Maybe it was Ardie who was responsible for the mix-up that night at the hospital. He hated to think that Ruth might have had anything to do with it. Ruth was Joan’s favorite aunt; she’d been a frequent visitor in their home. He knew Ruth to be a sweet lady who had devoted her life to caring for others and would never do anything to hurt anyone.
He slid into his pickup, inserted the key in the ignition. In that moment he happened to look up and see Donna gazing at him with puppy-dog eyes through the window of the diner where she sat alone finishing her lunch. As if he didn’t have enough to think about, guilt settled over him like a shroud. He should have told Donna he’d call her so they could get together, but at the moment he wasn’t in the mood to play that game.
It wasn’t only that she was slightly on the homely side. It was more that he couldn’t help comparing her to Lacey. It might be the utmost folly to do so, but there it was, for all the good that would do any of them.
Chapter Six
With Cody back from Wichita Falls and having taken up what appeared to be permanent residence at Kim’s place, Garth was thinking that he and Lacey were together too much. Or perhaps he was becoming increasingly aware of her. At least these were the thoughts uppermost in his mind as he walked into the house about ten days into the bout with chicken pox.
The house smelled pleasantly of ham baking in the oven. Garth had forgotten how good a house could smell. When he came in nowadays, the house was often fragrant with the scent of furniture polish, redolent with the pungent odor of stewing tomatoes, resplendent with the aroma of fresh-baked bread.
It was also full of chatter. Lacey talked. Oh, did she talk. She carried on a running conversation with Ashley and Michele, one that he couldn’t begin to comprehend. It might go something like, “Now, Ashley, where did I put your bib? You know you have to wear your bib when you eat. And, Michele, honey, sit still. I can’t have you jumping out of that high chair, now, can I? Wait till Cody sees how nice and quiet you can sit in your high chairs. Oh dear, I’d better trim your nails, both of you. Ashley, darlin’, stop scratching. Here, play with this rubber spatula. If you have something in your hands, maybe you won’t want to scratch. I’m going to read you a story when we go upstairs. Let me think—should it be the one about the big dog that has adventures in the park or that book with the fuzzy rabbit on the front? I do declare…” and she would go on like that.
She had also brightened his kitchen with some dishes that she’d brought over from the Winnebago. Fiesta Ware, she said it was. It was a collector’s item, and valuable. He became accustomed to having his food served on the bright orange and yellow and green plates, so much so that he thought his old dishes were boring. He hadn’t known how a little detail like that could cheer a person up.
And he was beginning to realize that it wasn’t only the dishes that brightened mealtimes at the ranch—it was Lacey with her bangles and her big earrings and countless other furbelows. She took the time to apply the full panoply of makeup every day, and although he wished she would apply it with a lighter hand, he liked the way she looked.
Today he had stopped off at the Wal-Mart over in Tinsley to buy Ashley a toy. He felt so sorry for her, the way she was covered with chicken pox. He’d walked into the store and found the toy department, sauntered up and down the aisles until he found a toy plastic piano that he thought might appeal to Ashley. It played three classical songs and two children’s tunes, and the keys lit up in colors when you pushed them down. And then he remembered Michele and how disappointed she might be if Ashley got a toy and she didn’t.
The knowledge that this mattered to him rocked him, and he’d had to walk over to the cafeteria inside the store and sit down to think about this. He ate a hot dog and drank a cup of tepid coffee while he tried to figure out his feelings for Michele.
Lacey’s baby was so much like Ashley that sometimes he couldn’t tell them apart. Lacey could, always. Once Michele had been in the playpen in the den when he came in and Ashley had been crawling on the floor, and he’d picked up Michele and called her his princess. He’d been chagrined and embarrassed when Lacey pointed out his error.
But he didn’t love Michele. That emotion was reserved for his own daughter. Yet he didn’t want to disappoint a little girl, and so he went back and resumed his search, buying a plastic storybook that appealed to him. He hoped Michele would like it.
