by Judy Duarte
The question seemed to take her aback because her eyes widened and her lips parted. But before he could renege on the implied invitation, she said, “Actually, I had a light lunch, so yes, I am hungry.”
He supposed it was too late to backpedal now. “Do you want to meet me at Caroline’s?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Yep, he supposed it did. Hopefully, it didn’t also sound like a date. He opened the door for the pretty social worker then followed her out.
Not that dating Anna Reynolds wouldn’t be appealing. But Nate wasn’t about to get romantically involved with someone who could stir up trouble.
Or worse, someone with the power to take Jessie away from him.
Chapter Three
By the time Nate arrived at Caroline’s Diner and found a parking space in front, Jessie had fallen back asleep, thank goodness. It nearly killed him to hear her cry, which she’d started to do as soon as they’d exited the doctor’s office.
After unhooking the car seat from the base, he carried her to the diner entrance then waited for Anna, who was locking up her car, to join them.
“I’ve never been here before,” Anna said. “But I’ve heard a lot of good things about it.”
“Every single one is true. Caroline makes the best food in town.” Nate opened the glass door, setting off the jangle of a bell, and stood aside, waiting for Anna to enter.
He knew he had to be on guard when he was around her, but the more time he spent with her, the more he began to think she’d been telling the truth when she’d said she only wanted to help.
Maybe having dinner together this evening would ease his nervousness around her and make him feel better about asking her questions and seeking advice.
Or would she pump him for information? Had she started listing things in her file until she had reason to take Jessica away?
Maybe he was just being paranoid. She didn’t seem like the sort of person to do that.
He cut a glance at her profile, watched as she scanned the interior of the small-town eatery, with its pale yellow walls and white café-style curtains on the front windows, then focused on the refrigerator display case that sat next to the old-fashioned register. As usual, it was filled with a variety of homemade desserts.
Nate had always had a sweet tooth and was eager to sample one of the pies—looked like they had banana cream again today, which was his favorite. But then again, maybe he’d have a slice of that three-layer carrot cake.
“What’s that mean?” Anna pointed out the blackboard that advertised the daily special.
As usual, What the Sheriff Ate: was written in yellow chalk. Today that was followed by Tri Tip, Mashed Potatoes and Gravy, Green Beans, Butter Horn Rolls and Lemon Meringue Pie.
“Caroline’s husband is retired now,” Nate explained, “but he was once the only law enforcement officer in Brighton Valley. So she and almost everyone in town still refer to him as ‘the sheriff.’”
Margie, who’d worked as a waitress at the diner for as long as Nate could remember, must have heard the bell at the door jangle. Her jovial voice called out from the back room, “Y’all don’t need to wait to be seated. Take any table you like. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Obviously, she hadn’t seen Nate yet, which was just as well. Margie was a nice lady, but as curious as heck and a real talker. The minute she spotted the baby and Anna, she was going to give him the third degree.
Maybe he’d luck out and get one of the newer—and quieter—waitresses, although that wasn’t likely. And even if it was, Margie always made the rounds, checking on all of the diners.
“Come on,” Nate said. “Let’s sit in that back corner booth.”
They’d no more than taken a seat and placed the baby carrier between them when Margie stopped by the table with two menus. Her ruddy complexion gave way to a shock of graying dark hair, piled high on her head. The moment she recognized Nate, she offered him a bright-eyed grin. “Well, if it isn’t our favorite bronc rider.”
At one time, Nate might have beamed at the compliment, but he was no longer on the circuit, and his heart ached at the reminder. He’d learned to deal with it, or so he’d thought, but every once in a while the loss snuck up on him like a charging bull and gored him in the gut.
“Thanks,” he said, “but I’m just a cowhand these days.”
“Oh, pshaw. You’ll always be a champ to me—and to the other folks in town.” Margie winked, then glanced at Anna, taking time to size her up good.
Nate opened his menu and pretended to study his choices, even though he’d already decided what he wanted before he entered the diner. He hoped the sweet but curious waitress would go on about her business. But apparently, he wasn’t going to be that lucky.
“You doin’ okay now?” Margie asked him. “Sam was in here a couple of days ago, along with Joy, that pretty gal of his. He told me that you’ve been released from physical therapy.”
Sam didn’t have a big mouth and didn’t spread rumors, but apparently, he opened up when pressed. Margie, bless her sweet, gossip-prone heart, had a way of mining information from everyone in town then connecting her own dots.
“Yep,” Nate said. “They turned me loose. So no worries. I’m doing fine.”
In a physical sense, that was true. He could still walk and even line dance if he got the whim, but his career options had been severely limited by the accident. He slid his hand over his right hip, the one the docs rewired and bolted back together.
Margie brightened then turned to Anna. “Well, hello there, hon. I didn’t mean to ignore you. It’s just that Nate here has been on everyone’s prayer list ever since that bronc darn near stomped him to death.”
Nate tensed. Dammit. Why’d she have to bring that up here—and now?
As if the news of the accident passed right by her, Anna introduced herself.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Margie said, glancing first at Nate, then at Anna and back to him again. The false assumption she’d made was obvious.
