by Shirley Jump
“Of your job?” he finished, when her voice trailed off.
“Of...” She drew in a breath, held it, then let it out. She’d told no one about what had happened, and suddenly, the burden seemed too heavy, the ache too deep. “The baby.”
Colton blinked. He sat back again and let out a low whistle. “Did you say baby?”
She nodded. And now that she had said that word, the rest came tumbling out, breaking past all those strongholds she’d put in place to keep her from having to feel anything. Really, all it had done was keep her stuck in place. She wanted to move forward, wanted to put it all far, far behind her. “Remember I was dating that guy Leonard? Well, one night we were drunk and in a rush, and I thought he had put protection on, but he hadn’t, and... I got pregnant.”
Her brother’s gaze dropped to her belly. “Are you...? Did you...?”
The tears spilled over her eyelashes and trailed down her cheeks. She was back in the doctor’s office all over again, knowing what he was going to say before he even spoke a word. She’d known it the minute her body began to betray her, that the dream she’d had was gone before she had a chance to hold on to it. “I lost the baby. Ten weeks in, and I lost it. I was just getting used to the idea, and as crazy as it sounds, looking forward to having my own family. I know I always said I never wanted to have kids, not after living with Mom, but you know, I really thought—” her voice caught, but she kept pushing the words out “—that I would be a good mother.”
“Of course you would have been,” Colton said. “Hell, you were half mother to me, Piglet.”
“Me? I was the annoying tagalong. You were the one who was there for me all the time.”
“Because you were the one who always worried about me. You still do.”
“You’re a big grown man.” She waved off his words. “I don’t worry about you.”
He grinned. “Liar. I have some text messages that say the opposite.”
It was true. She did text him from time to time to make sure he was okay. Even more in the year after he’d lost two friends at the scene of a fire. For a while there she’d been pretty worried that Colton wouldn’t come out of the depression that had swept over him after the accident. But he had, and now he was back doing the job he loved, and moving forward with Rachel. “Those texts are just me ensuring you’re still alive so I’ll get a decent Christmas present this year.”
“What, you didn’t like the Scrooge and Marley action figures I sent you last year? Or the subscription to the NASCAR magazine the year before?”
“Not as much as I bet you enjoyed the Dating for Dummies book I sent you.”
He mocked offense. “I’ll have you know that book is a godsend. After all, I’m getting married. Which means I’m going to have an excuse to see you in some lime-green bridesmaid dress with poufy sleeves.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I’ll only wear an ugly bridesmaid dress if it’s to attend your funeral.” She grinned. The moment of levity eased the sadness, dried up Katie’s tears and gave her a moment to breathe. “How do you do that?” she asked Colton. “I can be telling you the saddest story ever and somehow, you make me laugh and make it all seem...not so bad.”
“It’s my secret power.” He signaled for some more coffee, and waited to speak again until after the waitress had topped off their mugs. “I’m sorry about the baby, Katie.”
“It’s okay. It wasn’t meant to be.” The platitude didn’t give her any comfort. It was simply a way to fill the hole in the conversation.
“You would have been a great mom and you will be someday,” Colton said again. “A really great mom.”
“Almost as great a mom as you were.”
He grinned. “You weren’t too much of a brat, so it was easy.” He took a sip of coffee, then leaned closer. “So how did all that lead to you not exactly being fired from your job?”
She told him about the meltdown, about the clients they had lost, about the argument with her boss. “Around that same time, you texted me, asking me again to come to Stone Gap, so...here I am.”
“I’m glad you are. I think you needed this town more than you knew. It’s been good for me, Katie, and I’m sure it’ll be good for you.” He ate a french fry. “I still don’t understand how that all led to you being Sam’s nanny, though.”
She circled the rim of her mug with her finger a few times before answering. “I needed to keep busy, so I wouldn’t keep thinking about everything. Della told me he needed a tutor, and I thought, great, I could work an hour or two a day and make a little money. Then his babysitter up and quit on him and he was desperate and...”
“And you took the opportunity to keep even busier.”
She nodded. “You know me well.”
“I share your DNA. That makes me an expert.” He ate another couple fries, dunking them in ketchup before they disappeared in his mouth. Colton had the appetite of ten men, but worked out enough that he never seemed to gain an ounce. “So, are you planning on doing any actual vacationing while you are here?”
“If I vacation, I’ll think, and I’m trying not to do that.”
“Exactly why you should do it.” He covered her hand again. “Take it from someone who spent a long time trying not to think about my biggest screwups. It’s not until you finally look at the elephant in the room that you can figure out how to get it outside again.”
She laughed. “I think that is the most convoluted piece of advice I’ve ever heard.”
“Confucius say it’s wise and profound. Because it’s coming from your older brother. So you’d be smart to listen. And to have dessert with me.”
“Why should I have dessert with you?”
“Because dessert, dear sister, makes everything better.” Then he ordered pie, and told her a bunch of funny stories about the firehouse, and before Katie knew it, Colton had worked his magic again. Rescuing her one more time.
