by Kate Douglas
“Seamus. That’s not what I meant.” How could he think she would mean anyone but him? This was Seamus O’Rourke’s son. Her baby had no other father.
“We’ll talk about it later. I need to buy groceries and pick up some diapers.” He grinned, the first smile she’d seen on him since he’d handed her son to her. “Tea towels and duct tape definitely aren’t my first choice.”
At that comment, Kat looked down at her son. His tiny bottom was firmly wrapped in one of Seamus’s hand embroidered tea towels. Shiny strips of duct tape held the linen in place.
“I don’t know. It’s definitely a fashion statement.” She smiled at Seamus, but he looked away. She wanted to scream at him! How could he cut her off like this? How could he, after sharing the most intimate moments in her life? He’d delivered her child. He’d placed the tiny burden on her stomach, helped her deliver the afterbirth, cleaned up the horrible mess, and bathed her as if she’d been a baby.
He’d packed her to stop the bleeding, brushed her hair back from her eyes, brought her nourishing soups and meals, cared for her as tenderly as she’d ever been cared for in her life.
How could he turn away from her now? Didn’t the past months, the past hours, mean anything to him?
They mean he’s finally free of you. You’ve done what he wanted...delivered a healthy baby. Now he just wants his son, but he wants you gone .
Kat looked down at her son. She didn’t want to call him Riley. She wanted to call him Seamus. Barring that, she’d name him Michael, after the partner who had stood by her for so many years.
Michael Seamus Riley O’Rourke was quite a mouthful for a little guy like this. “Did you weigh him?” She touched one tiny finger.
“Yeah, on the vegetable scale. Just a bit over five pounds. He’s eighteen inches long, but for almost a month early that’s not bad.”
“Will you bring me some ice cream?” She smiled at Seamus, but his somber expression left no room for teasing.
“Yeah, if you want. I’ll be back in about an hour or so.” Without a further glance, he left the room.
Kat felt a shiver run along her spine. She didn’t want him to leave. She wanted Seamus here, protecting her and their son.
Michael was their son. Somehow, she just had to convince Seamus they all belonged together.
Chapter Ten
THE LONG DRIVEWAY WAS in worse shape than he’d imagined, especially for a car as low-slung as the Jaguar. It took him at least twenty minutes to negotiate the gravel road. Luckily none of the larger trees had gone down, but Seamus had to stop and clear a number of fallen branches out of the way.
The highway wasn’t much better. When he finally reached Guerneville, the Russian River stretched from bank to bank, boiling under the bridge like thick chocolate milk. Seamus passed a sign partially blocking the road he’d come in on: ROAD CLOSED. That option for escape was out for at least a few days.
He felt uncomfortable being this far from Kathleen and the baby, but after last night, he had to get away.
He’d dreamed of his brother before, but last night had been...something. Seamus broke out in a sweat again recalling his brother’s presence. Riley, standing beside the recliner where Seamus had fallen asleep. His words the words of old, the silent communication they’d shared as boys, loud and clear in his mind.
“You love her,” Riley had said. Not an accusation, merely a statement of fact. Seamus had nodded in agreement, still convinced this was a dream.
“You love Kat and you love our son. You’ll be a good father, Seamus. A better father than I ever could have been. Probably a better husband, too.” He’d smiled at Seamus, a sad smile of love and longing . “Take care of them. Watch over them. Love them both for me. I’m sorry for all I put you through, big brother. Remember I love you best of all.”
Had it really happened? Or had Seamus imagined both the words and the image of Riley to ease his own conscience?
Would he always be haunted by his twin?
God, Riley, I want to believe it was you .
He had to believe. He had to believe Riley gave his blessing, or Seamus knew he could never offer his love to Kathleen.
He pulled into the parking lot at the grocery store and waded through six inches of water to reach the building. Local residents scurried about, grabbing the last few items available, readying themselves for what looked to be a long siege.
