The baby awoke and started to cry just then. In the middle of reading a story to Jaimie, Keefe hollered from the great room. “Heidi’s talking on the phone. Can someone take care of Amelia? Jaimie and I are to the good part.”
“Bethany, can you take care of her? I’m on mop-up detail.” Maggie dabbed at Rafe’s cheeks with a towel. “Poor baby. Onions do it to you every time.”
“I’m not good with babies,” Bethany said. “I haven’t been around them.”
“No time like the present to start,” Maggie replied cheerfully. “She may be wet. Her disposable diapers are in the bag there by the sofa.”
Bethany went to the great room. Amelia was not a happy camper. Lying on the sofa with pillows plumped around her as bolsters, she was thrashing all her limbs and screaming. Sly stood to one side, gnarled hands at his hips, chin jutted, eyes crinkled as he peered down at her. Judging by the expression on his weathered face, he was more at home with cows. No help there.
‘Have you ever changed a diaper?” Bethany asked hopefully.
“Never have much truck with kids ’til they can walk and wipe their noses.”
Sly didn’t run after making that pronouncement. A true cowboy sauntered, even if he was putting out a fire. Sly did, however, manage to saunter away with amazing speed.
Bethany lifted Amelia from the blankets. The baby’s face went serene. She fixed Bethany with big brown eyes and smiled, showing off two tiny teeth.
“Hello,” Bethany said softly. She felt inside the little girl’s diaper, and sure enough, it was wet. Never having changed a diaper before, Bethany whispered, “Oh, boy. I’m not sure I’m ready for you, Amelia.”
Keefe glanced up from the storybook. “There’s nothing to it, honey. The diapers have tape tabs. They go on slicker than greased owl dung.”
“We have no babies in our family yet, so my experience with them is nil.”
“Amy isn’t hard to please.” He cuddled Jaimie closer and turned the page of the storybook. “If you don’t do it exactly right, she won’t give a rip.”
Bethany’s hands trembled as she dug in the bag for a diaper. She kept expecting the baby to start screaming with impatience, but Amelia only gurgled and smiled, as if all the stops and starts were loads of fun.
Heidi returned just as Bethany got the diaper off. She leaned over the back of the couch, her big brown eyes curious but friendly. “Ryan says you were an awesome barrel racer.”
Bethany glanced up. “Not bad. I hear you’re a barrel racer, yourself.”
Heidi wrinkled her nose. She looked very like her older sister, Maggie, with the same delicate features and a wealth of dark brown hair. “I’m trying to be. Ryan said that maybe, if I asked you real nice, you’d come out to watch me race and give me some tips.”
“Oh, gosh, I …”
“Please?” Heidi inserted. “He says you took state three times. That makes you an all-time great, practically a legend.”
“Not quite that good,” Bethany said with an embarrassed laugh.
Heidi glanced down at the baby. “You’re s’posed to wipe her off now.”
“Oh.” Bethany felt foolish, having a twelve-year-old give her instruction in diaper changing. There was no help for it. “What should I use to wipe her with?”
“A wipe.” Heidi came around the end of the teal sofa to rifle through the bag. She finally located a slender white plastic case filled with disposable cloths. She plucked out one and handed it over. “Haven’t you ever done this?”
“No.” Bethany dabbed at Amelia’s bare bum. “This is my first time.”
“You’re doing good,” Heidi assured her. “You don’t have to be so careful, though. Just wipe her off all over, making sure you get in the wrinkles. Otherwise Maggie says she gets all sore. Then you put on powder.”
Bethany did as instructed, and soon Amelia was put back together again. The baby chortled happily and kicked her feet, her chubby legs churning beneath the ruffled hem of her cute little red-checked dress.
“We make a pretty good team,” Bethany told Heidi as she gathered the baby onto her lap. “When the mud dries up, I suppose I could come out and watch you race the barrels some afternoon.”
Heidi’s eyes went wide. “You will? For true? Wow. Just wait ’til I tell Alice. She’ll be green.”
Bethany laughed again. “Alice? Another barrel racer, I presume?”
“Yeah, and she’s a lot better than me. Now I’ll have an edge.”
