by Skye Taylor
“Jake? Put me down. Now it’s getting really embarrassing.”
He set her on her feet next to the van and hurried back to grab her purse. “Here.” He pressed it into her hands. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and reached past her to unlock the car. His hand shook. When his second effort to put the key into the lock failed, Zoe’s hand closed around his and took the keys away. She unlocked the door and handed them back.
“Are you sure you’re good to drive?” She looked at him quizzically.
“I’m fine to drive. You’re the one who just took a spill. What if something happened to the baby?”
“I’m mortified, if you must know. But Molly is fine.”
“But that fall—”
“I’m not a piece of porcelain, Jake. I’m just . . .” Zoe’s voice trailed off, and the look of embarrassment left her face. Her hazel eyes went dark, and she swallowed audibly.
In the next instant he was kissing her as if he might never stop. He cradled her face with both hands and angled her head, opening his mouth and running his tongue along her lips.
When she responded, his blood raged through his body, humming and singing with building excitement. He nibbled and teased. Zoe leaned into him and teased back. He forgot where he was. He forgot about the spill she’d taken. He forgot he wasn’t supposed to be kissing her.
When she crooned softly in her throat, the world came crashing back. Jake swallowed hard and drew back. Slowly he let his hands drop to his sides and stepped back. Zoe stared at him with wide, startled eyes for several long moments. Then she wordlessly folded herself into the van.
Jake shut the door and headed around to his side of the van, but had to stop halfway there to catch his breath. He’d known Zoe Callahan was a dangerously attractive woman the first day they’d met. He just hadn’t known how dangerous.
Zoe let her head fall back against the headrest, eyes shut tight. Slowly her heart eased off its frantic runaway pace, and her lungs began to function normally again. She felt totally disoriented and very close to tears.
Just a half dozen heartbeats ago, she’d been caught up in the most incredible kiss she’d ever experienced. Although their bodies had not even touched, there had been nothing but passion in Jake’s kiss this time. His hands had been warm and gentle on her face, making her feel treasured and appealing in a way she’d never felt before. And all the while his mouth had been doing things that made her ache everywhere with hungry desperation.
Then he’d backed away so quickly that if she hadn’t had one hand braced against his chest and the other clutching the top of the van’s door, she’d have fallen on her face.
She expected to hear the door open and then feel the car dip as Jake hauled his big frame into the driver’s seat. But the silence lengthened and nothing happened. Zoe opened her eyes.
Jake stood with one hand on the hood of the van gazing down at his feet. He’s probably wondering what on earth possessed him to kiss the klutz. Maybe he’s rehearsing another apology. Or maybe he’s feeling all the same things I am and wondering why he stopped himself.
What is it that keeps coming between us?
Molly kicked hard. Zoe jerked her gaze down to her belly and watched as some part of Molly’s anatomy arced across the protruding surface of Zoe’s blue, jersey-covered stomach. Then the baby was still again.
Is that what’s stopping you, Jake? Another man’s baby? Zoe pressed her palms against her eyes and gulped back a sudden sob.
Life wasn’t fair. She’d finally met the man she’d been destined to fall in love with, and she was pregnant with another man’s baby. A man she hadn’t been able to love, and who’d lost interest in her the moment he found out she was pregnant. Jake could hardly be blamed for not wanting to take on the responsibility for another man’s child.
He can’t be blamed for not wanting me either.
Chapter 20
ZOE STIRRED, NOT wanting to let go of the dream.
Moonlight lit the beach with a soft aura of romance. Waves chuckled against the shore and sent sheets of water running up the sandy slope, but their blanket was their private little oasis in this shadowy land of enchantment.
Jake was touching her, exploring the contours of her body, his hand stopping briefly to caress the rounded bulge of baby and belly. It didn’t seem to matter that she was pregnant and her body distended with the growing baby inside. The love in Jake’s eyes was hot with passion, and he was telling her . . .
What had he been telling her?
