Baby In His Cradle

by Diana Whitney

  The other cot contained a neatly rolled-out sleeping bag and a single pillow. Adequate, she supposed, but hardly as comfortable as the lovely bed she’d usurped as her own. The creaky loft was cluttered, dusty. And it was cold.

  Sobered, Ellie returned to the kitchen to peruse the huge pantry. Of course she planned to take on her share of the household chores. That was an expected courtesy. But Ellie’s plan required more than merely fulfilling Samuel’s expectations. She’d draw upon her own life lessons and turn them around.

  Ellie planned to tend Samuel’s every need, kill him with kindness, make him so dependent upon the comforts she provided that she’d become much more than a cheery convenience. If the grief she’d endured had taught her anything, it was how to become indispensable to a man. And that was the only way she could think of to keep Samuel from sending her away.

  Leaning on the snow shovel, Samuel pulled one glove off with his teeth, stuffed it in his jacket pocket. He flexed his stiff fingers and warmed his bare hand with his breath. Clouds were gathering again, and only half the roof had been shoveled. He was tired, out of shape. Hungry.

  A glance at his watch confirmed it was past noon. Ellie would be hungry, too. He was wondering if he could get a few more square feet of roof cleared before fixing her lunch when a melodic call from below caught his attention.

  “Yoo-hoo...hello up there.”

  Samuel laid down the shovel, picked his way along the slippery shingles until he could see the porch steps below. Sure enough, Ellie was standing there, squinting up, with her cheeks flushed and rosy, her hair tousled like a woman fresh from a lover’s bed. She looked dif ferent. Beautiful. Sexy. Alluring. Samuel stared at her, as stunned by the change in her appearance as by the startling tightness in his groin.

  She grinned when she saw him. “Hey there, snowman, ready for lunch?”

  He shifted, shook off the sudden sexual image invading his mind and tried for a bland expression. Judging by a knowing sparkle in her eyes, the attempt didn’t succeed. She recognized his attraction and was amused by it. A slow heat crawled up his throat. “I was hoping to get more work done, but if you’re hungry, I’ll fix you something.”

  “Oh, I’m hungry, all right but you don’t Yikes!” She fell back a step, laughing as Baloo skidded around the woodpile path and leapt up to plant a pair of snowy paws on her shoulders. “Whoa, enough,” she sputtered as the dog slapped her face with sloppy kisses. “Yes, big fellow, I’ve got something special for you, too.”

  Baloo instantly sat, sniffed air, then shot onto the porch out of view. A moment later, Samuel heard the spring-loaded front door creak open, slam shut.

  Still chuckling, Ellie wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Exuberant, isn’t he?”

  Lord, she was beautiful. Samuel wondered why on earth he’d never noticed that before. Oh, he’d realized she was attractive, and had even gone so far as to admire her when she wasn’t looking. But he’d never noticed how her eyes flashed with electric energy when she laughed, or the way her cheeks curved into dimpled apples with her smile.

  Ellie cocked her head, shaded her eyes with her hand as the sun peeked from behind a passing cloud. “As I was saying, you don’t have to fix lunch today because it’s already on the table. All you have to do is come and get it.”

  Samuel blinked, more to erase the erotic image from his mind than to clear his eyes. The content of her message finally sank in. “You fixed lunch?”

  “Yep, and I did a good job, if I do say so myself. You’d better hurry up before it gets cold.”

  “Gets cold,” he repeated stupidly, remembering the creak of the front door as Baloo had pushed his way inside. “Ah, when you said lunch was on the table, you didn’t mean that literally, did you?”

  A baffled frown puckered her forehead. “Sure, why?”

  “Uh-oh.” Samuel yanked off the second glove, headed for the ladder. Halfway down he heard Ellie’s footsteps on the porch. Another creak of the door spring was followed by a distressed wail. His heart sank as he leapt from the ladder, rushed into the cabin and saw exactly what he’d feared.

  Politely seated at the table, Baloo had pawed the serving bowl within reach, stuck his face into the spaghetti and was sucking it up so fast that strands of pasta whipped into his busy mouth like fishing line on a greased reel.