Chapter Six
Sam got up extra early, got Libby off to school, Henry off to a morning of crafts and stories at the community center, then rushed through his day like a man on fire. Every time he glanced at the clock, he was hoping it was noon, so that he could finagle some kind of excuse to stop by the house.
Because from the minute he’d woken up, his every other thought had revolved around Katie. Her smile. The way she touched him. How insanely amazing it had been to kiss her the other day. How she had turned down his dinner invitation.
Because I’m complicated.
Her response had left him confused. Okay, so he was a guy, and what women wanted and what they meant when they said things like that pretty much left him confused all the time. Still, he wanted to know what she meant. And why she had kissed him, yet turned him down.
Was it wrong to look forward to coming home to her? To think about kissing her? Holding her?
For several days, he’d tried to concentrate on work. He’d sold two commercial properties—a vacant warehouse outside of Stone Gap and a small office building in a neighboring town, which had put him in Hank’s good graces. But all that work hadn’t done much to keep him from thinking about Katie.
He turned his gaze to the blue, blue sky above. Wisps of clouds dotted the vast cornflower-colored canvas, seeming to promise anything was possible. That answers were there, if only he asked the right questions.
What would Wendy want?
It was a question Sam had asked himself every day since his wife had died. Would she want him to move on? Or would she want him to wait, to keep that space in his heart reserved a little longer?
“I wish I knew,” he whispered to the sky. Because as wrong as it was to feel this happy coming home, there were many times when it felt so very right.
So there he was, in his own driveway a little after twelve, even though he had an appointment across town at one. Five minutes, t
ops, then he’d get back in the car and go back to work. Just a quick visit to say hi to Henry after his morning at the community center. The program had been a godsend—keeping Henry busy and playing with other kids, but not putting the pressure on him to talk like school would.
“I’m home,” Sam called as he walked in the door. Something smelled good inside the house. There was music playing on the sound system in the dining room, and everything seemed to sparkle and shine. Sam hadn’t realized how much he missed coming home to a house that was an actual home until these last couple days.
Katie was in the kitchen, mixing some kind of batter in a bowl. Henry was sitting at one of the kitchen bar stools, holding a big wooden spoon. Katie had her hair up in one of those clip things, which left a few long brown tendrils in tempting curls along the valleys of her neck. Today, she had on a pair of jeans that hugged her hips and outlined some very, very nice curves. Her bright green V-neck T-shirt sported a logo for the Green Bay Packers and a reminder of the four Super Bowl championships they’d won.
She glanced up as he entered the kitchen, and a bright smile burst on her face. “Hi.”
“Hi. Sorry. I wasn’t checking on you, just stopping by on my way to a meeting.”
“You’re just in time. Henry and I are busy making cookies to give to the firefighters later today. Isn’t that right, buddy? Here, your turn to mix.” She turned the bowl in front of Henry, and he dug in with this spoon for one quick flip of the batter.
“Cookies!” Henry said, and held up his spoon. “Daddy have some?”
Sam’s throat closed, but he worked a smile to his face that hopefully didn’t say every time he heard Henry speak it damned near turned him into a baby. “Maybe later. I have to go back to work in a few minutes.”
Henry’s bright features dimmed. He went back to stirring the batter, but his movements were listless, slow. “Okay.”
Sam had been here for ten seconds and already disappointed his son. He shot a glance at Katie, who gave him a sympathetic smile.
“How about I meet you guys at the fire station later?” Sam did a mental rundown of his schedule and figured if nothing ran over its allotted time, he should be able to be there on time.
“That would be great,” Katie said. “The kids would love it if you were there.”
“I’m gonna play with the fire truck!” Henry spread his arms wide, sending a spray of batter onto the kitchen floor.
“Hey, let’s keep the dough in the bowl, buster.” Katie took the spoon out of Henry’s hands, then grabbed a paper towel to wipe up the mess. Sam reached for one at the same time, his arm brushing against Katie’s shoulder.
It was a small touch, a whisper, really, but it sent a shock wave through Sam. Katie’s gaze darted to his, held for a moment, then Henry ran over and tried to climb onto Sam’s back. That was enough to break the spell, to keep him from leaning in for another amazing kiss with Katie. Later, Sam promised himself, there would be time for that. He’d make sure of it.
“Let me clean this up,” Sam said, swinging Henry off his back with one arm, and cradling him against his waist. “And let this monkey here help me.”
Henry giggled. “I’s a boy!”
“Monkey boy.” Sam tweaked Henry’s nose, then handed him half the paper towel. “Help Daddy clean up.”
Henry did as he was told, taking great pride in swiping up the clumps of batter, then dumping the mess into the trash. While the boys did that, Katie finished mixing the dough and adding in the chips, then she turned to get a stack of cookie sheets out of the drawer beneath the stove.
Henry was already gone, running off to play with whatever toy had caught his eye, the dog hot on his heels, and Sam was left alone in the kitchen with Katie, with a very appealing view of her rear.
