Make Me a Mommy: A Mother's Day Secret Baby Romance

by Liz K. Lorde

  “Better I do it here and now. Too far to go,” I grumble.

  With a deep inhale, I let my fingers gently glide over the injured leg. There’s a gash, some scrapes, and a break. I know I’ll be able to look after it.

  “I—” Margot starts and stops.

  “I’ll be back,” I say firmly, not taking the bait of further discussion on the matter. “Make sure you keep her very quiet,” I add before I leave the room.

  The words seem superfluous. Where’s she going to go? But we say silly things in stressful situations.

  “Where are you going?”

  I may be imagining this, but Margot’s voice seems to carry panic in it.

  “Just to get some things to put on the leg.”

  Her eyes follow every move I make. It’s tempting to remind her she left me and not the other way round. Of course, this is not the time and place.

  Amelia needs both of us right now to focus on her. She’s not seriously injured, but the leg is bad enough that I need to make sure I give it my full and undivided attention.

  Gently and carefully, I apply a splint and bandage to the injury. I keep my eyes on the little girl clinging to her mother.

  It seems unfair that she’s only got eyes for her mum. She shouldn’t be ignoring me like this.

  It takes all my self-control to quash the little boy in me who wants to throw a tantrum and complain to his own mother. It’s silly, I know. The poor little girl has no idea she’s with her mother and father right now.

  “You’re a very brave little girl,” I tell Amelia and pat her on the shoulder.

  Her eyes peer at me from under mom’s arms. She’s wrapped into her mother so tight, I can barely work out where she starts and Margot ends.

  If only I could wrap my arms around both of them and tell them it’s going to be okay. Chances are Amelia would get even more frightened, and Margot might react badly, too.

  “Can I get you something?” I’m looking at Amelia, but the question is really directed at her mother.

  Margot shakes her head.

  “No,” she whispers. “I’m fine. Are you sure she’s okay? Shouldn’t I try and take her into town to get her proper medical treatment?”

  I suppress a laugh. It always amazes me how much faith people have in the medical profession, more so than any other type of profession.

  “She’s fine,” I reassure Margot. “I’ve done everything a doctor would do. The leg is splinted, and we won’t let her weight bear on it. I’ll disinfect some of the cuts and get ice for those bigger bruises.”

  When I return, they’re in exactly the same position as when I left them.

  “Here, you hold this here,” I hand Margot a packet of frozen peas.

  Amelia flinches slightly as her mother holds the cold packet onto her leg, where multiple bruises and swelling can be seen.

  “Now, what about you?” I ask quietly.

  Margot doesn’t look at me. She’s only got eyes for one person.

  “I’m fine,” she mumbles.

  I examine her best as I can from where I am. It appears as though she’s telling the truth. I can see some cuts, abrasions, and bruising, but nothing serious enough to warrant my attention right now.

  Silence descends on the room.

  Amelia is sobbing into her mother’s arms, and her mother is simply stroking her hair making a shhh kind of sound into her ear.

  Suddenly, I feel like an intruder, the third wheel on the wagon. I shouldn’t be here. What the fuck am I doing in the same room as these two?

  Without another word, I practically flee.

  I’m breathing hard and fast. I make it into the kitchen where I bend over the sink, half-feeling as if I might throw up.

  What was she doing here? Why had she picked this spot to come to? What if I hadn’t come along when I had?

  Those and about a hundred other questions are bouncing around my head. I don’t have fucking answers to any of them. Each question leads to another question and another.

  I hit my forehead against the hard, wooden bench, as if knocking sense into myself.

  Margot.

  Who would have thought I’d see her again, after all these years?

  Beautiful, gorgeous, and sexy Margot.

  I close my eyes and see her before me. Thinking of her has a fire burn brightly inside of me.

  I want her. I need her.

  Taking a deep breath, I shake my head and make my way to the shower. I’ll need to take a long, cold shower to get myself back under control.

  And when I come out again, I’ll…

  I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do.

  One thing is for sure: I’ll need to get my shit together before I face Margot and Amelia again.

  Margot

  I feel like standing up and running after him, but I stay where I am. With my little girl still sobbing, I can’t do what I want to do.

  Becoming a parent is about sacrifices. Gone are the days when I could just do as I please. Now I’ve got to mind my daughter.

  I’m not complaining, not at all. Except right now, it’s hard not to run after Boone.

  I sigh and lean my head back against the couch.

  My gaze roams the room.

  It’s not a huge living room compared to the one in our family mansion. But it looks more lived in. There are photographs on the wall and books in a shelf. It has a warm and homey kind of feel to it.

  Why was Boone here? Was this his weekender?

  I take my hand off Amelia’s leg and rub my eyes. Tears are welling up in them. I can’t afford to cry. If I do, my little girl will see and ask questions.

  Which is the last thing I need right now.

  “Mommy.”

  I look down and stroke her blonde hair.

  “Yes, darling?” I try to sound as cheerful as I can muster right now. Crying, yelling, or screaming will have to wait till later.

  “I’m sorry, Mommy.” She looks at me with those big brown eyes; eyes like a teddy bear’s.

