Maggie wandered into the stall, keeping one wary eye on the calf’s mother, then sank to one knee beside the smaller animal. He was, like most of Justice’s herd, Black Angus. His black hide was the color of the shadows filling the barn, and his big brown eyes watched her with interest.
“Not sure, really,” Mike said. “One of the boys saw the little guy limping out on the range, so he brought them in. But whatever was wrong, looks like it’s all right now.”
The calf wasn’t small anymore. He was about six months old and wearing the King Ranch brand on his flank. He was well on his way to being the size of his father, which would put him, full grown, at about eleven hundred pounds. But the way he cuddled up to his mother, looking for food and comfort, made him seem like little more than an overlarge puppy.
The mingled aromas of hay and leather and cow mingled together in the vast barn and somehow made a soothing sort of scent. Maggie never would have believed she was capable of thinking that, since before meeting and marrying Justice, she had been a devout city girl. She’d once thought that there was nothing lovelier than a crowded shopping mall with a good-size latte stand. She had never liked the outdoors as a kid and had considered staying in a motel as close to camping as she ever wanted to get.
And yet being on the King Ranch had been so easy. Was it just because she’d loved Justice so much? Or was it because her heart had finally figured out where she belonged?
But then, she asked herself sadly, what did it matter now?
“See you later, Mike,” she said, then tugged at Justice’s arm. “Let’s get you moving again. Gotta get your exercise in whether you want to or not.”
“I never noticed that slave-driver mentality of yours before,” Justice muttered as they left the barn and wandered around the side of the main house.
“You just didn’t pay attention,” she told him. “It was always there.”
He was moving less easily, she noticed, and instinctively she slowed her pace. He fell into her rhythm and his steps evened out again. She knew how much he hated this. Knew that he detested having to depend on others to do things for him. And she knew he was in pain, though heaven knew he’d be roasted over live coals and still not admit to that. So she started talking, filling the silence so he would have to concentrate on something other than how hard it was to walk.
“Phil said you planted new grasses?” That was a brilliant stroke, Maggie thought. Get the man talking about the ranch and the prairie grass pastures and he’d get so involved, he wouldn’t notice anything else. Not even pain.
“On the high pasture,” he told her, easing around the corner of the log house to walk toward a rose garden that had originally been planted by his mother. “With the herd rotation, we’ll keep the cattle off that grass until winter, and if it holds and we get some rain this fall, we’ll have plenty of rich feed for the herd.”
“Sounds good,” she murmured, knowing her input wasn’t needed.
“It was a risk, taking the cattle off that section early in the rotation, but we wanted to try out the new grasses and it had to have time to settle in and grow before winter, so…” He shrugged, looked down at her and unexpectedly smiled. “You’re taking my mind off my leg, aren’t you?”
“Well,” she said, enjoying the full measure of a Justice King smile for as long as she could, “yeah. I am. Is it working?”
“It is,” he said with a nod. “But I’m going to stop talking about it before you fall asleep while walking.”
“It was interesting,” she argued.
“Sure. That’s why your eyes are glazed over.”
Maggie sighed. “Okay, so the pastures aren’t exactly thrilling conversational tidbits. But if you’re talking about the ranch, you’re not thinking about your leg.”
He stopped, reached down and rubbed his thigh as if just the mention of it had fired up the aching muscles. He tipped his head back and looked up at the sky, a broad expanse of blue, dotted with thick white clouds. “I’m tired of thinking about my leg. Tired of the cane. Tired of being in the house when I should be on the ranch.”
“Justice—”
“It’s all right, Maggie,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m just impatient, that’s all.”
She nodded, understanding. She’d seen this before, usually in men, but some women had the same reaction. They felt as though their worlds would fall apart and crash if they weren’t on top of everything at all times. Only they were capable of running their business, their homes, their children. It was a hard thing to accept help, especially since it meant also accepting that you could be replaced. However briefly.
“The garden looks good,” she said abruptly.