Damn. This nanny thing was adding complications he hadn’t expected. Like every five seconds he was wondering how he could get her alone. “You, uh, need some help?” he said.
“I’ve got it.” She straightened, and laid two cookie sheets on the counter.
“I didn’t even know I had those.”
“And here you struck me as the baker type.” She gave him a grin.
“My baking skills extend to once, and only once, slicing up one of those logs of dough and then forgetting about it.”
“You forgot about them? What happened?” She scooped up balls of dough with a spoon and began sliding them onto the cookie sheet.
“Let’s just say I was airing the house out for three days and going through a couple cans of oven cleaner. I’m not exactly domesticated.” He slipped into place beside her and picked up the second tablespoon beside the bowl. “Do I just put it on there? None of that spray stuff first?” He’d seen Wendy spray that nonstick stuff on pretty much everything before she cooked.
“Nope. They’ll spread too much if you do that. Just try to make sure all the cookies are about the same size so they bake evenly.”
He did as she said, working at a slower pace than Katie, who seemed to have some kind of magic scooping and dumping skills. They each filled one cookie sheet, three across, four down. “This is nice,” he said as they worked. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Your wife must have made cookies all the time.”
He steeled himself. In the months after his wife died, every mention of her had felt like ripping open an old wound. But this time...not so much. Talking about her felt like he was warming himself by a familiar fire.
“Wendy was one of those moms who colored the pictures and decorated the rooms and baked the cookies, but the kitchen was her domain, and she was pretty particular about it.” A bittersweet smile crossed his lips. If there was one thing his late wife had excelled at, it was being a mother. It was as if she had been born for that singular purpose. She had loved the kids, and been so close to them it was almost as if they were three parts of one person. She would have loved Katie, the way she handled the kids, got Henry to talk, encouraged Libby with her schoolwork. “Wendy was great, she really was. I don’t want to make it sound like she was anything but a great mother.”
“No wonder the kids miss her so much.”
And he was a poor substitute for the mother they had lost. He didn’t bake cookies or do crafts or remember their favorite bedtime story. He did the only thing he knew how to do—he worked and kept the bills paid. But in the long, long months since their mother had died, he had realized how much more his kids needed. They needed the cookies and the finger paints and the silly jokes. For the thousandth time, he was grateful that Katie had shown up on his doorstep. “Do they talk about their mother with you?” he asked.
She turned and slid the cookie sheets into the oven, then set the timer. “Libby has. She tells me stories about your wife. About the books she read her, the way she liked her ice cream, the times she took her to the park.”
Sam leaned against the counter and let out a sigh. Libby was the oldest and had taken the loss of her mother the hardest. His heart broke for the days ahead—the proms, the first heartbreaks, the wedding day, when Libby would need her mother and her mother wouldn’t be there. Would he be able to fill those gaps? “My kids miss her a lot. It’s been tough.”
“I’m no expert, but they seem to be doing okay,” Katie said. “You’re a great dad, Sam.”
He scoffed. “I’m a fair to middling dad. I’m trying to do better than I did before. When Wendy was alive, I worked too many hours and left too much on her shoulders. Then she died, and I still worked too many hours. Mostly because I didn’t want to think about losing her. I didn’t want to come home to an empty house. So I left the kids with a nanny and I worked too much...”
“And became even more distant.”
“Yeah. It’s like my kids grew up when I wasn’t looking. I used to know Libby’s favorite song and what kind of cereal she liked. Now I’m just trying to
keep my head above water.” He grabbed a sponge and wiped up the dusting of flour on the counter. “After the last nanny quit and I lost my job, I was here all the time, doing everything. The problem was, I don’t know how to do everything. I don’t remember that Libby likes the edges cut off her sandwiches or that Henry needs a certain stuffed animal to sleep with. And I sure as hell don’t do anything the way Wendy did.”
“Who says you have to do things the same way? And for the record, I don’t think anyone knows how to do everything when it comes to raising a family. Last I checked, they didn’t hand out instruction manuals in the delivery room.”
He chuckled. “I think they should.”
“Heck, I think they should give everyone one at high school graduation.” She turned back to the cabinet, giving him that appealing view of her behind again, then straightened and put two wire racks on the counter. Another thing he didn’t know he owned. “Did you eat lunch? I’m no chef, but I did make a pretty spectacular turkey-and-cheese sandwich for Henry.”
“If I can take it to go. I have a meeting at one.”
She got the ingredients out of the fridge, then put the sandwich together, sliced it on the diagonal and handed it to him on top of a paper towel. “Here you go.”
He chuckled lightly. “You divided it on the angle. My mom used to cut my sandwiches like that. Is that why you do?”
“My mom didn’t do much sandwich making in my house.” Katie’s gaze dropped to the sink. “Colton pretty much did all that stuff.”
“Colton? Really?” Sam couldn’t imagine the firefighter cutting sandwiches for his little sister. He remembered Colton telling him that his childhood had been tough, but he’d never gone into detail.
“Our mother...wasn’t around much, and I never knew my father,” Katie said. “Colton did a lot of the things she should have done.”