“Small world when your mother knows my neighbor,” she said.
They were silent for so long that he thought about pouring the rest of the coffee down the drain and making an excuse to leave. That he needed to get back to work wouldn’t be a lie. Then Zaylie came out of one of the bedrooms rubbing sleep from her eyes. When she saw him, she squealed and ran across the room to stand at the end of the recliner and put her hand on his shoulder.
“You came.” She sighed. “You said you would and you did.”
“I always keep my word,” he told her with a sideways look at Claire. “Do you like this bunkhouse all right? Will it do until you can get back home?”
“I like it better than Aunt Claire’s house,” she answered.
“Why’s that?”
She pointed to the basket in the corner. “I’ve got kittens and Gussie, but I miss Franny because she brings me chocolate chip cookies,” Zaylie said.
“Zaylie!” Claire scolded. “You shouldn’t just miss Franny because of her cookies. She’s a sweet lady who loves you.”
Zaylie shrugged. “Can I have a snack now?”
“Yes, you may. What do you want? An apple? Cookies and milk?”
“Cookies and milk and then an apple,” she said.
Levi stood up. “I’d be glad to pour some milk and get you some cookies. I’m sure they won’t be as good as Franny’s, but they might do.”
“Chocolate milk, please, and three cookies.” Zaylie held up the right number of fingers. “And it’s okay if they ain’t as good as Franny’s because you smell better.” She clapped her hands on her cheeks and ran across the room. “I forgot to see if my kitties are still resting their eyes.”
Levi raised an eyebrow at Claire as he headed toward the kitchen.
“Arthritis cream with lots of menthol in it,” she whispered.
He shot a sly wink across the room. Someday he wanted a daughter just like Zaylie, but first he’d have to find a wife.
All that sass about how independent she was melted like ice cubes in July when one of his eyelids closed in a slow wink. Then as if nothing had happened, he put three cookies on a plate and squirted chocolate syrup into a glass of milk. Worn work jeans hugged his thighs and butt, and ripped abs showed through a snug-fitting knit shirt. His boots were scuffed, and his belt buckle testified that he either rode bulls now or had in the past.
Her chest tightened and her pulse raced. She could almost feel the sparks dancing around her, and it was pure insanity. She’d never been attracted to cowboys—not even with their sexy swagger, big belt buckles, and all that self-confidence. She’d always leaned toward the preppy type, like Mark, who’d been a lawyer in Wichita Falls. Italian loafers, nice suits, and an expensive haircut—that was her type.
And look what that got you, the aggravating voice in her head said loudly. Nothing but heartache and bad memories.
She wanted to argue with the voice, but it was useless to do battle with the truth. Mark had been a mistake from the beginning with his desire to be in control. Telling her that she should get a “real” job, even if it was going back to being a schoolteacher, or that she should get a better car. Or worse yet, getting angry at her for keeping Zaylie when Grant had to be away. That was the straw that broke the old proverbial camel’s back.
Levi brought the milk and cookies to the coffee table that took up space between the sofa and the two recliners. “Here you go, Miz Zaylie.”
“Thank you.” She tiptoed across the room with a sleeping kitten draped over her arm. “Shhh. We have to be quiet so she don’t wake up.” She picked up the milk and drank enough to leave a chocolate mustache on her upper lip.
“I understand. If she wakes up she’ll whine,” he whispered. “I’ve got to get back to work, but I’ll close the door real easy. And Claire, I’m leaving the old ranch work truck out in front of the bunkhouse. Keys are in it so you can go back and forth to the house.”
“It’s not that far. We can walk,” she argued.
“That’s your choice, but if you don’t drive, then you’ll be wading in snow up to your butt and to Zaylie’s waist.” Levi put on his coat and hat and waved over his shoulder as he left.
Zaylie finished her milk and two cookies, leaving one on the plate. No need in letting it sit there alone and it was still two hours before lunch, so Claire ate it. While she was swallowing the last bite the phone rang. She grabbed it on the fourth ring.
“Hello,” she said.