He turned his head to look. “It does. Mom’s roses are just starting to bloom.”
Maggie led the way down the wide dirt path, lined on either side by pale, cream-colored bricks. The perfume of the roses was thicker the farther they went into the garden, and she inhaled deeply, dragging that scent into her lungs.
The rose garden spread out just behind the ranch house. A huge flagstone patio off the kitchen and great room led directly here, and Maggie had often had her morning coffee at the kitchen table, staring out at the garden Justice said his mother had loved.
The garden was laid out in circles, each round containing a different color and kind of rose. Justice’s mother had turned this section of the ranch into a spring and summer wonder. Soon, Maggie knew, the garden would be bursting with color and scent.
She heard him behind her and turned to look at him. Behind him, the house sat, windows glistening in the sun. To her right was a stone bench, and she heard the splash of the water from the fountain that sat directly in the middle of the garden.
Justice was looking at her through narrowed eyes and, not for the first time, Maggie wondered what he was thinking about. What he saw when he looked at her. Did he have the same regrets she did? When he looked at the roses his mother had planted, did he see Maggie there, too? Was she imprinted on this house, his memories? Or had she become someone he didn’t want to think about at all?
Well, that was depressing, she told herself and shook off the feeling deliberately. Instead, she cocked her head to one side, looked up at him and asked, “Do you remember that summer storm?”
After a second or two, he smiled and nodded. “Hard to forget that one.” He glanced around at the neatly laid out flower beds, then kicked at one of the bricks at his feet. “It’s the reason we laid these bricks, remember?”
A soft wind blew in and lifted her hair off her neck and Maggie grinned. “How could I forget? It rained so hard the roses were coming up out of the ground.” She looked around and saw the place as it had been that long-ago night. “The ground couldn’t hold any more water. And the roots of the bushes were pulling up just from the weight of the bushes themselves.” She and Justice had raced outside, determined to save his mother’s garden. “We were running around here for two hours, in the rain and the mud, propping up the rose bushes, trying to keep them all from being washed away.”
“We did it, too,” he mused, looking around now, as if reassuring himself that they’d been successful.
“Yeah, we did.” She took a breath and asked, “Remember how we celebrated?”
His gaze fixed on hers, and she felt the heat of that stare slide right down into her bones. “You mean how we made love out here, covered in mud, laughing like loons?”
“Yes,” she said, “that’s what I mean.” She took an instinctive step toward him. The past mingled with the present, memory tangling with fresh need. Her mouth went dry, her insides melted and something low and deep within her pulsed with desire. Passion. She remembered the feel of his hands on her. The taste of his mouth on hers. The heavy weight of him pressing her down, into cold, sodden earth. And she remembered she hadn’t felt the cold. Hadn’t noticed the rain. All she’d been aware of was Justice.
Some things didn’t change.
The sun was blazing out of a spring sky.
They were on opposite sides of a very large fence that snaked between them. Their marriage was supposedly over, and all that was keeping her here on the ranch was the fact that he needed her to help him be whole again.
And yet, none of that mattered.
She took another step toward him. He moved closer, too, his gaze locked on hers, heat sizzling in those dark blue depths until Maggie almost needed to fan herself. What he wanted was there on his face. As she was sure it was on hers. She needed him. Always had. Probably always would.
Standing here surrounded by memories was just stoking those needs, magnifying them with the images from the past. She didn’t care. Maggie lifted one hand, cupped his cheek in her palm and felt the scratch of beard stubble against her skin. It felt good. Right. He closed his eyes at her touch, blew out a breath and moved even closer to her.
“Maggie…”
A baby’s cry broke them apart.
Jolting, Maggie turned toward the sound and saw Mrs. Carey hurrying across the patio and down the steps, carrying a very fussy Jonas on her hip. The older woman had cropped gray hair and was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Her tennis shoes didn’t make a sound as she scurried toward them, an apologetic expression on her face.
