“Later we fell in love?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“But you didn’t know I was pregnant and you left me because you thought I was better off without you?”
“Yeah.”
“And we have a baby together and you’ve come back because…” She glared at him. “When did you come back?”
“What difference does it make when I came back? I’m here now and I’m staying to take care of you and Hope.”
Worth caught a glimpse of the front door to Faith’s apartment easing open. Jody peeped outside.
“They’re waiting for you,” he said. “Are you ready for your homecoming party?”
“I thought I was, but…What if I don’t remember how to take care of a baby?”
“You won’t be alone. I’ll be here and Jody lives next door and Lindsey and Margaret are only a few blocks away. We’ll manage. After all, how difficult can it be to take care of one four-month-old baby?”
Worth got out of the car, lifted Faith into his arms, and carried her up the sidewalk, onto the porch and through the open front door. Jody closed the door behind them, then followed them into the living room. Margaret sat on the sofa, Hope in her lap. Lindsey and George hovered in the doorway leading to the kitchen.
“Welcome home,” they all called out in unison as Worth seated Faith on the sofa beside Margaret.
Everyone held their breaths as Faith studied Hope, looking her over from curly red hair to pink booties. When Faith held open her arms to her child, a collective sigh reverberated throughout the room. Hope gurgled and gooed when Faith took her and held her.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Faith looked from one person to another and each person smiled and said that yes, Hope was the most beautiful baby in the world. “She looks like you.” Faith’s gaze rested on Worth, who stood only a few feet away. “She has your eyes, your chin and…” Faith wound one of Hope’s red curls around her finger. “Was your hair this color when you were a baby?”
Worth grinned. “Yeah, it stayed that color until I was about ten, then it started turning darker.”
“Hello, Hope, my precious baby,” Faith said. “I wish I could remember you. I wish I could…” Tears gathered in the corners of Faith’s eyes.
“Hey, we’ve got supper ready,” Lindsey said. “And for dessert there’s ice cream and a cake. Anybody hungry?”
“Why don’t we go ahead and put the food out?” Margaret suggested as she rose from the sofa. “Then we can make ourselves scarce for tonight. I think Faith and Worth and Hope need some time alone.”
“No, please, y’all don’t have to leave,” Faith said. “I’m sorry if I’m not making y’all feel welcome. It’s just that I—”
“It’s okay, Faithie,” Jody said. “It’s going to take you time to adjust. Having a houseful of people on your first evening home was probably a bad idea. Margaret’s right—you need some time alone with Worth and Hope.”
“We’ll be nearby if you need us,” George said.
Suddenly everyone disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Worth and Faith alone with their child. Worth sat beside Faith.
“Lindsey left us a to-do list,” Worth said. “Things like how to fix Hope’s bottles, her regular nap times, her pediatrician’s phone number. Stuff like that.”
“How could I have forgotten this precious child?” Faith hugged her daughter to her and Hope grasped a strand of Faith’s long, dark hair.
Worth put his arm around Faith and pulled her to his side. “You’ll remember her. If not tomorrow or the next day, then soon.”
“What if I never—”
“Dr. Tracy said it’s temporary. You might not ever remember all the details about your attack, but you will regain almost all your memory. Just give it time, Blue Eyes, and it’ll come back to you.”
“I don’t know why, but when you call me Blue Eyes, I get a funny feeling. It’s almost as if I can remember that I liked your calling me that.”
The foursome emerged from the kitchen. When Worth started to stand, George motioned for him to stay put.
“Supper’s warming in the oven,” Lindsey said. “There are four bottles already prepared and in the refrigerator.”
“We’re heading out now,” Jody said. “Remember, I’m right next door, if you need me.”
Their company left in a whirlwind and when they were gone, utter silence filled the apartment. Then suddenly Hope began whimpering.
For a split second, Worth wanted to call the others back, to ask them not to leave him. What the hell did he know about taking care of a woman recovering from severe injuries and a helpless little baby? Heaven help him, he was out of his element playing nursemaid and daddy.
