“That’s quite a man you’ve got there.”
The nurse spoke to Cassie while making a note on her chart.
“Thanks, but Noah’s not my man. He’s my guardian angel.”
And speaking of angels…
The sleeping angel Cassie held in her arms took her breath away. Had there ever been a more beautiful sight?
Emotion swelling, she blinked back tears. Every bit of the anguish she’d been through was worth it. Not only was she alive, but she was holding her very much alive baby in her arms, with another perfect baby waiting in line for her breakfast.
And just think, she had this double blessing and her own life all because of Noah. Though the actual delivery of her babies had become a blur, he was the one thing about her ordeal that she’d never forget. His soothing voice, and the way he’d held her hand, urging her not to give up.
Starting at the still-warm spot on her forehead where Sheriff Noah Wheeler had planted his tender kiss, she felt a quiet contentment creep through her.
Dear Reader,
Some of my books contain more of the real me than others, and Babies and Badges is definitely one of the stories with a lot of me! First, I grew up in Springdale, Arkansas, which is only about forty-five minutes from the fictional small town of Riverdale. This mountainous part of the state is gorgeous any time of the year, but the story opens in spring, when the leaves are such a luminous shade of green that they look as if they’re floating. The smells are heady. Rich and loamy and sweet. Okay, so clearly I love the setting. Ah, but the people of Arkansas I love even more. Lots of quirky true individuals never in such a hurry that they can’t take time out to share their day.
The hero of this story, Noah Wheeler, was a football star at the University of Arkansas, where I graduated in 1989. Cassie, the heroine, is an interior designer in Little Rock. While I never practiced there, right out of college I did interior design work for what have since become two of the most prestigious architectural firms in the state. All of that is just backbone to the story. Many of my favorite things wove their way in. The War Eagle Craft Fair. Saturday morning yard sales. Steeple Hill author Margaret Daley’s hot yellow Thunderbird convertible…and my love for all deep-fried foods!
For those of you who’ve never had the pleasure of visiting this enchanting state, I hope reading Noah and Cassie’s story will tempt y’all into coming on over for a visit real soon!
Laura Marie Altom
I love hearing from readers at P.O. Box 2074, Tulsa, OK 74101 or by e-mail at [email protected]. And check out my Web site at www.lauramariealtom.com!
BABIES AND BADGES
Laura Marie Altom
For my dear grandmother-in-law, Wanda Thompson-Davis—better known in the family as Nana—and her husband, Sonny Thompson, whom I’m deeply sorry never to have known. How you two got left off my special grandparents’ dedication I’m still trying to figure out! In the meantime, please know how much you mean to all of us here in Tulsa!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Sheriff Noah Wheeler glared at the pink rice bag occupying his passenger seat and muttered, “I’ll give you a Here comes the bride…”
Tightening his grip on the wheel, telling himself the muggy May breeze ruffling his hair through the ancient Suburban’s open window was relaxing instead of annoying, he sighed.
What the hell had he been thinking attending Kelsey’s wedding?
Was he some kind of sicko masochist?
He’d given that woman some of the best months of his life—eight to be exact. They’d traveled. Done Branson, Missouri. Taken a fountain tour of Kansas City. No destination had been too much trouble. Shoot, he’d even driven her all the way to Fayetteville on a weeknight just to see Christmas lights on the square! He’d barbecued with her, made grilled cheese sandwiches for her when she’d broken her pinkie finger. He’d changed her car’s oil. Driven her to work when she’d gotten that bogus new set of tires.
In short, he’d done everything for her.
And what had she done for him?
Gone off and married another man—one of his good friends, dammit. And then had the gall to invite him to the wedding!
Time for the truth yet, Wheeler? Or you gonna stay hitched to this pity train for the rest of your life?
He glared at the road winding its way through northwest Arkansas. At tender new leaves in the forest thick with maples and oaks and fading redbuds. At tender side-of-the-road grasses just tall enough to sway in his truck’s breeze.
By the end of next week, traffic would be bumper to bumper with RVs and minivans heading for the twice-annual War Eagle Craft Fair, but today, at least, the highway was deserted.
Just like him.
And that was how he liked it. He was a bachelor. The best of a dying breed. He was a downright professional single guy who’d long ago decided to be happy with his eternally single state.
Nope, no more moping for him.
Cruising past Judi Thompson’s place with her rows of hybrid irises looking like pastel Easter eggs fastened atop fragile green stems, he decided to be happy about spring. Not just spring, the season, but this newfound spring in his life.
His conscience snorted.
Good one, buddy. Mind B.S.ing your way back to the truth?
Noah pressed his lips tighter than the zipper on a virgin’s prom dress.
Okay, so maybe if he were honest with himself, he’d admit he was a little blue. And maybe Kelsey had tearfully broken things off with him for a very good reason—at least in her mind. And okay, yeah, her new husband, Owen, had requested Noah’s permission before even asking her on a first date. But geez, did he have to go and get hitched to her?
Okay, so maybe Noah did have certain issues with even saying the word relationship, let alone m-marriage.