It had always been that way here. Just another inconvenience for people who lived along the river. Stock up on supplies, batten down the hatches and watch the river rise.
It always went down, sooner or later.
Seamus grabbed a basket and headed down the first aisle in the store.
THERE IS A SEASON and this is mine. They are such fools to think capture can stop the power. It grows. I feel it growing. One is but an instrument, a tool to be used and cast away. The other holds the true Power, the one true light that guides the hand.
The child will die. Ah, but the mother will die screaming. The Power? The Power will never die. It will grow and feed, and feed again.
Now? Now it hungers.
Not for long.
No, it hungers not for long.
IT SEEMED AS IF Seamus had been gone forever. Kat checked her watch for the hundredth time and knew it had only been two hours. Michael slept. He’d emptied her breasts completely at his last feeding. She had a feeling Michael was not going to be a child who would ever do anything half way.
It was so easy to call him Michael. She knew her old partner would be thrilled with the name. His first son, to his immense delight, had turned out to be twin daughters.
Kat shivered. It didn’t make sense, this strange unease. The feeling that all was not as it should be. Her life had never been more perfect. Whatever problems existed between Seamus and her could be solved. She was certain of that.
She was not so certain what caused this strange sense of foreboding.
The storm had stalled, the winds died down a bit. The rain still fell as a steady torrent, running in rivulets across the drive, filling the creeks and streams. What if Seamus had car trouble? What if the road washed out?
“Don’t make trouble where none exists, damn it! Oops, sorry.” She covered her mouth and laughed at herself. Apologizing to thin air. You’re losing it, Malone!
The moment she’d first held little Michael in her arms, Kat had promised to clean up her language.
It wasn’t going to be easy, but unless she wanted a toddler with a mouth like a longshoreman, she figured she’d better start now.
Kat sensed the Jag before she actually heard it, the low growl of the powerful engine vibrating deep in her bones. She pulled the curtain aside and looked out the window just in time to see Seamus pull into the drive, park, run around to the back of the car and grab a couple of large bags out of the trunk. He ducked his head against the pouring rain and headed up the stairs.
She met him at the back door.
“I was worried about you. I was afraid the roads might have washed out or you might...” She caught herself and turned away.
“Might what, Kat?” Seamus closed the door, filling the kitchen with more than just a physical presence. He placed the bags on the kitchen table, draped his soaking wet coat over the back of a chair. “Might not come back?” He reached out and touched her chin, tilting her head back so she was forced to look him in the eye.
“I’ll always come back. You should know that.”
Of course he would. She had what Seamus wanted. She had Michael.
She said as much.
He frowned. “I thought you wanted to call him Riley. Why Michael?”
She backed away, out of his reach. “Michael was my partner for almost ten years. I probably know him better than any man alive.”
“You said you wanted to name him after his father. I don’t understand.”
Kat threw her hands in the air in frustration. “You never do, Seamus. You don’t listen. Sometimes I think you misunderstand me on purpos
e. When I said I wanted to name him after his father, I meant you, not Riley. You’ve been here all along, taking care of me, taking care of the baby. You’ve promised to be there in the future for him. I heard you. That’s the role a father plays. No matter what kind of man you think Riley was, no matter that his seed created this baby, he’s dead. You, Seamus, as hard-headed and irritating as you are, are still very much alive. Whether I like it or not, for all intents and purposes, you are this baby’s father. I won’t try and keep you apart. I promise you that.”
“You can’t keep us apart. I would never let that happen. That baby is as much my son...”
“You’re doing it again! Listen to yourself, Seamus! I’m telling you I agree with you. I want you to be a part of this child’s life. I want you to be his father. Hell, even Riley wants you to be his father. You’re so busy hating your brother and everything associated with him, you can’t even listen to your own heart.”
The silence was deadening. Seamus stared at Kat as if he’d seen a ghost. She realized, belatedly, that maybe he had.
“What did Riley say to you? When...?”
