Montana Dreaming

by Judy Duarte

  She stood and moved toward the bookshelf that held her family photos, then picked one up, communing with her family the only way she could. She lifted another silver frame, then swiped a hand under her eyes. Her shoulders trembled.

  Oh, hell. She was crying.

  His mind told him to stay seated. To let her grieve alone. To mind his own business. To find a reason to leave. But for some inexplicable reason, he stood and made his way to her side.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She turned, eyes red and watery. A tear slid down her face. “I’m so sorry they couldn’t see Marissa. That they can’t be a part of her life.”

  Mark wrapped her in his arms and drew her close, breathing in the citrusy scent of her shampoo. Offering her his strength. Hoping his embrace was enough.

  Her tears continued to fall, so he continued to hold her.

  “I’m really sorry,” she whispered into his cotton dress shirt, making it warm and moist. “I haven’t done this in a long time.”

  “It’s the baby. And hormones,” he said, although he had no idea if that were true. It sounded reasonable, he supposed.

  His mother used to say that to Kelly, when she locked herself in her room for days at a time. Mark had always figured his sister was depressed because the SOB she’d married had left her barefoot and pregnant. But his parents had been too busy to seek help for her, counseling. Something.

  “You’re probably right,” Juliet said, causing him to wonder what it was that he’d said. “It’s normal to have some depression after birth. Some people call it the baby blues.”

  She sniffled, as if the crying jag were all over.

  Whew. This childbirth stuff was so new. So out of his league.

  As he loosened his embrace and let her go, she glanced at the bookshelf, ran her hand along a watermark on the wood. “Manny made that stain. He…”

  She sniffled again, then batted away a new tear. And then another.

  The next thing Mark knew, he was holding her again. And she was trembling in his arms. “Come on, honey. Let’s take a walk into the other room.”

  Of course, the only other room was the bedroom, where Marissa slept. This apartment was so damn small there was no escape from the memories of the past. But maybe the baby would offer her a promise of the future.

  When they reached the bed, he used his thumbs to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Why don’t you lie down? You ought to rest while the baby is sleeping.”

  “Will you lie down with me? Just for a minute or two?”

  He nodded, willing to do anything to make her feel better. To see that pretty Pollyanna smile again.

  “Sure.” He joined her on the bed, fully clothed, his loafers still on his feet.

  He tried his best to comfort her, as they lay there for the longest time, not talking. Not needing to.

  When she finally fell asleep, he continued to hold her.

  And he didn’t have the foggiest idea why.

  Chapter Eight

  Juliet slept better than she had in years.

  She’d missed human contact, the warmth of a touch, the comfort of an embrace, the steady beat of a heart. So she nestled in a sweet dimension, somewhere between dreamland and reality, relishing a peaceful slumber.

  Until Marissa fussed and began to root into the sheets of her cradle.

  Juliet opened her eyes, ready to reach for her daughter and feed her. But she couldn’t move.

  Mark had one arm under her neck and the other around her waist, holding her close.

  They’d left a lamp on in the other room, which allowed her to see, and she sought the lighted dial of the clock on the dresser.

  Almost midnight.

  They’d lain like that for nearly three hours, like lovers. Like husband and wife. New parents.

  For just a moment, she let herself go, let herself pretend that Mark loved her, that she loved him in return. And that her daughter had a devoted family in which she could grow up.

  But love was a game of pretend Juliet didn’t dare play.

  “Mark,” she whispered softly.

  He grunted, then drew her closer. His chin nestled in her hair, the faint mountain-fresh scent of his cologne riding gently in the night air.

  “Mark,” she said again, this time louder. “I need to feed the baby.”

  “Huh?”

  Marissa let out a cry, and the poor guy nearly jumped through the ceiling.

  The mattress wobbled as he braced himself on an elbow and scanned the room. “God, I’m so sorry. I fell asleep. I must have been more tired than I realized.”

