by Carol Grace
“And she’d play while we worked?”
She nodded, trying to ignore his skeptical tone. True, Morgan had not shown a desire to amuse herself, but they had to try. With every passing minute an apple somewhere was rotting on the tree and Gretel and Steve were losing money. They went into the house. They found the playpen and carried it and Morgan out to the orchard. The air was crisp and cool and the autumn sun slanted through the leaves of the trees. Laurie put Morgan in the playpen and surrounded her with her favorite toys, including her troll. Then Laurie tiptoed to the nearest tree and reached for a low-hanging apple, hoping Morgan wouldn’t notice they’d gone back to work.
After an anxious glance over her shoulder at the baby, Laurie tried to concentrate on cupping, lifting and twisting apples and placing them carefully into a bin. Cooper was high on top of the ladder, placing apples into a canvas bag hanging from his shoulder. Laurie peered up at him through the branches, noticing the intent expression on his face and the way the sun backlit his head and broad shoulders, thinking of how strange it was to be working alongside a man she’d never seen before last week, a man she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from now.
He paused to inspect an apple and caught her eye. “What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing.” Laurie reached for an apple, embarrassed to be caught staring. “I was just thinking this isn’t such a bad life.” She extended her arms. “Fresh air, all the apples you can eat.”
“All the apples you can pick,” he said dryly. “I’ll ask you again what you think of this life after a week or so.”
Laurie braced her arm against the tree. “A week or so! You’re not going to be here that long. By that time Gretel and Steve will be home and there’ll be professional pickers here.”
“I hope so,” he said. “For our friends’ sake. Because you’re the slowest picker I’ve ever seen.” He looked pointedly at the near-empty bin on the ground next to Laurie and she flushed guiltily.
“I know, I know,” she admitted, grabbing an apple off the tree, and then another. After she’d carefully made one layer of shiny green apples in the bottom of the bin, she paused. “How many other pickers have you seen, anyway?”
He answered without breaking his rhythm. Cup, lift, twist. “I don’t have to see any to know you’re the slowest.” In his haste Cooper dropped an apple and it fell to the ground. Laurie gave him a pointed look and he responded with a disarming grin. Maybe he was having a good time, she thought. Maybe he was tired of slugging it out with the Falls. Was that really why he was here, to take a break? To relax in the peace and quiet of an orchard?
But Morgan wasn’t about to let anyone relax. She’d had enough of her troll, her alphabet blocks and Raggedy Ann doll and she wanted some attention. She started slowly by throwing her troll over the side of the playpen and then making helpless little sounds to let them know she wanted it back. Laurie picked faster, knowing her time was almost up. When Morgan’s pitiful cries had turned to full-fledged wails and Cooper was glaring at her from behind the branches, Laurie sighed and went to pick up her charge.
No sooner was Morgan in Laurie’s arms when she stretched her arms up toward Cooper. “Maybe she needs something to eat,” Laurie said hopefully, knowing it would take something special to keep her mind off Cooper. He nodded and went on picking. After all, Laurie thought as she walked back to the house with Morgan in her arms, he’d volunteered to pick, not entertain Morgan. If only Morgan understood that.
Once Laurie had the baby in her high chair and had tempted her with applesauce, yogurt and apple juice, Morgan showed her what she thought of her attempts to pacify her by sweeping all of the items off the tray and onto the floor.
“Morgan,” Laurie said, sighing deeply, “is this any way to win friends? Remember there are some people who don’t find this kind of behavior attractive. You’re lucky those people aren’t around now, but if you cry any louder they’ll hear you. Do you know what I’m saying?” Laurie asked, pressing her face against Morgan’s little button nose.
Morgan gulped back a sob and grabbed a handful of Laurie’s hair. “Ouch,” Laurie cried. “Let go, Morgan, or I’ll tell your mother on you.”