  Ellie stood beside the woodstove, her back rigid, elbows cocked, hands pressed to her mouth. Suddenly she curled forward, her shoulders vibrating as if bursting into silent tears.

  “Dammit, ’Loo,” Samuel growled, shrugging off his jacket and flinging it at the coat peg. “Look what you’ve gone and done.”

  Baloo glanced up, licked his saucy whiskers.

  “Bad dog!” Samuel wiggled a finger at the dog’s bed in the corner. “Go lie down. Now!”

  Dutifully hopping down from the chair, Baloo lumbered over to his bed where he curled up on his tacky blanket, laid a sticky red chin on his paws, and looked exceptionally pleased with himself.

  Samuel shifted, reached out to lay a comforting hand on Ellie’s trembling shoulders, urging her to turn around. She did, but her face was still buried in her hands, and she was making soft gasping sounds that nearly broke his heart.

  “Oh, gee. Please, don’t cry. It’s no big thing, really. I’ll just whip up another batch and—”

  Ellie lifted her head, took a wheezing breath before collapsing again. Samuel stepped back, stunned. She wasn’t crying at all. She was laughing, laughing so hard that she could barely breathe, let alone speak. All she could do was clutch her abdomen, point at the stickyfaced dog with spaghetti stuck to his ear and howl until tears ran down her cheeks.

  Samuel wanted to kiss her.

  After a lunch of cold tuna sandwiches Samuel finished clearing the roof while Baloo snored in his bed and Ellie flitted around the cabin to implement phase one of her plan. She’d figured out how to use the old wringer washtub, and by the time Samuel dragged himself back inside just before sunset, fresh laundry flapped on the loft clothesline and a garlic-studded pot roast simmered on the stove.

  Ellie smoothed the clean plaid shirt Samuel had loaned her, absently flipped her fingers through her freshly brushed hair, and flashed him a cheery, welcoming smile. “I hope you’re hungry. I’ve cooked a roast the size of Wyoming, and made enough gravy to flood a small river.”

  Samuel stood there, stone-faced. His shuttered gaze slipped from Ellie to the steaming pot on the stove, then down to Baloo, yawning and stretching in his bed.. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I wanted to.”

  “You were supposed to rest this afternoon.”

  Ellie swallowed a pinch of annoyance, managed to keep her sunny smile from wavering. “I feel fine. Besides, you’ve been working hard all day. You deserve a hot meal.” She cocked her head, adding, “I’m a very good cook.”

  Without another word, Samuel shrugged off his jacket, shook snow off his head and marched into the bathroom. A moment later, the shower blasted on.

  Ellie wasn’t sure what reaction she’d been expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it. She frowned as Baloo trundled over to lean against her thigh. “Is he always this grumpy before supper?”

  Baloo whined, lifted her hand with his head and was rewarded by a satisfying neck scratch. “Well, at least someone around here appreciates a home-cooked meal.” Ellie chewed her lip, gazed apprehensively at the closed bathroom door and worried that she’d already overstayed her welcome. She swallowed hard, hugged Baloo’s big head. “Oh, well,” she told the animal in a voice that shook only a little. “We were looking for a place when we found this one. I just hoped we’d have a little more time...”

  The words dissipated as a cranky mew from the cradle captured her attention. She hurried over, smiled down at her fussy son. “Don’t you worry, precious boy. Mommy isn’t going to let anything bad happen to you.”

  Scooping Daniel up in her arms, she hummed softly and nuzzled his silky scalp. Samuel said that the baby’s lung
s had cleared almost miraculously, and according to a cleverly converted trout scale, the baby had gained nearly two pounds since birth. Daniel was thriving. Ellie could have wept with relief.

  This was the perfect place for her son, the perfect place for her to gather her thoughts, plan their escape. She’d hoped for more time, but if that didn’t happen, she’d manage just as she always had.

  Ellie was good at escaping.

  As a child, she’d escaped into the fantasy of her mind, a happy place where people were kind to each other because they wanted to be rather than out of sickness or greed. Not that Ellie’s childhood had been dreary. Far from it. She’d been loved and well cared for, the only flaw being that her unhappy mother had martyred herself with a life of selfless servitude Ellie had no intention of emulating. Life was short, after all, meant to be savored and enjoyed, not merely endured.