  “What for, sweetie?” Her words bring more tears to the surface, and I bite my bottom lip.

  “You said to stay away from the edge. And I didn’t.” She sobs harder.

  “Hey, sweetie.” I wrap my arms around her and cradle her, the way I used to when she was a little baby. “You have nothing to be sorry for. And you’ll be fine.”

  For a few minutes, we sit in silence.

  When she was a baby, she did not like being put down. I had to carry her everywhere. She was happiest when I held her. It made life tough, but it was definitely worth it.

  I can’t imagine life without her now.

  When I’d seen her go tumbling down the mountain, my heart had leaped into my throat and I had feared the worst.

  It’s hard to put into words how you feel as a parent when you see your child’s life in danger. Words just can’t describe the emotions accurately.

  “Mommy,” she pipes up again.

  “Yes, my little princess?”

  “The man who saved me. Who is he?”

  My heart skips a beat before it starts galloping madly in my chest. It’s so loud, I fear Amelia might hear. I swallow hard and take a deep breath before I answer.

  “Looks like he lives here, darling. He’s one of those kind people who came by at the right time.”

  With bated breath, I wait for the next question. Luckily it doesn’t come.

  “He seems nice,” she mumbles, and snuggles deeper into me.

  I let out the breath I’d been holding and mumble a silent thank you.

  Amelia loves to ask questions. Usually one question leads to another, and another, and another.

  Sometimes I have to tell her that if she asks me one more question, I might dissolve in a puddle of water on the floor.

  For a while, I watch her.

  Her chest rises and falls. Her breathing is regular and I wonder if she’s going to sleep. It’s been a huge ordeal for her.

  My mind is still trying to come to
terms with all that has happened.

  I swallow.

  Briefly, my thoughts stray to what might have happened if Boone hadn’t come to our rescue. I know they’re useless thoughts, but I can’t seem to be able to help it right now.

  Over and over, I see myself and Amelia getting crushed by rocks and debris. It’s not a pretty sight, and my chest feels as if it’s being squashed by a heavy weight. Sooner or later, I must get some time to myself and let it all out.

  On top of that, I’m now being riddled by guilt of not having told Boone about Amelia. Self-doubt creeps through me, and grabs hold like ivy does to old stone walls.

  He has a right to know. I should have told him. Maybe I should have stayed.

  It was one of the most difficult decisions of my life.

  Of course, it wasn’t really a decision I made of my own free will. It wasn’t a decision at all, more a reaction to a demand made by my father.

  Family.

  My thoughts stray to my family and Boone’s. Sometimes I can’t believe I belong to my family. They’re all so different to me.

  Dad’s so protective of the family business and fortune. If I told him I wanted to be with Boone, he would have hit the roof.

  If I hadn’t left college and Boone voluntarily, I swear I think he would have had me kidnapped and forcefully removed.

  “Mommy,” Amelia’s voice rouses me out of my daydreaming.

  “Yes, sweetie?” I pick up a strand of her hair and let it run through my fingers.

  “I’m thirsty.”

  Crap.

  I look around.

  Boone stormed out a while ago and has not returned.

  “Can I have some water please?”

  With a nod of my head, I unpeel myself from Amelia and stand up.

  “I’ll see what I can find.” Before I walk away from her, I bend back over her little face and kiss the top of her nose.

  She’s still a little pale around the nose and eyes.

  “You okay?”

  She nods and smiles.

  “Still sore?”

  Another nod.

  “Well, let’s get you something to drink.”

  I walk to the other side of the room where I see an opening into what looks like the kitchen.

  To make sure Amelia doesn’t worry, I turn back to her.

  “I’ll just be going into the kitchen. If you get worried just call out to me, okay?”

  “I’ll be fine, Mommy.”

  She’s such an amazing little person, my Amelia. Tough, and loveable, and amazing.

  I look around as I walk into the kitchen.

  Of course, I can see the sink straight away, but I can’t bring my daughter water in my hands. I need to find a glass, or a mug.

  I start opening random drawers and cupboard doors.

  At first, I only find plates, bowls and pots and pans.

  Okay, so if I’m really desperate, I can use one of those for water.

  But it would be better to get a glass.

  Besides, my curiosity is aroused now, and I keep looking around.

  The pantry does not contain much. What is there seems to be home made.

  I see flour in a jar, honey in a glass, with a handwritten note on it. I pick it up and read that it was harvested last year.

  Wow.

  So, Boone, or someone, must harvest his or her own honey. Maybe he’d become a beekeeper.

  There’s smoked meat hanging off the roof, and I also spot a hunting knife and arrows.

  Curious place to keep your weapons, I decide, and keep searching.

  Everything is very neat and oozes manliness.

  Whilst I’m not sure I think Boone must be up here on his own. There’s nothing feminine about the kitchen. I can’t say what it is, but somehow the feminine touch is missing.

  My eyes wander.

  It’s a great kitchen.

  There’s a large window over by the sink with a view to the outside. Massive mountain peaks can be seen.

  Mesmerized by the view, I scream loudly when something heavy lands on my shoulders.

  It’s as if someone’s grabbing me roughly and trying to unbalance me.

