Daughter on His Doorstep

by Janis Reams Hudson

  “Okay,” Carrie said.

  “Mama?” This time it was Amy, and she wasn’t grinning now.

  “What, baby?”

  “Is it okay to still love Daddy, even if he doesn’t always tell the truth?”

  “Oh, baby.” Laurie pulled both girls to her chest, to her heart, and held them close. “You can always love your daddy, no matter what. He’s your daddy, and that’s what little girls do with daddies, they love them. It doesn’t matter what they do, it’s still okay. Okay?”

  Both girls wiggled out of her arms and flopped down on the bed.

  “Okay.” Amy’s grin was back.

  Laurie made it all the way to the door again.

  “Mama?”

  Laurie bit back a grin. “What, Amy?”

  “Is it okay if we love Mr. Trey?”

  “Oh, sweethearts.” She lowered herself to the edge of the bed again. “You can love anybody you want. Of course you can love Mr. Trey and Katy and—”

  “And Soldier, too?”

  “And Soldier, too.”

  “We won’t run out if we love too many people?”

  “Run out of love?” Laurie smiled. “No, you’ll never run out of love. The truth is, you can’t really decide who you’re going to love or why. It just happens. One day, you just feel it.”

  Carrie tilted her head and studied her mother. “Can you make it stop?”

  “You mean can you decide to stop loving someone?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I don’t think it works that way. It can stop on its own, without you even realizing it, but you can’t just decide you’re not going to love someone. That won’t stop the feelings inside you.”

  “Is that what happened to you and Daddy? The love just stopped?”

  “I’m afraid so, honey. It wasn’t something either one of us made happen.” Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Laurie might not have been able to stop herself from loving Jimmy, but his actions could make the feelings dry up quickly enough. He could make her stop loving him. Could and did.

  “Oh.” Carrie might have said more, but a big yawn stopped her.

  “I’m going to turn out the light now,” Laurie said, rising from the bed. “You two go to sleep.”

  “Okay,” Carrie said. “G’night, Mama.”

  “Good night, honey.”

  “G’night, Mama,” Amy echoed.

  “Good night, baby.”

  “Mama?”

  “What, Amy?”

  “I’m not a baby anymore, you know.”

  Laurie smiled and turned out the light. “I know. But don’t be mad if I still call you that, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  When Laurie finished cleaning up the bathroom—a disaster area after the girls’ bath—she heard Katy fussing and went to check on her. Trey was already there.

  “Does she need changing?” Laurie asked.

  “No, I think she just needs holding. I think she got a little spoiled today.”

  “Do you want me to take her?” Laurie asked.

  “No, thanks, I’ve got her.” And so saying, he lifted Katy into his arms. “Listen, Laurie, about earlier.”

  “Let it go, Trey.”

  “No, I owe you an apology.”

  “For what?” she asked. “For coming on to me again?”

  “My timing could have been better.”

  “Or you could have not done it at all,” she suggested.

  “No.” He soothed a hand over Katy’s back. “I guess I can’t help that, but I should have backed off the first time you said to.”

  “Yes,” she told him, turning to leave the nursery. “You should have.”

  Distance, Laurie decided as she lay in bed that night unable to sleep. Distance was the key. If she could keep enough distance—emotional as well as physical—between herself and Trey, they could get through these last three weeks without doing something that she, if not both of them, might regret.

  It’s not the things you do in life that you grow to regret, it’s the things you don’t do.

  “Oh, shut up,” she muttered to that smug voice in the back of her head.

  The next morning Laurie served Trey his breakfast, then headed out of the kitchen.

  “You’re not eating?” he asked, noting the single place setting at the table, as well as her hasty exit.

  “I’m eating with the girls today. Excuse me. I want to get the first load of laundry started.”

  Trey bit the inside of his jaw as she fled down the hall. He must have blown it worse than he’d thought last night for her to be so blatantly obvious about avoiding him.

