by Susan Meier
“That’s amazing.”
He shrugged, but his pinched expression told her he wasn’t so cavalier about it. “She’d said at the outset of our marriage that she didn’t want kids.” Finished gathering the cards, he rose. “Her getting pregnant was a surprise, but I thought we were ready. Turns out she wasn’t.”
Shannon sat in stunned silence. Rory’s wife had abandonedher daughter? Disbelief thundered through her, along with a sense of injustice. While she’d do anything, give anything, to be able to have a child, Finley’s mom had simply abandoned one?
How could a woman be so cruel?
CHAPTER THREE
R ORY NEATLY STACKEDthe cards on the table. “I need to check on her.”
“Okay. I’ll start lunch.”
As she had the night before, Shannon made soup and sandwiches. This time, she chose chicken soup—a soup with not even a red vegetable in it—and prepared a plate of cold cuts and some bread.
Finley walked into the kitchen in front of her dad, who had both hands on her little shoulders. Looking at the floor, she mumbled, “I’m sorry.”
Shannon’s heart ached for her, but she didn’t think it was appropriate to say, “Hey, it’s not your fault. Your mom’s a horrible woman who shouldn’t have left you.” So, instead, she said, “That’s okay. I didn’t make red soup today.”
Finley peeked at her. “You didn’t?”
“No. I made chicken noodle.”
“I like chicken noodle.”
“So do I.”
Rory got bowls from the cupboard and he and Finley set them on the place mats Shannon had already put out. Finley found soup spoons. Shannon set the cold cuts on the table. Everybody did everything without saying a word.
Shannon felt oddly responsible. Should she have tried to lose at the card game? Should she have reacted differently to the cheating accusation? She honestly didn’t know. But she did know Finley deserved a bit of happiness and if she could, she intended to provide it.
She sucked in a breath. “You know…I still have a few sleds from when my dad and I used to slide down Parker’s Hill when I was a little girl.”
Finley’s face instantly brightened. “Really?”
“There’s a bit of a hill behind this house. I never tried it out for sledding because I just moved here last year, but I’m guessing there might be a place we could sled-ride.”
This time Rory said, “Really?”
“Sure. It would be fun. Even if we can’t go sledding, getting outside for some fresh air would do us all good.”
Rory inclined his head. “Maybe.” He faced his daughter. “What do you think?”
“I’d like to sled-ride.”
“And we will if we can,” Shannon quickly assured her. “As I said, I’ve never checked out that hill.”
“I don’t have snow pants.”
“You can wear two pair of jeans,” Rory suggested.
“And we’ll put them in the dryer as soon as we come inside, so they’ll be good for tomorrow morning.”
The mood clearing the lunch dishes improved significantly from the mood when setting out those same dishes. Finley hurriedly dressed in the multiple jeans and double sweaters. Shannon found a pair of mittens to put over Finley’s tiny multicolored striped gloves.
When Finley was ready, Shannon quickly dressed in a pair of jeans and two sweaters. She put her dad’s old parka over herself and used insulated gloves for her hands.
They stepped outside onto the back porch and the glare off the snow almost blinded them.
“Wow. It’s beautiful.”
Shannon glanced around proudly at the snow-covered fir trees that surrounded her little home. “Yes. It is. I loved living in South Carolina—close to the beach,” she added, slanting a look at Rory. “But this is home. As annoying as snow is, it is also beautiful.”
They trudged from the house to the shed behind the garage and found an old sled and two red saucer sleds. Shannon and Finley took the saucers and Rory hoisted the bigger runner sled off its hook and followed them out, into the bright sunshine again.
Again they trudged through the snow, walking the twenty or thirty feet from the outbuilding to the dip behind the house.
“There are trees.”
Shannon glanced at Rory. “I know. That’s why I couldn’t say for sure we could sled. Without a wide path between the trees, there’d be too much chance we’d hit one and somebody could be hurt.”