See? He could barely even think it!
But she could’ve stuck by him.
She could’ve been content for them to spend the rest of their lives dating. Just like he was. But she’d stubbornly insisted on the two of them tying the knot, going so far as to give him an ultimatum. Either he marry her or it was over. He’d been every bit as bullheaded, insisting they maintain the status quo. They didn’t need rings to show the world they were a couple.
Shoot, they’d had matching Razorback T-shirts, and he’d spent Christmas and Thanksgiving with her family instead of his. What more could a woman want?
Judging by today’s ceremony—a lot!
By God, Noah Wheeler always—always—honored his commitments. If he said he’d stick by her, he would. He just didn’t see the need to go making it all official.
He’d already gone that route, and everyone in the county knew darned well what’d happened.
The drive from Eureka Springs’s famous Thorn-crown Chapel grew more tedious by the mile—or maybe it was Noah’s own company getting on his nerves. Whatever the case, he reached into the glove box where he kept an emergency stash of candy bars and pulled out a Twix.
He’d just put the gold foil wrapper to his teeth when he spotted one of those fancy new Thunderbird convertibles with its flashers on a couple hundred yards up the road. The pale-yellow dream on wheels was way too ne
w to be having mechanical problems, so he figured the owner must’ve run out of gas.
Thrilled to have a distraction, Noah eased his SUV onto the wide shoulder behind it, grateful the car’s driver had had the good fortune to not run dry on one of the many sections of the road with a steep drop-off.
Noah had already pulled off the tie he’d worn to the wedding, and after easing out of his truck, nursing his aching left knee—always a barrel of monkeys in this muggy weather—he ditched his jacket as well, tossing it on top of the rice bag he planned on letting the guys down at the station use for target practice.
Without his radio or gun, he felt naked approaching the car. He could’ve called in his stop on the fixed radio in the truck, but didn’t much see the need. Judging by the long, wavy hair, he could tell a woman sat in the front seat, head slumped against the headrest. Probably taking a nap.
“Hello!” he called out, walking slowly toward the driver’s side.
When he got no answer, his heart beat faster.
Was she hurt?
“Hello? Sheriff Noah Wheeler here. Just checkin’ to see if you need any help.”
A VW Bug whizzed by—the old kind.
Red.
The exhaust stung his nose.
Senses on full alert, wondering if maybe he should call in, he crept closer still. “I’d sure appreciate a wave or something. You know, just to let me know you’re all right.”
Greg Morris down in Washington County had gotten shot approaching a vehicle. The woman driver had played dead, while in the passenger seat her boyfriend hunkered down with a .357 Magnum. They’d been running drugs to the U of A campus from Dallas. Greg was now in a grave, and Noah hoped his killers spent the rest of their lives in the equivalent, only with concrete walls instead of dirt.
His pulse hammered, and a bead of sweat slid down his right temple.
Damn this heat and this stupid dress shirt.
He could see through the rear driver’s-side porthole window that the passenger seat was empty. But since he couldn’t see if the woman was truly asleep, or hurt, or just playing possum, he took it slow.
“Ma’am? You need help?”
“Mmm…”
He raised his eyebrows. Had that been a moan?
Throwing caution to the wind, heart racing as he prayed this wouldn’t turn out like that nightmarish Monday on Blue Springs Road, he finished his approach, and wished he’d done it a lot sooner, as the woman behind the wheel was about twelve months pregnant and obviously in trouble.
Her window was down, so he lightly shook her shoulder. “Ma’am? Can you look at me?”
Resting on a pillow of her lush red hair, she inched her head to the left, then opened exotic jade-green eyes a millimeter at a time. “I—” She licked her lips. Full, kissable lips attached to a flawless complexion—which must’ve cost an awful lot of money to keep up. The kind of money that had no business being on the side of the road in desolate Pritchett County. A fine mist of sweat coated her forehead and upper lip, and her breathing was erratic. She licked those lips of hers again, then said, “I—could you please help?”
Her gaze fell to her bulging tummy.
His gaze followed. “You in labor?”
Sucking in a swift gulp of air, she nodded.
“Okay, um—first off, I’m gonna call for help. Then we’re gonna get you out of here and into the back of my truck where I think you’ll be more comfortable.”
Again, all she could do was nod.
If Noah had thought his pulse was racing earlier, now he felt on the verge of passing out. He’d seen a lot of things in his years as county sheriff, but thankfully, he’d never happened upon a scene like this.
He reached his SUV in record time and radioed for an ambulance. The dispatcher patched him through to paramedics and after relaying what sketchy information he had, he dashed around to the back of his truck.
The rear door opened with a metallic screech, and Noah tossed aside the jack and jumper cables and spare jugs of wiper wash fluid, oil and water. He found the first-aid kit under the Bulldog bleacher pad he’d bought from one of his deputy’s kids.
Next, he lowered the back seat into the flat position, then made a nest out of the stash of blankets he hadn’t yet removed from that winter.