  Ellie had always enjoyed life, had craved fun and laughter, avoided conflict like the plague and changed jobs at the first hint of confrontation. She understood that about herself, admitted to being an escapist who turned her back on unpleasantness and ran from trouble as a matter of emotional survival.

  Now it was a matter of life and death. She couldn’t tell Samuel why she’d sprinted into the woods that fate-ful day. She couldn’t trust him, couldn’t trust anybody.

  Yet how could she not trust him? For the first time in her life, Ellie had nowhere to run. That scared her to death.

  “Would you like another slice? There’s plenty.” Ellie lowered the serving platter when Samuel shook his head and pushed away from the table. “How about some more coffee?”

  He regarded her for a moment. “That would be nice.”

  She hopped up, snatched the pot off the old cookstove. “You know,” she murmured, filling his outstretched mug. “I was thinking that if it’s nice tomorrow, maybe we could make a snowman. It would be fun, and Daniel has never seen one before.”

  Samuel sipped his coffee, peering over the rim. He set the mug down, stared into the steaming black brew. “It’s a bit chilly out there for a newborn.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t take him outside.” Ellie replaced the coffeepot on the stove, and returned to her chair across from the somber man who’d spoken less than a half-dozen words throughout the entire meal. “We’d have to place it so he could see from the window.”

  Samuel didn’t look up, although his brow quirked a bit and Ellie thought she saw a half smile twitch the corner of his mouth. “Daniel’s eyes haven’t developed enough to focus on anything beyond shades of light and a few bright colors.”

  “Fiddlesticks, he follows my every move.”

  “He perceives motion,” Samuel agreed. “And instinctively follows the sound of your voice. At this age hearing is considerably more acute than vision.”

  “How do you know all that?”

  “It’s been scientifically proven.”

  “Ah, now you’re a scientist?”

  “Not really.”

  “First you’re not really a doctor, although you play one in real life; now you’re not really a scientist, although you clearly keep abreast of scientific theory.” She chuckled, thrilled to have finally engaged him in conversation, despite the banality of banter. “You also have an undeniable knack for child care. So tell me, Mr. Not Really, how many babies have you raised lately?”

  He blinked, looked stung. “I don’t have children, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, mortified to have inadvertently wounded him. “Your personal life is none of my business. I was just being my normal smart-aleck self. I have a talent for hopping on one foot because the other one spends so much time in my mouth.”

  “If I did have children,” Samuel continued quietly, “I’d be with them, which is exactly where any father worth his salt would be.”

  Ellie felt her face heat, and realized she’d opened the door into a discussion that she really did not want to have. “I’ll take care of the dishes,” she muttered, snagging a plate in each hand. “You just relax and drink your coffee.”

  He leaned back, watched her with reflective intensity as she bustled around filling the sink with soapy water. “Where’s Daniel’s father?” he asked.

  A plate clunked against the sink. Ellie flinched, laid the stoneware carefully into the dishwater. “I told you, he’s not a part of my life.”

  “That’s your choice,” he replied amiably. “It’s not necessarily Daniel’s choice. A boy needs his father.”

  Ellie bit her lip, clutched a soapy bowl so tightly it was a wonder it didn’t crack under the strain. “There’s a big difference between a father and a sperm donor.”

  Behind her, a chair leg scraped the floor. “You were artificially inseminated?”

  Startled, Ellie tossed a quick look over her shoulder and saw that Samuel’s question was absolutely earnest. She turned away again, focused on washing dishes. She hated lying and wasn’t particularly good at it. Still the unpleasant subject of Daniel’s father was clearly destined to be visited and revisited unless she could lay it to rest once and for all. Samuel bad just provided the perfect means to do that.

  She cleared her throat, swallowed the lie and offered a reticent response designed to imply more than it confirmed. “That’s a very personal subject,” she murmured demurely, setting a rinsed glass in the drainer. “I’m sure you understand why I’d prefer not to discuss it.”

  She held her breath, waiting.

  Finally Samuel spoke. “You have a fine, healthy son. That’s all that matters.”