“I don’t know how much I can really help you,” Bethany warned. “I can’t get on a horse and show you anything. Advice can only help so much.”
“It’ll help me oodles. I just know it! And we don’t have to wait for the mud to dry up. Ryan can figure out something.”
“Ryan can figure out what?”
Bethany glanced up to see the topic of conversation walking toward them. He leaned down to rest his elbows on the sofa back. “You volunteering me for something, Heidi girl?”
“Only to figure out a way for Bethany to watch me race the barrels. She’s worried about the mud.”
Ryan smiled at Bethany. “She has a fixation about mud. Not a problem. I can lay out planks, if nothing else. Can you come out next Saturday? That’ll be easier than trying to schedule a time after school.”
“I have Saturdays off,” Bethany agreed. “That would be a good day.”
Heidi was so excited, she bounced up and down. “This is so cool.” She took Bethany by surprise, leaning down to hug her and kiss her cheek. “I was so sure I just totally wouldn’t like you. But you’re so nice, I can’t help myself.”
Bethany was still laughing as the young girl went racing back to the bedroom to call her friend on Ryan’s extension. “Why on earth was she so sure she wouldn’t like me?”
Ryan chuckled. “I think she sees you as competition.”
“Uh-oh.”
He settled a twinkling gaze on her. “You’re home free. In the order of importance, I rank well below barrel racing, thank God.”
“I’m not a competitor for your affections, in any case.”
“Nope. Not in any case,” he agreed.
Story time over, Keefe set Jaimie down and watched him scamper away to the kitchen. The child was a pint-size replica of his grandfather, his dark hair and skin earmarking him as a Kendrick by blood.
Bethany’s gaze shifted to Ryan. “He looks so much like you.”
Ryan gazed after the child, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, he does. I keep accusing Rafe of hiding in Maggie’s woodpile three winters ago, but he swears he wasn’t anywhere near Prior, Idaho, when the kid was conceived.”
Bethany frowned and shot a startled glance after the little boy. “Pardon?”
“He isn’t Rafe’s biological son. He was a month old when my brother met Maggie. Not that it matters, one way or another.” He held her gaze, his expression suddenly intense. “It’s just something I figured you ought to know.”
“Not Rafe’s?” She shook her head. “I never would have guessed it. He looks so much like all of you guys, and you seem to love him so much.”
“We do love him. Bloodlines are important in horses, not people. Jaimie is Rafe’s son in every way that matters, and when he’s old enough to understand, he’ll never feel less a Kendrick than any of Rafe’s biological kids. That’s the way it is in our family. Right, Dad?”
Keefe tucked in the back of his chambray shirt with sharp jabs of his fingers. “Damn straight. I’d take a dozen more just like him.”
As Keefe moved toward the kitchen, Bethany marked the lazy, loose-jointed way he moved, which was strongly reminiscent of his sons. Someday, when Jaimie grew older, would he walk with that same fluid grace, simply because he’d been raised by these men?
She flicked a wondering glance at Ryan. She’d been so sure he would never in a hundred years be content to adopt children.
A twinkle slipped into his eyes as he steadily returned her regard. She half expected him to say something. Instead he merely straight
ened and exited the room, leaving her alone with the baby and her confusing thoughts.
Amelia didn’t allow Bethany to dwell on those thoughts. Well rested from her nap, she was ready to socialize, and she chortled and thrashed until Bethany focused full attention on her beaming little face. Big mistake. What a beautiful angel she was, all plump and soft and sweet-smelling. Holding her, touching her, and playing with her, Bethany couldn’t help but wish for a child of her own. A child she could never have. The doctor who’d done her surgeries had been very clear on that. Chances are you’ll never carry a child to term. In my opinion, that’s a blessing. A woman in a wheelchair has no business having children.
Remembering those words dealt Bethany a crushing blow to the heart even now. A blessing. Never had anyone said anything so cruel to her. She’d been nineteen years old when she had her third surgery. Only nineteen, and a doctor had all but said that she’d never be able to have a normal sex life or a family. When you boiled it all down, what was left? Nothing.