Just then Laurie felt a draft from the kitchen door behind her. Wrenching her hair from Morgan’s grasp she swiveled around and saw Cooper framed in the doorway. “Do you think it’s a good idea to threaten her?” he asked, closing the door behind him. “What would Dr. Spock say?”
“I don’t know what he’d say,” she said, bending over to clean up the mess on the floor. “And right now I don’t really care. All I know is that this child is trying my patience. To the max. She won’t eat. She won’t do anything.”
As soon as she’d uttered the words Laurie realized Cooper had taken her place at the table and was spooning heaping mouthfuls of yogurt into Morgan’s mouth. Morgan was actually smacking her lips in delight. Of course. Laurie should have known. Whatever Cooper did, Morgan loved. Laurie sighed and continued her cleanup job, watching out of the corner of her eye while Cooper continued to shovel more food into Morgan’s mouth.
Laurie finally got to her feet and decided it was time for a coffee break. She couldn’t stand there watching them, fantasizing that this was her family, that this big man and tiny girl encompassed her life here on the farm. She had to get on with the job, then get away and find her own husband, one who wanted children and then have some.
Maybe she couldn’t have an orchard or a bed and breakfast like her sister’s Miramar Inn in California, but she could have something. But only if she didn’t stop choosing the wrong men. And Cooper Buckingham, despite what Morgan thought of him, was about as wrong as they got. He took temporary jobs, had no intention of settling down, getting married and most definitely did not want children.
But for the moment Laurie needed him. Needed him to pick apples and to amuse Morgan. Needed him to keep her company, to keep her from going crazy with worry over the orchard, the apple crop and Morgan. She didn’t know why he was still there, hanging in there, when the work was backbreaking and Morgan was irritable. She suspected he was here to help out Steve, but she couldn’t help hoping there was another reason.
As she measured the coffee into the filter, Laurie carefully phrased a question for Cooper, even though she knew he didn’t like talking about himself. “Do you, uh...have any brothers or sisters?” she asked. Maybe that was why he was so good with kids. If he had been a baby-sitter for half a dozen little siblings, that would explain it.
“I’m an only child,” he said brusquely.
“Then I don’t see... I mean how you can be so...”
“I don’t either. Let’s not worry about it, okay? Just believe me when I say I don’t know anything about kids. I’m not interested in them, don’t want any and don’t know any. Except Morgan here.”
At the mention of her name Morgan hit the end of her spoon handle on her tray and sent it flying, spattering Cooper’s shirt with strawberry yogurt. Laurie squeezed her eyes shut hoping it would all be cleaned up when she opened them, but it wasn’t. Cooper was still sitting at the table staring at Morgan in disbelief, with a strange look on his face while he tried to decide how to react. If Laurie hadn’t known him better she would have sworn he was going to laugh. But he didn’t. Without saying a word, he got up from the table, went out the back door to his car and came back with a duffel bag in his hand.
Panic rose in her throat. “Are you leaving?” she asked shakily.
“I’m changing,” he announced.
Laurie exhaled a ragged breath. “I’m really sorry about this,” she said. “And so is Morgan.”
“She doesn’t look sorry,” Cooper noted dryly.
Laurie willed Morgan to look sorry, to miraculously say her first word, to make that word be sorry. But she didn’t. She crumbled crackers in her tiny fist and threw the crumbs on the floor.
Cooper walked out of the kitchen and down the hall in the direction of the guest room to change. The yogurt was beginni
ng to dry into stains on his shirt. The apples were out there waiting to be picked and two adults were devoting their time and energy to one little bombshell with no manners at all. The whole situation was crazy. He should never have come. Besides the frustrating situation, the sight of Morgan in the high chair was painful. It brought back too many memories of an empty high chair, an empty house and his empty life.
If he were smart he’d get out of Laurie Clayton’s life immediately. But if he were smart he’d never have gotten into it in the first place. Because now he was in the middle of a crisis, an apple crisis that couldn’t possibly be solved by two inexperienced adults who couldn’t even take care of one baby.
