Gage shot Skye a panicked look.
Skye gave him a sympathetic smile. “That means he likes you and wants to keep playing. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll put Connor in his high chair?”
So this crying was good? “Let’s eat, bud.” Gage angled his head toward the dining room table. Connor’s response was a painful cry that knifed at Gage’s heart. He groaned inwardly at his ignorant assumption that such a young child would make the transition to his high chair without complaint. Man, he had a lot to learn if he was going to make good on his commitment. What if Skye realized how inexperienced he was and refused to let him spend time with Connor?
Mrs. Tomlinson had already sat down. Gage waited until Skye had scooped Connor up and carried him to his high chair. The little boy arched his back and screeched, making it difficult for Skye to secure the harness and buckles.
“Wow.” Gage grimaced. He might not be able to talk, but he’d made his preferences quite clear.
“He keeps us on our toes.” Mrs. Tomlinson shook her head while Skye finally buckled Connor in and latched the white plastic tray in place. She straightened, her cheeks flushed, and claimed her place across from Gage.
“He’ll calm down in a minute.” Skye reached for her napkin. “Would you like to ask the blessing, Mom?”
Connor cried the whole time Mrs. Tomlinson prayed, drowning out most of what she said.
When she’d finished, Gage surveyed the meal. A basket of dinner rolls, green salad and a generous helping of beef stew in his bowl made his mouth water. He glanced at Connor. “Are you ready to eat?”
Connor paused his tirade long enough to consider Gage’s question.
“Can he have some bread?” Gage asked Skye. He really had no idea what babies Connor’s age could eat.
“Sure. If he throws it, he may not have any more, though.” Skye fired a warning glance in Connor’s direction.
“Got it.” No roll tossing at the table. Although it did sound a little fun.
Gage took a roll from the basket and pinched a small bite to share with Connor. “Here.” He set it on the tray. “This bread looks yummy.” His voice sounded goofy. And when was the last time he’d used the word yummy? He didn’t dare look Skye’s way.
Connor picked up the bread and popped it in his mouth.
Then his blue eyes widened, and he pointed toward the basket of rolls, while he bounced up and down against the high chair’s vinyl cushion.
“Is it okay if he has more?” Gage asked.
Skye nodded, and he split another roll into chunks and handed it over. Connor gobbled it down as quickly as he could.
While Gage had anticipated the conversation might revolve around his reasons for moving to Merritt’s Crossing, there wasn’t much time to formulate a complete sentence. Once Connor realized Gage was willing to share from his plate, the little boy ate like he was a bottomless pit. Between putting food on the tray and trying to finish his own meal, dinner was almost over, and they hadn’t had a chance to talk at all.
“You wouldn’t know it by the way he’s eating, but I promise we feed him on a regular basis. Or at least we try to.” Mrs. Tomlinson scraped her own bowl clean. “Maybe you’re our secret weapon, Gage.”
“I don’t know about that.” Gage speared a bite of meat with his fork. “He’s definitely got an appetite tonight.”
A few minutes later, Connor shoved the chunks of carrots aside and rubbed his eyes with his fist.
“Yikes.” Skye pushed back her chair. “I think he’s about to melt down. Let me get him cleaned up before he rubs food in his hair.”
“Is that usually what happens?” Gage asked.
“Sometimes.” Mrs. Tomlinson chuckled. “We’re not always great at figuring out when he’s had enough.”
Skye returned from the sink with a dishcloth in her hand. “I hadn’t planned on giving him a bath tonight.” She quickly wiped his fingers and his face while he did his best to squirm away.
Gage stifled a laugh. This kid had a strong will. Reminded him a lot of Ryan. The comparison felt like a gut punch, and his amusement vanished.
“Are you okay?” Mrs. Tomlinson reached over and patted Gage’s arm. “You look sad all of a sudden.”
How much to share? He’d already told Skye he wanted to be involved in Connor’s life. Gage rubbed his fingertips along his jaw. “I hate that Ryan didn’t get a chance to meet his son, you know?”
