Because of the Baby...

by Cat Schield

  As they sat in companionable silence, attention alternating between the enormous television and their niece happily batting at the animals suspended above her, Lark decided not to broach the question tickling her since Keaton had teased her about naked Sundays. Instead she let herself enjoy the weight of his hand on her thigh and the familiar jump in her pulse as he kissed her neck and shoulder during the commercial breaks.

  At long last, nerves mellowed by Keaton’s solid presence, a delicious meal and two glasses of wine, Lark called her mother. Keaton offered to leave the room, but she needed his strength beside her. With her arm linked with his, she waited for her mother to pick up. By the fifth ring Lark was convinced there would be no answer and had moved her thumb to end the call when she heard her mother’s voice.

  “Yes?”

  “Hello, Mother. It’s Lark. I was just returning your call.”

  “It’s about time. I’ve left you five messages.”

  Lark hadn’t realized that. She avoided looking at her phone log since her mother had begun calling. “Sorry.” She had no excuse. “What’s so urgent?”

  “Haven’t you listened to any of my messages?”

  “No.”

  “That’s very inconsiderate. What if something had happened to your father?”

  “Has it?”

  “No.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” The question came out a little more bluntly than she’d intended.

  She’d had no contact with her parents since the little incident outside the ICU, and the silence had been nice. Immediately guilt lashed at her. This was her mother. As little as they got along, Lark owed her respect. Or if that wasn’t possible, civility.

  “The problem is I was ambushed at the beauty shop about you and that Holt.”

  Lark wasn’t sure what to say so she kept silent.

  “Are you involved with him?” Vera made the word involved sound like a mortal sin.

  “He’s helping me take care of Grace. You knew that.”

  “You didn’t tell us that he’d also moved in.”

  While it was on the tip of her tongue to snap that she was twenty-seven years old and perfectly within her rights to do whatever she wanted with the house she’d bought, Lark knew that her mother would never hear the logic of that.

  “It’s made things much easier.”

  “Are you sleeping with him?”

  Keaton’s fingers moved between hers in a soothing caress. This was the moment she’d been dreading since her feelings for Keaton had begun to surface. She would be forced to choose between her parents and the man she was falling in love with.

  “The feud between the Taylors and the Holts isn’t my fight,” she said, admitting nothing. “I’m sick of being caught in the middle of it.”

  “You are.” Her mother gasped, assuming the worst from Lark’s lack of swift and immediate denial. “Your father will be devastated.”

  “Keaton is an honorable man. He cares about Grace and about me.”

  “He’s using you,” her mother spat. “You’re nothing but a convenience.”

  Even knowing how vehemently her parents hated the Holts, it still shocked Lark that they would turn so completely against her. Was this what Skye had experienced? And then Lark had gone and heaped more disapproval on her sister’s slender shoulders. Shame rose to choke her.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, Mother,” Lark said, forcing her voice to remain steady. “I have to go.” And without giving her mother another opportunity to spew more negativity, she hung up.

  Keaton’s arms came around her and pulled her tight to his chest. His lips drifted over her cheek toward her ear. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  His solidness absorbed the tremors that racked her body. “She can’t understand.”

  “She doesn’t care about your happiness,” he said as he ran his hands up and down her spine. “Or Skye’s. Neither of them does.”

  To her relief, he didn’t ask her why she hadn’t admitted to being involved with him, but had let her mother draw her own conclusions. Lark felt as if she’d betrayed him, been disloyal to the relationship developing between them. If she truly was falling in love with him, why hadn’t she proudly claimed him?

  “It’s been a really long day.” Lark looked at the baby. Grace was showing no signs of fading. “If it’s okay with you, I think I’m going to turn in.”

  “Sure. Grace and I will watch a little basketball. You get some sleep.”

  With a nod, Lark left the couch and washed her plate and wineglass. Nicki chose to follow her into the bedroom. As the Aussie curled up on her bed, Lark slid between the cool covers and lay shivering. Although she’d been truthful about being tired, sleep was a long way away. Now that her parents knew she and Keaton were together, how long would it be before they started issuing ultimatums and forced her to choose between them and Keaton?

  Worse, Lark wasn’t sure whom she’d pick. Even though she wasn’t their favorite, she was still their daughter. Outside of Skye they were the only family she had, and Lark had no idea what sort of relationship she’d have with her sister when Skye woke up. They hadn’t spoken in four years. Wasn’t that a pretty good indication that Lark hadn’t been forgiven?

  Keaton had given her no direct indication just how deep his feelings for her ran. What if she chose him only to find out he wanted little beyond great sex and companionship? His parents weren’t as rigid as hers, but she suspected they weren’t wild that Keaton was with her. From what Skye had told her before she left, they’d been furious to learn about her romance with their son. Their anger had driven Jake from Royal. He’d been the one who persuaded Skye to leave.

  That wouldn’t happen with her and Keaton. He was tied to the ranch. They would be forced to stick around and bear the brunt of their parents’ vehement disapproval. Lark almost choked on a ragged exhalation. Keaton might be strong enough to cope, but was she? And what damage would it do to their relationship? In the end the Taylor/Holt feud would tear them apart.

