“You must be Nathan,” Simone said to the older boy.
He nodded and said, “Tucker’s rude.”
Simone ignored that and held out the book, which was small enough to fit comfortably in the palm of her hand. “Miss Hypatia sent this to you. She said to tell you that it’s very old and for you to read the inscription inside.”
The boy stepped down off the small covered stoop and took the book from her. Opening it carefully, he thumbed through the first few pages. He smiled up at Phillip then.
“This was Doc Doc’s.”
Phillip clapped the boy on the shoulder, nodding, before saying to Simone, “That’s my father. His name is Murdock, Doc for short, and he’s a doctor, so the kids call him Doc Doc.”
“I’ll tell Mom they’re here,” Nathan said, folding the book closed and disappearing back into the house.
“Dad and Nathan are very fond of each other,” Phillip said to Morgan. “Who’d a thunk it, right?”
Morgan chuckled. “What I want to know is what that is attached to your chest.”
Phillip jiggled the wriggling, cooing bundle in his arms. “You don’t know a cousin when you see one? This is Marie Ella. We’re babysitting Asher’s little girl. I think my big brother’s trying to give me ideas, like we don’t have enough rug rats running around here.”
“Asher is the attorney, yes?” Simone asked, trying not to stare covetously at the baby.
“Asher is the attorney, yes,” Phillip said, backing out of the doorway and motioning for them to enter.
“He’s helping a friend of mine,” Simone said as they stepped up into a small entry that was really nothing more than a space set apart by a short wall.
“That’s our Ash,” Phillip noted, leading them into an enormous great room tiled with gleaming vanilla ceramic. A large living area furnished with a comfy sectional sofa and numerous chairs gave way to a lovely wrought-iron dining set that stood before a massive fireplace, behind which sprawled the kitchen. The whole of it was bookended by window seats in the living area and an entire wall of glass in the kitchen, overlooking a gorgeous pool and backyard.
“It’s stunning,” Simone said.
“We like it,” Phillip told her proudly.
He covered Marie Ella’s ear with an enormous hand and pressed her little head to his chest. She didn’t like it much, but he didn’t burst her eardrums when he shouted, “Honey!”
Carissa came out of a hallway on the left, straightening the hem of a top she had obviously just pulled over her head. “I’m coming. I’m coming.”
“I think she’s tried on every blouse she owns today,” Phillip divulged.
“I have not!” Carissa snapped. “Only maybe half of them.”
“You look beautiful,” Simone said sincerely.
“She’s a knockout,” Phillip bragged.
“Oh, you.” She reached up and plucked the baby out of his arms, but as she did so, she turned her face up, and he kissed her soundly, lingering at it as long as she would let him.
Grace suddenly pirouetted through the room, giggling. “They kiss all the time!”
“Hush up,” Nathan ordered, popping up from the couch, his nose stuck in the book.
“Only if you’ll play ballerina with me.”
“Okay, come around here and dance for me. I’ll be your audience.”
As Grace began to sing and dance her way around the sectional sofa, Carissa happened to glance through the front window.
“Phillip!” she exclaimed. “What is that child doing?”
“Tucker? Oh, he’s just digging a hole to plant a tree.”
“It’s not a tree,” Nathan argued. “It’s a pinecone.”
“He’ll ruin the grass,” Carissa complained over Grace’s singing.
“I’m going to resod in the spring anyway,” was Phillip’s laconic reply.
Grace hit a high note, twirled and bowed. “Now the song’s about rainbows,” she announced, launching into another aria.
Carissa rolled her eyes, shifted the baby onto her hip and waved at Simone, saying, “Let’s go into the kitchen. Phillip, try to corral the kids, will you?”
“Sure, honey.”
Simone glanced at Morgan, who looked a bit shell-shocked, and followed her sister. Carissa pointed to a tall stool at a gleaming granite counter. “Sit there.” She then promptly handed over the baby.