Zoe opened her eyes. Immediately the dream retreated into wispy recollection. No beach. No moonlight. No Jake. She looked about the room and wondered what had disturbed her. It was still dark out and not time to get up yet. Maybe it was that other perk of pregnancy—several nightly trips to the toilet.
Zoe climbed out of bed, carefully flexed her skinned knee, and padded into the bathroom. Afterward, she washed her hands, filled a glass with water, and took a drink. Then she headed back to bed. Jet lay stretched across the hallway at the top of the stairs, which seemed odd because the dogs usually slept downstairs. Then Zoe noticed light seeping out from under the door of the nursery. She didn’t remember leaving the light on in there. She definitely hadn’t closed the door.
With her heart thumping erratically, she tiptoed to the door and silently pushed it open. Jet got to her feet and leaned against Zoe’s leg. Celia sat in Zoe’s rocking chair, eyes closed, humming so softly the sound was almost inaudible. Zoe’s heart lurched. The change of meds apparently wasn’t helping. Jake was going to be crushed.
“Celia?” Zoe moved slowly into the room. She didn’t want to startle the older woman. “What are you doing? It’s the middle of the night.”
Celia looked up at Zoe, her eyes misted as if she were seeing something in her memory. “Martin’s baby was crying. Martin wasn’t here to take care of her, so I came to help.” She glanced down at her arms.
That’s when Zoe noticed that Celia held Zoe’s threadbare old teddy in her arms as if it were an infant. She rocked gently, crooning to the teddy bear. Zoe vacillated between staying and talking with Celia in hopes that the present would return to her consciousness, or hurrying back to her own bedroom to call Jake. Zoe opted for calling Jake.
Within minutes, Jake was at her door, dressed in pajama bottoms and a T-shirt with his hair standing on end. “I’m sorry,” he said as he hurried through the door Zoe held open for him. “How long has she been here?”
“I don’t have any idea. I was asleep when she came in. Did Martin have any kids?”
Jake halted abruptly and glanced down at Zoe with a frown furrowing his brow. “Yeah. Marsha’s cousin, Donna. Why?”
Zoe turned toward the stairs. “Celia’s in the nursery rocking my old teddy bear. She thinks it’s Martin’s baby. And she said Martin wasn’t here to care for her.”
Jake started up the stairs to the room he’d recently painted for Zoe’s baby. Neither of them had known the room had been used as a nursery before, but apparently Celia had. “Donna is considerably older than Marsha. She was born after her father left for Korea. Martin never even knew he had a daughter.”
Jake felt a gnawing despair growing in his gut. Celia would have been just a teenager at the time, but she must have been involved in caring for the infant. Now her memories, receding ever further into the past, were of a time even before she’d married Martin’s younger brother, Richard. The new medicine wasn’t proving to be as effective as the first one had been. Things were spiraling out of control.
Celia looked up when Jake slipped into the room. She still held the bear. Her face registered momentary confusion and then cleared. “Martin! I knew you’d come home as soon as you knew Donna needed you.”
Jake knelt in front of his mother-in-law, his heart aching with sadness. “I’m not Martin,” he said as gently as he coul
d. “I’m Jake.”
Celia reached to touch his cheek. Her lips curved up in a smile of infinite sweetness. “Of course you are.” Almost immediately her face clouded again, and she looked around her in confusion. “Why am I here?”
“You came to check on Zoe. You were worried about her, but she’s fine, and it’s time to go home now.” Jake took the bear from Celia’s arms and handed it to Zoe. Then he put a hand under Celia’s elbow and urged her to her feet.
“Is there anything I can do?” Zoe hovered, looking worried and helpless. As helpless as he felt.
Jake shook his head. “Thanks for calling me instead of the cops when you found someone in your house in the middle of the night.” He guided Celia toward the stairs.
“The dogs never barked, so I never really thought to be afraid. I just wondered why the light was on. And of course, as soon as I saw it was Celia, who else would I call?”