Exhausted, Kat slumped heavily into one of the kitchen chairs. “Last night. At first I thought it was a dream, but it was just too real. He was sitting in the rocker, holding Michael. He said he loved the baby, he loved me, and he loved you. You saw him, too, Seamus. Don’t deny it.”
Seamus sat just as heavily in the chair directly across from Kat. He rested his elbows on the table, pressed his temples between his hands. “I thought it was a dream. I thought it was all that damned guilt looking for a way to have what Riley can’t—a son, a family, love. But if you... Kat, I don’t know if I can accept this. I really don’t know.”
“Well, you’re just going to have to, Seamus O’Rourke. Accept the fact your brother is dead but he doesn’t seem to hold it against you. Accept the fact he loves you enough to give you his blessing.”
A thin cry sounded from the back room. Kat sighed. The stubbornness of men. To think she’d just brought another one into the world. “We’ll talk about this later. Your son is calling.”
MY SON. KAT’S WORDS ricocheted around inside his skull, reverberating over and over until he almost believed she meant what she said.
It was more than he’d dreamed, more than he’d ever hoped. Only one more thing would make the dream perfect.
If Kat could accept him as the baby’s father, could she also accept him as her husband?
He thought of Riley’s words last night with a sense bordering on disbelief. He could have sworn Riley had been there in the room, essentially absolving Seamus of everything that had come between the brothers over the years.
The pain of missing Riley clutched at his chest. So many years wasted, so much love forgotten.
No, not forgotten. Buried under anger and frustration. Buried but not lost.
No matter how much he wanted to, Seamus couldn’t blame Riley for anything. Riley had just spent his life being, well, Riley. No, Riley had never done a thing, intentionally, to hurt Seamus. He’d merely lived his life the way he wanted, regardless of the consequences.
Now Riley was dead and Seamus still very much alive. What he chose to do with that life was up to him. Riley might have been a constant thorn in his side, but Seamus realized his memories of his brother had suddenly been tempered with love.
Love and an overwhelming sense of appreciation. Seamus knew he’d been given a second chance. Not only that, he’d been given a son. Two miracles, two unexpected dreams come true. Maybe this time he’d finally get it right.
Seamus wasn’t certain if he’d ever convince Kat how he felt, but unless he gave it his best shot, he was wasting Riley’s life as well as his own.
He glanced over his shoulder, uncertain whether or not he actually sensed his brother’s spirit. “Thanks, kid,” he whispered, hoping. “I’ll do my best.”
Seamus realized he was standing just outside Kat’s bedroom, uncertain as to how he’d gotten there. The rain still fell, the wind had once again picked up, but the soft sound of Kathleen murmuring to her son drew him like a magnet.
Seamus quietly slipped through the partially open door.
“Is he asleep?”
“Yeah.” She shifted slightly in the rocker, easily adjusting the tiny bundle in her arms. “I could sit here and just hold him for hours. Come see?”
Seamus walked across the room, mesmerized by the sight of the tiny little boy. Equally mesmerized by the full swell of Kat’s breast, the puckered nipple next to the tiny rosebud lips. By all rights, Michael was a miracle, a baby neither he nor Riley could ever have hoped for.
Kat Malone was a miracle as well. Seamus still felt hopeless where she was concerned. Hopeless and so much in love he ached.
“Why did you tell me Riley was sterile?” She looked up at Seamus, obviously unconcerned with her lack of covering. “This little squirt looks so much like you guys there’s no way either of you could deny parentage.”
Seamus studied the black hair, the eyebrows already visible in their dark fuzz version, the arch to one a copy of both his and Riley’s. He felt as if his heart would burst, so full of emotion with the fact of this child’s very existence.
He pulled up an ottoman and sat close beside the rocker. “Our parents traveled when we were babies and we missed a lot of the regular check-ups most kids get. I don’t know if we ever got vaccinated for mumps, but if we did, it didn’t work. Riley and I both got sick when we were about five. The infection tends to settle in glands, and in our case the glands it settled in supposedly left both of us sterile. We were two miserable little boys!”