“Claire,” came Grant’s voice through the static. “I’ve been worried. I tried to call your cell phone and finally called Franny, who told me what happened and gave me this number. Thank God y’all are all right.”
She quickly put it on speaker mode and called Zaylie. She came from the bedroom carrying one of the kittens and started talking the moment she heard her father’s voice. “Guess what, Daddy? I’ve got a mama cat and three kittens, and we got a bunkhouse, and there’s snow everywhere.”
“That’s wonderful, princess, but don’t you give away all my hugs to your new friends,” Grant said.
“I save a gazillion just for you all the time,” she said, and giggled.
“Zaylie, tell him about Retta and Levi,” Claire said.
“Levi is a hero,” she said as the kitten wiggled free and made a mad dash under the sofa. “He made a fire, and he cooked. And Retta is real nice and guess what? We got a big bathtub, and we got our own washin’ ’chine, and guess what else? There’s a pet donkey that I get to go see when the snow melts. Can I have cowboy boots for Christmas?”
Grant’s laughter sounded relieved as much as amused. “Why would you want cowboy boots?”
“Levi has them and ’cause my feet got cold.”
“Then you definitely have to ask Santa for them. It looks like we’ll have this mission wrapped up by Christmas, so I should be home,” Grant said. “But right now I’ve got to go. Be good, buttercup.”
“I will, Daddy. I love you.” She made kissing noises toward the phone.
Claire took it off speaker and put it to her ear. “We’re fine, Grant. Don’t worry about us. These are good people.”
“I hope so. Franny vouched for them, so that makes me feel a lot better,” he said. “I’ll call again when I get the chance.”
“Be careful, and know we love you,” she said.
“Rightbackatcha,” he replied. “And if they’re givin’ away kittens, I might consider letting Zaylie have two.”
“You’re kiddin’ me,” Claire gasped.
“Don’t tell her just yet. Kittens and boots might be a pretty good Christmas present.”
The phone went dead, and Claire stared at it for a long time before she set it back on the stand. Was her brother getting out of the service? Was he taking a different job—one that wouldn’t involve leaving home again? Those were the only two things that would make pets a possibility.
Either of those two decisions would definitely change Claire’s life. She’d been a caregiver for years, staying with Haley through the morning sickness while Grant was on a mission that lasted several weeks of the first trimester. Then right after that Grant was deployed for six months. He’d asked Claire to stay so Haley wouldn’t be alone through the pregnancy, and he hadn’t arrived back on base until one day before Zaylie was born on Christmas morning. By New Year’s Claire was in Randlett to help with her grandmother, and now she kept Zaylie for Grant. If her brother was making a life change, then it would impact her world as well, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
She went to the bedroom and opened the suitcase that contained her quilt cutting tools and was on her way to the kitchen table when the phone rang again.
“Hey, Zaylie, can you answer that?” she asked.
“Hello,” she said. “Guess what. I named the kittens. They are Grumpy, Happy, and Sleepy. Here’s Aunt Claire.”
Claire laid her supplies down and took the phone, expecting it to be Franny. “Hello. Evidently she’s seen Snow White too often.”<
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“Claire, could you possibly come up here to the house and help me get dinner ready for the guys and maybe do the baking for Thanksgiving dinner? I feel awful asking for your help, but I can’t stand the smell of food,” Retta said.
“Be there in five minutes.” Claire carried the phone back to the base and turned to Zaylie. “Gussie is going to have to take care of the babies for a while. Retta needs us. You ready to do some baking?”
“Yes!” Zaylie squealed. “I like to cook. Are we going to walk in the snow?”
“No, darlin’ girl. Levi left a truck for us.” Claire pulled on her shoes and tied them before she helped Zaylie.
Remembering that a path had been cleared from the backyard fence to the house, Claire drove around to that spot and parked the truck. Before she could even open the door, Zaylie had bailed out and was sliding down the path. Claire had a hand up to knock on the door, when it flew open, and Retta motioned them inside.
“Thank you so much for doing this,” she said.
Claire hung up her jacket and then Zaylie’s. “You are so welcome. I’m glad to help, especially with all you’re doing for us. How far along are you?”
