“No problem.” Gage grinned and gently swooped Connor into the air with a dramatic gasp. “Who wants to play airplane? This guy!”
Connor rewarded him with a belly laugh that softened the tension immediately.
Skye wanted to hug Gage but clasped her hands in front of her instead. “Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, I’d like for you to meet my mother, Rhonda Tomlinson.”
Mom stepped forward and they exchanged pleasant greetings, although Mr. and Mrs. Simmons couldn’t stop staring at Connor.
“He has Ryan’s eyes, doesn’t he?” Mrs. Simmons’s smile wobbled as she glanced at her husband.
“Sure does.” Mr. Simmons’s voice was thick with emotion and he tracked Gage and Connor as they moved into the living room and closer to the toys.
“Please, make yourselves comfortable.” Mom gestured toward the living room sofa. “Can we take your coats? Would you like some coffee or hot tea?”
“Hot tea sounds lovely.” Mrs. Simmons slipped out of her wool overcoat and handed it to Skye. “Thank you.”
Skye graciously took their coats and hung them up, trying not to think about how much Mrs. Simmons must’ve spent on her peach silk blouse and off-white linen trousers. The designer handbag she clutched probably wasn’t a knockoff, either. Did McKenna know anything about Ryan’s parents and their obvious wealth? Was she the one who reached out to them?
McKenna. Skye sighed. The girl had left a path of destruction wider than a tornado barreling across the High Plains. Maybe she wasn’t coming back. And even if she did return, was she capable of being the mother Connor needed?
With her stomach in knots, Skye hurried into the kitchen, leaving Mom and Gage to handle the awkward small talk. Connor would undoubtedly remain the star of the show, at least until he threw a fit, giving her a few minutes to fix the tea. While she waited for the water in the electric kettle to boil, she arranged a tray of cookies Mom had somehow acquired and put cream and sugar in the china serving set reserved for special occasions.
She cringed. Why did she feel the need to impress Ryan’s parents anyway? Was it her irrational compulsion to prove she was worthy of caring for Connor? That they hadn’t messed him up in some way?
“Need any help?” Gage’s deep voice pulled her from her thoughts.
She turned from the refrigerator to find him hovering at the end of the counter, hands tucked casually in his khaki pants pockets, while his presence seemed to fill the whole kitchen. The familiar scent of his woodsy aftershave wafted toward her, bombarding her with memories of their recent kiss. She immediately tamped those down. Focus.
“Where’s Connor?”
His lips curved into a knowing smile, revealing a dimple she found hard to ignore. Cue the butterflies.
“I’m letting Irene hold him. Don’t panic.”
As predicted, her abdomen stirred with the unmistakable flitter she desperately longed to control. This wasn’t the time to think about the mixture of warmth and amusement filling those hazel eyes of his, or the muscular curves of his upper arms, still quite evident even though he wore a moss green sweater. Enough!
She stubbornly tipped her chin. “I’m not panicking.”
He arched a brow and held out his hands for the serving tray she’d loaded. “If you say so. Let me carry that for you.”
Didn’t he share her concerns about what Mr. and Mrs. Simmons might want? Or was this all part of his plan to make good on his promise to Ryan? She opened her mouth to ask him, but Connor burst into tears in the other room, and her heart rate sped as she brushed past Gage and rushed to Connor’s rescue.
* * *
Gage carefully lowered the tray onto the table, then shot a quick glance over his shoulder. Mr. and Mrs. Simmons sat on the sofa, wearing stricken expressions, while Skye braced a distraught Connor against her shoulder, swaying gently to comfort him.
His breath caught as he discovered the trickle of blood oozing from Connor’s mouth.
“Gage, can you get some paper towels or napkins, please?” Mrs. Tomlinson’s voice remained calm, but the look in her eyes prompted him to act quickly.
Gage grabbed a handful of napkins from the holder in the middle of the table and crossed the room to Skye and Connor in quick strides.