Mrs. Tomlinson’s eyes filled with empathy. “We wish things were different, too. I’m sure Skye told you we don’t know if McKenna will return. Maybe God brought you into our lives for a reason.”
“Mom—” Skye shot her mother a warning glance.
“It’s true, whether you choose to believe it or not.” Mrs. Tomlinson frowned at her daughter. “We don’t know if she’ll come back. What if she doesn’t? Gage’s connection to Connor’s father isn’t a coincidence.”
Skye lowered Connor to the floor. He quickly crawled across the carpet to the toys he’d played with before dinner.
Gage tried to assess Skye’s reaction to her mother’s feelings. She seemed like she had a lot going on in her life. He didn’t dare ask, but did she really plan on caring for Connor on her own if his mother wasn’t willing or able to care for him?
“Like I said yesterday, I’m finishing my certification through the wind energy technician program at the community college. I’ll start the hands-on training soon, and until I’m placed in a full-time position, I have a flexible schedule.”
“See?” Mrs. Tomlinson beamed at her daughter. “A flexible schedule. That’s exactly what we need.”
Skye sank into her chair. Uncertainty was written all over her face. She sighed. “Can you come over tomorrow afternoon? From three to five thirty?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay. I’ll leave a list of instructions for you. Mom will be here, too, just in case.”
Gage ducked his head and suppressed a smile. Her subtext was not lost on him. Just in case you’re a lousy babysitter.
“Now that we have that worked out, how about dessert?” Mrs. Tomlinson asked.
“I think I’ll pass.” Gage pushed back his chair and stood. “I still have some unpacking to do, and a test to study for.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Mrs. Tomlinson frowned. “Would you like to take some brownies home? Or maybe the leftover stew?”
“No, thank you.” He didn’t want to overstay his welcome. Skye’s body language indicated she wasn’t thrilled about what just happened, and he wanted to go before she changed her mind about tomorrow. “It was delicious, though.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Skye crossed to the front door, pausing to pick Connor up and wedge him on her hip. He immediately gave her a sleepy smile and grabbed a chunk of her ponytail in his chubby fist.
She gently extracted her hair from Connor’s hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.
Gage looked away and jammed his feet into his boots. So she wasn’t a total ice queen. Maybe she was too stressed and overwhelmed. Or just not a fan of him dropping into her life unannounced? She’d mentioned her concerns about someone calling social services. Did she think he was going to try to take Connor from her?
Something told him now was not the time to offer reassurances. He put on his jacket and paused, one hand on the doorknob, and dared to look at her one more time. “Thanks for giving me a chance.”
“Don’t let me down.”
Wow. Okay. “See you soon.”
“Good night.”
He stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door closed behind him. Staring up into the night sky, his breath puffing in little white clouds, he silently offered a prayer for guidance.
I’m off to a shaky start here, Lord.
When he set out to find McKenna and her baby, he never anticipated meeting Skye. An
d no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t ignore his initial attraction to her. Not that it mattered. She was downright frigid tonight and clearly didn’t like strangers, no matter how honorable their intentions. She’d probably only asked for his help because her mom coaxed her and she was desperate. But he couldn’t let her attitude discourage him. He owed it to Ryan to keep his promise.
Chapter Three
Please, please let this be the one.
Skye folded her hands behind her back and pasted on a polite smile. Her customers, Mr. and Mrs. Crawford, circled the eight-piece dining room set in the furniture’s showroom for the third time, their brows furrowed.
“What do you think, sweetheart?” Mr. Crawford clapped his hand on his wife’s shoulder, while he jangled his loose change with his hand in his other pocket. Skye held her breath, waiting for Mrs. Crawford to answer.
“I just can’t make up my mind. Do you think we can all fit around it for Easter? We’re hosting this year.”
Yes, of course. Skye dug her fingernails into her palm to keep from blurting out a response. She’d actually never visited the Crawfords’ home and had no idea how much space they had in their dining room, but the store’s dismal sales—almost nonexistent this month—could really use a boost.