He walked fifty feet to the left. “Too many trees this way.” Then fifty feet to the right. “I found something!” he called, motioning for Shannon and Finley to come over. “There’s a perfect space right here.”
The “hill” was more of a slope. It eased down nicely for about thirty feet. A wide ledge would stop them before they reached what looked to be a bigger hill. Still, given that Finley was only six, Shannon didn’t think they should try to go beyond the ledge.
She tossed her saucer to the snow. “I’m ready.”
Finley followed suit. “I’m ready, too.”
They plopped onto their saucers, scooted a bit to get them going then careened down the hill. Finley’s squeal ing giggles filled the quiet air. Hearing her, Shannon laughed. They flew down the slope and, as predicted, their saucers ran out of steam on the ledge.
Finley bounced up. “Let’s go again!” She grabbed her saucer and started up the hill.
“Walk along the side!” Shannon called. “We don’t want to make our slope bumpy from footprints.”
To Shannon’s complete amazement, Finley said, “Okay!” and moved to the side of the hill.
When they reached the top, Rory said, “Okay, everybody out of my way. I’m taking this puppy for a ride.”
He threw the runner sled onto the snow and landed on top of it, sending it racing down the hill. He hit the ledge, but his sled didn’t stop. The ledge didn’t even slow the sleek runners. Smooth and thin, they whizzed across the ledge as if it were nothing. In seconds Rory and his sled headed down the bigger hill and disappeared.
Finley screamed.
Thinking she was terrified, Shannon spun to face her, but the little girl’s face glowed with laughter. Shannon’s lips twitched. Then she burst out laughing, too.
“Do you think we’ll ever see him again?”
Finley’s giggles multiplied. “How far down does the hill go?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been back that far.”
The world around them grew silent. Now that the fun of seeing him disappear was over, Shannon’s tummy tugged with concern. As fast as he was going, he could have hit a tree. He could be at the bottom of the hill, unconscious.
“We better go check on him.”
“Can we ride our sleds down to the ledge?”
Shannon laughed and patted Finley’s head. Kids really had no comprehension of danger. But before she could reply, Rory called, “I’m okay!”
His voice echoed in the silence around them. But knowing he was fine, Shannon tossed her saucer to the ground. “Race you to the ledge.”
Finley positioned her sled and jumped on. They squealed with laughter as they sped down the hill. On the ledge, both popped off their sleds, ran to the edge and peered over. At least fifty feet below, Rory dragged his sled up the hill.
He waved.
Finley waved. “Hi, Daddy!” Then she glanced around when her voice echoed around her. “That is so cool.”
“It’s a cool place.” She turned Finley toward the top of the hill again. “I’ll bet we can sled down twice before your dad gets to the ledge.”
Finley grabbed her sled. “Okay!”
They raced down another two times before Rory finally joined them on the ledge. “That was some ride.”
Shannon peered over the edge. A reasonably wide strip wound between the rows of trees, but the hill itself was steep and long. “I’ll bet it was.”
He offered the runner sled to her. “Wanna try?”
She laughed. “Not a chance.”
�
�Hey, sledding was your idea. I thought you were a pro.”
“I haven’t really gone sledding in years—”
Before she could finish her sentence Rory tossed the sled to the ground and punched into her like a line-backer. She fell on the sled. He fell on top of her and they took off down the hill. For several seconds she had no breath. When she finally caught a gulp of air, she screamed. Really screamed. But soon her screams of fear became screams of delight. The thrill of the speed whooshed through her. The wind whipping across her face felt glorious.
They hit the bottom with a thump.
Obviously paying attention to the grove of trees ahead of them, Rory banked left, toppling the sled to a stop. She rolled on the ground. He rolled beside her.
She turned her head to face him; he turned to face her and they burst out laughing.
Finley’s little voice echoed down the hill. “Me next, Daddy!”
He bounced up and held his hand out to Shannon, helping her up.
“That was amazing.”