“She’s hungry,” Faith said as she loosened her robe and began unbuttoning her gown. She stopped abruptly, her hand hovering over her left breast. “Did I breast-feed Hope?”
“Yeah, I believe you did.”
“But I don’t have any milk. It must have dried up when I was in the hospital.”
“I’ll get her a bottle.” Worth jumped up and headed for the kitchen. His heart beat ninety to nothing. What was wrong with him? Why was he letting one fragile, petite woman and one tiny baby scare the hell out of him? He’d taken care of wounded comrades, had rescued people in great danger, administered first aid when a medic wasn’t available. He’d been a Ranger, a tough guy through and through. Why did the thought of being totally responsible for Faith and Hope put the fear of God into him?
Don’t think about it, he told himself. Just do what you have to do. He couldn’t deal with the reasons that were staring him right in the face. Emotions were a weakness he hadn’t allowed himself since he’d been a kid. Caring about somebody meant risking being hurt and rejected. He had to find a way to take care of Faith and Hope without getting in over his head in some touchy-feely quagmire of sentimental feelings.
Chapter 5
With each passing day Faith regained her strength, but Worth insisted she not overdo. Lindsey, Jody and Margaret took turns bringing over home-cooked meals, so all Worth had to prepare was their breakfast each morning. He’d become a whiz at scrambled eggs and toast. He did all the chores, even though Faith kept insisting she could help. Keeping the apartment clean and the laundry done had been a piece of cake compared to caring for Hope. It hadn’t taken him more than twenty-four hours to realize a four-month-old needed something almost continuously. He’d lost track of how many disposable diapers they’d been through in five days, how many bottles Hope had gulped down and how many miles he had walked holding her in his arms, usually in the middle of the night.
With a towel wrapped around his waist and tucked into his jeans, Worth stood at the sink, one hand supporting Hope’s back while the other maneuvered a small washcloth over her soft, chubby body. She gurgled and laughed and slapped at the water in which she sat. Worth had learned the hard way that when giving Hope her bath, he’d better prepare himself for a bath, too. Her plump, dimpled hand reached for the yellow rubber duck that he’d discovered was a necessity during bath time. As he rinsed his daughter with lukewarm water, he wondered if all infants loved water the way Hope did. His little girl was definitely part fish.
“Need any help?” Faith stood in the bathroom doorway.
“Hey, there, Mommy.” Worth glanced at Faith and smiled. “We’re almost finished here. How about getting our towel for us?”
Faith lifted the folded hooded towel from the vanity, opened it and held it for Worth. He slipped Hope’s head into the hood then wrapped her in the terry cloth and handed her to Faith.
“Can you manage her okay? She’s a chunk.”
“She weighed nine pounds when she was born,” Faith said as she took her child and carried her into the bedroom.
Worth let the water out of the sink, dried off the vanity and set the rubber duck back in the mesh bag of bath toys hanging on the wall. When he joined mother and daughter, Faith had Hope lying on the bed with a diaper on and was stru
ggling with the wiggling infant as she tried to pull on her one-piece pajamas.
Worth placed his hand on Faith’s shoulder. “Do you realize you just remembered something else?”
“I did, didn’t I? I remembered Hope weighed nine pounds when she was born.” Faith sighed. “My memory is coming back in bits and pieces, not whole chunks. I recall unconnected, independent facts and incidents.”
Worth squeezed her shoulder. “But every day you seem to recall more and more of these tidbits. Pretty soon those whole chunks of memory will return.”
“I hope so.” Faith managed to finish dressing Hope, then sat on the edge of the bed and placed Hope in her lap. “I’ve started keeping a list.” She nodded to the dressing table under the double windows across the room. An ink pen lay atop an open notebook. “Every time I remember something, I write it down.”
“That’s a good idea.” Worth sat beside Faith. “Doing that should help you see how much you’re recovering.”