  Juliet smiled, as she climbed from bed and retrieved her hungry daughter. “That’s okay.”

  He glanced at the clock and blew out a sigh. “I guess it’s too late to go back to the inn. But I…uh…can go out to the sofa.”

  She smiled at his sheepish expression, at his thoughtfulness. “Don’t bother. Go on back to sleep.”

  “Are you sure?” He sat on the mattress and glanced at the single loafer he wore, probably wondering where he’d kicked off the other one.

  “I’m not sure what’s happened between us,” she said, as she shushed Marissa. “But it’s pretty safe to say we’ve become close friends in the past week or so.”

  He raked a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. “I guess you’re right.”

  “So if you don’t mind if I nurse her, I don’t mind if you’re in the same room. After all, you’ve seen me at my worst.”

  He kicked off his remaining shoe, which thumped onto the floor, then laid back down, on top of the comforter, and rested his head on the pillow.

  As Marissa cried, anxious to eat, Juliet unbuttoned the front of her gown, releasing a breast and offering it to her child. Within moments, the baby latched on. Juliet’s milk was just starting to come in—at least she suspected it was. Her breasts were fuller, and Marissa seemed to be swallowing more than she had before.

  The lamplight from the living room cast a dull glow through the bedroom door, making it easy to see, easy to marvel at her pretty, dark-haired baby.

  Juliet looked over her shoulder, saw Mark lying in bed, eyes open, watching her. She wasn’t sure there was much to see, other than an outline of her breast. And interestingly enough, she didn’t feel shy or embarrassed.

  She felt womanly.

  “Do you want me to get you anything?” he asked. “A diaper or a glass of water?”

  She offered him a smile that came from her heart. “How did I ever get by without a friend like you?”

  He didn’t answer. And that was just as well, because the underlying reality echoed in her mind.

  Once Mark was gone, she’d have to get by on her own again.

  Ever since Mark had fallen asleep with Juliet and wakened with her in his arms, he’d gone back to the Wander-On-Inn each night at bedtime.

  In the past, he’d always enjoyed the quiet hours before turning in. But lately, he worried about what was going on at the apartment across the street, about whether Juliet was okay, whether the baby was sleeping longer between feedings.

  He supposed Juliet had been right about their friendship. They’d definitely forged some kind of a bond in the past two weeks. A bond that was just as frightening as it was appealing.

  Somehow, the pretty young mother had touched his heart—as a friend, of course. And her daughter had done the same thing.

  So that was why, a week after Marissa was born, Mark drove Juliet and the baby to the clinic for a weight check.

  Juliet had said she could probably drive herself, since she’d had an easy birth and hadn’t needed any medication or an episiotomy. But Mark had still insisted on going. To be honest, he wanted to make sure that Marissa was gaining weight and that everything was all right.

  He secured the car seat in the back of his rented sedan, while Juliet carried the baby down the steps. And moments later, they were on their way to the Lone Pine Medical Building, which was located on White Water Drive, just past the entrance to th
e hospital.

  Several different doctors, including Doc Emerson, Juliet’s primary physician, housed their offices in a single building that shared a large, single waiting room. A registration desk sat in each open doorway. They signed in at the pediatrician’s office and took a seat near the entry.

  Their appointment wasn’t supposed to take long, since it was with the nurse and not a full-blown checkup.

  About ten minutes after they signed in at the pediatric desk, a grandmotherly blonde wearing a blue smock with a Noah’s ark print called Marissa’s name.

  “I’m Karen,” she said, as she led them back to a small exam room.

  Juliet was asked to undress the sleeping baby—something Marissa didn’t like. Her wail of protest soon filled the air.

  Karen placed the naked, crying baby on the scale and fiddled with the dial. “There we go. Four pounds, eleven and a half ounces.”

  Uh-oh. Only a half ounce? That wasn’t very much, was it? At this rate, Marissa would be in kindergarten before she hit the ten-pound mark.