“You are a remarkable woman, Zoe Callahan.” Jake followed Celia down the stairs. “I hope she didn’t ruin the rest of the night for you.”
Zoe held the door while Jake ushered Celia out into the night. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t have any problem getting back to sleep. I never do.”
“Well, good night. And thanks. I—” He hesitated, wanted to say something more, but what was there to say? He’d said thanks. And good night. But she gazed up at him with an eager, expectant look in her lovely hazel eyes. He almost kissed her, but stopped himself before impulse became action. “See you tomorrow, maybe.” Then he hurried after Celia.
JAKE STARED UP into the shadowy darkness of his bedroom, hands folded behind his head, listening to the soft sounds of Celia sleeping next door in Ava’s bedroom. Safe for now. He had roused Ava and sent her to sleep in Celia’s bed for the remainder of the night, then convinced Celia to sleep in Ava’s bed. He felt easier being close enough to hear if Celia wandered again. But what about tomorrow night? And the night after that? He couldn’t stay awake every night listening. And what about the times he got called out to a fire?
He closed his eyes. They were heavy with weariness, but sleep was far away. Visions of Parisian posters flitted through his memory, taunting him with heartbreaking choices and promises not kept.
Jake rolled over and punched his pillow to fluff it up. He pressed his face and tired eyes into the cool percale fabric, but the images didn’t go away. He rolled onto his side and bent his knees.
Abruptly he lifted his head. He couldn’t hear Celia. He slid his feet to the floor and crossed the room in three strides, passed through the bathroom, and slanted his head against the partially open door to the next room.
Total silence.
Then he thought he heard the rustle of bedclothes. He stuck his head all the way into Ava’s room and heaved a sigh of relief to see the small irregular shape of Celia facing away from him. Silently he retreated to his own room again. He stood at the window, staring across the lawn to the fence that separated his yard from Zoe’s, remembering her gentle insistence that keeping Celia safe might be a difficult decision, but it would be the loving choice if the new meds didn’t work.
And it was clear they weren’t working. Celia’s doctor had increased the dose, but even that attempt to halt the course of the disease had had little effect. Jake had been hoping for another remarkable reprieve like the first medication they’d tried almost three years ago. What could have triggered this seemingly sudden decline after nearly three relatively stable years?
The words to a familiar Psalm filtered into Jake’s head. “The Lord is my shepherd . . .” he muttered the words out loud. “So lead me. Tell me what I should do. I’ve got all these questions and no answers.”
Then it occurred to Jake that perhaps tonight’s misadventure had been his answer. Perhaps the answers had been around him all along.
Two days ago, he’d come in from mowing the lawn and been assaulted by the reek of burning plastic. Dashing for the kitchen with his heart in his throat and his cell phone out ready to dial 911, he’d discovered the source of the stench with a mixture of impatience and dismay. Celia had tried to reheat a leftover serving of lasagna. But rather than putting the plastic container in the microwave as she had always done before, she’d turned on the regular oven. The plastic had melted of course. It had dripped down through the oven rack and plopped onto the bottom of the oven in big soft drops where little blue flames danced with merry abandon. Celia herself had forgotten all about the snack she’d been reheating and had wandered off to the den and Judge Judy.
Jake returned to his bed and flopped down wearily. He thought about the posters again—all the places Celia had dreamed of visiting lining the pale green walls of the Safe Haven Alzheimer Unit. He thought about the attentive maroon-clad staff chatting and visiting with the residents, joking with them and making them smile. He thought about the fact that Zoe had known about Safe Haven, had visited it often, and knew the people who ran it. And more importantly, he considered the phone call he’d had from the director just before quitting time yesterday to let him know that a room would become available in two weeks if he was still interested.
Jake closed his eyes and tried to will away the problem and let sleep come.
It seemed like just moments later he jerked to wakefulness again, his shirt soaked with sweat and his heart hammering. With wide, aching eyes, he stared into the dark, but instead of his familiar bedroom walls, he saw only Zoe’s frightened face. Her terrified voice echoed in his brain.