“It might be a tight squeeze, especially with the credenza, too, but I’m sure we can make it work.” Mr. Crawford gave Skye a reassuring smile, the lines on his weathered face crinkling around his eyes.
She widened her smile, while the tension between her shoulders knotted tighter. Mrs. Crawford did not seem convinced.
“We really love the bedroom set we purchased from your daddy some years ago,” Mrs. Crawford said, running her hand over the oak tabletop. “Now that our son and his wife moved to Fort Collins and took our dining room table and chairs, I’d really like something that will accommodate him and his wife, and of course, any future grandchildren, if our daughter ever gets married...” She trailed off and stepped back as if to gain a better perspective.
“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed your bedroom set.” Skye kept her tone warm. Optimistic. “We always appreciate loyal customers.”
“Your father was a great guy.” Mr. Crawford’s gaze filled with empathy. “We had a good time coaching your brother’s Little League team together all those years. How’s your mom doing?”
Skye swallowed hard, surprised by the emotion unexpectedly rising at the mention of her father’s good works in Merritt’s Crossing. “Mom’s getting by. I guess you heard she’s had knee replacement surgery. The recovery’s tougher than we expected.”
“I can imagine.” Mr. Crawford glanced at his wife, the change in his pocket jangling a little louder. “What do you say, hon? Is this the one or—”
Skye’s phone rang, and she froze. Ignore it? What if it was McKenna? But taking the call meant stepping away from the customers, and she hated for them to think they weren’t important. Quite the opposite, really.
“Go ahead and answer that if you need to, dear.” Mrs. Crawford smiled politely. “We don’t mind.”
“I’ll just be a minute.” Skye crossed the showroom in quick strides to the antique rolltop desk that served as the home base when she couldn’t be in the tiny back office. Business cards, a work space for her laptop and a vase of pink carnations with a sprig of baby’s breath decorated the well-worn surface. Her phone’s screen lit up with the church’s number in the caller ID. Oh no. Her stomach dropped. Connor.
“H-hello?” she said, unable to keep the tremor from her voice.
“Hello, Skye, this is Betty Sanders over at the church. How are you?”
Skye squeezed her eyes shut. A call from the child care director wasn’t a good thing. “I’m fine, Mrs. Sanders. How can I help you?”
“We’ve run into a bit of an issue with Connor this morning. Do you have a few minutes to chat?”
Skye opened her eyes and glanced over her shoulder. Mr. and Mrs. Crawford stood close together near the dining room set, talking quietly. At least they hadn’t left. Yet. “What happened?”
“I’m afraid he bit another child on the arm. As we’ve already discussed, biting is a cause for concern. Since it’s happened two other times, we’re going to have to ask you to leave the Mom’s Morning Out program.”
No, no, no. Skye pressed her hand to her cheek. “I’m sure you’re aware Connor’s had a lot to deal with lately, with his mom...out of town for a while. I mean, he’s not even one yet. Isn’t there a chance he’s just trying to express his frustration—”
“Skye, we can’t allow him to bite. It’s not fair to the other children.”
“But he isn’t trying to be aggressive. He’s never bitten me or my mom or anyone outside the nursery. How do you know he wasn’t provoked?” She knew she was pushing her limit with Mrs. Sanders, but she couldn’t help but try. The Mom’s Morning Out program was her child care lifeline. Without it, she had nothing. Well, nothing except Gage.
“I can assure you he was not provoked,” Mrs. Sanders said, her tone icy. “As the director, I have a responsibility to provide a safe and nurturing environment for all who attend. While it’s a real shame about Connor’s abandonment, I’m not going to excuse his unacceptable behavior.”
Skye bristled at the older woman’s harsh, judgmental tone. She bit her lip and glanced at her customers again.
Mr. and Mrs. Crawford were already halfway to the store’s front door. “We’ll be back,” they whispered.