  “Good job, Mom.” Karen picked up the unhappy baby and handed her to Juliet. “She’s already regained her birth weight.”

  “That’s good,” Juliet said. “She’d dropped down to four pounds, six ounces when we left the hospital.”

  Oh. So she was making up for lost weight. Mark blew out a sigh. “When do we have to bring her back in?”

  The “we” slipped out without him realizing it.

  Damn, he was going to have to step back and let Juliet and Marissa get on with their lives. He’d be leaving town shortly—just as soon as he finished the story.

  “Since the baby was a good four weeks early and small,” the nurse said, “we’d like to see her in another week. But so far, so good. She’s doing just great. Do you have any questions?”

  “When can she take a bath?” Juliet asked.

  “The cord is just dangling. So as soon as it falls off, you can bathe her.”

  Mark didn’t like the thought of the tiny girl in the bathtub. “Isn’t she too little for the tub?”

  The nurse smiled. “If you don’t have one of those plastic baby baths, you can bathe her in the kitchen sink.”

  “Oh,” he said. There was a lot about babies he still didn’t know.

  The nurse led them to the desk where they could make an appointment. When they settled on next Friday at two, the receptionist said, “There’s a ten-dollar co-pay for this visit.”

  Mark reached for his wallet.

  “What are you doing?” Juliet tugged at his shirtsleeve. “I can pay that.”

  “I know.” But he wasn’t going to let her. She had a lot of upcoming expenses—a babysitter, for one. He whipped out a twenty. “Let me take care of this.”

  The woman at the desk gave him change and they returned to the car. All the while, Marissa made quite a racket, and no amount of shushing or gentle swaying seemed to help.

  “Do you mind if I feed her first?” Juliet asked.

  “No. Go ahead.” Mark hadn’t meant to watch, to see her unbutton her pink cotton blouse and offer a breast to the child. But he couldn’t turn away.

  It’s not as though there was anything sexual about it. Well, not really. But the attraction, the appeal, was just as strong, just as powerful.

  For a moment, he wondered if he would ever be part of a family—like this one. But he quickly shook off the crazy notion.

  After all, he’d been married once. To a pretty coed he’d met in college, a homebody with a teaching credential. The kind of woman who wanted to be a mother and create a family. A sweet, twenty-two-year-old redhead who’d morphed into a whiny nag after the first six months. And then she’d offered him an ultimatum—either his marriage or his career.

  Mark had told her that he couldn’t walk away from the job he loved, especially not while on an assignment. And when he got back to town, she was gone—along with the furniture and all the wedding gifts.

  The failure of the marriage had hurt, even though he’d sensed it coming. But he hadn’t fought the divorce, letting his ex have all the stuff they’d acquired in the short time they’d been together.

  What the hell. He would have had to put everything in storage anyway.

  After Marissa had been burped and placed into the car seat, Mark headed home along White Water Drive.

  The sky was a vast, springtime blue, and the sun promised to warm the wintry chill in the breeze and carry them to summer. Yet Mark had learned the weather in Montana could turn stormy on Mother Nature’s whim.

  As they neared the colorful flags that lined the entrance of Ranch View Estates, a hell of an idea began to form.

  Mark’s accountant had been after him for years to buy a home—as an investment, as a much needed tax write-off. But Mark had dragged his feet.

  Hell, he’d let the execs at Golden Eagle know that he was willing to go anywhere the company sent him. So why have a house when he was never home?

  Instead, he’d socked away the cash he would have spent on a mortgage and put it into a money market account that had been growing steadily. With his globe-trotting lifestyle, complete with a hefty expense account, he didn’t have much opportunity to spend his earnings.

  Still, he thought about what his accountant had said.

  What if he bought one of those ranch-style houses? Just a small one, of course. He could let Juliet and the baby live there, and she could take care of the property for him—in lieu of rent. After all, he’d be taxed on rental income anyway, wouldn’t he?

