by Leona Karr
She forced a laugh. “I’ve had enough excitement in my life. The duller the better.”
“Don’t seem likely, not a gal like you,” he argued. “Not by a long shot. Just the way you move and talk tells me you like adventure. I even wrote a song about you last night.”
She was too surprised to say anything. Why would this good-looking cowboy be writing songs to a widow with an adolescent son? Even though their ages were probably not that far apart, she felt years older. Her disbelief must have shown in her expression.
“Yep. Got all the lyrics, but still working on the chords. I’ll play my guitar and sing it for you when I’m finished. Maybe tonight. Would you like to hear it?”
What could she say? “That…that would be nice,” she stammered. “But I may be busy. I have to stay close to the Millers. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to catch up with them and make sure that Sue doesn’t overdo.”
“That gal’s too durn young to be having a baby,” he said flatly as they walked across the large room “My ma had eight kids. I was the oldest. I had to grow up fast, you know what I mean? Ma just didn’t have time for all of us. Can’t ever remember having her to myself. Your son is lucky. Real lucky. I seen the way you love him when you came to the ranch after him those few times.”
A wistful edge to his words made her ask, “Is your mother still alive?”
He shook his head. “Nope, that’s why I left. I figured it was time. Drifting around is kinda lonely sometimes. But I’ve made up my mind. Going to get something for myself. I figure it’s about time, you know what I mean?”
The intensity of the question as he searched her face made her uneasy. “I’m not sure. I guess it depends upon what you want.”
“And whether you have the guts to go after it,” he added bluntly.
With relief, she left him in the den with Larry, Kirby, and Scotty, who were getting up a poker game. Then she joined Sue and Gary in the kitchen. Hal was with the young couple, and Jill was surprised to see that the three of them were looking through some photo albums that Hal had spread out on the table.
He leaned over Gary’s shoulder, pointing to particular photographs. “Appaloosa horses. Great mounts for western riding. Turn a calf on a dime. And beautiful, don’t you think? All those different-colored markings.”
Jill smiled to herself as he talked about the spotted horses. There was so much pride in Hal’s voice, you’d have thought the rancher was showing off his kids.
Sue motioned to a chair beside her. “Come join us, Jill,” she invited, handing Jill one of the photo albums.
As Jill flipped through it, she chided herself for deliberately hoping to find a picture of a young woman that might be Carrie. Her curiosity was disappointed. All the albums were horses, men and scenery. If there were any photo albums of a personal nature, Hal had not offered them for viewing.
When Sue and Gary left the kitchen to go back upstairs, Hal drew Jill aside. “I think there are some baby things still stored in the attic. A cradle and such. Do you think the Millers would take it amiss if I offered some of the things to them?”
“Not at all. I think they’d be delighted.”
“Shall we take a look? See what we can find?”
His eager invitation surprised her. She laughed and said, “Sure.”
“We’ll take the back stairs.” He motioned to a closed door at one end of the kitchen. He grabbed her hand in a boyish fashion as they mounted a narrow staircase that led past the second floor and upward to the attic level. A dim wall light sent their shadows upward, and in the narrow confines of the staircase, she was terribly aware of his firm, muscular stride.
“Sorry about the dust,” he apologized. “I forgot that these steps haven’t been swept for a long time. My brothers and I used to use this stairway all the time, especially when we played hide-and-seek.” He laughed at the memory. “The attic was a favorite place of ours. We’d disappear for hours up here, pretending it was everything from a cave to a castle. We had a good time, all three of us ornery as the devil. I’m afraid we gave my mother plenty of gray hairs.”
Her soft warm body brushing against his in the stairway triggered a closeness she hadn’t felt for a long time. She could tell he felt at ease talking about his family, which was puzzling, since he hadn’t struck her as the type of man to open up to anyone.
As he talked, Jill envied his childhood memories. As an adopted only child, she’d missed out on sibling fun, and the wonderful mad pace of family living. “You have two brothers? Where are they?”
“One’s a dentist in St. Louis, and the other has a small business in Idaho.”
“You’re the only one who stayed on the ranch.”
“Yes,” he said shortly and didn’t elaborate. “Stay here,” he ordered when they paused to open the door to the attic. “I’ll turn on a light.”
Two windows, one at each end of the long room, were caked with snow, and she couldn’t see anything but light and dark shadows until he pulled a chain on a light hanging from an open rafter. As bright light flooded the attic, she gasped at the amount of boxes and stacks of everything imaginable reaching from wall to wall. Jill was overwhelmed by the accumulation, which must have spanned more than one lifetime. She’d never seen anything like it, and could have spent hours rummaging through all kinds of things that undoubtedly qualified as antiques.
“Kind of a mess,” he granted as he looked around. “I think I remember seeing the cradle back there.” He motioned toward one end of the room. “Come on, let’s see what we can find.” Once again he took her hand as he led the way through a maze of furniture, boxes, barrels, trunks and chests.
“There it is.” Hal pushed a couple of boxes out of the way, reached back in a comer and brought out the biggest cradle she’d ever seen. She was positive that even a one-year-old could have slept comfortably in it. Beautifully crafted and mounted on a platform, the bed swung easily as Hal gave it a slight push. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s beautiful.”