He tossed his bag onto the bed as if he lived there— as if he belonged there—and found a clean shirt. That was the trouble, he thought, looking around the room decorated with Native American weavings on the wall and pictures of the Great Lakes: he was too much at home here. He didn’t want a home. Or a wife or a baby. Ever again. But this was no time for painful memories. No time to envy a friend for his life. Not when there was work to be done, a baby to be entertained and a beautiful woman in the kitchen waiting for him, depending on him.
She was waiting with a cup of coffee, laced with cream. He looked up questioningly.
“Is that right, cream and no sugar?” she asked.
He nodded. “But how did you know?”
“That first night. After you made dinner, I made coffee.”
He nodded with a provocative smile. “The day you picked me up.”
She lifted Morgan out of her high chair and rested her chin on Morgan’s soft curls. “I didn’t pick you up, you picked me up. Who came and sat down at our table?” she asked.
“Who dropped her troll?” he said.
“It certainly wasn’t me. And it certainly wasn’t her. And it certainly wasn’t on purpose. I guess you think I go around using Morgan to pick up men all the time.” Her hazel eyes sparkled indignantly.
He shrugged. “It worked.”
She sat down with Morgan in her lap while he stood at the kitchen cabinet looking down at her. “It didn’t work. If I’d been trying to pick up somebody, it wouldn’t have been you.”
“You really know how to hurt a guy,” he said, noticing the way her cheeks flamed with color when she was agitated.
“I’m sorry,” she said contritely while Morgan wriggled in her arms. “I didn’t mean that. But...you know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean,” he said. “You’re looking for a man you can count on. One who wants to get married and have kids, right?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“It’s what most women want,” he said.
“And what most men don’t.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said, folding his arms across his chest as Morgan reached out in his direction. He didn’t want to hold her, didn’t want to feel her baby-soft cheek against his, to imagine what it would be like...
“I know about it,” Laurie answered, “or I should after what I’ve been through. What I don’t understand is why. Marriage is such a good deal for men. Maybe you can explain it to me?”
“No, I can’t,” he said firmly, terminating the conversation before they got in any deeper, any more personal. “We’ve got apples to pick, bins to fill and miles to go before we sleep.”
Chapter Five
By the end of the day they’d only filled five bins from one and a half trees, and placed the bins by the side of the road for the local trucker to pick up. It was cheering and disheartening at the same time to see that the farm workers’ bins were stacked to an impressive height alongside of their puny pile. But Laurie and Cooper had taken time out to eat an apple, soothe Morgan when she fussed, picked up every toy she’d thrown out of the playpen and watched while she fell asleep under her blanket. Then and only then did they enjoy an hour of uninterrupted work and quiet.
They didn’t mar the silence by talking. They just picked, silently and steadily. Laurie didn’t want to continue the discussion about what women and men wanted, and she was sure Cooper didn’t, either.
It was pointless. They both knew each other’s views and they couldn’t be farther apart. If only Laurie didn’t always want what she couldn’t have. It was a severe character flaw, one she thought she could overcome until she met Cooper. Now if only she could keep her mind on apples and forget how his body fit so perfectly with hers, when she’d fallen on top of him earlier. If only she could stop staring at him, wondering if he’d ever kiss her again. Wondering if it was really as wonderful as she remembered.
When dusk fell, Cooper gathered their equipment and Laurie gathered Morgan and went back to the house. She put the little girl in her windup swing and stood staring hypnotically as the baby swung back and forth. Laurie’s back ached, she was tired and hungry. She heard Cooper open the refrigerator and like Pavlov’s dog, her mouth watered.
“Did you find anything?” she asked hopefully, coming up behind him and peering over his shoulder.
“What about chicken curry with apple chutney?” he asked, turning to face her.
Her eyes widened. “I thought all you could make was hamburgers.”
“I found the chutney in the fridge and a container labeled Chicken Curry in the freezer. Think it’s okay if we eat it?”
“Of course. Gretel would want us to. I might even figure out how to make rice to go with it.”