  Dammit, he had to find a way to make it up to her. Above all else, he valued her friendship and didn’t want to lose that just because he had a bad case of the hots for her.

  Laurie stopped in the middle of the hall. This was the day she wanted to wash all the bedding, but she somehow could not make herself walk into Trey’s bedroom and stand over his bed, touch his sheets, while he was just down the hall. It suddenly seemed too intimate an act. Which was ridiculous, she knew, but there it was, the idea of bed sheets and intimacy, and there was no getting it out of her head.

  “Idiot,” she called herself as she turned and entered her own bedroom. There she had no trouble stripping the bed. If she was a little rougher than necessary, well, no one was watching, were they?

  Lord, she needed to get her head on straight. And she needed to make a trip to town to the grocery store that afternoon, too. She would wait until after lunch. That way, if she was gone longer than she planned, no harm done. Serving her employer a late supper would not inconvenience him the way a late lunch might.

  She had to pass through the kitchen to get to the laundry room with the first load of sheets, but Trey was at the sink rinsing his dishes, so she wasn’t sure if he even knew she was there. She was back in her room putting clean sheets on the bed when she heard the backdoor. It didn’t exactly slam, but it certainly shut firmly.

  Laurie sniffed. What did he have to be mad about? She was the one being pressured, wasn’t she?

  But the truth was, the only person really pressuring her was herself.

  The admission was an eye opener. Was she pressuring herself to say no when she wanted to say yes?

  “Idiot.”

  “Who you talking to, Mama?”

  At the sound of Amy’s voice from the doorway, Laurie stifled a shriek. Her heart knocked hard against her ribs. “Baby, what are you doing up this early?” It wasn’t quite seven, and the girls never woke before eight on their own.

  “My wrist hurts.” She held up the offending part and cradled it in her other hand. “I musta bumped it in my sleep.”

  “Oh, poor baby. Come on, let’s put your bandage back on and give you some aspirin. Will that help?”

  Groggy and still half asleep, Amy nodded.

  “We have to go to town today for groceries. While we’re there we’ll stop by the hospital and have the doctor look at it, okay?”

  “If we have to.”

  Getting through lunch with Trey was easier than Laurie had feared. Easier because the girls kept him occupied with their endless questions and chatter.

  Trey was so patient with them. He seemed to genuinely enjoy their company. He listened to them, paid attention to them, answered their questions in a way that they could understand, and never talked down to them.

  Their own father had never been half so good with them. And maybe Trey wouldn’t be either after the newness wore off, but she doubted it. She’d seen the way he interacted with his family. He was a family man. He should have a dozen children of his own. Katy was one lucky little girl to have him for a daddy.

  There you go again, singing his praises.

  “I know, I know,” she muttered. “Girls,” she called. “Are you ready? It’s time to go.”

  “I’m tying my shoes,” Amy called from the girls’ room.

  Laurie double checked to make sure she had everything she might need for Katy, the
n carried the diaper bag out and put it in the back of the Blazer.

  Soon the girls were ready. A few minutes later, with Katy strapped in between Carrie and Amy in the back seat, they were off on their way to town.

  “Do we get a treat when we get to town?” Amy asked.

  “What kind of treat?”

  “Ohhhh, like an ice cream cone or a Popsicle or a candy bar or something. We’re supposed to get a treat.”

  “Says who?” Laurie asked. This was all news to her.

  “Clay says they always get a treat when they go to town.”

  “Clay, huh?”

  “Uh-huh. He’s the middle brother. He’s six. His daddy’s name is Ace, like in a deck of cards. He helped me ride their dog.”

  “You rode their dog?” Well, Laurie thought, the animal had certainly been big enough to ride.

  “Uh-huh. Didn’t you see us?”

  “I must have missed that.”

  “Amy likes Clay,” Carrie said.

  “She does, does she?”

  “Of course I do,” Amy said defensively. “’Cause he’s nice. You like Jason.”

  “Do not.”

  “Do, too.”