“My dad made it. Big enough for twins, he always told mom.” Hal chuckled. “There were twins in his family way back, and I think he always kept hoping.”
“Are you sure you want to give it away?”
Even in the dim light, she saw the shadow that crossed his face. “It’s not doing anybody any good up here. No use holding on to it.”
Jill wanted to argue that there might come a time when he would regret having given it away, but she held her tongue. It was his life. He had the right to live it the way he wanted, but it was a shame, a darn shame. She’d never seen anyone better with kids.
He picked up the cradle, and she started to follow him as he carried it back to the attic door, but some paintings piled on a chest caught her eye. They were in a style similar to the ones in the living room. As he set down the cradle and came back to her side, she asked, “Is M. Haverly your mother?”
“Yes. Maribelle Haverly. Mom loved to draw and paint. I can remember her sitting out in the meadow, spending hours drawing some fool bird,” he said with obvious affection. “She made the whole family go on nature walks all over these hills. I think she painted every Rocky Mountain wildflower that ever bloomed.” His voice softened. “It’s been a long time since I thought about those family outings.”
“You were blessed to have a mother, father and brothers to share your youth.”
He nodded. “I guess I didn’t realize it at the time.”
“Some of us weren’t so lucky,” she said in a strained voice, and he was startled by a sudden swelling of tears at the corner of her eyes. As she bent her head to hide her face from him, he saw her breasts rise and fall with quickened breath. “I’m sorry,” she said and tried to brush by him, but he stopped her.
“What is it? What did I do or say to make you cry?”
She shook her head. “It’s not you.”
“Then what?” He asked anxiously as he gently brushed a tear from her cheek.
“Bad memories
of growing up alone, I guess.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
The sincere invitation in his voice changed a ready “no” into “Yes, I think I would.”
They sat down on a nearby trunk and, impulsively, he put a comforting arm around her shoulders. He was surprised how natural it felt sitting close beside her in a dusty old attic, sharing an intimacy that came upon them unaware.
She told him that she’d never had a sense of having a real family while growing up. “When I was born I was put up for adoption. My parents—the couple who adopted me—were good to me but they were older. They didn’t know what to do with a lonely little girl who never felt like she belonged. I hated Sundays and holidays because there never was anyone to share the fun. The only home I knew was a small, close apartment with no yard.” She let her gaze rove around the cluttered attic. “Nothing like this wonderful house for playing hide-and-seek.”
He couldn’t imagine living any place where there wasn’t a lot of space and a lot of animals. He wondered, too, what it would’ve been like not knowing who had given birth to you. As she leaned back in the cradle of his arm, he was suddenly aware that if she turned her head and looked up at him, those devastating eyes would sweep away every ounce of willpower. And if she closed her eyes and offered her lips, he was sure he would kiss her.
The intimacy growing between them was charged, and he didn’t know how to handle it. Slipping his arm around her had seemed a natural thing to do in her distress, but offering avuncular comfort was one thing, giving in to a bewildering awareness of sudden desire was another. What could he say to defuse the situation? He was no good at mouthing empty platitudes. He’d never felt adequate when it came to putting his own feelings into words. He was still trying to decide what to do or say when she eased away from his embrace and stood up.
“Did you want to look for some other baby things?” Her voice was still husky, but her eyes were clear and steady as she looked at him.
“Maybe later.” He was at once disappointed and relieved that she had put some distance between them.
They made their way to the door where he’d left the impressive cradle. When she looked down at it, a faint smile crossed her lips. “I think we’ve forgotten something.”
“What?”
“There’ll never be room in the Millers’ car for it.”
“I’d completely forgotten they were driving one of those dinky foreign models. I guess you’re right. They won’t have room to take it,” he agreed, and was surprised at the flood of relief that went through him.
THE REST OF THE AFTERNOON passed quickly for Jill. She stayed with Sue and Gary in their room until dinnertime, then they all came downstairs together. Once again, they ate in the dining room. Kirby served a hearty man’s stew that had tender vegetables swimming in smooth rich gravy, slices of fresh sourdough bread and rich carrot cake for dessert.
Conversation around the table was free and easy, and Jill thoroughly enjoyed herself. Hal went all out to make everyone comfortable, and when he made a point of talking with her, especially, she felt a little embarrassed about what had happened in the attic. She didn’t know what made her give way like that. It must be the storm or this house that was causing her emotions to come to the surface—or maybe it was just getting to know Hal Haverly, the man her son thought the world revolved around. She wasn’t sure how their relationship had moved so quickly to one that allowed for sharing personal confidences, but she knew that Randy would be pleased that they’d taken steps towards being friends.
After dinner, she accompanied the Millers back upstairs. Sue was tired, so Jill bid them an early good-night and went to her room. She could hear men’s laughter floating up from downstairs. Hal had invited her to join them for a nightcap, but she had refused. She thought he looked disappointed, but it could have been her imagination.
