good. “I think she suspects,” Margie, whispered, “that you’re staying with us to make her…you know.”

  Tom shook his head and whispered back, “No, I don’t know.”

  Margie smacked at his denim-covered calf. “Yes, you do. Don’t make me say it.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to because I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Oh, Tom.” She was clearly incensed with him. “You know. Fall in love.”

  Tom’s eyebrows rose. “Is that what I’m doing? I’m supposed to be trying to make Darcy fall in love with me?”