  “Do—”

  “Girls.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Trey was out on the tractor, in the cornfield about two miles west of the house, and his concentration was shot. Primarily because his conscience was about to eat him alive. It didn’t help any that it was hotter than blazes and a strong south wind was about to blow him to Kingdom Come. If he wasn’t careful, instead of cultivating the crop, he’d end up plowing half of it under.

  The left front tire was a little low, so he would drive back to the house and air it up. While he was there he would tell Laurie that he was backing off for good. That she didn’t need to feel threatened or pressured by him.

  All the way back to the tractor shed and the air compressor, he tried to think of just the right words that might put Laurie at ease and bring back that sweet smile he’d sorely missed this morning.

  Behind and around him the wind blew swirls of dust into the air. Now and then, because he was driving so slowly, a gritty cloud overtook him.

  What good was getting her in bed for probably one time, if he never saw that smile again? Would it be worth it?

  No. The short-term pleasure was no exchange for the long-term loss.

  And that was merely his view on things. What must she be thinking?

  She’s probably not thinking about you at all, pard.

  And if that was true, it might just kill him.

  He was forced to focus on his driving, as the front tire was getting lower, the tractor harder to steer.

  Finally he pulled up in front of the tractor shed and cut the engine. The sudden quiet was deafening. And short-lived, when, a moment later, he stepped into the shed and flipped the switch on the air compressor.

  He started to go on to the house to talk to Laurie while the tank filled but changed his mind. He didn’t want to worry about the damn tire while he was talking to her.

  He examined the tire and gave thanks that there didn’t appear to be any damage. It had always had a slow leak. He should have checked it before heading out after lunch. Next week, he swore, he would take it into town—again. If they couldn’t fix it this time he’d have to replace it.

  When the compressor shut off, indicating its tank was filled, he aired up the tire.

  Then, with his mind made up, he headed for the side door of the house.

  It was locked. That was odd. It was never locked during the day. Maybe, being from the city, Laurie had locked it and lain down with the girls for a nap. If so, he decided, retrieving the spare key from above the porch light, he wouldn’t wake her. It somehow didn’t seem prudent to wake a woman just so he could apologize.

  He took off his hat and tried to beat the worst of the dust off himself. Peering at the sky, he wondered if this was just a big wind or if a storm was heading in. So far there were no clouds, but that didn’t mean anything. Neither did the fact that it was the wrong time of year for a thunderstorm. They came when they were damn good and ready. Storms couldn’t read a calendar and didn’t care about inconveniencing anybody.

  He pushed the door to the kitchen open and, on a gust of wind, stepped inside. The crackle of paper fluttering—the girls’ drawings stuck to the front of the fridge—and the low hum of the refrigerator were the only sounds. All else was quiet.

  Yeah, they must be napping. He would just peek in on Katy, then let himself back out.

  But Katy wasn’t in her crib. Nor were Carrie and Amy in their room. Laurie’s room, when he looked there, was also empty.

  Trey’s heart thumped in his chest. They were gone? Without a word?

  He’d pushed her too hard. She’d been upset, maybe even angry.

  Angry enough to walk out and go home to Utah?

  Please, God, no. But for one startling moment that seemed to last an eternity, his house, his home, felt like the emptiest place on earth.

  “Calm down,” he muttered. “She wouldn’t just leave.”

  Of course she wouldn’t. She’d probably taken the girls over to headquarters to visit Donna. All he had to do was call—and act like he was checking up on her?

  His boot heels made a hollow echo on the kitchen floor. Almost as hollow as the sound of his own heart.

  He was reaching for the phone when something white on the floor caught his eye.

  It was a note: “Gone to town for groceries. Supper as soon as we get back. Laurie.”

  The small piece of paper must have blown off the table or counter when he opened the door.

  He felt like a fool. To town for groceries. Not home to Utah. She hadn’t run out on him. He should have known better than that. He shouldn’t have assumed the worst. But dammit, she meant something to him. Just what, he wasn’t sure, and wasn’t sure he wanted the complete and honest answer.