Randy was on her mind as she made ready for bed. She couldn’t help but worry. She longed to tell him good-night and give his slender shoulders a warm hug. He’d gotten too big for her to tuck him in the way she’d always used to, but he was still her little boy, and she missed him. A warm fullness eased into the corners of her eyes just thinking about him. As she swiped at the tears, she told herself that by tomorrow, the telephone would probably be back in order.
The latest radio report had said that the storm was moving out. Good news for Colorado, but the forecasters were predicting that Kansas was in line for its share of wind and snow. That meant the Millers could expect to drive right into the storm again as they left Colorado, and Jill felt obligated to stay until Sue was safely on her way to her parents’ home.
Sighing, Jill laid down her book and was just reaching for the light when she heard the whisper of footsteps outside her locked door. Gary was supposed to call her if Sue needed her for any reason. She waited, expecting his light knock.
Nothing. Only a brooding silence.
Someone was there. She was sure of it.
The knob turned against the lock, then the soft footsteps moved away, though she couldn’t tell in which direction. Maybe Hal was just making certain she had followed his orders to lock her door.
But maybe not.
And if not Hal, who?
He was glad she was keeping her door locked. It infuriated him the way the other men were looking at her. Wanting to claim her inviting body just the way he did But she was his. He’d known it the first moment he’d seen her. He blessed the storm for bringing her to him. Watching her smile, feeling the warmth of her breath upon his face when he talked to her, and knowing that soon the waiting would be over created an exhilarating torment that he hadn’t felt for a long time. He’d been patient. He knew from the moment he saw her that she was going to bring him peace at last. That first day, when he saw the way she smiled at the boy running toward her and held out her arms, his chest had ached with the need to be held close and loved like that. His thoughts sped ahead to the preparations he’d made. Soon…soon…soon.
Chapter Four
About four o’clock in the morning, Jill was awakened by a demanding knock on her door. Sitting up with a jerk, she took a few seconds to get her bearings. Then she heard a muffled voice in the hall calling her name, “Jill! Jill!”
She grabbed her short robe, shoved her feet into her slippers, and bounded across the floor. Quickly she turned the skeleton key in the lock and opened the door.
Gary stood there, his eyes rounded with worry. “It’s Sue. She needs you.” He grabbed Jill’s arm and said loudly enough to wake everyone in the adjoining rooms, “You gotta come right away.”
Jill silently groaned. “What’s wrong, Gary?”
“She’s having contractions.”
“How long ago was the first one?” Please, God, not yet…not yet.
“About an hour ago. Sue thought it was just a cramp but now she’s had another one.”
They hurried across the hall and into the Millers’ bedroom, where Sue was propped against a couple of pillows.
“Gary says you’ve had a pain or two?” Jill said as she took Sue’s hand. One look at the young woman’s frightened face tightened Jill’s own chest.
Sue nodded. “Contractions.”
“Are you sure they were contractions and not something else? Just a stomach pain?” Jill asked hopefully.
“I’ve never felt anything like this before. Pain all around my middle, like giant hands squeezing me in two.”
Good description, thought Jill. She brushed back damp hair from Sue’s sweaty forehead. “How many have you had, Sue?”
“Just a couple.” Her voice trembled. “Do you think I’m going to deliver now?”
“Could just be false labor,” Jill said in as much of an upbeat tone as she could manage.
“She can’t have the baby now.” Gary’s voice rose in panic. “Do something.”
“Take it easy, Gary,” Jill said firmly.
“We have to do something. Call a doctor. Get to a hospital.”
“Calm down
!” Jill’s tone was sharper. This was no time for new-father hysterics.
“How can I? My wife needs help.”
“You’re not doing her any good flying off in all directions. It’s probably a false alarm. Sometimes these things happen when a woman gets close to delivery.”
“Really?” That possibility held him for a brief minute. “Are you sure?”
“It’s going to be all right.” Sue gave her husband a wan smile.
Hal stuck his head in the bedroom door. “Is everything all right?” His hair was mussed from sleep, and he’d thrown on a plaid flannel shirt that was buttoned halfway down to a faded pair of jeans. No shoes, only socks on his feet.
“Sue’s having contractions,” Gary blurted out.
Hal’s eyes narrowed as they took in Sue’s ashen face and then fixed on Jill. All she could do was nod and follow him out into the hall.
“What’s happening?” he asked in a worried whisper. “Is she going into labor?” The furrows in his forehead deepened, and the lines round his mouth were every bit as tight as Gary’s.
“I don’t know. She’s had a couple of contractions.”
He groaned. “The baby’s coming now…today?”
“Maybe not,” Jill answered evenly, despite building worries and a knot in her own stomach. “I was just telling Gary that sometimes this happens in false labor. Lots of women head for the hospital thinking they’re going to have a baby, only to have to go back home and wait for another two weeks.”
“Do you think that’s what it is?”
Jill decided to be honest. “I haven’t a clue. She’s close enough to her due date for anything to happen. Maybe the pains will peter out. Maybe not. She could be starting delivery.”
“But it could be false labor?” he insisted as if he wasn’t willing to even consider any other option.
She nodded. “We should know in a few hours. The contractions will get harder and closer together if this is the real thing. And if she’s going into labor…” her voice faltered. “If she’s going into labor, I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