“It’s odd what I remember and what I don’t. I remember Jody and Margaret, but my memories are of them from years ago. But I don’t remember anything about Lindsey and George. Or you.” When she looked at him with those luminous blue eyes, Worth could not control his reaction. From the first moment he’d looked into her eyes in a country halfway around the world, he’d felt an unbidden attraction and an instant desire to protect her.
“You’ve known Jody and Margaret most of your life. Those memories are returning first.”
Faith shook her head. “I know Dr. Tracy said it wasn’t unusual to remember my childhood first, but I’ve had flashes of memory about more recent events. I remember giving birth to Hope, how much she weighed, how happy I was. And I’m having quick bursts of thoughts. I see myself sitting on a park bench and it’s snowing.”
“I’ll go to the kitchen and warm Faith’s bottle.” Worth rose to his feet. He wasn’t sure he wanted her to remember that night.
“I should ask Jody about it—about my sitting on a bench in the snow—because I hear her voice calling my name while I’m sitting there. I wonder if it’s a real memory.”
“It’s real,” Worth said. “Let’s get Hope down for the night and I’ll tell you what I know about that memory.”
Faith smiled. “All right.”
She smiled more and more often these days; and every time she focused one of those brilliant smiles on him, he wanted to kiss her. Actually, he wanted to do a lot more than kiss her. After the first time he made love to her, he’d become addicted to Faith; and during their brief affair over a year ago, he’d made love to her several times. But Hope must have been conceived the first time, in the cave where they’d hidden from the Subrian soldiers—the one time he hadn’t used a condom.
In the past year, since they’d said goodbye at the airport in Golnar and she had concocted a plan for them to rendevous at the square in Whitewood on Christmas Eve, Worth had tried to forget Faith. He’d lost track of how many times he had fought the urge to pick up the phone and call her. And each time he had stopped just short of dialing her number. He’d convinced himself that they were better off without each other.
But for now, until she fully recovered, and he was sure she was in no danger from the maniac who had nearly killed her, Worth knew he was needed here. Faith needed him. And so did Hope.
Faith studied Worth Cordell as he laid Hope down in her crib and stood over her, a gentle, loving expression on his face. If only she could remember this man. She must have been very much in love with him. After all, they shared a child. And even without any memories of him or their love affair, Faith felt an undeniable attraction to the big man who took such good care of Hope and her. Every time she looked at him, butterflies fluttered in her tummy. His every word, every deed, every tender touch seduced her.
Not once had he mentioned loving her—now or in the past—but his actions spoke to her heart. He acted like a man in love. Why else would he be here, caring not only for his child, but for his child’s mother? Sometimes when he thought she wasn’t looking, Faith would catch a glimpse of Worth staring at her, a hungry longing in his eyes. Whenever he touched her, either on purpose or by accident, she felt an instantaneous connection. When she questioned him about why they weren’t married, she sensed his reluctance to discuss any details of their past, so she hadn’t pushed him. Soon enough she would remember everything, or so the doctor kept telling her.
Faith eased up beside Worth and placed her hand on his back. He tensed, then relaxed. It was as if her touch burned him.
“She’s so very precious,” Faith said as she gazed down at her sleeping daughter. “I want to remember everything about her, from the moment I knew I was pregnant.”
Worth slipped his arm around Faith’s waist. “When you do remember, I want you to share those memories with me. I wasn’t around to share them with you.”
Taking the opening he’d given her, Faith asked, “Will you tell me about my memory of sitting on the bench in the snow? There has to be a reason that it seems to be so important to me, some reason that it’s my strongest memory.”
Worth picked up the baby monitor, then led Faith out of the bedroom, leaving the door open behind them. When they reached the living room, he set her down on the yellow-and-blue striped sofa sleeper, where Worth slept every night. Before joining her, he placed the monitor on the oak end table to his left, then lifted his arm and spread it out across the sofa back behind Faith’s head.