With the back seat down, he had a clear view of Kelsey’s foil-wrapped wedding present on the front floorboard. Looked like something good had come from skipping out on the reception, since the contents of the box was a half-dozen ecru towels.
Ecru.
Now, who but Kelsey would ask for ecru towels?
Forcing Kelsey and the way she’d looked in her white satin gown from his mind, he dashed back to the Thunderbird.
“How’re you doing?” he asked the woman inside, bum knee aching and slightly out of breath from adrenaline.
His heart sank when, once again, all he got from her was a weak nod.
“Okay, well, at least you’re not worse. I’m going to open your door,” he said, doing just that. “And then I’m going to lift you out of there.” With the door open, he saw that she couldn’t have been much over five feet. Good thing, since her car probably wouldn’t hold anyone over five-three—and certainly not his own six-foot frame.
She wasn’t wearing her seat belt, so he slipped his left hand beneath her knees and his right behind her back, easing her out of the car and deeper into his arms. She wore a black sundress, not all frilly and floral like the ones women wore in these parts, but severe in its shape.
All straight lines and business.
Even with the baby, she weighed nothing, and he cradled her close, mumbling something he hoped was comforting during the short walk to his truck.
In the fading sun, he noticed from the long silky waves kissing his left cheek that her hair wasn’t mere red, but fire streaked with a hundred shades of blond. He’d never been big on hair colors beyond the basics, but even he could see that this gal’s head was something special.
And her smell. Her perfume was a spicy, musky, sexy-hot Oriental blend that somehow matched the jade he remembered hiding behind her now closed eyes.
“You’re gonna be just fine,” he murmured, stopping just short of instinctively kissing her forehead. Geez, he’d been in law for twelve years and had yet to kiss one of the Jane Q. Publics he’d sworn to protect. Further proof that he shouldn’t have come within three counties of Kelsey and Owen’s big day.
His attraction meter was all screwed up.
At the back of his truck, Noah placed his good knee on the floorboard, then eased her inside, covering her with a blanket she pushed away.
“Hot—so hot,” she said, voice scratchy and weak.
“Okay, um, let me see what I can do.”
He’d just hopped down, planning to close up the truck and turn on the A/C, when she reached for him, locking her fingers around his black leather belt.
“Please, stay,” she said, eyes welling with tears just before she squeezed them shut and started funny panting breathing that felt way too intimate for him to witness. “I—I thought I could do this alone.” She grimaced. “I do everything alone, but—” There she went with that breathing again. “Oh God, it hurts. Oh God, what am I going to do?” Somewhere in all of that, she’d raised her knees, then spread her legs wide, furrowing her lovely forehead with a grimace of what he could only guess was mind-numbing pain.
He matched that with his own case of vertigo.
Good Lord, she wasn’t gonna have this baby right now, was she? He’d seen training videos on this sort of thing, but…
Suck it up, bud. This ain’t no drill and you ain’t no Boy Scout.
Noah looked over his shoulder for the ambulance, but no such luck.
“Okay, um, can you hold it?” he asked, taking yet another look.
“Nooooooo!” Thrashing her head from side to side, she emitted an otherworldly scream that startled a flock of crows into noisy flight.
Noah rolled up his sleeves and took a deep breath
before assuming his usual professionalism. This was no longer about Kelsey, or his own fears, this was about saving this woman’s life, and the life of her child.
“What’s your name?” he said, knowing they were about to get real close—real fast.
“Cassandra—Cassie.”
“Nice to meet you, Cassie. I’m Noah.”
Though her beautiful face was all scrunched with pain, she nodded before cutting loose with another of her banshee wails. “It huuuuurts!” she cried.
“I know,” he said, patting her knee. “I mean, obviously, I don’t know, but—oh, man…”
I’ve gotta pull myself together.
Latex gloves. Definitely need those. Too bad the box of them was in the back of his county-issued Blazer.
Okay, so he had to somehow wash his hands. He was gonna need those towels, too.
Shooting into action, he grabbed the box with the towels, unwrapped it, then, stopping just short of pulling them out, he ran back around to the rear of the truck to grab one of the gallons of fresh water he kept on hand for busted radiators or the occasional dehydrated lost hiker.
In the first-aid kit, he fished out a couple of prepackaged alcohol wipes, ripped one open with his teeth and scrubbed his hands as best as he could. Next, he poured water over them before giving his hands another good scrub.
Okay, now he was in business.
Hands clean, he grabbed a couple of the new-smelling towels and spread them under Cass’s backside.
Another of her wails hurried him along.
She was now clutching at her dress, dragging it up lean, tan legs he had no business looking at, but had to. “My panties,” she said. “T-they have to come off.”
He nodded, then reached for the first-aid kit’s scissors, and clinically snipped at robin’s-egg-blue silk.
Oh boy—or girl!
There—right there between her legs was the crown of her baby’s head!
“Okay, Cass, you’re further into this than I thought.” Grabbing her hand, he said, “Squeeze, darlin’. Squeeze me as hard as you can and push!”
Eyes wild, she did.
Babies And Badges (American Baby) Page 1