“How did you know?” Retta asked.
“Zaylie’s mama, Haley, had a terrible time with it the first trimester, so I went to stay with her while my brother was on a mission. Then when it was about over, Grant got deployed, so I stayed on with her the next six months. I’m pretty familiar with all the symptoms,” she answered.
“I’m six weeks, and we’d planned to tell the guys on Thanksgiving. But we told them an hour ago because I can’t stand the smell of food, and I’m hoping you can cook.” Retta threw a hand over her mouth and headed toward the bathroom.
“Zaylie, pick out an apron.” Claire pointed toward the hooks and then followed Retta. She held Retta’s hair back and then washed her face with a cold rag. “Saltine crackers and sweet tea will help. And yes, I can cook. What did you plan for the noon meal today? I see you’ve got a chicken in the slow cooker.”
“Dumplings.” Retta gagged on the answer.
“I can do that, but first let’s get you some crackers and tea and let you lie on the sofa with this cool rag on your head,” Claire told her.
“You are a lifesaver,” Retta said.
Claire followed her into the living room. “How long are you suffering from it each day?”
Retta stretched out on the sofa. “From the time I get up until about two o’clock in the afternoon. After that I’m not throwing up, but I still feel slightly queasy.”
Claire covered her with a throw and then laid the cool rag on her forehead. “You’ll need to stay hydrated, and before you get out of bed in the morning, you should eat crackers and have a glass or cup of tea. Zaylie and I will come up here and make breakfast and dinner for the guys, and we can help with supper. Don’t worry about Thanksgiving dinner. I can take care of that.”
She went to the kitchen and filled a glass with sweet tea from the gallon jug in the refrigerator, put half a dozen crackers on a plate, and carried them to the living room. Zaylie was right behind her, carrying a colorful bibbed apron.
“Is Retta going to die?” Zaylie asked. “I don’t want her to die and have to be put into the ground like Nanny.”
“No, she’s just got a tummy ache. So you and I are going to do the cookin’. Do you think you are big enough to help me with that job like you do at home?” Claire asked.
“Aunt Claire!” Zaylie rolled her blue eyes. “I’m almost five years old. I’m a big girl.”
Claire set the plate and glass on the end table and hugged her niece. “I knew I could count on you.” Then she turned to Retta. “Eat one cracker slowly and sip the tea; don’t gulp it. Let that settle and then repeat the process. You might even feel like eating a little dinner once you get that down. You might want to call your mom to come stay with you until this is over.”
“My mother passed away years ago, and my dad’s been gone for nearly a year. They would have made wonderful grandparents, and it makes me sad that my baby will never know them. They were good people.” Retta cautiously nibbled on a cracker.
“A sister then?” Claire asked. “You’ll need help for a few weeks.”
“I’m an only child, and before you ask, I’m not comfortable enough around Cade’s mama to ever ask for her help. I can call Mavis, I guess.” Retta took a sip of tea.
“Well, you definitely need someone,” Claire said. “Now tell me what you were going to do this afternoon.”
“I was going to make a banana nut cake today. It’s better if it ages a couple of days, and it’s Cade’s favorite.” Retta lay back on the sofa.
“I’m glad to help out while I’m here. It makes me feel like I’m less of a bother.” Claire laid the cold cloth over Retta’s eyes. “Right now I’d better get busy. If these guys are like my brother, they get real cranky when they are hungry.”
“Are we going to live here?” Zaylie asked on the way back to the kitchen.
“We have to until the snow melts.” Claire slipped the bibbed apron over Zaylie’s head.
“If Santa knows where this house is, I hope the snow don’t never melt. I like it here, Aunt Claire. But I wouldn’t want Santa to leave my boots in the wrong place.” She dragged a chair over to the bar that separated the kitchen and the small nook where the family ate.
Claire turned off the cooker and removed the chicken. “Santa knows where every little boy or girl is at Christmas.”
Dammit! I shouldn’t have said that. Claire frowned. That could have been my ace in the hole if she fusses when we have to leave, and now I’ve thrown it away.
