“Oh my.” Aunt Linda smiled and propped her hands on her ample hips. “Isn’t he the cutest thing? You must be having the time of your life taking care of him.”
Skye opened her mouth to respond but swallowed back the harsh words before they spilled out.
No. She wasn’t having a good time. Connor had a lot of needs and she struggled to meet them. This wasn’t what she’d signed up for when she’d agreed to come home and help. This boy belonged with a mother and father who loved him and knew what to do when he seemed to cry for no reason at all. But Connor had already lost his father, and his mother... Could her cousin ever be a dependable caregiver?
Skye pushed the nagging doubts away. She had a house full of people to tend to.
The pleasant hum of conversation filtered through the cozy space, and the aroma of Aunt Linda’s barbecued pork made her stomach growl.
Connor’s exuberant chatter drew her attention, and she glanced at him, still sitting on the floor surrounded by presents. He lifted both arms toward Gage. Skye’s breath hitched. Now, that was one gesture she did understand—he wanted Gage.
“What’s up, buddy? Need some help?” Gage’s arm brushed against hers as he moved past her and joined Connor and Jack on the floor. While she’d stood there, overanalyzing her struggles with Connor, somehow Gage had moved closer without her noticing. Her traitorous abdomen dispensed another batch of butterflies as she watched Gage and Connor interact.
“Hey, everyone, we’re going to let Connor open his presents before we eat,” Skye said, quickly granting permission. She could only imagine his disappointment if they asked him to wait any longer.
Connor crawled into Gage’s lap, and then Gage handed him a present and helped him rip off the paper. Everyone expressed their approval while Gage encouraged Connor to open the next gift. Skye’s heart expanded in her chest. They were really cute together. She grabbed her phone and sank to the floor nearby, eager to capture the moment with a photo. Maybe she’d get to share the image with McKenna someday.
When the presents were opened, Gage glanced at Skye for direction. “What next?”
“Let me ask my uncle Milt to say the blessing.” She pushed to her feet and tugged on her uncle’s chambray sleeve. “Uncle Milt, will you please pray so we can eat?”
“Of course.” Uncle Milt’s weathered skin wrinkled as he grinned, and his pale blue eyes flitted toward Gage. “First, how about you introduce us to your beau?”
All eyes swung in her direction and an expectant silence blanketed the room.
“Right. I mean, no, he’s—he’s not—” Flustered, she glanced at Gage. He wore a smile that rivaled Uncle Milt’s. Clearly, he was enjoying watching her squirm.
Cheeks flaming, she forced a smile and addressed the rest of the group. “Thank you for coming to Connor’s party, everyone. This is our new friend, Gage Westbrook. He moved here to finish his certification to become a wind energy technician. We just met recently because he happens to be a good friend of Connor’s father. Now Uncle Milt is going to pray, and then we can eat.”
There. A brief introduction that clarified his status as definitively in the friend zone. Where he belonged.
* * *
Gage’s afternoon with Connor wasn’t going as well as he’d hoped.
Connor sat beside him on the living room floor, his lower lip protruding while he rubbed both chubby fists against his eyes. He hadn’t napped nearly as long as Skye’s detailed notes said he should. Mrs. Tomlinson had warned him before she’d retreated to her room for her own nap that Connor might be a little grumpy.
“Do you want to play with your new toys?” Gage slid the red plastic barn across the carpet toward Connor.
He pushed it away and started to fuss.
Oh boy. Gage gritted his teeth and looked around for the collection of colorful rubber animals he’d noticed the first night he’d stopped by. He found them in a basket nearby and dumped them on the carpet.
“Do you like cows?” Gage gently walked the black-and-white cow up Connor’s leg. “Moo.”
Connor amped up the tears, his face darkening from pink to red as he scooted out of Gage’s reach.
“Okay, that’s a negative on the farm animals.” Gage quickly put them away. Man, this was a big change from the birthday party, when Connor acted like Gage could do no wrong. Anxiety hummed in his veins and he looked around for an option that might soothe the baby.
