by Judy Duarte
“Is there anything else you want to see here?” he asked.
“No, this is good for now.” Painting the nursery was just the first step in preparing for the twins. She’d also have to buy two cribs and a chest of drawers.
From a couple of aisles over, a familiar voice rang out. “Mikey! Where did you run off to?”
Rickie couldn’t help but smile. Obviously, Mikey had forgotten about the candy bribe his mom had promised him.
“Michael Allen Weldon,” she called out again. “Did you hear me? I’m not playing games. And I’m not buying that candy. If you don’t get over here right now, you’re going to lose television privileges for a week.”
“Sounds like she means business,” Clay said.
“No,” the boy cried out. “Not the TV. I’m comin’, Mama.”
“Attaboy,” Clay said. “Smart kid.”
Rickie stole a glance at the gorgeous man walking beside her, the father of her babies. Would he be a good one? Would he play an active paternal role?
Cut it out, Rickie. Do you really want him that involved in your life, in the decisions you make?
Maybe, she thought.
Or would that merely complicate things? What if he got too involved while coparenting? Or too opinionated?
There were some good things to be said about being a single mother, she supposed. She wouldn’t have to answer to anyone but herself.
As they reached the end of the paint aisle, they turned to the right, toward the registers, and she caught a blur in her peripheral vision right before she felt a hard thud on her thigh. Mikey bounced off her leg and fell to the floor in front of her, just in time for her to trip over him.
She gasped. If Clay hadn’t reached out to catch her, she might have fallen to the floor. Or worse, landed on top of the little rascal, who sat on the floor, his eyes wide at the near mishap, his legs stretched out in front of him and his cowboy boots on the wrong feet.
“Sorry,” Mikey said, as he jumped up and dashed off to find his mother.
“Are you okay?” Clay asked as he slipped his arm around her waist and held her steady.
“I think so.” She placed her hand protectively over her baby bump, which had become a habit lately. “I’m glad I didn’t step on that little guy.”
Clay’s brow furrowed, and he held her tighter. “And I’m glad you didn’t fall and hurt yourself.”
“Me, too.” She should have been paying attention to where she was walking and not focusing on the attractive cowboy she was with.
As they checked out, she opened her purse to pull out a credit card, but Clay waved her off. “I got this. Remember?”
The housewarming gift. Should she argue? Or just let it ride?
Clay Masters was an enigma, and she had no idea what to do about him. But she’d better figure out something before they got home. His visit had come out of the blue. And she had a feeling she’d better brace herself so he wouldn’t knock her completely off balance, just like Mikey. Only this fall would be a lot harder.
* * *
Clay stayed at Rickie’s house until four o’clock that afternoon. He’d only meant to take apart the desk, carry the pieces out to the garage and then put it back together again. But by the time he’d finished that task and reentered the kitchen, she was making sandwiches and cutting up fresh fruit.
“I made lunch for us,” she’d said. “I still get a little nauseous if I go too long on an empty stomach.”
So how could he say no?
After they ate, he carried a few boxes in from the car and stacked them in the dining room for her to sort through later. When he spotted her dragging out a ladder so she could replace the bulbs in the overhead lights, he’d insisted that she let him do it.
Needless to say, he stayed longer than he’d planned. After the forty-five-mile drive, he arrived home at the dinner hour. Fortunately, he’d been able to ward off the maternal interrogation until he sat down at the family table.
“So,” Mom said as she passed Clay the mashed potatoes. “How did things go today?”
“All right.” He spooned a large helping onto his plate, then passed the bowl to Granddad.
“You were gone a long time,” she said. “Were you with Rickie all day?”
“A couple hours.” Actually, it was more like seven, but if he admitted that, she’d never stop quizzing him.
“I hope she’s feeling well,” Mom added.
“She seems to be.” Other than the nausea that still plagued her at times. At least, that’s the conclusion he’d come to.
“Would someone pass the gravy?” Granddad said, offering a welcome distraction from the line of questioning. He’d often done the same thing when Clay had been in high school. Once, when Clay thanked him for running interference for him at times, his grandfather winked at him, his eyes sparkling with mirth, and said, “I ain’t so old that I don’t remember what it was like to be young. Just make sure you stay safe—and obey the law.”
For the most part, Clay and his buddies had tried to do that.
Mom reached for the gravy bowl but never missed a beat. “Is Rickie seeing a doctor regularly?”
“I assume she is. She knows the importance of good medical care.”
“That’s good to know,” Mom said. “There can be pregnancy complications, especially with women carrying multiples.”
Clay stiffened and scrunched his brow. “What kind of complications?”
“High blood pressure, preeclampsia, premature labor...”
Damn. He hadn’t considered health risks.
“Are her parents supportive?” Mom asked, clearly not able to quell her curiosity.
“They were in a car accident and passed away about six months ago.”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry to hear that. Does she have a sister or friend who’ll be with her during the delivery?”
Clay had no idea. Nor had he considered she might need emotional support as well as financial. But the more he thought about it, the more concerned he grew. “I’m not sure.”