“I—I don’t know what happened.” Mrs. Simmons splayed her hand across her chest, while her frantic gaze darted around the room. “One minute I was helping him stand at the coffee table, and the next, he was—”
“He can’t stand up on his own yet.” Skye’s voice was harsh. Unforgiving.
“Here.” Gage held a napkin gently to Connor’s cheek. “Let’s try to stop the bleeding.”
“Bleeding?” Skye’s eyes widened, and she shifted Connor into her arms for a better look. He wailed louder, the tears mixing with the blood staining his cheek.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Gage fought to keep his voice calm and cupped his other hand on top of Connor’s head.
“This coffee table with these sharp edges really isn’t a good idea.” Mrs. Simmons’s brow puckered. “He—”
“My late brother-in-law built that table.” Mrs. Tomlinson raised her voice to be heard above the crying. “It’s never been a problem before, and I raised three children in this house.”
Oh boy. Gage clamped his jaw tight. Here we go. This was exactly the kind of conflict he’d hoped they’d avoid. He exchanged worried glances with Skye.
“Let’s make sure the baby is okay, shall we?” Mr. Simmons stood and moved closer for a more thorough inspection, his weathered brow furrowed. “I’ve heard mouth injuries bleed more than other types.”
Gage nodded. “I’ve heard that, too.”
Connor tried to squirm away, but Gage firmly held the napkin against his gums.
“Shh, it’s all right, sweetie,” Skye murmured, awkwardly shifting him in her arms. “Let us help you.”
“Why don’t you sit down?” Mr. Simmons suggested. “It might help him relax a little, too.”
Skye hesitated, then moved to the recliner in the corner. Gage followed, kneeling on the floor at her feet. A few minutes later, the bleeding had almost stopped, and Connor had calmed down, too.
Gage handed Connor a favorite plastic ball and attempted to examine his mouth. “I don’t think he’s missing any baby teeth, although to tell you the truth, I’m not sure how many he had.”
“Me, either.” Skye rested her cheek against the top of his head. “I’m just glad he’s okay.”
Gage’s heart turned over. For a woman who didn’t want to be a mother, she’d certainly reacted the way any mother would when a child was injured. He resisted the urge to give her arm a comforting squeeze and sat back on his heels instead.
“This is exactly why Gerald and I came as quickly as we could—to make sure our grandson was receiving proper care.”
Gage felt Skye stiffen and heard her sharp intake of breath. He shot her a warning glance. Wait.
“Irene—”
“It needs to be said, Gerald.” Mrs. Simmons’s ramrod-straight posture and well-manicured hands clasped in her lap made Gage’s scalp prickle. “After hearing about the child’s mother and her issues, we are deeply troubled about his well-being.”
“Excuse me?” Mrs. Tomlinson leaned forward. “What have you heard about Connor’s mother?”
Gage’s heart pounded. This time he didn’t hesitate and reached over and twined his fingers with Skye’s. Her skin felt cool to the touch. Much to his surprise, she held on tight.
“Tell them, Gerald.” Mrs. Simmons angled her head toward her husband. “Did you bring the letters and the photos?”
“What letters and photos?” Mrs. Tomlinson asked.
Mr. Simmons stood near the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back and his eyes downcast. “When we received Ryan’s personal belongings from his apartment in Florida, there were a number
of letters and pictures documenting his relationship with McKenna, which I did not bring along, but I’m more than willing to discuss what we’ve learned.”
“Please do.” Mrs. Tomlinson frowned, her knuckles white as she gripped her cane’s handle.
“We spoke to Ryan’s commanding officer once we saw the letters and pictures, and he was the one who revealed to us that Ryan had a child. That was difficult news for us to process, especially in the midst of our grief. We have a lot of questions and concerns, and in the last few months, we’ve pieced together a rather troubling picture of this young woman’s history and...lifestyle.” Mr. Simmons emphasized the last word, hinting at his disapproval. “While it isn’t her fault Ryan never told us about her or the baby, the fact that she isn’t here and has never reached out to us only confirms our deepest fears and cements our desire to make sure Connor is receiving proper care.”