Maggie walked to meet the woman, holding out her arms for her son. Jonas practically flung himself at his mother and wrapped his arms around her neck.
“I’m so sorry for interrupting,” Mrs. Carey said, glancing from Maggie to Justice with a shrug. “But Jonas looked out the window, saw his mama and there was just no holding him back.”
“It’s okay, Mrs. Carey,” Maggie told her, running one hand up and down her son’s back in a soothing gesture that was already quieting the baby’s cries and sniffles. The look on the housekeeper’s face told Maggie she really regretted interrupting whatever had been going on. But maybe it was for the best, she thought. Maybe things would have gotten even more complicated if she and Justice had allowed themselves to be swept away by memories.
It only took another moment for Jonas to lift his head from Maggie’s shoulder and give her a watery smile. “There now, no reason to cry, is there, little man?”
Jonas huffed out a tiny breath, grabbed hold of one of Maggie’s earrings, then turned his victorious smile on Justice and Mrs. Carey. As if he were saying, See? I have my mommy. Just like I wanted.
Justice moved off a little and sat down hard on the stone bench. “I’m done exercising, Maggie. Why don’t you take your son into the house?”
Mrs. Carey, standing behind her boss, made a face at him that almost set Maggie laughing. But the truth was she was just too torn to smile about the situation. There her stubborn husband sat, with his son within arm’s reach, and Justice had withdrawn from them. Sealed himself off behind that damn wall of his. Well, Maggie thought, maybe it was past time she tore some of that wall down. Whether he liked it or not.
Giving into the urge, Maggie jostled Jonas on her hip a bit, then asked, “Jonas, you want to go see your daddy?”
Justice’s head snapped up and his eyes were wide and horrified briefly before they narrowed into dangerous slits. “I’m not his daddy.”
“You are the most hardheaded, stubborn, foolish man I have ever known,” Mrs. Carey muttered darkly. “Not enough sense to see the truth even when it’s staring right at you with your own eyes.”
“You might want to remember who you work for,” Justice told her without looking at her, keeping his eyes fixed on Maggie and the boy.
“I believe I just described who I work for,” Mrs. Carey told him. “Now I’m going back to the kitchen. Put a roast in for dinner.”
When she was gone, Maggie stared at Justice for another minute, while the baby laughed and babbled to himself. But her mind was made up. She was going to force Justice to acknowledge their son. No more of this letting him avoid the baby, scuttling out of rooms just as she entered. No more walking a wide berth around the situation. It was time for him to be shaken up a bit. And there was no better way to do it than this.
“Here you go, sweetie. Go see your daddy.” Maggie swung Jonas down and before Justice could get off the bench, she plopped the baby into his lap.
Both baby and man wore the same startled expression, and they looked so much alike that Maggie actually laughed.
Justice didn’t hear her. He was holding his breath and watching the baby on his lap as if it were a live grenade. He expected the tiny boy to start shrieking in protest at being handed over to a stranger. But instead, Jonas looked up at him and a slow, cautious smile curved his tiny mouth.
He had two teeth, on the bottom, Justice noted, and a stream of drool sliding out of his mouth. His hair was black, his eyes a dark blue and his arms and legs were chubby pistons, moving at an incredible rate. Justice kept one hand on the boy’s back and felt the rapid beat of the baby’s heart beneath his hand.
For days he’d steered clear of the child, told himself the baby was none of his concern. He hadn’t wanted to be touched by the child. Hadn’t wanted to look at Jonas and know that Maggie had found what she needed with some other man. Staying away had been much easier.
Yet now, as he considered that, he realized that for the first time in his life, he’d behaved like a coward. He’d run from the child and what he meant to save his own ass. To protect himself.
What did that say about him?
Jonas laughed and Justice turned his attention to Maggie, who was watching them both with tears in her eyes. His heart turned over in his chest, and just for an instant he let himself believe it was real. That he and Maggie were together again. That Jonas was his son.