“I can understand your reluctance to get too involved,” his mom said. “You probably should move slowly.”
“Agreed.”
Still, he had to admit that he’d learned a few things about Rickie today. She had an independent streak he hadn’t realized, a take-charge attitude. And something told him that his kids, assuming those babies were actually his, would be in good hands.
Of course, that wouldn’t absolve him from taking responsibility. He’d figure out a way to help her with those babies. Hopefully he could do that without making any kind of commitment that might suck the life out of him.
“Would you mind if I talked to her?”
Taken aback by the question, Clay’s first impulse was to tell his mother to back off. But on the other hand, he didn’t like the idea of Rickie facing labor and delivery alone. Women usually needed each other at times like that, especially if there were complications.
If his mother reached out to her, maybe Clay would feel better about setting up some boundaries. Because if he didn’t, he’d find himself getting sucked into her world—and even more tied down than he already was.
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll give you her number.”
Three days later, Clay wished he’d kept that information to himself. Not only had his mother called Rickie, but before he could set up a lunch date with Rickie, the two women had made plans to meet at Caroline’s Diner in Brighton Valley on Wednesday at noon!
Which was why Clay decided to crash that luncheon before his mom became way more involved than necessary.
* * *
Rickie had been so stunned when Sandra Masters called and asked her to meet for lunch in Brighton Valley that a response knotted up in her throat. It had taken her a couple of beats to finally be able to speak.
Sandra had obviously gotten Rickie’s number from Clay, which meant he was okay with it, so she’d agreed to meet on Wednesday. That gave her time to get a feel for the clinic schedul
e and to find out when she’d be able to take a lunch break.
She talked to Sandra again last night, and they made plans to meet in front of a place called Caroline’s Diner at ten minutes past noon.
Rickie was a bit nervous, although Sandra had been so sweet on the telephone that it seemed silly to stress about it. Besides, spending some time with Clay’s mother also meant she’d learn more about her children’s father—and his family.
The diner was located on the shady main drag, not far from the town square and the family clinic where she worked. So she’d found it easily enough.
She’d no more than opened the front door when she spotted Sandra, who was already waiting near the old-style register.
The petite blonde in her late fifties quickly got up from her seat and greeted Rickie with a smile. “They don’t take reservations, but I wanted to get here early to make sure they could seat us. This place really fills up around mealtime.”
Rickie scanned the interior of the small-town eatery, noting the pale yellow walls and white café-style curtains on the front windows. “What a darling restaurant.”
“Isn’t it? And the food is to die for. If you like home-style cooking, you won’t find a better meal than here. And Caroline makes the best desserts you’ve ever tasted. Check this out.” Sandra pointed to a refrigerator display case that sat next to the cash register. It was chock-full of homemade goodies.
Rickie was drawn to a three-layer carrot cake, although the lemon meringue pie looked yummy, too. She usually tried to stay away from sweets, but she might have to make an exception today.
Sandra motioned to a matronly waitress who wore her graying dark hair in a topknot. “We’re both here now, Margie.”
The ruddy-faced waitress broke into a bright-eyed grin. “I’ll have that booth ready for you in just a minute.”
While waiting to be seated, Rickie glanced at a blackboard, on which someone had written What the Sheriff Ate in yellow chalk. Just underneath, it read, Baked Ham, Scalloped Potatoes, Glazed Carrots and Apple Pie à la Mode—$9.95.
“Caroline’s husband is retired now,” Sandra explained, “but he was once the only law enforcement officer in Brighton Valley. She and everyone else still refer to him as the sheriff. And that’s how she announces her daily specials.”
“What a clever idea. I like that.” In fact, there was a lot Rickie liked about Brighton Valley. The diner sat along a quaint, tree-lined street that was the perfect place for a lazy walk—and some shopping.
She’d arrived a few minutes earlier than the time she and Sandra had agreed to meet, just so she could take a quick walking tour of downtown Brighton Valley. And she was glad she did. Just across the street and down a couple of doors, she’d noticed a real estate office. Not that she planned to relocate right away. She’d only worked two and a half days at the clinic, but she liked Glory. And if that permanent position opened up, she’d be tempted to sell her house and move.
“Your table’s ready,” Margie called out as she waved Sandra and Rickie to a corner booth at the back of the diner.
Sandra was the first to slide onto the brown vinyl seat. Before Rickie joined her, she noticed Margie giving her a once-over.
“You new in town?” Margie asked. “Or just visiting?”
“I don’t actually live in Brighton Valley, but I got a temp job that started here on Monday morning.”
“Oh, yeah? Who do you work for? I know just about everyone in these parts.”
“Dr. Davidson.”
“Good deal.” Margie broke into a big grin. “Glory Davidson is the best darn doctor in the world, if you ask me. I’ve been going to her ever since she took over ol’ Doc McCoy’s practice. Are you covering for Lorena? The poor thing had to go back to Mexico to check on her daddy.”
Rickie’s only response was to nod as she slid into the booth next to Sandra.
“When is your baby due?” Margie asked.
“February 28.”