Before Nate could correct her, Jessie let out a cry, and Margie began to connect a whole lot of dots that didn’t exist.
“Oh, my gosh,” the waitress said. “Who is this sweet little thing?”
“This is Jessica,” Anna said. “She’s Nate’s daughter.”
Margie’s eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. In fact, if someone had thrown a soaring plastic disc her way, she could have caught it in her mouth. “Well, now, isn’t that nice.”
Nate had half a notion to object, to clarify how this had all come to be, to offer up the truth of the matter. After all, his name might be on Jessie’s birth certificate, but he wasn’t so sure he was actually her father.
As a multitude of explanations rose up, he clamped his mouth shut. No one needed to know his thoughts and fears. Besides, other than him, who else did she have?
As far as anyone needed to know, he was Jessie’s daddy.
Before he could ponder just how much he wanted Margie—and therefore the entire town—to know, Margie clapped her pudgy hands together and broke out in a big old grin. “Well, I’ll be darned. Nate Gallagher got married. That bit of news is going to break the hearts of all the single girls in town.”
“I’m afraid you misunderstood,” Anna said. “We’re not married.”
Margie’s graying brows shot up, and she covered her mouth with the fingers of her right hand. “Oops. I just assumed...?” She glanced at Nate, clearly chumming for a better explanation.
He’d be damned if he wanted to give her one. This particular waitress was the last person in Brighton Valley he’d want to know his business, even if she was making false assumptions right and left.
When Margie realized Nate wasn’t offering up the info she’d wanted, she said, “Either way, you two have a beautiful little baby. She’s a
bsolutely precious.”
“She’s not mine,” Anna said.
Margie’s forehead creased, and she took a closer peek at Jessie. “Are you sure about that? She looks a lot like you.”
The hell she did. And what mother in the world wouldn’t know whether a baby was hers or not?
Anna shot a glance at Nate. She didn’t have to utter a single word. He could read her question in her eyes: What are you going to do to set this woman straight?
Damn, but he hated to go into detail. He was still pondering an explanation when Margie gasped, “Oh, my! Is that the little baby whose poor mama died a few weeks back?”
* * *
Anna waited for Nate to respond, although he seemed to have clammed up. She, as well as everyone at the hospital and at the sheriff’s office, had been aware of the tragic details surrounding Elizabeth Huddleston’s death. So it wasn’t any surprise that people in the local diner knew about the woman who’d suffered a severe beating, had gone into premature labor and later died.
Did they also know that, after the assault, Elizabeth had somehow managed to drive to the Rocking C? Anna assumed the injured woman had gone in search of Nate, although that was just a guess on her part.
Shannon Cramer, the head nurse at the ranch, had called the paramedics, and Ms. Huddleston had been rushed to the hospital in time to give birth. Fortunately, the baby, who was born six weeks early, hadn’t had any serious complications. That is, other than the loss of her mother.
Two different legal proceedings had followed, one of which led to the arrest of the woman’s husband. The other gave Nate custody of the baby. But it wasn’t Anna’s place to respond to the questions of the inquisitive waitress, so she waited for Nate to answer.
He finally sighed and cleared his throat. “Yes, Margie. This is the baby. But under the circumstances, I’d like to keep that quiet. You know how people around town can talk, and I don’t want this innocent little girl to carry a burden like that, especially while she’s so young.”
The defense of his daughter touched Anna in an unexpected, heart-stirring way. How could it not? She stole a glance at the chatty waitress, whose expression and misty eyes suggested she, too, sympathized with the baby’s plight.
“Don’t worry, Nate.” Margie reached into the front pocket of her yellow apron, pulled out a wadded-up tissue and used it to blot her tears. “That poor, precious little girl.”
Nate struck a casual pose, resting his forearms on the table. “I know it won’t be easy for you to keep a secret like that, Margie. With so many people coming in and out of the diner, there’s bound to be talk. But I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t...you know, help things along.”
“I won’t say a word.” Margie lifted her right hand as if she were in a courthouse, about to take the witness stand. “I’d never do anything to hurt a child, especially one who’s been dealt such a cruel blow already. You can count on me to keep quiet about that.”
“You’re a good-hearted woman,” Nate said. “I never doubted that.”
Margie glanced at the baby then back at Nate. “I heard that it was the woman’s husband who beat her up. How did you...? Well, since y’all said the baby is yours, I just wondered how...that happened.”
Nate tensed, and Anna didn’t blame him. She’d had the same question herself, but voicing it, even in a nearly empty diner, was in poor taste and completely out of line. Still, Anna couldn’t help waiting for his response. Had he been having an affair with a married woman?
“Just for the record,” Nate said, “Jessie’s mother was single when she and I dated.”
To Margie’s credit, her cheeks flushed bright pink. “Oh, goodness, Nate. I never meant to imply that you’d... Well, it’s just so sad, that’s all.”
When Nate didn’t respond, Margie placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss, darlin’. It must have ripped your heart right out to lose your sweetheart and your baby’s mama, especially with her dying the way she did.”
Rather than address Margie’s comment or her sympathy, Nate said, “I don’t suppose we could bother you for two cups of coffee.”