Zaylie crawled up on the chair. “Good! I don’t want somebody else to get my boots. When’s Levi comin’ home?”
“In a little while,” Claire muttered.
“Hey, hey, did I hear my name?” Levi sniffed the air as he entered the kitchen. “Do I smell dumplin’s? That’s one of my favorite meals. Do you like them, Zaylie?”
“I love ’em. I’m glad you came home,” Zaylie said. “Do you like my apron?”
“Yes, I do. I bet you’re a wonderful cook.” He grinned.
“Yes, I am. Aunt Claire teached me to cook, and she’s the best.”
“I can believe that,” he said.
He talked to Zaylie, but his gaze had locked with Claire’s. There was something about his mossy green eyes that seemed to be looking right into her soul. Was he flirting? She finally blinked, but that shiver dancing down her spine said that she’d felt something brand-new and more than a little bit exciting.
Later that night back at the bunkhouse, she wondered whether Levi had felt the same little tingle of chemistry. But before she could analyze what it even meant, Zaylie skipped over and piled all three kittens in her lap. Then she cuddled her tiny body up against Claire’s side.
“Can we live here forever? Or at least until Daddy comes home?” she asked.
“No, we have to go home when we can. Franny misses us.” Claire brushed Zaylie’s wispy hair out of her eyes.
Zaylie’s chin quivered. “But Aunt Claire, the babies need me.”
Lord, let the snow melt fast, Claire sent up a silent prayer. Every day that we stay will just make it harder for her to leave.
Chapter Five
Levi heard Cade’s deep voice, patient and reassuring, through the bathroom door the next morning. Even though comforting a sick and cranky wife couldn’t be fun, Levi envied him. A wife who adored him, a new baby on the way—Cade had it all.
Levi continued on to the kitchen, poured himself a cup of coffee, and stared out the kitchen window. What did he have to offer a woman? He didn’t have a square foot of land that belonged to him or even a house. He had a good job and a few dollars in his savings account, but…
“Dammit!” he swore under his breath, and then a movement caught his attention.
The old work truck, once a shiny orange and now faded with age, was coming to a stop right outside the
gate. He couldn’t take his eyes off Claire and Zaylie as they made their way to the house with Beau right behind them. Had she felt that little spark the day before when they’d locked eyes? Was it too soon to even feel like that?
She was downright cute in that old coat hanging down to her knees and rolled up at the sleeves, and a ponytail swinging back and forth with each step. He waited until they were on the porch before he left the window and filled a mug of coffee for her. When she had hung up her coat and Zaylie’s, he handed it to her.
“Something to warm the hands,” he said.
“Thank you.” She smiled. “Bad morning for Retta?”
“Oh yeah. What can I do to help with breakfast?” Levi asked.
“No, I can take care of it. We’ll have bacon, eggs, biscuits, and pancakes this morning. I’m pretty organized, so I’ll have it ready in less than thirty minutes,” she said.
He got out a skillet and set it on the stove. “I can fry bacon while you do biscuits and pancakes.”
“I really don’t need…” she started.
“I want to help,” Levi said. “We’re grateful that you are here for Retta. We’re all so excited that we’re going to have a baby on the ranch, but we feel so sorry for what she’s having to go through right now.”
“Baby? Who’s getting a baby?” Zaylie slapped hands on her cheeks. “Aunt Claire, are you havin’ a baby for me? I want a sister and we can name her Cinderella and she can play with the kittens with me…” She stopped to suck in more air.
Claire took advantage of the timing and said, “Retta is going to have a baby, but I don’t think she’s going to name her Cinderella.”
Zaylie picked up the biscuit cutter and pushed it down in the dough. “We’ll just see about that.”
Levi chuckled. “I bet she’s heard that from you and in that tone, right?”
“More than once.” Claire nodded.
“Mavis and Skip said that pretty often when I was a kid.” He laid several strips of bacon in the frying pan.
“So how old were you when they adopted you?” she asked.
“Somewhere around three. I don’t remember much about my mother, other than the pretty lady who came to see me on Christmas a few times. She was more like a distant cousin than a mom,” he said.
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