  At any rate, his apology would have to wait until later. He placed the note on the table and let himself out the side door, the way he’d come in.

  The wind had shifted while he’d been in the house. Now instead of gusting out of the south, it came from the west, sweeping down off the mountains, and it was cooler. Not cool enough to suit Trey, but he figured that would come in the next couple of hours. A few clouds were gathering along the peaks of the Wyomings.

  Might get some rain before the day was out, he thought. He’d better finish cultivating the corn.

  While Trey was driving the tractor back out to the field, Laurie was at the grocery store in Hope Springs getting an earful of the youthful escapades of her employer.

  “Oh, yes, he was quite the character, your Trey was.” Mrs. Biddle smiled and shook her head. “Still is, from time to time, but at least he hasn’t called lately to ask if we’ve got Cap’n Crunch in a box.”

  Laurie mashed her lips together. “He didn’t.”

  “Oh, he surely did.”

  “Do you?” Amy wanted to know. “Do you have Cap’n Crunch in a box?”

  “Well, we’re a grocery. Of course we do.”

  “Then you better let him out…” Amy began with a giggle.

  “…or he’ll suffocate in there,” Mrs. Biddle finished for her. “Lord, help us, she’s just like him.”

  Amy giggled again. Carrie rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hold back a laugh.

  “Hear that, Katy?” Laurie said to the baby strapped to her chest. “Mrs. Biddle says Amy’s just like your daddy.”

  “Then there was the time he left a trail of croutons all over the store,” Mrs. Biddle said.

  “Croutons?” Laurie blinked, fascinated by this new and different look at Trey.

  “Why, of course,” Mrs. Biddle said. “No ordinary breadcrumbs for that Wilder, no sirree Bob.”

  “Since you’re telling the tale, I assume he got caught?”

  “Lord a’mercy, yes. Henry—that’s Mr. Biddle, my husband—nabbed him by the scruff of his neck right ther
e in front of the canned goods. Those croutons—seasoned, as I recall—trailed from the bread aisle where he got them, on down to dairy, over to the soda pop cooler, past the meat counter and up the cookie aisle. When Henry said, ‘Boy, what in Sam Hill do you think you’re doing?’ young Trey—he must have been about ten then, ’cause it was a couple of years before their folks got killed in that car wreck on the way back from Jackson Hole. Anyway, he says, ‘Heck, Mr. Biddle, this place is so cotton-pickin’ big, how else is a fella supposed to find his way back out again?’”

  “Your daddy was a pistol,” Laurie said to Katy.

  Katy was more interested in gumming her fist than in the exploits of her somewhat infamous father.

  “I assume your husband made him pay for the croutons,” Laurie said when she stopped laughing.

  “Oh, yes, indeedy. Then he made that boy call his daddy on the phone and tell him what he’d done. I don’t imagine the poor kid sat down for a month of Sundays after that. King Wilder, God rest his soul, wasn’t known for his leniency or compassion where those boys of his were concerned.”

  Carrie’s eyes bugged. “Mr. Trey got a spanking?”

  “Well, now, young lady, I don’t know for sure, but that’s my guess. But he wasn’t a mister back then. He wasn’t much older than you.”

  Laurie wondered if the girls’ hero had just been knocked off his pedestal.

  “I bet nobody would try to spank him now,” Amy said stoutly.

  Ah, Laurie thought. He was still Amy’s champion, after all.

  “No,” Mrs. Biddle allowed. “Nobody would try to spank him now.”

  “Who’s been getting spanked?”

  “Sheriff.” Laurie smiled at Dane Powell.

  “Mr. Trey, Sheriff.” Amy looked up and up until her gaze reached Dane’s face. “We think his daddy spanked him when he was little.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Dane said with a wink. “Are you ladies about finished with your shopping?”

  “Just about.” Laurie had the feeling he was asking for a reason. “Why?”

  “The sky’s getting dark out there. Looks like it could storm, and you’ve got a long drive home.”