Gage’s mind raced as he processed Mr. Simmons’s statement as well as what he hadn’t said. Was he implying that Connor was being neglected, and he and his wife intended to care for Connor permanently? Without thinking, he stroked his thumb over Skye’s knuckles, hoping to offer at least a little comfort. He stole a glance from the corner of his eye. Her complexion was flushed, and she glared at Gerald.
“You still haven’t mentioned your specific concerns about McKenna. What issues are you referring to?” Skye asked.
Connor’s babbling broke the tense silence.
“The email messages and photos she exchanged with our son indicated a lifestyle that revolved around partying, moving from place to place, an inability to hold a steady job. Nothing we’ve learned about her points to a woman who is able to be a mother.”
“As you can imagine, it was extremely painful for us to find out about Connor this way.” Mrs. Simmons’s fingers glided over the strands of gold necklaces draped around her neck. “Then to learn his mother had abandoned him—I just couldn’t rest until I saw for myself that he was all right.”
“Despite what you might think about McKenna and my family—” Skye’s voice was icy, direct “—I can assure you, we have made every effort to keep Connor safe, and to show him that he is loved.”
Mrs. Simmons’s thin smile was patronizing. “Have you?”
Whoa. Gage tightened his grip to keep Skye from coming unglued. If she lost her temper now, they’d have zero chance at a productive conversation. “Mrs. Simmons—”
“Perhaps we can all agree to pick this conversation up again tomorrow,” Mr. Simmons suggested. “Thank you for your hospitality. I think we’d better give you all some space.”
Relieved, Gage let go of Skye’s hand and stood. “Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, why don’t I take you to an early dinner?”
They all managed to exchange civil goodbyes, and Gage offered Skye one more apologetic glance before he slipped out the door. The shock and anger in her and her mother’s faces knifed at him. He feared she’d never forgive him for engineering this meeting with Ryan’s parents and Connor—especially if the situation escalated to an intense dispute over Connor’s future.
Chapter Eleven
By Saturday evening, Skye was exhausted. Weary to the bone from dragging Connor all over creation, pretending to be a polite hostess for Mr. and Mrs. Simmons and still reeling from their obvious disapproval of her and her family.
Why was this happening? Hadn’t she and her mother and brothers done everything in their power to make sure Connor was loved and cared for? While McKenna might not be fit for motherhood, didn’t Mr. and Mrs. Simmons understand that taking him away from everything and everyone he knew was just as harmful?
In a corner booth at an upscale steak house more than an hour from home, Skye gritted her teeth and retrieved Connor’s sippy cup after he’d flung it from his high chair. Mrs. Simmons insisted on one last meal together before they flew home in the morning.
“Maybe he’s hungry.” Mrs. Simmons glanced up from her menu, obviously quite proud of her ability to share her keen insights.
“Or tired. He’s not used to skipping his nap.” Skye tucked the cup in the diaper bag and handed him his pacifier instead. She wasn’t in the mood for unsolicited advice, which Mrs. Simmons had doled out all day.
Satisfied, Connor sucked on it and banged his palms on the tabletop.
“Oh dear.” Mrs. Simmons grimaced. “Those contraptions aren’t ideal. Impacts his overbite. He should really learn to self-soothe.”
“A baby who has lost both his parents should learn to self-soothe? I suppose you’d prefer he suck his thumb?” Skye forced a smile. “That contributes to a need for orthodontia later in life as well, and it’s difficult to wean.”
Gage nudged her leg with his own under the table. She nudged him back more forcefully. Seriously? He wanted her to behave after all they’d endured this weekend?
“What are you planning to order?” Mr. Simmons perused his menu, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. “Skye, do you have a recommendation?”
She flipped her menu closed. “I’m having the vegetable soup and salad combo.”
Gage shifted in his seat beside her. She sneaked a glance. Was he holding in a laugh? She didn’t feel like steak and wasn’t a fan of seafood and, frankly, didn’t have much patience left. They’d insisted on the restaurant. Why did they need her input? Too bad Mom had bowed out gracefully and stayed home tonight—she’d be much better at defusing the tension blanketing their booth.