Thankfully Mrs. Tomlinson had changed Connor’s diaper when he woke up, so scratch that from the list of reasons Connor kept crying. He reached for an orange dump truck with a gray plastic rock in the back.
“Check this out, Connor.” Gage drove it across the carpet and tried to make an authentic engine noise.
Connor just wailed louder.
“You’re right, that sound I made was pretty lame.” Gage angled the truck toward the fireplace and set it on the hearth. He palmed the back of his neck. Why was he so bad at this?
Turning, he reached for Connor and scooped him awkwardly into his arms. “Come here, little dude. What’s the matter?”
Tears clung to Connor’s eyelashes and moisture dampened his cheeks. Gage’s heart fisted as Connor drew a ragged breath, then continued to cry. There had to be something that would help calm him. Gage stood slowly and walked toward the sliding glass door beside the dining room table.
“Let’s look out the window.” Maybe a peek outside might distract him? Gage shifted Connor in his arms so he could see the backyard. Remnants of snow from the last storm still lingered on the ground, and the cloudy gray sky hinted there was more winter weather to come. A few birds and squirrels scampered about.
“Look at the squirrels, Connor.” Gage pressed his finger to the glass. “Do you see them?”
Connor stopped crying and his big blue eyes widened as he made a few sounds Gage couldn’t interpret.
“What else do you see?” Gage gently patted Connor’s back, wishing he could take him outside. The green one-piece outfit Connor wore had long sleeves, but he only had socks on and Gage had no idea where his jacket and shoes might be. If Mrs. Tomlinson had managed to sleep through all the crying, he didn’t want to disturb her to ask.
There was so much comfort in fresh air, though. Or maybe just the change in perspective helped. Memories of his own childhood flooded back, reminding him of the times he’d slipped outside in a desperate attempt to escape the anxiety and fear of his parents’ neglect and, later, his latest temporary foster care placement.
Connor babbled another string of unintelligible sounds, pulling Gage back to the present.
“I know. There’s a lot to look at, isn’t there?” He didn’t really know how to talk to a one-year-old, and he felt a little silly at the moment. If his comments kept the crying to a minimum, though, he’d keep chatting.
Connor pointed toward the yard, then glanced at Gage and smiled. The tension in Gage’s shoulders loosened. His frustration over the crying was no match for that innocent blue-eyed stare and toothy grin. Or the sweet scent that accompanied Connor. Gage smiled back, and Connor responded by resting his head against Gage’s shoulder and heaving a deep sigh.
Gage’s breath hitched. He wasn’t quite prepared for the sudden display of affection. Thoughts of Ryan invaded, and he willed the tightness in his throat to go away. He couldn’t bring his friend back, but he’d do everything in his power to build a relationship with Ryan’s son.
Gage shifted and glanced at the clock on the wall. Three fifteen. Skye’s instructions mentioned an afternoon snack of dry cereal and a sippy cup of apple juice. He didn’t relish the thought of ruining the peaceful moment, but he knew better than to ignore her expectations. Especially on his first day with Connor.
“Are you ready for a snack?” Gage asked as he turned toward the high chair nearby.
Connor raised his head and looked around. No crying yet. Tha
t was good, right? Gage gently lowered him into the chair, buckled the straps and then adjusted the tray, just like he’d watched Skye do at dinner last week. There. Nothing to it.
Feeling more confident, he hurried to get the plastic container with the dry cereal and the cup of juice while Connor entertained himself by clapping his hands, then squealing with delight.
A few minutes later, Connor happily munched on his Cheerios, while Gage sat at the table and stifled a yawn. Sleep had eluded him last night, and he’d tossed and turned, snapshots of his evening spent at Connor’s party still playing on an endless loop in his mind. Two days had passed. He should have powered through these convoluted emotions by now. Skye, her close-knit family, the bittersweet experience of celebrating Connor’s birthday while pretending not to notice he didn’t have any parents had churned him up inside. Made him do things he normally wouldn’t—like touching her cheek when he’d found her alone in the kitchen.