When he got home, Lacey was measuring out blue-checked fabric on the den floor. The babies were napping upstairs.
“Thank goodness they both decided to fall asleep at the same time.” Lacey moved around the fabric and sliced into it with the scissors. Because of the way she was kneeling, he had a choice view of her derriere, which was attired in flowered shorts with lace along the hem. They were short shorts, too, and showed the sweet curve of her hips off to advantage.
She saw him looking and scooted around the fabric. If she knew what he was looking at, she didn’t let on.
“I saw that sewing machine in its case in your closet. You know, when I was cleaning out all the old shirts and stuff?”
He nodded. He hadn’t said a word about her ongoing cleaning spree since the night the babies got sick. He still didn’t know what had happened to those Mason jars. She’d never said if she found them when she went to the dump.
“Anyway,” Lacey went on, “I figured I could sew new curtains for the big window in the kitchen where the table sits. I got this material on sale for 50 percent off at the dimestore. Well, it’s not a dimestore anymore. But I guess it started out that way because that’s what it says over the door.”
“I didn’t know we needed new curtains,” Garth said.
She glanced up at him. “You can look and see that there’s only one side of a pair of curtains at that window. You mean to tell me that you never noticed it?”
“I don’t see things like that,” he admitted.
“Not sure how you could miss it. What happened to the other half of the curtain, anyhow?”
He shrugged.
“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if that brother of yours used it for a rag to polish his truck.” She flashed the scissors in and out of the fabric with brisk efficiency, concentrating on the task.
He sat down on the couch. “Which reminds me, Lacey. You talk to Cody quite a bit, don’t you?”
She shot him a look. “Sure.”
“Has he said anything definite about moving to Wichita Falls?”
She leaned back on her heels. “Not much.”
“Well, I just wondered.” He felt slightly awkward, knowing that she thought he was out of line to expect her to report back to him about Cody.
“Why don’t you ask Cody about it yourself?”
“The subject hasn’t come up,” he admitted with reluctance.
“You could bring it up. There is such a thing as conversation, you know.”
“When I talk with him, we concentrate on ranch matters, like horse feed and salt licks and where the fence needs mending. I don’t need to tell him I’m concerned that he might leave. He knows.”
“You seem sure of that.”
“Four generations of Colquitts have run cattle on this land. Our parents left the ranch to Cody and me. It’s a sacred trust.”
“Have you ever considered that to Cody, it might feel more like a burden?”
He hadn’t. He didn’t reply, and then she noticed the bag on the couch beside him, the one with the big Wal-Mart logo.
“What’s in there?”
“It’s, uh, something for the babies.”
From upstairs came the call, “Mamama?” It surprised him. He hadn’t heard either child speak a real word yet.
Lacey scrambled to her feet. “Now that Ashley’s up, Michele will wake up soon.”
Ashley? Ashley was calling for “Mamama?” He sat back, stunned. Lacey disappeared around the corner, calling to Ashley as she went.
While she was gone, he went into his office and checked his phone messages. There was one from
Donna giving him the phone number of Ardie Fernandez, the aide who had been in the delivery room the night Ashley was born. The message was little more than an excuse for Donna to call him, he knew, but he was grateful for the information.
He phoned Ardie and chatted with her briefly, feeling awkward about approaching her and expecting to be rebuffed. But she wasn’t defensive, and she said that she’d be glad to talk more at a later date, so he thanked her and said he’d make an appointment soon. He sat for a moment, knowing it would be polite to call Donna back to thank her for putting him in touch with Ardie, but then Lacey came back downstairs and he shelved the idea.
When he went back into the den, Lacey had dressed the babies in playsuits and installed one of them in her walker. It was Ashley, he thought. The other one was sitting on the floor rubbing at the scabs on her face despite the white mitts she wore to prevent scratching.