Margie straightened then seemed to pull it all together. “Yes. Of course. Coming right up.”
When Nate and Anna were finally alone in the corner booth, he continued to lean forward, his forearms resting on the table, his clasped hands on top of the menu, and said, “You might not like coffee or feel up to having any right now, but I needed to change the subject and give her a reason to move on.”
Anna placed her fingers over the top of his knuckles, an intimate reaction that took her by surprise. But she shared her remorse and an apology anyway. “I’m sorry, Nate. I have a feeling that’s something you’d wanted to keep to yourself. So I’m sorry if I said or implied anything that might have stirred her curiosity.”
“You didn’t.” He shrugged a single shoulder. “Sooner or later that news was going to get out anyway. Everyone at the Rocking C already knows. Not that any of them are talkers, but...well, some secrets are hard to keep.”
Anna understood why he’d want to keep the tragic news about Jessie’s mother from a woman who was undoubtedly prone to passing along community news, even if it only amounted to gossip. But he was right. This was the kind of thing people naturally wanted to ponder, speculate and share.
“Just for the record,” Nate added, his sky blue eyes locking on to Anna’s and stirring up an emotion of some kind, one she couldn’t quite put her finger on, “I’m really not grieving for Beth. Not the way you or Margie might think. I mean, I feel bad about what happened to her. She was a nice woman, but we weren’t...very close. It’s Jessie who’s really going to miss her. A girl needs a mother.”
That was true. At times, while Anna had been growing up, she’d wished she had a mother like some of her friends. But Sharon Reynolds had been too young and self-centered to step up and be a strong feminine role model. Not that the two of them had any lingering relationship problems. They were actually somewhat close now, even though Sharon had yet to fully grow up. In fact, to this day, she acted more like a big sister—one that could be a bit wild and reckless at times. Thank goodness her new husband could afford a nanny to take care of Kylie and to handle most of the day-to-day parenting issues.
A girl needs a mother.
Anna glanced across the table, where Nate stared down at the closed menu in front of him, a crease marring his handsome brow. A girl needed a father, too.
Was he worried that he might not measure up to what his daughter was going to require in the future? Was he afraid that she or others might find him lacking?
“Daddies are important to little girls, too,” she said.
Nate lifted his head, his gaze seeking out hers. He didn’t comment right away, but when he did, his voice was low and soft. “They’re also important to little boys.”
She tried to read the subtext behind his words and assumed he might have a few daddy issues, just like she did. She didn’t talk about them anymore, hoping they’d just fade away. But thanks to a nearly nonexistent relationship with the man who’d abandoned her as a child, they always seemed to be hiding under the surface, ready to pop up like an annoying jack-in-the-box when she least expected them to.
Sure, as a licensed social worker, she was trained to spot those things in others. But it wasn’t always easy to recognize them in herself.
She studied the man across from her, and while she’d meant to observe him as a daddy, her thoughts drifted from those meant to be professional to others more personal. In spite of her best efforts, she found herself observing him as a man—and a very attractive one at that.
His brown hair, which had a slight indention from where his hat once rested, nearly shouted cowboy, even without his Stetson. His eyes were a pretty shade of blue, the color of bluebonnets growing in a meadow. Yet th
at was the only thing “pretty” about him. He was both rugged and handsome, something she found far more appealing than she’d expected to—and way more than she should.
Jessica squirmed again, scrunched her little face and began to fuss, this time sounding irritable—and hungry. Anna had never been one to let a baby cry, but this time, tending to the little girl’s needs quickly would allow her to change her focus, to get her thoughts back on an appropriate track.
“It sounds like she’s hungry,” Anna said. “Would you like me to feed her?”
“Sure.” Nate’s response came out quickly, nearly sparking with enthusiasm. Then, as if catching himself, he added, “That is, if you want to.”
Actually, she should let him do it so she could observe his interaction with the baby, but it was too late to backpedal now. “Of course.”
Nate reached into the black canvas tote he used as a diaper bag and whipped out a small plastic bottle with premeasured dry formula. Next he withdrew a container of water.
While he unscrewed the lids and mixed the two together, Anna removed Jessie from the carrier and cuddled her in her arms. She felt warm and soft—so sweet and vulnerable. Her baby powder scent triggered a protective streak, something Anna hadn’t felt with the other infants on her caseload. Sympathy, she supposed, for a child who didn’t have a mother.
She cooed to the little one, shushing her and swaying as though seated in a rocking chair and not a booth in a small-town diner.
“Here you go,” Nate said, handing over the bottle.
Within seconds, as Jessie suckled the nipple as if there were no tomorrow, an unexpected warmth filled Anna’s chest and brought a smile to her face.
How odd, she thought. She’d fed babies before, but this tiny little girl who’d lost her mommy was stirring something deep within, something soft and tender. She wasn’t sure what to call it. A maternal longing?
No, it couldn’t be that. Not when Anna’s biological clock hadn’t even started ticking.
When Margie returned for their orders—a hearty bacon cheeseburger and fries for Nate and a grilled chicken salad for Anna—the friendly waitress took a moment to marvel at the baby before disappearing into the kitchen.