  And she certainly didn’t need to be wasting money that was better spent elsewhere. Her wages and tips from The Hitching Post couldn’t possibly be very much, and he suspected she would have a difficult time making ends meet, especially if she had to hire a sitter.

  And speaking of babysitters, they’d better find someone good. Someone competent. Mark didn’t like the idea of just anyone looking after Marissa.

  “It’s a pretty day,” Juliet said.

  “Yeah. It is.” And it was too nice for her and the baby to stay cooped up in that drab old apartment. “I was planning to go by the museum today. Would you and Marissa like to go with me?”

  “Sure. We’d love to. On my days off, I used to spend a lot of time there.” She crossed her arms and slid him a questioning look. “But why do you want to go to the museum? I thought history didn’t interest you.”

  “Normally, it wouldn’t. But I’m looking for information about the Queen of Hearts that will add a little color and flavor the article I’m writing. And while I interview the docent, you and Marissa can wander around and enjoy the place all you want.”

  “We will.” Then she flashed him a pretty smile that turned him every which way but loose.

  Damn. He was growing a little too fond of the mother and her baby. Too concerned about their welfare.

  It was definitely time to finish his story and get the hell out of Dodge.

  The Thunder Canyon Museum was located on two acres of land on Elm Street, in a barn-red clapboard structure that had been a schoolhouse in the late eighteen hundreds. Originally, it had been built in the classic, one-room style, with a foyer/mudroom and big closet in front, the schoolroom in the center and a kitchen/workroom in back.

  But over the years, outbuildings had been added until the community outgrew the facility. And when the new schools were built on the other side of town, the historical society had taken over the original structure and created a museum.

  From what Juliet understood, townspeople had donated money and different artifacts over the years, which allowed the museum to include various exhibits that showed how the early settlers lived. And the biggest contributor had been Caleb Douglas.

  There was also a roped-off area that displayed clothing, accessories and toiletries that once belonged to Lily Divine, the Shady Lady.

  Juliet had always found that particular display to be the most interesting. Or maybe it was the woman’s occupation as a saloon owner and possibly a madam that
set her curiosity soaring. She wished she could have met Lily. And that she could have lived in the late nineteenth century.

  That period in history had always fascinated her, which was why she’d spent so much time at the old schoolhouse museum.

  And on each visit, she’d enjoyed her many chats with the various docents, all volunteers and members of the Thunder Canyon Historical Society. In fact, she’d even thought about joining the interesting group.

  As Mark parked the sedan on the side of the building, Juliet spotted the old shed-style barn in back. It didn’t look like much now, but on her last visit one of the docents had mentioned a plan to make it into a blacksmith exhibit. Juliet thought it would make a nice addition.

  She got out of the car, and as she opened the passenger door to take Marissa from the car seat, a soprano voice sang out.

  “Yoo-hoo! Mark Anderson, is that you?” A heavyset woman in a yellow, floral-printed dress wiggled her fingers in greeting.

  Mark made his way toward the smiling matron. “Yeah. It’s me, Mrs. Eagleston.”

  “Why look at you. All grown up. Of course, I would have known you anywhere, even if your mother hadn’t told me you’d come into town on that big assignment. She’s so proud of you.”

  “You’re looking well, Mrs. Eagleston.”

  “Well, thank you, Mark.” She fingered the side of her lacquered hairdo, where mousy-colored strands had been swept into a beehive. “But after all these years, you’ll have to drop the formality and call me Gladys.”

  Mark smiled, yet his iceberg stance convinced Juliet that he wasn’t happy about seeing his mother’s friend.

  Juliet pulled Marissa from the car seat and adjusted the blanket, blocking the sunshine and the cool breeze from her face.

  “I’ll bet your folks were tickled pink to see you,” the older woman said.

  Mark didn’t respond.

  Because he had yet to visit them, Juliet suspected. And apparently, the Andersons hadn’t told their friend that he hadn’t. Were they all pretending that a falling-out hadn’t occurred? That everything was fine? And that their family interactions were normal?