“No, no, Michele, don’t do that. You don’t want to have nasty scars, do you?” Lacey bent down and refastened the mittens’ bindings.
He had been planning to give Ashley her toy first. But Michele was the one who most needed to be distracted, so he pulled the plastic storybook from the bag and started to release it from its cardboard packaging. The tearing sound caused Michele to stop trying to pull off her mitts and look at him round-eyed.
“Come over here,” he said to her, holding the storybook out in her direction. He opened one of the pages and pushed the button that produced a voice reciting “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” Cautiously Michele started to crawl toward him. Across the room, her sister began to tiptoe her way in his direction in her walker.
“I’ve got one for you, too,” he assured Ashley. He was aware of Lacey’s eyes warm upon him.
“That was real nice of you to get something for Michele,” she said.
He spared a glance in her direction. He had to hand it to her: despite the initial uneasiness about this situation, Lacey had managed to steer clear of any animosity. She had not once mentioned their problem—The Situation, as he now thought of it—or even referred to it in an oblique way.
“I couldn’t very well buy Ashley something and not take care of Michele,” he said. Michele reached for the storybook, took it from him and smiled, settling back on her bottom to explore its possibilities.
Lacey perched on the arm of the couch and watched as Ashley accepted the toy piano and promptly started pushing the keys to make it play.
“Well, if you’re going to be here with the babies, I guess I could go and finish cooking supper,” Lacey said over the cacophony of noise produced by the toys.
“It smells mighty good,” Garth said.
“I like having a big kitchen to cook in.” Lacey stood up and started to leave the room.
Garth cleared his throat. “I got the phone number of Ardie, the nurse’s aide who was in the delivery room the night the babies were born,” he said.
She whirled around. “Oh?”
“I talked with her.”
Lacey became very still. “What did you talk about?” she asked.
His eyes met hers. “Not much. She’s working second shift this week, and she was on her way out the door. I think she could very well be the one responsible for what happened at the hospital that night.”
“Did you—did you—”
“Did I tell her I think she’s at fault? No, I didn’t.” If he had, maybe Ardie would have refused to see him. “I was wondering,” he began, seeing that Lacey was biting her lower lip and wanting her to know that she didn’t have to worry that he would do something behind her back. “I was wondering, Lacey, if you’d like to go together to talk to her after the girls are well.”
“Well, I guess we might as well,” Lacey said.
“She lives in Redflower,” he said. “It’s about fifty miles from here.”
“Okay,” Lacey said.
“Just so you’ll know, I still want everything to be open and aboveboard between us,” he said.
“Oh. That’s good,” she said. She didn’t seem to know what to think of this, and he wondered if she hadn’t expected him to live up to their agreement.
He smiled to reassure her.
“I’d better go get that ham out of the oven before it burns,” she said. Then she fled.
He shook his head, amused by her, though he didn’t know why. As he swiveled back to the babies and saw the two pairs of eyes, so distinctive and so trusting, gazing up at him, he reminded himself that he and Lacey couldn’t help but be adversaries.
He wished it didn’t have to be that way. And maybe she did, too.
ALL ALONG, Lacey had told herself that Garth’s attitude should make her feel better about things, but somehow it didn’t. In Lacey’s past experience, men often said things that she thought she wanted to hear in order to achieve results. Like Bunny before their marriage, when he’d promised her he was only going to continue on the rodeo circuit for another six months. She’d married him thinking that they’d settle down someplace and live normally like everyone else she knew. Later she found out that he’d never intended to quit the circuit and had only told her that so she’d marry him. And before that, there had been her father, who had been a talented but charming liar, causing all sorts of havoc before he finally ran off with a rich widow and never came back.
So was Garth sincere? Or was he only trying to get her to trust him so he could work behind her back to make sure she never got her own baby? That had to be illegal or something, but Lacey wasn’t sure.