“Skye, I don’t blame you for being protective, but I hope you know we want what’s best for Connor, too.” Mrs. Simmons’s pinched expression morphed into one of sadness. “He is our only remaining connection to our son.”
From the corner of her eye she saw Gage stiffen at the mention of Ryan. While she empathized with the older couple seated across from her, as well as with Gage and all they’d lost, she couldn’t justify letting them have custody of a baby who’d already endured significant losses, too.
The waiter arrived to take their orders, saving her from articulating her thoughts. At least for now.
“Do you want to feed him while we wait for our meal?” Gage asked quietly. “I can go ask for some warm water to mix with the formula.”
The knots in her shoulders loosened. He was trying to help make a difficult situation a tiny bit easier. “Please.”
“I’ll be back.” Gage slid from the booth and worked his way toward the hostess at the front of the restaurant. Skye pulled out containers of prepared baby food, a bib and a plastic spoon from the diaper bag. It wasn’t organic; she’d bought it at the grocery store, and Mrs. Simmons probably would have plenty to say about those choices, too.
“Have you always lived in Merritt’s Crossing?” Mr. Simmons asked as she snapped the bib around Connor’s neck.
“My parents have lived here their whole lives. I went to college in Fort Collins, then moved to Denver four years ago for a job in pharmaceutical sales.”
“Oh, you must be eager to get back,” Mrs. Simmons said.
Was she? Skye hesitated, then spooned pureed peaches into Connor’s mouth. It was a slower pace here, and she had missed her friends at first. But she’d adjusted to her new routine, and Connor’s sloppy kisses and contagious laughter made up for the exhaustion of meeting his needs. The notion of sticking around had crossed her mind for the first time today.
“I’m on leave until my mother fully recovers from knee surgery.” Skye left her explanation at that. Honest, yet not oversharing. Who knew what sort of case they were assembling in their efforts to declare her family unfit to care for Connor.
A knot constricted her throat at the thought of him being whisked away to Chicago. They wouldn’t do that, would they? Did Colorado law allow grandparents to cross state lines and demand visitation rights?
Gage returned and quickly fixed Connor’s bottle.
Connor screeched as soon as he caught sight of it and p
ushed Skye’s hand away, rejecting the rest of the baby food. The customers seated at the next booth fired disapproving glances their direction.
“How about if I give him the bottle?” Gage leaned close, his breath feathering against her cheek. She wanted to hug him but gave him a weak smile instead. How did he know she was on the verge of tears?
“Please.” She maneuvered Connor out of his high chair and onto Gage’s lap, then scooted over to make a little more room for the baby in their half of the booth. As Gage settled Connor in the crook of his arm and offered the bottle, another wave of longing crashed over her. Visions of dinner out with friends—instead of her new adversaries—or family meals shared with Mom and her brothers played in her head, all with Gage and Connor beside her.
“While the two of you make quite a pair, I’m sure it’s no secret by now that we want custody of Connor.” Mr. Simmons crossed his arms across his chest. “When we get back to Chicago, I’ll have our attorney prepare the paperwork.”
Like a needle to a balloon, his blunt words ruptured her domestic daydream. “Excuse me?”
“We’re grateful for all you’ve done, taking time away from your career, but we don’t expect you to rearrange your life to accommodate Connor’s needs.” Mrs. Simmons trotted out her patronizing smile again. “We have the resources at our fingertips to ensure he is well taken care of.”
Sparks ignited in her vision. “What happens when one of you has a health crisis? Who will take care of him when you are no longer able?” Her voice rose an octave. “McKenna hasn’t relinquished her parental rights. It’s illegal for you to take Connor without her permission.”
“Please, calm down.” Mr. Simmons held up both palms. “We’re not suggesting we take Connor with us now. However, your cousin might be easily persuaded to give up her rights if she knew what we were offering.”
Their Baby Blessing Page 12