  When Keaton came to bed an hour or so later, Lark rolled toward him and pressed against him from breast to thigh. He claimed her mouth without hesitation and made love to her with fierce passion. She left her mark on him, her fingernails scoring his back as she climaxed. Keaton followed her seconds later with a powerful orgasm of his own.

  No words passed between them as they lay gasping for breath. As soon as they’d sufficiently recovered, Keaton shifted her into the perfect niche at his side and smoothed her sweat-damp hair off her face. Lark snuggled her nose into his neck and breathed his unique musk. Exhausted from her long day and their vigorous lovemaking, she resisted sleep. How many more nights would she have him like this?

  “Go to sleep,” he murmured as if sensing her mind’s restlessness. “There’s nothing you can do about anything at the moment.”

  She lifted her head for his kiss and smiled beneath his lips. Only a very foolish woman would push this man out of her life because she was too afraid to upset her family. And Lark was many things, but she’d never been called foolish.

  * * *

  Keaton neared the ruins of the town hall, his thoughts far from the task ahead. After a great deal of deliberation and consultation with the construction contractor, a plan had been created for recovering the city’s records. In the weeks leading up to today, much of the rubble had been cleared from the site. Today, the tarp that had been thrown over the records storage area was gone and heavy machinery stood at the ready to begin the delicate task of lifting the large chunks of concrete off the sturdy filing cabinets that held the town’s records.

  “I guess we were lucky that someone had the foresight to move everything into fireproof cabinets,” Stella Daniels commented as Keaton approached. The acting mayor was no longer the nondescript town hall administrative assistant she once was. In the months since the tornado had landed Richard Vance, Royal’s major, in the hospital, she’d blossomed into a stunning woman who’d taken charge during
the crisis and performed brilliantly. “Fireproofing means more than just heat resistant, you know.”

  “When I first got started on this project, I did a little research,” Keaton admitted. “They’re waterproof and designed to survive short falls. As long as nothing too heavy landed on them, we should find the cabinets intact.”

  Stella eyed him. “I just knew you were the right man to take on this job.”

  “This town has given a lot to the Holt family,” he said, tugging on the brim of his cowboy hat. “I’m happy I can pitch in and help.”

  Which was true. Although he participated in very few social activities around town, Keaton’s problem-solving abilities had been unanimously welcomed. He’d been surprised how quickly he was caught up in the community spirit. Helping where he could, he’d been involved with over a dozen repair or cleanup projects. But except for a few simple construction jobs like the Richardsons’ barn, he left the major rebuilding to the experts.

  “I see the crews are assembled,” Stella said. “Shall we get started?”

  The delicate process of removing concrete from the area where the records room had once been was tedious and slow. In addition to the large chunks of building material, there were several yards of pulverized debris that had once been walls and ceiling to sift through. It was late afternoon when there was enough cleared away to begin the removal of the files.

  Moving carefully through the rubble, Keaton inspected each of the cabinets before they were hauled away and was pleased that despite the dents to the metal caused by the building’s collapse, the contents were intact and mostly undisturbed.

  In addition to the modern files, there were several antique cabinets that no one had ever bothered to remove. These had not fared as well. Keaton thought there might have been four or five of them on the far side of the room. It was hard to tell an exact number, as they had mostly been reduced to kindling.

  One cabinet had fared better than the others. Although one side had been crushed, the other had six drawers still intact. He pulled out one of the drawers, surprised that it rolled smoothly, and noted that it was empty. Keaton felt foolish as he investigated the other five drawers in the same way. Did he really expect to find some lost piece of paperwork that proved his family were the true owners of the two thousand acres of lakes and superb pasture now part of the Taylors’ ranch?

  Stella, accompanied by her fiancé, Aaron Nichols, had stopped by to see how the work was going. They were picking their way toward Keaton.

  “You’ve made amazing progress,” Stella said, stepping around a small pile of twisted metal that had once been a light and stopping beside Keaton. “How amazing that part of this cabinet looks unscathed while the rest of it is destroyed.”

  “As are three or four others.” Keaton gestured at the other cabinets.

  “Was there anything in it?” She pulled out a drawer the same way he had.

  “No. I’m guessing they were original to the building, but no one bothered to get rid of them when the fireproof ones were brought in.”

  “They look old enough to have been worth something before the tornado struck.”

  The cleanup crew had been steadily working in their direction, and now they began to toss bits of the shattered cabinets into the bucket of the loader idling nearby. While Keaton gave Stella an update on the progress made that day, the loader moved off to empty its bucket into the nearby construction dumpster. When it returned, Keaton and Aaron stepped to opposite sides of the mostly intact cabinet and picked it up.

  They’d shifted it several feet when Stella called out, “Wait! There’s something caught underneath it.”

  Keaton glanced in her direction as she ducked down and came up with a yellowed piece of paper. “Is that it?”

  “I think so.”

  He and Aaron finished moving the cabinet to the loader, checking for more loose paper before returning to Stella. They found her studying the document with interest.

  “What is it?” Aaron asked, peering over Stella’s shoulder at the paper she held.

  “Looks like a bill of sale for some land back in 1880.” Her gaze shifted to Keaton. “Is Edwin Holt any relation?”