Staring down at Amelia’s little face, Bethany struggled to shove these feelings away. This was stupid. What was more, it would be embarrassing if anyone saw her looking long in the face. It was just—oh, God. Being here in Ryan’s home, getting to know his family … she wouldn’t be human if the thought didn’t seep into her mind that this could be her home and her family.
What was it about him that made her so soft in the head? Oh, sure. His brother had adopted a son, and right now, at this stage of his life, Ryan might think he would be content to do the same. Only it was different for Rafe. He’d already had another child of his own with Maggie, and chances were, he’d have others. Ryan would never be able to have a child of his own with Bethany.
How would he feel about that when he was fifty? A lot of men wanted to sire their own offspring. She suspected it was a man thing, somehow connected with their sense of self-esteem and virility. What Ryan might count as unimportant now could become a major concern later. He was a wealthy landowner with a family dynasty to pass on. When he grew old, wouldn’t he want his heritage to go to children with Kendrick blood?
Besides, who was she kidding? As if her inability to have a child was the only problem. Not by a long shot. He spent the majority of each day outdoors, riding, roping, and climbing over rough terrain, and his leisure-time activities were centered on the outdoors as well. A couple was supposed to share a life, not exist in different stratospheres.
There was no way she could hope to share Ryan’s reality. If she were to go outside right now, she wouldn’t get three feet before her chair wheels sank in mud and snow. Ryan would end up having to carry her and her chair wherever she needed to go. Was that what she wanted? To become a burden? No. She would want to be a contributing partner in a marriage, not an onlooker.
And on this ranch, an onlooker was all she could ever be.
Standing at the breakfast bar, Ryan glanced her way just then, and their gazes locked. For an instant, Bethany felt as if the world moved away, that they were the only two people in the room.
She was the one who averted her gaze first, and she did so with heartfelt finality. Maybe Ryan could accept her paralysis, but he’d never be able to accept all that came with it—or more to the point, all that didn’t come with it, babies of his own and a physically active wife at the top of the list.
What was more, only a very selfish woman would ask it of him.
After a wonderfully congenial dinner around the kitchen table, Ryan put in a video, and everyone adjourned to the great room to watch the movie, a children’s film about two dogs and a cat that embarked on a journey through the wilderness to return home. Bethany expected to sit in her chair as she did while watching movies with her own family, but Ryan had other ideas. He scooped her up, deposited her on the reclining love seat, and settled beside her.
After drawing an afghan over them both, he kicked up his footrest and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Comfortable?”
She was more than just comfortable. It was lovely, being able to snuggle down on soft furniture like a normal person. “I’m perfect,” she assured him.
“Yeah, you are,” he agreed, his voice pitched low. Before Bethany could ask what he meant by that, he said, “Have you already seen the movie?”
“No. Have you?”
He glanced at the children, who were sitting at one end of the long sofa with Rafe and Maggie. Like ill-matched bookends, Sly and the delicate Helen sat elbow-to-elbow at the opposite end. “I’d say we’ve all watched it about twenty times. It’s Jaimie’s favorite. Sally Fields does the cat’s voice and Michael J. Fox does the younger dog’s.”
“Really?” Bethany gazed at Maggie’s mother, Helen, whose lovely brown eyes were fixed eagerly on the screen. If she’d already seen the movie that many times, Bethany wondered why she was so anxious to watch it again.
“Helen’s one tier shy of a full cord,” Ryan whispered.
Sly glanced over and frowned, making Bethany wonder if he had overheard the comment and took exception to it.
Bethany flashed Ryan an appalled look. “What do you mean?”
“Heart attack,” he explained softly. “Oxygen deprivation to the brain. She’s a darling, just a little childlike.”
She gazed at Helen through new eyes. Over the course of the evening, she had noticed that Maggie’s mother was strange in a very sweet sort of way. “She’s still so young and pretty. What a tragedy.”
“Depends on how you look at it, I guess. She’ll think more or less like a ten-year-old for the rest of her life, but she’s the happiest person you’ll ever meet. Fifty-five years old, and she believes in Peter Pan.”
Bethany studied Helen a moment longer and decided Ryan was right. The poor thing seemed happy, her eyes shimmering with delight as the movie began. She seemed to be as captivated as the children.