Just like that, Simone found herself ensconced in her sister’s kitchen with the sweet little bundle in her lap and a lump in her throat. She was an adorable baby, all soft and pudgy, with dark curly hair and big dark eyes. Cooing and laughing, she waved her arms and kicked her tiny feet, perfectly content.
“Hello,” Simone said, wondering if this was how it was to be, trying not to fall in love with every baby she met for the rest of her life. “How old is she?”
“About six months,” Carissa said, checking something in the oven. “I hope you’re hungry. You’re too thin, you know.”
“Yes, I know.”
“The cancer?”
“Partly,” Simone answered. “Partly depression, I think.” How surprisingly easy it was to confide in her sister. After all this time, even with all the resentments and distance, she was still just Carissa.
“Over Dad?”
“That’s some of it.”
“Your marriage?”
“Not really. We weren’t together very long before the cancer hit.”
Carissa reached into the stainless steel refrigerator for a salad. “That’s what ended it?”
Simone nodded. “Serious illness does strange things to people, makes them or breaks them. It broke us apart, and in some ways it broke me. In other ways, it made me.”
“That makes a kind of sense,” Carissa said. “More than you not letting us know you were here.”
“Carissa,” Simone began, but her sister lifted a hand.
“I don’t want to talk about that. Whatever crazy notions you have in your head about that, you can just get over them. But you’re going to have to let Mom know, Lyla.”
Simone winced at the old name, but she wouldn’t state a preference, and she wouldn’t argue about letting Alexandra know she was in town, though she’d been hoping for a few more days’ reprieve, at least.
“Whatever you think best.”
“I’ll set something up for one evening this week, then,” Carissa told her.
Simone nodded glumly.
“She’s probably going to want to come here,” Carissa said, grimacing, “though I’d rather she didn’t. That’s awful, I know, but you remember how she is. She comes in and picks apart everything in the place. I always want to move and forget to leave a forwarding address after she’s been here.”
“Hasn’t changed much, then, I take it,” Simone murmured.
“She has, actually,” Carissa said, narrowing her eyes accusingly. “She’s gotten worse, and I expect you to bear the brunt from now on.”
“I suppose I deserve that,” Simone muttered.
“You certainly do. Still, a neutral meeting place would be best the first time out,” Carissa mused, “and I doubt we could get her back to Chatam House even if the aunties would be kind enough to agree. They didn’t exactly hit it off.”
“What about the mission where I work part-time?” Simone wondered. “I think Pastor Hub might agree.”
Carissa brightened. “Uncle Hubner is a sweetie. I’m sure we can work something out with him.”
Just then, Marie Ella let loose with a loud, foul-smelling grunt.
Carissa and Simone in unison cried, “Ew!”
“She is no lady when it comes to filling her diapers,” Carissa exclaimed, waving a hand in front of her face. “Get her out of the kitchen, would you?”
Simone hopped down off the stool and carried the now grimacing baby draped over one arm into the living area. The men, who were seated at the dining table, both jumped up and fled as she approached.
“Yow! What is that?” Morgan demanded.
“That’s Marie Ella,” Phillip said. “She’s a stinker. A sweetheart, but a stinker.”
Not knowing what else to do, Simone carried the baby toward him. Surely he had dealt with this before.
“Oh, no,” he said, jumping out of the way. “Everything you need is right down that hall.” He pointed, adding, “Last door at the end.”
“But—”
He craned his head, looking toward the front windows. “That kid’s digging a hole big enough to bury himself. I better go supervise.” Nathan and Grace, both holding their noses, were already out the door.
“I’ll help,” Morgan volunteered, following quickly after him.
“Morgan!”
He hesitated long enough to shake his head. “I’m the old bachelor here. Remember?”
Before he pulled the door closed, Phillip had the temerity to wink at her and chortle, “Welcome home, Lyla Simone.”
“Oh!” She heaved a great sigh and held Marie Ella out at arm’s length, muttering, “Where’s a clothespin when you need one?”