He picked up the sled. “I know. It was like being a kid again. Fun. Free.” Holding the sled with one hand, he looped his other arm across her shoulders. “Now we have to trudge about fifty feet up a hill.”
She laughed, but her insides tickled. Even working at the store, she’d been nothing but lonely in the past year. Not because she didn’t have friends. She did. Lots of them. Not because she missed her husband. Any man who’d desert a woman the day she had a hysterectomy was an ass. But because she’d missed belonging. With Rory and Finley she felt as if she belonged.
She sucked in a breath, erasing that thought. These two would be with her for one more day—well, one evening and one night. Maybe breakfast in the morning. She couldn’t get attached to them.
Still, when they reached the top and found Finley bouncing with delight, happiness filled her again. Finley was a sweet little girl who deserved some fun. Maybe even a break from the reality of her life—that her mom didn’t want her.
Rory scooped her off the ground and fell with her onto the sled. The weight of their bodies set the sled in motion and it slid down the little slope. Shannon fell to her own sled and careened behind them so she could jump off when she reached the ledge and watch them as they whipped down the bigger hill.
Finley’s squeals of pleasure echoed through the forest. Shannon’s chest puffed out with pride. She’d thought of the idea that had turned a potentially dismal afternoon into an afternoon of joy.
She watched Finley and Rory plod back up the hill. When they reached the ledge, she stooped down and hugged Finley. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”
Her eyes rounded with joy. “It was great!” She turned to her dad. “Let’s go again.”
“Hey, I just slogged up that hill three times. I need a break.” He headed up the slope again. “But you can ride your saucer down the little hill as much as you want.”
Surprisingly, Finley said, “Okay,” and followed him up the slope. At the top, she set her butt on the saucer and sent herself lobbing down the hill.
Rory dropped to the snow. “I am seriously tired.”
Shannon plopped beside him. “After three little rides?”
He tweaked a curl that had escaped from her knit cap. “Three littlerides? You try walking up that hill three times in a row with no break.”
Finley’s final whoop of laughter as she slid to a stop on the ledge reached them. Shannon’s heart swelled again, filled with warmth and joy. This was what it would feel like to have a real family. A loving husband. An adorable child.
Watching Finley trudge up the slope with her saucer, Rory said, “This is why I love having a kid. The fun. When Finley’s not in a mood, she can be incredibly fun.” He peeked at Shannon. “And spontaneous. The things she says sometimes crack me up.”
She glanced down the hill at Finley, saw the joy on her face, the snow on her tummy, and she laughed. “Yeah. She’s cute.”
Shannon’s laughter filled Rory with peace. The whole afternoon had been fun, even though he’d told her about his ex-wife. Or maybe because he’d told her about his ex-wife. She seemed to feel enough sympathy for Finley that she’d gone out of her way to make his little girl happy.
“You really love Finley, don’t you?”
Her question surprised him so much that he glanced over at her again. The sun sparkled off the snow that clung to her. Her full lips bowed up in a smile of pure pleasure as she watched his child—his pride and joy—pick herself up and head up the hill.
“I adore her. I love being a dad.”
Her smile trembled a bit. “I bet you do.”
He snorted a laugh. “You’ve seen the bad side of parenting in the past twenty-four hours. Most of the time Finley makes me laugh, fills in my world.” He shrugged. “Actually, she makes my world make sense, gives all the work I do a purpose.”
“You’re a great dad.”
“Yeah, too bad I won’t have any more kids.”
Her face registered such a weird expression that he felt he needed to explain. “When a spouse leaves the way mine did, no explanation, no trying to work things out, just a plain old ‘I don’t love you anymore and I certainly don’t want to be a mom…’” He shrugged again, forced his gaze away from her, over to the blue, blue sky. “Well, you’re left with a little bit more than a bad taste in your mouth for marriage.”
“Marriage doesn’t have anything to do with having kids.”