It had occurred to her, between giving baking-soda baths and applying ointment and soothing itchy scabs, that she needed an attorney, but the thin Mosquito, Texas, phone book’s yellow pages didn’t yield the name of a single one. And, anyway, she wouldn’t leave the babies to go see a lawyer way over in Tinsley, where there were bound to be a few. Plus, she hated having to ask Sheila Sue for any more money, and she didn’t have any extra of her own to pay for legal advice.
She continued to work at being good-natured, at taking care of the babies and the house, at doing her job. She could have been crippled by anxiety, she supposed, but she had always had the ability to look on the bright side of things. The up side of the situation was that she found joy in the babies, in getting to know Ashley and in her happiness. She was happy despite the unsettledness of her life’s most important aspect. The way she’d always looked at it, the only certainty in life was its uncertainty. Right now she had both babies and a pleasant place to live. Things, she thought, could be a lot worse.
And they stayed that way until one afternoon, when the girls were in the last stages of losing their scabs, and Garth came in early from riding fence. She had grown accustomed to his coming in at various times of the day, and she even looked forward to the sound of his footsteps on the porch. She’d had to keep reminding herself not to be bowled over by his movie-star good looks. But this time, he looked a little ragged around the edges, and there was no easy greeting, no chuck under the chin for either Ashley or Michele.
“I think I’ll go upstairs and lie down for a while,” Garth said. Even the timbre of his voice was different, not melodious and deep as usual.
This was so unlike him that Lacey watched openmouthed as he noisily climbed the stairs, his boots striking heavily on each one. When she went up later to get fresh diapers, she looked through the door of his room, which he hadn’t bothered to close, and saw him sprawled on the bed fully clothed.
She wasn’t alarmed, however, until he failed to come downstairs for supper.
“I’ll go see what’s what,” Cody said, taking the steps two at a time. When he came back down again, he shrugged. “Garth snapped at me, said to leave him alone. Says he doesn’t feel too good. That’s fine because that’s more lasagna for me.” Cody liked lasagna better than anything, and he’d begged her to teach Kim how to make it.
After supper Cody went to town to be with Kim, and it seemed strange around the ranch house without Garth visibly present. Once she got the girls in bed, Lacey putt
ered around the kitchen and looked longingly at the curtains that she’d cut out a few nights before. She hadn’t had time yet to sew them. She hadn’t even set up the machine.
She was checking on the sleeping babies when she heard Garth stir in his room. She didn’t think much of it. She was tired from taking care of the girls all day and eager to get upstairs where she’d stashed a new copy of her favorite magazine and a romance novel she’d been wanting to read.
“Lacey?”
From the nursery she could see Garth pushing himself up and resting on his elbow, his hair mussed and falling over one eye.
“You don’t look so good,” she said, stepping into the hall.
He raised his eyebrows. “That makes me feel even worse.”
“Are you sick?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have an appetite, and I’ve felt foggy all day. I think I have a fever.”
“Let’s see.” Lacey hurried across the wide expanse of his room and, without thinking, placed her hand on his forehead. After her stint taking care of two sick babies, it came naturally to her to do this. It wasn’t until she actually thought about it, remembered that this was Garth and not either of the girls, that she yanked her hand away.
“You have a temperature, I’m sure of it,” she said briskly.
“My head feels like it’s been trampled by a herd of mustangs.” He leaned back against the pillows.
She studied him judiciously. “I hate to say it, but, well, maybe you’re getting chicken pox.”
“I must have had it as a kid. You can’t get it again. At least that’s what Donna said.” He closed his eyes.
“I made lasagna for supper. I’ll bring you some.”
He made a face. “I couldn’t eat a thing.”
“Some water, then?”
“Yeah, that would be great.”
She hurried downstairs to fetch ice water from the refrigerator. When she returned, Garth’s clothes lay in a pile on the floor and he was under the sheet—naked. His chest was lightly furred with dark hair, and the musculature beneath his skin looked well-defined. For some reason she averted her eyes as she handed him the water.
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