“When I left Golnar, you returned to your job as the nanny for Phila Constantine, to work out a two-week notice.” Worth lifted his arm off the sofa, then rubbed the tops of his thighs nervously. He purposely avoided making eye contact with her. Faith concluded that what he was going to tell her must be difficult for him. “At the airport in Dareh, Golnar, we said goodbye, but you came up with an idea that would give us both time to think about our feelings.”
“What sort of idea?”
“Actually it was a plan to give me time to sort through my feelings,” Worth admitted. “You were pretty sure of your feelings.”
“I was in love with you,” she said, and realized she knew without a doubt how she’d felt about him. Not exactly a memory, but a certainty coming from an inner past knowledge.
He nodded. “You said that if I—if we decided we loved each other, we’d meet in the Whitewood town square at eight o’clock on Christmas Eve. You showed up. I didn’t.”
“You didn’t meet me?”
“No, I…uh…I couldn’t meet you. I’d gotten shot on an assignment and wound up in the hospital. I didn’t regain consciousness until Christmas Day.”
“Then you called me and explained and—”
He shook his head. “No, honey, I decided that Fate had played a hand in my decision, that I’d been right about your being better off without me in your life.”
“You didn’t meet me and you didn’t call me later to explain.”
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he told her. “I had no idea you were pregnant. If I’d known…I’m sorry, Faith.”
“Was it snowing that night, the night I waited for you?”
“Yeah, Jody said it snowed that night.”
“It must have been very difficult for me. I must have expected you to show up. I had the most wonderful news to tell you, didn’t I?” A vague, cloudy memory surfaced, then gradually became clearer. “I couldn’t wait to go to the square that evening. It was raining, but I didn’t care. I walked from the house to downtown. I knew you’d be there because I believed you loved me as much as I loved you.”
Worth looked directly at Faith. “Are you actually remembering that night?”
“Yes, parts of it. I remember how I felt. I remember being very happy. And I remember the snow. It was terribly cold and I could hear the church bells chime out the hour.”
“You shouldn’t have waited,” he told her.
“But I did wait. I waited and waited, but you didn’t come.” Anger combined with sadness and Faith underst
ood she was experiencing the same emotions she’d felt that night. “I loved you so very much.” Her gaze locked with his. “Did you love me? Did you love me even a little bit?”
“Faith…I…” He sat there beside her, staring at her, his mouth open, but no other words came out.
“No, you didn’t love me, did you? And you don’t love me now. You’re here out of some misguided sense of obligation, not love.”
She felt his rejection as keenly as she’d felt it that night and the pain spread through her at an alarming speed. She didn’t think she could bear sitting here, so near to him, seeing the truth in his eyes.
Faith surged up off the sofa and ran toward the bedroom, then she remembered her sleeping child and turned back toward the kitchen.
Knowing she was going to cry, she didn’t want to risk waking Hope. But before she reached the kitchen door, Worth caught up with her. His big hand clamped down on her shoulder. She froze instantly.
“Faith, please…”
“Please, what?”
When he grasped her shoulders and began turning her to face him, she thought about rejecting him, but something within her succumbed immediately. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her. Why was it that, if this man had been little more than a stranger to her in the past and was no more than that to her now, she understood him so well? He wanted to say the right things to her, but he was afraid to speak, afraid he’d say the wrong thing and hurt her even more. He might not love her, but he cared. She was important to him—very important—whether he realized it or not.
“All my memories aren’t going to be happy ones,” she told him. “Some of them are bound to hurt me. Especially if…when I remember about the attack. You can’t protect me from the truth.” She lifted her hand and caressed his cheek. “I know you want to protect me, want to cocoon me in some safe place where I can’t ever be hurt again.”
Worth said nothing for a moment, and then, as if giving into some inner struggle, he lowered his head until his lips met hers. Faith held her breath, uncertain and yet expectant. When he kissed her, she responded without giving a thought to the consequences. On some instinctive level, she remembered the feel and the taste of this man. His body heat seeped into her skin; his passion consumed her. Giving herself over to the moment, she dissolved into Worth, becoming one with him as sensation alone dominated their actions.
12 Stocking Stuffers Page 6