“You really don’t know how to cook?” he asked.
She shook her head slowly. “I know what you’re thinking. No wonder I’m single.” She sighed. “Maybe you’re right. I ought to take some lessons.”
With the refrigerator still open, he looked at her for a long moment until she had to reach for the counter to steady herself. The intensity of his gaze left her weak-kneed.
“Don’t do that,” he said at last. “Stay the way you are. Most guys don’t care as much about cooking as...”
She waited patiently but he never finished his sentence. Instead he looked at her with a mixture of regret and blatant desire that made her pulse race. She forgot about the curry and the chutney, she forgot everything but Cooper until the cold air finally brought her out of her trance and he closed the refrigerator.
“Can I help?” she asked as he turned his back on her and went to the stove.
“You can see if there are any condiments.”
“Condiments.. .sure.” She walked into Gretel’s pantry and scanned the shelves, trying to get her runaway emotions under control. Unless she did, this wasn’t going to work, this apple picking, this togetherness. She was weak, she was vulnerable and she was infatuated with this man.
Cooper stayed at the sink until she’d left the room. Could she help? she asked. She could help by not standing so close to him, so close he could see the green flecks in her hazel eyes and notice the shape of her lips inviting him to kiss her again. She had no idea how desirable she was, no idea how hard it was to keep from lifting her up onto the counter, cupping the back of her head with his palm and inhaling the smell of ripe apples that clung to her skin and devouring her with his mouth. She had that effect on him and God help him he was having trouble resisting her scent, her taste and her touch.
But he had to. Since the accident two years ago he’d been on the run. Running from his memories. His sorrow. He’d had a dozen or more assignments. They’d been interesting. There’d been an occasional woman who’d also been interesting, but not interesting enough to pick apples for, to drive around Buffalo in the rain for and to feed a baby yogurt for. If he wasn’t careful this interest could lead to a relationship he didn’t want. Not with any woman. And definitely not with a woman like Laurie. The kind who’d been hurt once and was only interested in playing for keeps. Just the sight of her with Morgan in her arms should have been enough to send him running for the door.
But he wasn’t running. Instead he was thawing curry, sipping sherry he’d gotten from the liquor cabinet and listening to some mellow jazz on the local
radio while Morgan dozed in her swing. It all felt so natural he could almost imagine himself belonging there. But it was only Morgan who belonged there. The rest of them were just visitors. He moved to the pantry door where Laurie was standing, staring at the shelves, the overhead light shining on her golden hair.
“What have you got there?” he asked, taking her hand and uncurling her fingers from a box of raisins. Her hand was warm and felt slightly rough from the day’s work. You look tired,” he said, taking the raisins and running his thumb around her palm. “Why don’t you relax in a hot bath?”
She nodded and her eyelashes were shadowed against her cheeks. “What about you?” she murmured.
“Somebody has to stay and watch the curry.”
“I just meant...”
He knew what she meant, but the sudden vision of joining her in a giant tub of hot water sent his heart pounding with anticipation.
“I’ll put Morgan to bed,” she said. She tried to walk around him but he blocked her way in the small pantry. She put her hand on his shoulder and he backed her against the wall and pinned her there with his hands on her arms.
“Laurie,” he said in a low voice. “I just want you to know I... Oh, God what am I trying to say?”
The expectant look in her eyes, her lightly parted lips, her silky hair clinging to her cheek stole his breath away and with it the words he wanted to say. “I understand,” she murmured.
“No, you don’t,” he countered and then he kissed her. He couldn’t help it. The pantry was so warm and so still, with jars of applesauce and apple juice gleaming from the shelves and she was so achingly sweet, so tempting. She didn’t resist. She wrapped her arms around his neck as if she was waiting for this moment. She kissed him with a hunger that matched his own. Not once, not twice, but over and over as if that made it all right, when they both knew it wasn’t: Finally she broke away and held him at arm’s length, gazing deeply into his eyes, searching for answers.