He laughed. “You’re right. Not in this day and age, with adoption and surrogate mothers.” He caught her gaze again. “But it’s difficult enough to handle Finley—one child—without a mom. I couldn’t imagine adding another. So it’s just me and Finley for the rest of our lives.”
“Even though you love kids, you wouldn’t try any of the other options?”
“Nope. But if I had a wife I would. Of course, if I had a wife I could have kids the old-fashioned way.” He waggled his eyebrows, but the truth of that settled over him and he stopped being silly. “If I could commit again, I’d love to have more kids. Mykids. A little boy who’d look like me. Another little girl who might look like her mom.”
When he caught her gaze again, her eyes were soft and sad. He could have been confused by her reaction, except he knew his voice had gotten every bit as soft and sad. He’d revealed some personal tidbits that she probably wasn’t expecting. Hell, even he hadn’t realized he felt all those things about kids until the conversation had turned that way.
Of course, she’d sort of turned it that way.
Now that he thought about it, she owed him some equally personal tidbits. “So what about you? No husband? No kids? Married to your store?”
She brushed her hand along the top of the snow. “This time last year I was married.”
“Oh?” Something oddly territorial rattled through him, surprising him. Sure, he was attracted to her…but jealous? Of a guy from her past? That was just stupid.
She batted a hand. “I got dumped pretty much the same way you did.” Avoiding his gaze, she ran her mittened hand along the surface of the snow again. “One day he loved me. The next day he didn’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s certainly not your fault.” She caught his gaze, laughed lightly. “And I’m over him.”
“Oh, yeah?”
She shrugged. “Only a fool pines for someone who doesn’t want her.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
She craned her neck so she could see Finley again, then she faced him. “She’s going to sleep like a rock tonight.”
Rory said, “Yeah,” but his mind was a million miles away. The easy way she’d dismissed her marriage had caused his jealousy to morph into relief that she wasn’t just free, she was happy to be free. That somehow mixed and mingled with his suddenly active hormones and he wanted to kiss her so badly he could taste it.
But that was wrong. Not only had he been hurt enough to never want to risk a relationship again, but she’d also been hurt. After less than
twenty-four hours in her company he knew she was a sweet, sincere woman, who might take any romantic gesture as much more than he would intend it.
Still, that didn’t stop him from wanting to kiss her. With the snow in her hair, on her jacket, covering her jeans. If he slid his hands under her knit hat, to the thicket of springy black curls, and pulled her face to his, he could kiss her softly, easily just because they were having fun.
But would she realize it was a kiss of pure happiness over the fun afternoon? Or would she make more of it?
He pulled back. They were having too much fun— Finley was having too much fun—for him to spoil it over a craving for something he shouldn’t take.
He rose, put his hand down to help Shannon stand. “She’ll be back any second.”
“Do you think she’ll want to go down again?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Hope you’re rested.”
He grinned. “Hope you’rerested because I’m taking the saucer and you get the runner sled.”
With that he grabbed the saucer and joined Finley at the top of the slope. Shannon pretended great interest in the sled he’d left for her, but she didn’t even really see it. Her heart pounded in her chest and her insides had all but turned to mush. For a few seconds there, when their conversation had paused, she could have sworn he was going to slide his hand behind her neck and pull her forward so he could kiss her.
Kiss her!
What a crazy thing to think! Ridiculous wishful thinking on her part, that’s what it was. They might be having fun with his daughter, but that was no reason for a man to kiss a woman. She was simply too much of a romantic.
But figuring all this out now was actually a good thing. Rory had come right out and said that if he married again, he would want kids. His own kids. A son of his own. Another adorable daughter.
And didn’t that sound painfully familiar? The last man she would have expected to leave her over not being able to have kids was her seemingly wonderful ex-husband. He’d loved her. She’d never had any doubt. Yet, once she couldn’t give him a son—a real son, his flesh-and-blood son—he’d bolted. She wasn’t sure she could handle that kind of rejection again. So she was glad they’d had this little talk early on. There’d be no more wishful thinking. No more hoping he’d kiss her.