No! She wanted to run ahead and plant herself in their path, maybe even offer them a discount off the full price. At this point, she wasn’t above begging them to reconsider. She really couldn’t afford to lose this sale.
“Skye?” Mrs. Sanders’s voice grated on her nerves. “Are you still there?”
“Yes, I just—”
“I’ll need you to come pick Connor up immediately.”
“What?” Skye glanced at the oversize wooden clock mounted on the wall, the hands on the distressed finish inching toward eleven o’clock. “I usually don’t pick him up until twelve fifteen.”
“Perhaps I wasn’t explicit enough. He’s being removed from the program. Permanently. I expect to see you here in the next fifteen minutes.”
“But—”
There was no point arguing. Mrs. Sanders had already ended the call. Skye pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. What was she going to do with an eleven-month-old in a furniture store? Sure, she could set up the portable crib to keep him contained in the back room, but he wouldn’t be content there for more than a few minutes. And he’d never take a nap there, either.
Oh, McKenna. What have you done?
With Connor’s first birthday coming up in a few days, surely her cousin would come home in time to celebrate?
Tears stung her eyes, but Skye refused to fall apart right now. She didn’t have time for a meltdown, and she wouldn’t give Mrs. Sanders the satisfaction of seeing her cry. After hastily scrawling a note indicating the store’s unexpected closure due to a family emergency, she taped it to the glass door on her way out. This was one more reason why sales had to improve—she needed the income to hire additional help.
Another storm had blown in, and fresh snow blanketed the sidewalk in front of the store. She made a mental note to ask Drew to stop by and shovel it after work. Again. Ducking her chin against the flakes swirling around her, Skye trudged to her car parked behind the store, the reality of her circumstances weighting her steps.
A mother who could barely walk, an abandoned baby without a babysitter and her family’s floundering furniture business, not to mention zero resolutions within her grasp.
What about Gage?
She pushed out a laugh at the ridiculous notion. They barely knew anything about him, and he hadn’t even spent a single minute alone with Connor. How could he possibly be the answer
to her problems?
* * *
Gage eased his truck into the Tomlinsons’ driveway and turned off the ignition, wishing he could do the same for the anxiety wreaking havoc on his insides. Man, he hadn’t felt this nervous since his first week at sea on the submarine. Sure, he and Connor got along great last night, but they hadn’t been alone. He’d only played with a couple of toys and shared some food at dinner. Skye did most of the work, and she’d intervened when Connor threw a fit.
What if he totally messed this up?
An ache formed in his chest. Yesterday marked one year since Ryan died. He glanced at the picture wedged on his dashboard, the one of him and Ryan on the beach in San Diego that he’d shared with Skye at the coffee shop. After their meeting, he’d tucked the dog-eared photo inside one of the few books he owned, but this morning he’d mustered the courage to retrieve the picture and tuck it into the corner of his dash—a frequent reminder spurring him on to keep his promise.
Pocketing his keys, he climbed out of the truck and slammed the door. Although the snow had stopped falling, several inches coated the driveway, a sedan parked in front of the garage and the steps leading up to the Tomlinsons’ modest rambler. Should he offer to shovel while he was here? Or maybe Skye wanted to take care of that herself, too.
He climbed the steps and the door swung open before he could knock or ring the bell.
“Hey,” Skye greeted him, looking as though she’d stepped out of a corporate boardroom in a long gray dress belted at the waist and stylish black boots. His gaze flitted from her hair piled in a messy bun on top of her head, to her red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks. Had she been crying? His chest tightened. Did something happen to Connor?
“Are you all right?”
“Come on in.” She stepped back, ignoring his question. “I didn’t want you to ring the bell. Connor’s still taking a nap.”
Gage stood in the foyer and quickly surveyed his surroundings. The house was quiet, and he didn’t want to do anything that might upset her more. He was also afraid to ask why she wasn’t at the furniture store. Maybe she’d decided she didn’t trust him being there without her supervision after all.
Their Baby Blessing Page 3