Then the sound of a car engine out front shattered the quiet. A moment later that engine was shut off and the solid slam of a car door followed. Before he could wonder who had arrived, Mrs. Carey shouted from inside, “Jesse and Bella are here!”
Justice stared up at Maggie, the moment over. “Take the baby.”
Seven
“I can’t tell you how glad I’ll be to finally have this baby,” Bella said with a groan as she eased back into one of the comfy chairs in the great room. Her long, dark hair lay across her shoulder in a thick braid and silver hoops winked from her ears. A wry smile curved her mouth as she ran one hand over her belly. “It’s not all about wanting to sleep on my stomach again, though. I’m just so anxious to meet whoever’s in there.”
“You didn’t find out the baby’s sex?” Mrs. Carey asked.
“No,” Bella said. “We decided to be surprised.”
Maggie grinned. She’d felt the same way. She hadn’t wanted to know the sex of her baby before she saw him for the first time. And she remembered all too clearly what the last couple of weeks of pregnancy were like. No wonder Bella was fidgety. There was the discomfort, of course. But more than that, there was a sense of breathless expectation that clung to every moment.
“And,” Bella was saying, “I don’t think Jesse can take much more of this. The man’s on a constant red alert. Every time I breathe too deeply, he bolts for the phone, ready to call 911. He’s so nervous that he’s awake every couple of hours during the night, waking me up to make sure I’m all right.”
“That’s just as it should be,” Mrs. Carey said, from her seat on the couch, where she held Jonas in the crook of her arm and fed him his afternoon bottle. “A man should be wrapped up in the birth of his child.” She sniffed. “Some men, at least, know what to do.”
It was really nice having the King family housekeeper on her side, Maggie mused, but at the same time, she felt she owed Justice some sort of defense.
“To be fair,” Maggie said, “Justice didn’t know I was pregnant.”
“Would have if he hadn’t been too stubborn to go after you in the first place,” she countered with a sharp nod that said, that’s all there is to it. “If he had, then you would have been here, at home while you were carrying this little sweetheart. And I wouldn’t have had to wait so long to meet him.”
It would have been nice, Magg
ie thought, to have been here, surrounded by love and concern during her pregnancy. Instead, she’d lived alone, in her apartment a half hour away in Long Beach. Thank God she’d had her own family for support.
“I can’t believe you went through your whole pregnancy on your own,” Bella said softly, her hands still moving restlessly over the mound of her belly. “I don’t know what I would have done without Jesse.”
“It wasn’t easy,” Maggie admitted, pouring Bella another glass of lemonade before slumping back into her own chair. She shot a quick look at her baby, happily ensconced in Mrs. Carey’s arms, and remembered those months of loneliness. She’d missed Justice so much then and had nearly called him dozens of times. But her own pride had discounted that notion every time it presented itself. “I had my family,” she said, reminding herself that she’d never really been completely alone. Besides, she didn’t want these women feeling sorry for her. She hadn’t had Justice with her, but she hadn’t been miserable the whole time, either.
“That’s good,” Bella said softly, as if she understood exactly what Maggie was trying to do.
“My parents live in Arizona, but they were on the phone all the time and were really supportive. Both of my sisters were fabulous.” Maggie grinned suddenly with a memory. “My sister Mary Theresa was even in the delivery room with me. Matrice was great, really. Don’t know what I would have done without her there.”
“I’m glad you weren’t alone,” Mrs. Carey said quietly, “but a woman should have her man at her side when her children are born.”
In a perfect world, Maggie thought but didn’t say. Instead, she sighed and said, “I wanted to tell him. I really did. But at the same time, Justice had already told me that he didn’t want children.”
Mrs. Carey snorted. “Darn fool. Don’t know why he’d say that raised in this family, one of four kids. Why wouldn’t he want children? Especially,” she added, bending to kiss Jonas’s forehead, “this little darling.”
Claiming King's Baby Page 7