Suddenly the little one screwed up her face and howled, no happier with her situation than anyone else apparently.
Ten minutes later, having found the right room and all the necessary accoutrements, including disposable plastic gloves—Marie Ella obviously having been a frequent visitor—the offending mass and odor had been disposed of, and a clean, happy baby had once again charmed Simone with her winsome, toothless smile. Carissa came in.
“Dinner’s ready. I have Phillip and Morgan setting the table.”
“Serves them right, abandoning me on the field of battle.”
Carissa grinned. “Well, you know how it is. Phillip is great with the kids, but even he has his limits, and I don’t imagine Morgan has had much experience.”
“Neither have I,” Simone complained, and then, quite without meaning to, she blurted, “and I probably never will.”
“Sure you will,” Carissa said dismissively. “You always think it’ll never happen to you, but you’ll be having babies before you know it.”
Simone burst into tears before she even knew it was going to happen.
“Lyla!” Carissa dropped down next to her. “What’s this?”
Simone gasped out what the cancer had taken from her, desperately needing to say it when before she hadn’t wanted to talk about it at all except with Morgan. She’d only told Rina to try to help her see what a gift her baby was.
“Oh, honey,” Carissa crooned, gathering her close. “I’m so sorry, so very sorry.”
It was such a comfort, more comfort than any other words or any other hug. “Thank you.”
“I had no idea.”
“I know. I know. I didn’t mean to spill it like that, but suddenly I just had to tell you.”
“Of course you did. But it’s not the end of the world. You can always adopt.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. There can be so many problems with that. I just don’t know.”
“Hey,” Carissa told her, “you never know what God’s got in the works. Look at me. Virtually unmarriageable one day and the next...”
Simone snorted, but Carissa insisted.
“No, really. Who wants a poor-as-a-church-mouse widow with three kids? Next thing I know, that hunk out there has roped me into developing reality apps and LOVE in capital letters. He’s the most laid-back man on the face of the earth, too, and he has to be, to put up with my three terrors. It’s a crisis an hour around here, and he thrives on it. God made him just for me, Lyla. I believe it heart and soul. He’s got a plan for you, too.”
They sat together, holding each other close, until Simone looked up and saw Phillip standing quietly in the doorway, a patient smile on his ruggedly handsome face. Simone realized suddenly that the children were screaming at the tops of their lungs and poor Morgan was probably pulling his hair out.
She sat up straight, dried her eyes and declared, “I’m starving.”
Carissa gave a watery chuckle and plucked Marie Ella off the bed. Turning and rising in one swift motion, she thrust the baby into Phillip’s hands, proving that she’d known he was there all along.
“Here, macho man. Take care of this.”
As Carissa slipped around him, he winked at Simone and tipped the baby over his shoulder. She erupted in giggles.
It was a delightful sound. Simone felt lighter than she had in days. Not even the upcoming meeting with her mother could cloud this moment.
She had lost much, cost herself much, but she had a sister again and faith that God had a plan for her.
She could only hope and pray that the plan included Morgan.
Chapter Thirteen
“I wasn’t this tired after the amusement park,” Morgan admitted, walking Simone up onto the porch of Chatam House about a quarter of four on Sunday afternoon. “I don’t know how Phillip does it. He actually seems to thrive on the chaos.”
“I think he’s the biggest kid in the family,” Simone said.
“Maybe that’s why he’s so good with them,” Morgan mused. “Did you see the way he handled the baby? I’d never have pegged Phillip for a nursemaid.”
“She’s a very sweet, easy baby,” Simone pointed out dreamily.
“Especially considering that she’s half skunk,” Morgan muttered.
Simone spluttered with laughter. “She is rather pungent at times.”
“Every time, according to Phillip. Apparently she’s become a family legend.”
“Poor darling,” Simone giggled. “What awful stories they’re going to embarrass her with when she’s older.”