“I think the baby is coming, and it’s too soon.”
Chapter 21
JAKE CALLED TO thank Zoe again while she was finishing her breakfast. She scooped up the last bit of grits, popped the spoon into her mouth, and put her bowl on the counter. Cradling the phone under one ear, she began to assemble her lunch. She was running late after sleeping through her alarm.
Jake sounded exhausted as he told her about the call from Safe Haven and his decision given last night’s escapade.
“Are you going to be okay with this?”
Zoe finished slathering peanut butter on a slice of bread and slapped a second slice on top. She listened to his brief account of how he’d wrestled with his options after bringing Celia home again in the wee hours, sensing that his decision had been a lot harder to make than he made it sound. She shoved a banana into the bag along with the sandwich, wishing she had the time to go over and talk with him in person. To look into his eyes and make sure he was okay with it. Perhaps her boss wouldn’t be too upset with her if she came in more than just a little late?
“I told the woman I’d stop by with a deposit today.”
“I know it’s not easy, but I think you’re doing the right thing.”
She heard Jake sigh. Then, “I know. I just—I know it’s best. Hey, look, last night I noticed you didn’t have a crib yet.”
Changing the subject. Obviously he didn’t want to talk about Celia anymore. “Just haven’t gotten around to it. I suppose I should though. I mean, Molly could make an early appearance and catch me out. Right?”
Jake made an odd noise as if she’d given him bad news and wondered why her joking comment should trigger such a reaction. Then she remembered his worried concern when she took that spill in the parking lot.
“Jake? I’m kidding.”
“Yeah, well . . . What I was going to say was that I have two perfectly good cribs sitting in my garage I doubt I’m ever going to need again. They’re the kind that convert to youth beds. If you’re interested, that is . . .”
“If they’re convertibles, how come the twins aren’t using them?”
“They wanted princess beds. With canopies and ruffles.” Jake snorted, softly.
Zoe pictured him assembling beds with tall frames while the twins pranced around with excitement. “If you’re sure, I’d love to borrow one.”
One less ex
pense to wrangle out of her already tight budget. Her father had been right about the financial drain the upkeep of a house would turn out to be. She couldn’t afford to be choosy if a decent crib was available for free.
“Right then. I’ll bring it over tonight. And, Zoe? Be careful. Okay?”
AS SOON AS Zoe got home from work, she hurried up to the little room she had designated as Molly’s. She moved all the boxes of baby clothes her sister-in-law had passed along to make room for the crib. She’d barely finished when she heard Jake’s footsteps on the porch stairs.
“The mattresses were pretty shot, and they got tossed out, so you’ll have to get a new one,” Jake said as he leaned the headboard, footboard, and rails against the wall. Then he disappeared back down the stairs and returned with the spring and the toolbox that Zoe had become so familiar with.
“I could probably do that myself,” Zoe offered as Jake began to sort through the hardware he’d dumped out of a tattered manila envelope.
“Yeah! You probably could.” He raised his eyebrows at her, then turned to root through his toolbox and came up with an adjustable wrench. “But I’m here, and I’ve got all the tools, so I might as well save you the trouble.”
Zoe sank into the rocker. Watching Jake work was something she found vastly enjoyable no matter what the project was, but watching him set up a crib for her baby tugged at a desire buried deep within. She wished Molly was Jake’s baby, and that he would be around for a lot more than just putting a crib together. She’d seen the way he was with his own girls, and she jealously wanted that for Molly.
Zoe wanted to see her infant cradled in those big capable hands while Jake sang lullabies in his deep, sexy baritone. She wanted Molly to have a daddy to give her baths and read to her at night. To teach her how to tie her shoes and to ride a bike. A father whose eyes would get glassy with tears as he watched her receive her college diploma. A father to give her away at her wedding. She wished with all her heart that Jake was Molly’s father instead of Porter.