Probably shouldn’t have done that.
Someone or something must’ve hurt her deeply, because she’d skittered away as quickly as possible. He didn’t imagine the chemistry arcing between them, though, and he couldn’t ignore his own sense of relief once he figured out the guy from the diner was her brother.
He’d tried to speak with Skye privately—to let her know he hadn’t meant to overstep her boundaries—but celebrating Connor took center stage for the rest of the evening. Although he’d stuck around to help clean up, her boisterous family and friends made meaningful conversation difficult. He shook his head, still smiling at the mischievous gleam in her uncle’s eyes, and the ways her brothers provoked her for their own amusement. The party made him both envious and terrified at the same time. Skye and her family finished each other’s sentences and dished out plenty of good-natured ribbing, yet their long history together and commitment to one another gave him the urge to run. It was too much. Too much intensity. Too much loyalty. Even if they weren’t all related, the guests at the party lived in a densely woven web of connection and shared experience.
His status as an outsider was painfully obvious. Yet his desperate longing to keep his promise to Ryan and now to Connor, and his changing feelings for Skye, had kept him at the party. And motivated him to give his very best effort while caring for the little boy. If he was honest, he longed to be included, to build those rock-solid relationships, but his years in foster care made it difficult to trust people. Would he ever be able to have a family of his own and not live in fear of abandonment?
Chapter Six
Early Wednesday morning, Gage poured the contents of his smoothie from the blender into a tall plastic cup, then jabbed a straw into the thick mixture and took a sip. Meh. Not his best work. Wasting food was practically a criminal offense in his opinion, so he’d drink it anyway.
The laminate floor was cold against his bare feet as he crossed to his kitchen table and sat down in front of his laptop. It wasn’t even 6 a.m., and he’d already subjected himself to a punishing workout in his apartment complex’s fitness center, showered and made breakfast—all in a desperate attempt to avoid the email sitting unread in his inbox.
Somewhere around four this morning, he’d woken up, plagued with doubt about whether or not he was doing the right thing—dropping into Connor’s life like this. Yesterday afternoon got off to a rocky start, but then Connor snuggled up close, and the surge of affection blindsided Gage.
Maybe this was just the same old fear taunting him. It wasn’t a surprise when his ex-girlfriend told him he was emotionally unavailable. But that didn’t make it any easier to hear.
Or admit that she was right. He didn’t want to be alone forever. Yet the unpredictability of these big emotions did scare him because he knew how much it hurt when relationships fell apart. Connor’s ability to sneak past his defenses, as well as his unmistakable attraction toward Skye, left him feeling vulnerable. And he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Frustrated, he’d reached for his phone to find a podcast or some music to help him fall back asleep when a message from Ryan’s parents unexpectedly greeted him. Although he’d tried to pretend he hadn’t seen it, the sickening lurch in his gut had propelled him out of bed and kept him in perpetual motion. Resistance was futile, though. He couldn’t avoid it much longer. His heart rate quickened as his finger hovered over the keyboard, poised to open the message.
Dear Gage,
We hope this message finds you well and thriving. Gerald and I are getting by, although time has not healed all wounds, as they say. We still can’t believe he is gone. I’m writing to you in hopes that you can help us sort out a troubling development. It has come to our attention that Ryan has a son. This wasn’t something he’d disclosed to us. As you can imagine, we are both shocked and saddened to learn of our only grandchild in this manner. When you have a few minutes, would you please give us a call? You are one of our limited sources of information, and we’d desperately like to know more about this baby and where he might be.
Sincerely,
Gerald and Irene Simmons
Blood pounded in his ears as Gage pushed to his feet, eager to get away from his laptop. They didn’t know? How was that possible? He strode to the window in the living room and stared out into the early-morning sky streaked in rich shades of orange, proclaiming the sun’s imminent arrival.