“The tale is bound to be lost in the heaps of Chatam progeny to come,” Morgan said thoughtlessly. “Kaylie’s already expecting, and I hear my baby brother, Chandler, is feeling some pressure to add to his herd. Then there’s Petra and Dale, Phillip’s older sister and her husband. Also, I’m told that my Leland cousin Reeves and his wife have been trying for some time.”
Simone looked positively stricken. He wanted to cut out his tongue. After an awkward moment, she changed the subject with an endearing determination. “You’re kin to Brooks?”
Morgan’s mood went from wretched to brutal in a snap. He worked hard to keep the snarl out of his voice. “Brooks didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
“We’re only related by marriage, if that. His uncle Thomas was married to my aunt Dorinda, the youngest sister of Hub, Hypatia, Magnolia, Odelia and Murdock, in that order. Anyway, Dorinda and Thomas divorced years and years ago. She remarried and moved to California. Thomas and wife number three, I think, are still around. It’s really more that Brooks and I have common relatives. My cousin Reeves is also his cousin. That’s all there is to it.” Morgan told himself to be glad that she’d reminded him why he should be keeping his distance from her. It was too easy to forget.
“I see.” To his chagrin, she walked over to one of the wrought-iron chairs beside the front door and sat down, saying, “You never asked me about my dinner with Brooks.”
“No, and I don’t intend to,” he stated firmly.
“That’s too bad,” she said, “because I’m going to tell you about it anyway.” She patted the chair next to her.
“Look, Simone,” he began, but she fixed him with a steely stare and ordered him to sit down. Feeling it would be churlish, if not downright cowardly, to do anything else, he sat, sliding well back in the chair and crossing his legs.
“First of all,” she said, “I’m not the least bit interested in Brooks Leland.”
Morgan trie
d not to let loose a smile at that. The thing squirmed around on his lips for a while before he got a firm hold on it, but he managed. Saying what he needed to say was more difficult, but he managed that, too.
“You should be. Brooks is a fine man. And a doctor.” Duh. “He’s...closer to your age.”
“Oh, please.”
“He is. A few years.”
“Yes, yes, you’re quite right,” she agreed. “He’s also intelligent and caring and handsome.”
Well, that was more than Morgan wanted to hear.
“Yeah, he’s a paragon. The point is—”
“The point is I’m already interested in someone else. More than interested, really.”
Morgan’s heart thunked hopefully. Him. She had to mean him. Didn’t she?
No, of course she didn’t. Men were probably lined up around the block just waiting for a chance at this woman—younger men, without restrictions and emotional baggage the size of V-8 engines.
“That’s great,” he said, trying to sound as though he meant it. He clapped his hands to the narrow arms of the metal chair and prepared to rise. “I’m happy for you.”
“You should be,” she said, putting a hand in the center of his chest and pushing him back down. “You really are the dumbest smart man alive, aren’t you?”
He glowered as the full meaning of what she’d said settled in. “That’s one of Brooks’s pet sayings. You two were discussing me, weren’t you?”
“Don’t change the subject,” she snapped. “When I’m shamelessly throwing myself at you, the least you can do is make a halfhearted attempt to catch me.”
Stunned, he bleated, “Whaat?”
“You heard me,” she retorted petulantly.
And that’s when she kissed him. Again.
And that’s when he kissed her back. Again.
But honestly, what was a man supposed to do when a woman, the woman he hadn’t been able to get out of his head for more than ten seconds running in weeks, was right there, pressing her sweet lips against his, smelling like a garden and tasting like ambrosia—not that too-salty chicken casserole they’d had for Sunday dinner—and twining her arms about his neck? How could he not palm the back of her head and slide his arm about her shoulders to draw her close? What was so wrong about just floating for a minute or two—or five—in the misty cloud of elation that her kiss brought him?
Love Inspired June 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Single Dad CowboyThe Bachelor Meets His MatchUnexpected Reunion Page 35