  The chair leg scraped again. Ellie glanced up just as Samuel strode toward the living area, pausing at the cradle. He bent over, smiling. “Hey, buddy, you’re awake.” A responsive coo emanated from the cradle, which tickled Samuel immensely. “Smart for your age, aren’t you? Here, little man, let’s test your grip. Whoa, not too shabby. We’ll have you splitting firewood in no time.”

  Ellie watched quietly, and was touched by the fatherly pride Samuel took in little Daniel. He was a good man, she decided, and an honest one. She hated deceiving him. She was just so damned desperate—

  “I think he’s hungry.”

  “Hmm?” Ellie blinked up, saw Samuel standing beside cradle regarding her with unnerving acuity. “Oh, of course. I’m almost done here.”

  She rinsed the last of the silverware, wrapped meat scraps in newspaper and took them out to the screen porch, then wiped her hands on a tea towel and hurried over to ease her bright-eyed infant out of the cradle just as Samuel settled on the sofa to select a book from a stack beside the coffee table.

  Balancing her son in her arms, Ellie glanced at the volume Samuel was perusing. “Real-estate law?”

  He flipped a page, said nothing.

  “I noticed that you also have books on investment management and public finance. Thinking of a career change?”

  Samuel shifted, never took his eyes off the page he was reading. “I heard a helicopter this afternoon.”

  Ellie froze, swallowed hard, couldn’t have responded if she’d wanted to.

  “A sheriffs rescue copter. I saw it over the trees.” He leaned back against the cushions, propped his ankle on his bent knee. “It was performing a search pattern over Miner’s Ravine.”

  Licking her lips, Ellie laid Daniel on the bed and tried to change his diaper. Her hands were shaking. “Probably looking for some daredevil who got lost skiing a closed run. That happens all the time.”

  “Does it?”

  A furtive glance confirmed that Samuel had lowered the book and was staring right at her. She quickly looked away, tucked the damp diaper in a plastic bag and snatched a clean one from the stack. “While I was working at the lodge, they had to send out rescue parties two or three times a week. Dangerous areas are clearly posted, but I guess some folks don’t believe in signs.”

  The sofa squeaked. “Some people are like that, I suppose.”

  “Yes, some are,” she whispered. Despite trembling fingers, sh
e only stuck herself once while fastening the safety pin. Finished, she scooped Daniel into her arms, settled onto the bed. “This, ah, helicopter. Just out of curiosity, how close did it come to the cabin? I mean, I didn’t hear anything, so it must have been fairly far away.”

  “Miner’s Ravine is about ten miles across the valley.”

  “Oh. Well.” She cleared her throat, scooted back against the pillows and loosened her clothing, preparing to nurse. “I hope they find whoever they’re looking for.”

  “They always do.”

  The warning in his soft reply sent chills down Ellie’s spine. The helicopter sighting unnerved her. Fair enough, the aircraft had been too far away to be a threat, but where would it be tomorrow or the day after? She wondered if Samuel had recognized her anxiety, but when she looked up she saw that he’d hoisted the open book in front of his face—too high to be comfortable, but high enough to block Ellie from view as she breastfed her baby son.

  It was a chivalrous offer of privacy, although rather unnecessary considering the intimacy of their initial hours together. All she remembered about Daniel’s birth was the soothing sound of Samuel’s voice, the kind glow of his blue eyes. If not for him, she would have died that night. So would have Daniel.

  Guilt settled like sour bile in the pit of her stomach, guilt at having rewarded his selfless heroism with deception and deceit. Ellie knew she should tell Samuel the truth, but trust was such a frightening thing. Those with whom it was shared possessed incredible power—power that if abused became evil and destructive. Deep down, she couldn’t believe that Samuel would ever abuse that power, betray her trust.

  But she hadn’t believed that Stanton would betray her, either. She’d been proven wrong in the cruelest way imaginable.

  It was after midnight when Ellie awakened with a start. She held her breath, listened to the darkness. Then she heard it, a groan of agony, a raspy gasp of fear.

  Above her, the loft floor vibrated as if the cot were being thrashed by demons. A guttural cry from above propelled her out of bed. Samuel was having another nightmare, and judging by the intensity of his utterances, this one was the worst yet.