Ryan had talked about his parents often, and his all-American experience in the affluent Chicago suburbs was the exact opposite of Gage’s erratic childhood in Texas. Although Gage had only seen Gerald and Irene twice, once when they visited briefly in San Diego and again at Ryan’s funeral, their love and devotion to their only child was obvious. While Ryan had described them as quite conservative, Gage assumed Ryan had eventually disclosed his relationship with McKenna and even told them about Connor.
She didn’t come to the funeral. He mentally connected the dots. That might explain one reason why they weren’t aware. While Ryan might not have told his parents about McKenna or her pregnancy, they had the right to know more about their only grandchild.
Gage scrubbed his palm across his face. Worse than the knowledge that Gerald and Irene were just now finding out about Connor was the realization that he’d have to tell Skye. What if she was happy about locating more of Connor’s relatives? Would she advocate for Connor to go and live with his grandparents?
Stop.
He drew a deep breath and forced himself not to overreact. Gerald and Irene only wanted more information, and he needed to do the right thing and answer promptly.
Gage turned away from the window and went back to the kitchen table and his laptop. His fingers trembled as he typed his response confirming Connor’s existence and where he lived. While Gage wanted what was best for Connor, which was a permanent home with two loving parents, the possibility of the little boy getting caught in the volatile process of finding a forever family lodged an icy ball in Gage’s gut. He remembered well the heartache of his own uncertain childhood and didn’t want Connor to suffer the same way.
* * *
Oh, the crying.
She’d tried everything. Nothing helped Connor feel better. Poor little guy. He seemed miserable. Skye paced the short hallway between the bedrooms and the living room, the distraught baby nestled against her shoulder. Her arms ached from holding him, but when she tried to put him back in his crib, he screamed louder.
They’d walked endless loops around the house, from the kitchen and dining room, then back down the short hallway. Judging by the light glowing from behind the living room drapes, morning wasn’t far away. Fatigue made her limbs feel heavy. What she wouldn’t give to lie down and sleep. He’d started crying around 2 a.m. and hadn’t really stopped.
She pressed her hand to his forehead again. “Oh, you still feel too warm.” She’d already given him the last dose of fever-reducing medicine left in the tiny bottle. Why wasn’t it helping? And how was she supposed to know if he nee
ded a different medication?
Her chest tightened at the harsh reminder of all she had to learn about caring for someone so small and helpless. If he didn’t settle down in the next few minutes, she’d call the pediatrician. Even though the office didn’t open until nine, she could still leave a message.
Connor paused and drew a deep breath.
Skye stopped walking and leaned away from him to study his cherubic face. His eyelids drooped slightly and then he jammed his thumb in his mouth. Skye held her breath. Was his fever breaking? He nuzzled his cheek against her shoulder again, and a few seconds later, she felt his body relax.
“Finally,” she whispered and resumed her slow path toward the living room. She was tempted to put him down in his crib, but feared he’d only wake up and start crying all over again. It’d be better to keep him in motion until she was certain he’d fallen asleep.
Mom’s bedroom door opened, and Skye turned slowly.
Mom hesitated in the doorway, tightened the sash on her light blue robe, then moved toward Skye, pushing the silver walker in front of her.
“I’m sorry,” Skye whispered. “I was hoping he wouldn’t bother you.”
“I was awake anyway.” Mom raked one hand through her short salt-and-pepper curls. “What’s the matter?”
“He has a fever.” Skye’s gaze traveled to Mom’s knee. “Why aren’t you sleeping well? Is your knee bothering you?”
“My knee feels all right. I haven’t slept well since your dad died.” She offered a weak smile. “Not used to sleeping alone, I guess.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Skye resumed her gentle swaying, while her chest ached at the mention of Dad. He’d been gone a little over a year. After more than thirty years of marriage, it was understandable that Mom hadn’t adjusted to his absence. They were all still feeling the pain his loss inflicted.
“Want some coffee?” Mom steered her walker toward the kitchen.
Their Baby Blessing Page 7