  Something about the way she asked the question made Keaton’s heart thunder in his chest. “My great grandfather many times over.”

  “Good thing we found it. I think it’s the bill of sale for your land.”

  “My family settled here in the 1860s.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Keaton nodded. “Edwin Holt came here not long after the Civil War ended.”

  “Maybe they didn’t buy your family’s ranch until much later. Take a look.”

  But even as Stella held out the document, Keaton knew what he’d see. And yet it seemed impossible. All the times he’d hope the bill of sale would be rediscovered had been little more than wishful thinking.

  He stripped off his gloves in order to handle the aged paper with utmost care. With his thoughts a chaotic swirl he had a hard time discerning the words. After blinking a few times, the thin, spidery script began to make sense. He grew lightheaded at what he read.

  “What is it?” Aaron pressed, as the silence dragged on.

  Keaton lifted his gaze from the document, scarcely believing what he’d seen, mind reeling at the implications. “I think it might be the missing document that started the feud between my family and the Taylors.”

  And the basis for a new cycle of conflict between the families.

  Twelve

  Lark rubbed her eyes and yawned. At three in the morning, the ICU was relatively peaceful. Machines beeped and whirred, keeping their patients alive. Once again Marsha had called in to say she couldn’t make it, so Lark had agreed to stay on a few extra hours. How much longer was the senior nurse going to tolerate this? By Lark’s estimate, Marsha was out for one reason or another three or four times a month. Marsha had probably gotten away with it this long because of the way she made her boss feel sorry for her.

  “How are things going?”

  Turning, she spotted Becky Jones, the head nurse in charge of ICU. “Fine. It was a quiet day, which is turning into a peaceful night.”

  “You look half-dead on your feet.”

  “Grace had a hard time settling down after her feeding last night and I missed a few hours of sleep.”

  Even though it had been Keaton’s night to get up with Grace, she’d been so miserable that she and Keaton had taken turns trying to calm her. In the end it was Nicki who’d convinced the baby to settle down by gently nudging her until Grace stopped crying. After two hours of frantic crying, the abrupt quiet had been nothing short of amazing.

  Becky smiled in sympathy. “I remember my two at that age. I swore there was some magic switch that flipped on in them as soon as the sun went down.” She shook her head. “The good news is it won’t last long. Pretty soon she’ll be sleeping through the night.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Judy should be back from her break in a couple minutes,” Becky said. “Why don’t you go sit with Skye for a while? I can handle things here.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No, I should be thanking you. It’s been great having you here in the ICU. I’m going to miss you when you go back to surgery.”

  Lark smiled at the compliment. Becky wasn’t usually one to hand out praise. “It was nice of you to let me transfer into your department so I could stay close to my sister.”

  “She needed you. And it turns out we needed you, as well. Our efficiency has gone up dramatically thanks to you.”

  “I didn’t do much, just saw a few places where our processes varied and pointed them out. You were the one who implemented the changes.”

  “I know that hasn’t made you popular among some of your fellow nurses.”

  Lark shrugged and tried to keep her expression as neutral as possible. “I can be a little forthright. It’s gotten me into trouble in the past.”

  “I see it as speaking your mind for the good of the d
epartment. And you didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” Becky’s lips tightened. “Not everyone can face that there’s always room for improvement.”

  Was she speaking of Marsha? From what Lark gathered, Marsha’s absences had escalated since the tornado hit Royal. She’d been on duty that day and not far from the west wing when it collapsed. She hadn’t been hurt, but it was possible that she was suffering from PTSD.

  “Change can be hard,” Lark said. “Especially when it originates from a know-it-all newcomer.”

  Becky gave a light laugh. “Go sit with Skye. Talk to her about Grace. Maybe if she knows her baby needs her she’ll wake up.”

  “Good idea.”

  Lark didn’t tell her boss that she’d already been doing that. She drew up a chair beside her sister’s bed and took Skye’s hand. For a while she didn’t know how to begin. Then she began as she always did and let her words flow from there.

  “Grace is thriving. I swear if you stare at her long enough, you can see her grow. I don’t know if you recall that we have a dog now. Nicki has turned out to be a terrific addition to the family.” Lark paused and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Keaton bought this wrap thing that I wear when Grace wants to be held and I need to keep my hands free. On the warmer days I put Grace in it and take Nicki for a walk. I swear since I’ve started doing that she’s doubled her formula consumption. I think the fresh air is good for her.”

  While she talked, Lark stared at the monitors that surrounded her sister’s bed. They registered all Skye’s vitals, their beeps and flashing numbers soothing.

  “Mom’s been calling. She found out that Keaton and I had gone to the party at the Richardsons’ together. She guessed that Keaton and I are sleeping together. I don’t need to tell you how angry she is. I haven’t spoken to Dad. I don’t imagine he’ll want to have anything to do with me now that I’ve gone over to the dark side.” Bitter amusement darkened her tone. “I know I’ve said it plenty already, but I’m sorry. I really screwed up when I found out you were leaving Royal with Jake. I didn’t appreciate then how hard our parents were on you or how painful it must have been to have to choose between him and us.”