  Quickly, I bring my hand to my mouth to muffle my own scream. I don’t want Amelia to hear.

  Amelia?

  Had someone broken into the cabin while Boone had gone out? Where was Boone anyway?

  My heart is racing so fast in my chest I fear I might pass out any second.

  I wait for the threat of a knife on my throat or the attacker to say something, but nothing.

  And then slowly, a face appears in front of me. I see two black eyes.

  So as not to collapse with my knees having turned to jelly, I reach for something to stabilize myself, and find the edge of the kitchen bench.

  “Mommy?” I hear Amelia call out. “Mommy, are you alright?”

  “I’m fine, darling,” I call back and turn my head to get a proper look at the creature who frightened the living daylights out of me.

  “How did you get in here?” I ask the raccoon sitting on my shoulder.

  All it does is twitch its nose.

  “What happened, Mommy?”

  Without a glass of water, I return to the living room.

  “Look what I found,” I say to Amelia and point at my new friend.

  I watch her eyes widen and then clap her hands together.

  “Can I pat it?”

  I shrug and walk back to where she’s sitting.

  “I think so.”

  As soon as I get near the couch, the raccoon jumps off my shoulder and leaps onto Amelia’s lap.

  My daughter squeals with delight and starts patting the little animal who instantly curls up in her lap.

  I, on the hand, am still recovering from the shock, and wish I could have a stiff drink.

  But there’s one more question that needs answering…where’s Boone?

  Boone

  The cabin door slams behind me with a furious whack.

  I stand on the porch for a brief moment, taking in a deep breath of the fresh mountain air in an attempt to calm my fucking nerves.

  It helps a little, but it’s not a cure to the raging emotions and thoughts coursing through me.

  I have to get away from the cabin and the woman encased inside.

  I forgot how intoxicating it is being near Margot.

  All the sexual attraction I had for her five years ago has returned so fast. Maybe I never lost it in the first place.

  Her enchanting eyes, luscious lips, and captivating curves all pull me in.

  I had to leave the cabin. If I didn’t, I was going to turn into a lust-crazed caveman and strip her right then and there. There’s a beast inside me that wants nothing more than to claim her body again, just like I did all those years ago.

  That sure as hell couldn’t happen with Amelia resting in her arms. Both of them are still recovering from the shock of surviving a rock slide.

  I’m the last thing Margot and Amelia need around them right now.

  I start walking away from the cabin toward the creek that runs alongside my cabin.

  The creek is a place I sometimes go to in order to clear my mind. But when the urge arises…well, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t enjoy doing a little fishing from time to time?

  Not a fuckin’ man at all, is what kind.

  Right now, I could use the distraction that catching fish brings.

  I don’t use a fishing rod though, when fishing. A line and reel doesn’t give the same feeling as using a little true grit and your own hands.

  Hand fishing is a lot more difficult than fishing with a rod, but I’ve gotten so damn good at it that it’s a walk in the park.

  Once at the creek, I chuck my boots and socks off, then roll my jeans up to my knees, exposing my rippling calves.

  I step into the water and feel it rush over my shins, trying to carry me away—but I’m rooted too firmly in place to be moved.

  The water is brisk. It fe
els fucking good on my bare skin.

  After a few minutes, I start to see a few fish swimming towards my legs as if I’m just another rock in the water they have to get around, on their journey down the creek.

  I focus in on one medium-sized fish and then strike.

  An explosion of water splashes around my arm as my hand goes into the water to grab the fish.

  Its tail slips through my hands, and it swims quickly out of reach along with the others.

  I stand there, waiting for the fish to come closer again.

  It’s not about getting it right on the first try.

  It’s about perseverance. Focus. Manning up and calibrating your body to adjust to your mistakes.

  I repeat the routine: focus, strike, miss, wait, and repeat.

  But after five failed attempts, even I can’t help but feel frustrated. Normally, I nail this on the second try.

  The issue is that my hand is shaking slightly, enough to throw me off so the fish slips through my hands.

  The situation with Margot and Amelia has me more shook up than I would like to ever admit.

  If I hadn’t been there, I would have lost Margot.

  I would have lost Amelia.

  Amelia, the sweet little angel…who is no doubt my daughter. I can see it in her eyes. She’s mine.

  With that thought, I suddenly find it hard to breathe.

  Jesus. What the hell is going on?

  My chest feels like it’s been hit by several large boulders.

  It’s hard to wrap my mind around the existence of Amelia.

  But the idea of losing her hits me even harder.

  All those years ago, I thought I left Margot behind. Really though, I left her and our daughter both.

  Today, I could have lost a daughter who I didn’t even know existed.

  Anger rises up in me.

  How could Margot not have told me?

  She should have contacted me when she found out she was pregnant after that one night.

  I had a right to know, dammit. Every man has a right to know.

  I wouldn’t have stopped her from having Amelia—on the contrary, I could have fucking helped.

  With money. The pregnancy. The birth.

  Changing fucking diapers and staying up for long, sleepless nights. Whatever she wanted. Anything my girls could have needed.

  It pisses me off that she didn’t tell me…but it pisses me off all the more that she felt like she had to do it all alone.