Bethany directed her gaze to the television, hoping to enjoy the movie herself. No easy task. To do so, she needed to block out the caress of Ryan’s fingertips on her shoulder. He traced circles on her sleeve, the assault on her nerve-endings ceaseless. Her skin burned everywhere he touched.
Bethany nearly asked him to move his hand a dozen times, only if she did, he would know his touch unsettled her. It was only innocent touching, after all—an absent-minded, repetitive movement of his fingertips on the cotton knit.
Watching the distracted frown that pleated Bethany’s smooth brow, Ryan smiled to himself. He knew exactly what was causing that frown and continued to do it without a twinge of guilt. Any young woman who’d never even taken a solo flight was in dire need of a man’s hands on her, and in this particular instance, not just any man’s hands would do. When the time came, Ryan was determined it would be him who taught her to fly.
He looked across the room and winked at his mother, who was sitting on his dad’s lap in the recliner. Ann Kendrick smiled sleepily and cuddled closer to her husband, resting her cheek on his shoulder.
When the movie was over, Bethany couldn’t recall much of the plot.
“This has been lovely,” Ann said as she rose from the chair. “But now it’s time for this old lady to go home to her comfortable bed.” She hugged Rafe and his family good night, then circled behind the love seat. After leaning down to kiss Ryan’s cheek, she lay a hand on Bethany’s shoulder. “It was lovely getting to meet you, Bethany. I hope I’ll be seeing a lot of you from now on.”
Bethany was trying to think of something to say in response when Keefe sleepily crossed the room to join his wife. He curled a strong arm around her. “Let’s go home, Annie girl. You make that bed sound mighty good.”
His salt-and-pepper hair gleaming like dark silver in the low light, Keefe dipped his head to nibble on his wife’s neck and whisper something as they moved toward the door.
Ann reached up and thumped him on the top of his head with delicate knuckles. “Keefe Kendrick, you stop it. Our grandbabies are here.”
“They’re all asleep, Mom,” Rafe called as he bent ove
r Heidi to stuff her arms down the sleeves of her parka. “And you can forget hurrying out of here like a couple of teenagers. I need help loading cargo.”
Helen fluttered behind her son-in-law, nearly bumping into Sly as he lumbered to his feet. “Easy, there, honey,” he said softly as he caught her from falling. “No point in wearin’ yourself out standin’ in one place.”
Helen’s cheeks turned a pretty pink, and she cast Sly a look as coquettish as any young girl’s. The foreman gave her slender shoulder a gentle squeeze and pat, which made her blush even more.
“I just want to help,” she explained.
“I’m sure Rafe can think of something for you to do,” the foreman said pointedly. “Right, Rafe?”
Rafe smiled. “You can put her shoes on, Helen. That’d be a help.”
Keefe reversed directions to assist his elder son. Ryan took that as his cue to get up and start helping as well. While Rafe commandeered the troops at the opposite side of the room, Ryan brought Jaimie over to the love seat and began trying to stick the child’s limp fingers into winter gloves. Before long Bethany started trying to help, and within seconds they were both laughing.
“This is like trying to string boots with wet leather laces,” Ryan complained. “Damn, Rafe, how come you don’t just buy the kid mittens?”
Rafe peered over Ryan’s shoulder. “He wants real gloves like mine.”
Jaimie mewled in his sleep and snatched his small hand out of Ryan’s grasp, which put them back to square one. “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Ryan said.
Maggie walked up just then. Unable to help because she was carrying Amelia, she merely observed for a moment, then laughed and shook her head. “Rafe, just stick his gloves in his jacket pocket.”
I don’t want his hands to get cold,” Rafe insisted as he knelt beside Ryan. “Come here, partner.” He gathered his son in the crook of one arm. “Come on, Jaimie boy. Daddy needs you to wake up a little bit.”
Jaimie burrowed against his father’s chest. “Daddy,” he murmured.
Leaving Rafe to handle the gloves, Ryan started trying to stuff Jaimie’s feet into his cowboy boots. It quickly became apparent that this would be yet another difficult task. Bethany glanced at Maggie, who just smiled.
Phantom Waltz Page 18