He reached out and trailed a finger across the baby’s satiny cheek. “Thank God the doctors who tested both of us were wrong about Riley, though as far as I know, this is the only child he ever fathered.”
“So you can’t have babies?” Kat frowned when she looked at him.
Seamus wondered what she thought, if he was less than a man for being unable to father children. One more reason to back away.
Kat smiled, but her eyes glistened with tears. “Then that makes Michael even more special, doesn’t it?” She pulled her shirt closed to cover her breasts and tucked the baby more snugly in the yellow blanket she’d made for him. “Why don’t you hold your son for awhile? Little boys should spend lots of time with their fathers.”
FATHER. THAT WASN’T A term he’d ever expected to apply to himself. Baby Michael yawned and stretched one tiny fist free of the blanket. His body fit perfectly into the curve of Seamus’s arm, warm and solid and very much an O’Rourke. Seamus stared at the tiny bundle and felt as if his heart would explode. There was too much happening in that overworked organ right now, too many new emotions, too many fears, too much confusion.
With little Michael Seamus Riley, he felt nothing but unwavering love and a terrifying sense of vulnerability. So much responsibility, so much risk, so many decisions ahead, all of it tempered by dreams of playing catch in the backyard, of flying kites along the marina, of loving his son.
When he looked across the softly illuminated room at Kathleen sleeping so soundly in her bed, he practically trembled with frustration. He loved her, he needed her, he wanted her more than he could imagine wanting anything other than the tiny baby in his arms.
She’d offered him her baby then she’d backed away. She’d made it plain to Seamus he would always be a part of Michael’s life, but hadn’t offered to share her own.
She was independent, intelligent and more self-sufficient than any woman he’d ever known. Barely two days after giving birth, she was up and moving around as if the pregnancy hadn’t even happened. She still wore the flowing tie-dyed dresses, but they clung to her shape and hinted at the slim, supple body she would soon regain.
She didn’t need him anymore. Tim Anderson was in jail, the baby was healthy, and Kat could return to her old life and her job without a single backward glance. She’d let him know, in no uncertain terms, that she really missed her
work, her friends, the challenges of the job.
Seamus could have exactly what he wanted.
Riley’s baby. Not completely, not all the time, but she’d promised Seamus never to come between the two of them. It was so easy to picture Kat slipping back into her active roll as an investigator with the Department of Transportation, going undercover for long periods of time and leaving the baby with Seamus.
Well, wasn’t that exactly what he wanted?
No. Not any more.
It would never be enough. He wanted the whole package...mom, dad, baby. Kathleen, Seamus, Michael...the house in town, weekends in the country, the three of them sitting down around the table at night and talking about their day.
Putting their son to bed, maybe sharing a late-night glass of port, then slipping off to the master bedroom and making love until their limbs were weak and their hearts racing.
He floated with the fantasy, dozing in the chair with Michael’s warm little body held securely against his chest, thoughts of Kat’s warm body pressed intimately with his own.
Suddenly Seamus jerked awake, blinking against the darkness in the room. When had Kat turned off the light?
As his thoughts cleared, he realized there was no light coming from the rest of the house, either, which meant the power had gone off again...which meant a wet trip out to the shed to fire up the generator. Michael stirred in his arms, snuffled against the soft blanket and sighed. Seamus carefully stood up and carried the tiny infant across the room.
He lightly touched Kat’s warm shoulder. “Kat. Wake up, honey. Power’s out. I need to go start the generator. Do you want the baby or should I put him in his bed.”
They’d fashioned a dresser drawer as a makeshift crib, but Seamus knew Kat preferred to keep her son close by her side.
“I’ll take him. My breasts hurt. Must be time for dinner.” Kat struggled out of sleep and squinted against the darkness. She reached out and found Seamus, then Michael with the light brush of her fingers. Seamus expertly transferred the baby to her in the darkness. “Is it another wire down?”