Margie let out a whistle. “I thought you were going to say it was due around Christmas. You must be having a big baby.”
“She’s having twins,” Sandra said, her eyes lighting up.
Margie brightened, and she clapped her hands together like a happy child. “How exciting. I always wanted to have a set of twins. That is, until I had my firstborn, Jimmy Lee. That boy was as cute as a bug, but a real pistol. By the time he hit the terrible twos, I was so grateful that I only had one of him.”
Sandra laughed. “My son, Clay, was like that, too. A real handful.”
Margie gave them two menus, took their drink orders, then left them to chat.
Sandra leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Margie is a sweetheart, but she’s a bit nosy and prone to repeat things she’s heard.”
Rickie nodded, although she’d already figured that out on her own. Still, she couldn’t help but like the server’s friendly nature.
“Anyway,” Sandra said, “thanks for meeting me today. I thought it would be nice if we got to know each other better.”
Rickie offered her a smile. Clay was the one she really wanted to know better, but his mom seemed nice. And learning more about her and his family would be helpful.
“I know Jeffersville is a bit of a drive from Wexler, but it’s closer than if you were still on an Army base in Honolulu. At least we can visit once in a while. I’d like to get to know my grandchildren. And you, too, of course.”
“I would have reenlisted, but when I found out I was pregnant, I realized that if I was deployed, I wouldn’t have anyone to watch the babies for me.”
“Clay mentioned you lost your parents recently. I’m so sorry. Family is important.”
Rickie nodded her agreement. She didn’t want to get caught up in a discussion about her complicated family history with a woman she barely knew.
“I grew up in foster care,” Sandra said. “I didn’t have a bad experience. The people were nice, but it wasn’t the same as having a loving home and parents. When I met Clay’s father, my life finally came together.”
It sounded as if Rickie and Sandra had something in common besides Clay, but before she could decide whether to mention their similarities, Margie returned with their drinks—diet soda for Sandra and milk for Rickie.
“So what’ll you have for lunch?” Margie asked.
Rickie hadn’t even looked at the menu.
“I’ll have the chicken salad sandwich on a croissant,” Sandra said. “And the fruit cup instead of French fries.”
That sounded good. Besides, Rickie had to be back at work before one thirty and didn’t want to take the time to ponder the other options. “I’ll have the same thing.”
When Margie bustled off to take their orders to the kitchen, Sandra continued to speak, surprising Rickie with her candor.
“I loved Clay’s father. John and I had a great marriage. But since he was a career military man, we moved around a lot. I would have preferred to stay in one place, but I made a home wherever the Army stationed us—Germany, Washington, Georgia. John’s deployments left me lonely, although the other wives were very supportive. We both thought it would be easier if we had children, but after several miscarriages, I brought up the idea of adopting.”
Rickie hadn’t seen that coming. Had Clay also been adopted? And if so, had he known?
“About the time I first approached an agency, I got pregnant with Clay. He’s my miracle baby.”
No wonder Sandra adored her son.
“I have to admit,” Sandra added, “I doted on that precious little guy. They call women like me helicopter moms these days, but I’d gone through a lot to finally get him in my arms. And when his father died...” She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. She offered Rickie a warm smile, but a widow’s grief still lurked in her eyes. “Well, I didn’t want to lose Clay, too. Although that little rascal did everything he could to worry me to death. And if I didn’t color my hair, I would have been gray by the time he entered the second grade.”
; “How did Clay’s father die?” Rickie asked.
“In battle. During Operation Desert Storm.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. I’ll admit that the last thing I wanted Clay to do was to join the military. Sometimes I think he did it to spite me, although I’m proud of him and all he accomplished, both at West Point and in the Army.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“Then you can probably understand why I’m looking forward to being a grandmother.”
Rickie didn’t always open up and reveal her past to people, but Sandra was both sweet and kind. Besides, they also seemed to have a lot in common.
“I grew up in foster care, too,” Rickie admitted. “So it’s really important for me to create a loving home for my children.”
Sandra reached across the table and placed her hand over Rickie’s. “I have no idea how things will work out between you and my son. Either way, I’d be delighted to do whatever I can to help you create that special home for your babies.”
Rickie believed her. And for the first time since she’d lost her parents, she felt as if she might have someone in her corner. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
Before either of them could comment, Margie returned with their sandwiches and fruit cups. “Enjoy, ladies.”
Rickie had no more than picked up one half of the stuffed croissant when she heard approaching boot steps and the sound of a familiar soft Texas drawl call out, “Hey.”
She glanced up to see Clay standing at their table wearing a smile that dimpled his cheeks.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
Sandra slid to the side, making room for him to sit in the booth.
“This is a surprise,” she said. “I thought you had things to do at home.”
“I forgot about my physical therapy appointment, so while I was in town, I thought I’d join you. That is...” He looked across the table at Rickie. “If you don’t mind.”
“No, not at all.” In fact, she was glad he’d shown up. It was in the babies’ best interests for her to have a solid relationship with their father and grandmother.
At least, that’s what she kept telling herself. But if truth be told, she thought it might be in her best interests, too.
