How many children had she read to sleep? Shayne wondered. And why didn’t she have any of her own? Was there more to this woman than met the eye? He still couldn’t get himself to believe that a woman as vibrant as Sydney Elliot had conducted a long-distance mail romance with a man she’d never met. Surely she’d have to have men in closer proximity in her life. Where were they?
“I didn’t hear her,” he confessed.
“It was a whimper, not a scream.” Her words were swallowed by the rattle of the windows as they trembled before the wind. “And that sounds pretty fierce.” She nodded in the general direction of the windows on his side of the house. “It would have blotted out even a loud whimper. Besides, my room’s next to hers,” Sydney added. “I could hear her better than you could.”
Shayne knew he should be grateful to her for going to Sara, not subjecting her to the third degree. It was just that he wasn’t accustomed to anyone helping him. He was always on the giving end, not the receiving one. “Thank you for taking care of her.”
She smiled, erasing the tension of suspicion and in advertently creating a whole different kind of tension in its wake.
It was obvious that words of thanks came hard to him, Sydney realized. “No hardship. As I said earlier, I like kids and I enjoy being in their company.”
That settled, there seemed to be nothing more to say. Yet, he couldn’t seem to make himself withdraw, not just yet. So he remained where he was, feeling awkward, like some bump in the rug, unable to move away. She wasn’t helping, looking up at him like that, her eyes as warm as the sea in July.
Shayne cleared his throat, as if that would somehow help to clear his mind, as well. It felt muddled now. He couldn’t seem to focus on a complete thought. Was he that tired?
“Have you given any thought to what you want to do? I mean, about finding work? If you’re serious about staying, that is.”
This wasn’t coming out at all well. He’d never been particularly articulate in private, but if he continued in this backward evolutionary spiral, he was going to be reduced to a Neanderthal, making unintelligible sounds and grunts by morning.
It seemed to Sydney that they should have had this conversation earlier at the dinner table, when she’d tried to pry words out of his mouth. When she was fresher.
“I was hoping that maybe the job that Ben mentioned might still be open.” Was that being presumptuous on her part? Shayne hadn’t seemed very pleased when she’d mentioned earlier that Ben wanted her to work at the clinic.
Shayne thought of his day and how exhausted he’d become trying to do everything while patients poured into the clinic like the aftermath of a flash flood. He supposed he had nothing to lose by hiring her, at least on a trial basis. She certainly seemed willing enough to work and she was better than nothing.
His eyes drifted over the length of her. Sydney was wearing a silk robe that insisted on molding itself to her every movement like a second, shimmering peach skin.
Definitely better than nothing, he thought.
The restlessness within him intensified, blatantly hinting at its source.
Shayne banked the fire that leaped into his veins, just as he’d banked down the one in his den. It was late and he was tired. It was time to end this conversation.
“It’s open, all right. I suppose we could give it a try for a few days, see how things work out. I usually go in at eight.”
“Eight’s fine,” Sydney said quickly.
“Asia’s here by seven. She sees to Mac and Sara while I’m gone.” The words came out double-time, as if he were a military leader, snapping out orders. He had no idea why he was even bothering with the extra information. It wasn’t necessary. She didn’t need to know any of it. Yet he’d found himself elaborating.
“I don’t mean to pry, but what about their education?”
He almost laughed. For a woman who didn’t mean to pry, she certainly seemed very good at it. This wasn’t any of her business.
“They’re getting one,” he assured her formally. “Asia takes them into town. Shirley Kellogg, the general store owner’s wife, teaches the kids from the area for three hours a day.”
“Three hours?” That didn’t seem like very much, especially if the children were rowdy. In her experience, that meant most of the time would be spent refereeing. How much could they really learn in that kind of atmosphere?
Shayne knew criticism in the offing when he heard it. “That’s all that’s needed, if it’s done correctly.”
Sydney had thoughts on that subject, but knew that, for the time being, if she wanted the job with Shayne, it was best to keep those thoughts to herself. “You may have a point,” she conceded.
Taking advantage of the momentary break in conversation, Shayne turned on his heel before she could say anything else to keep him standing out here, entertaining thoughts that had no business existing. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“In the morning,” she echoed.
Eight wasn’t fine, no matter what Sydney had said the night before, she groggily realized as the alarm went off. And if eight wasn’t fine, that made six-thirty even less so.
When she’d agreed to the time, it had been from the comfortable side of an evening when she’d been wide awake and eager to get her life in gear and moving forward. It was a whole different matter now.
Despite her chosen vocation that required her to rise early, Sydney had never been a morning person. She faced it reluctantly, as a necessary evil to endure. An obstacle to overcome and vanquish—like a medieval dragon. Her absolute rock bottom requirement in facing such an early hour was that there be some semblance of daylight to make the passage from bed to bathroom acceptable and civilized.
There wasn’t even any daylight. In fact, there was no light to speak of outside her window at all.
This had to be a mistake. The alarm clock had to have gone off by mistake, she thought groggily.
Her brain in a fog, Sydney groped for the alarm clock she’d brought with her, flirting with the idea of dropping it on the floor once she found it. As if in a desperate play for survival, the clock defied detection, continuing to ring, violently shredding the darkness that surrounded her.
The noise throbbed in her head like a headache in the making.
And then she heard the door to her room opening. Light from the hallway came spilling in, ushering with it a small, nightgown-shrouded form.
“Sydney? Are you up?”
Still more than half-asleep, Sydney raised her head from her pillow, focusing on the source of the voice. Slowly, the form solidified.
Sara.
It took almost superhuman effort, but Sydney managed to sit up and drag her hair, if not sleep, from her eyes. She released a long, shaky breath.
“I am now, sugar.”
Sara peered nervously into the room. “What’s that noise?” Hesitantly, she ventured into the room.
Focusing her eyes, Sydney finally zeroed in on the clock. Bracing one hand against the bed, she reached over and shut the alarm off. Finally!
Sydney settled back against the headboard. “That is something I bought to annoy myself.”
It didn’t make any sense to Sara, but she liked Sydney and she wanted to understand. “Why?”
“Long story.” Sara’s puzzled expression made her laugh softly. “It’s an alarm clock, honey. I set it so it can wake me up.” She sighed, knowing that there was no way she could go back to sleep now. “I have trouble waking up in the morning.”
Sara thought the confession over for a moment. “I could come in and wake you up in the morning if you want me to.” She rocked on her toes, eyeing Sydney to see how she liked her suggestion.
“And probably do a much nicer job than that old clock,” Sydney agreed. She smiled at the girl. “That’s very generous of you, Sara. Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”
Appearing pleased at the compliment, Sara asked, “Are you going to stay here with us today, too?”
The hope in the girl�
��s voice touched Sydney. “No, I’m going in with your father and work at the clinic, but I’ll be back tonight.”
“You’re going to work there like Uncle Ben?”
“Not exactly. I’m not a doctor.” Sydney wasn’t aware of the wistfulness in her voice until she heard it herself.
“I bet you could be if you wanted to.”
Sydney couldn’t resist. She pulled the girl to her and hugged her.
Sara squealed and giggled, purely delighted. Sydney hugged her harder, which only made Sara laugh louder.
Impulsively, Sara kissed her on the cheek.
Sydney completely lost her heart to the little girl. She brushed a kiss against the silky head. “Thank you, Sara. I needed that. I was running really low on hugs.”
Sara scrambled up on her knees on the bed. “Do you need hugs?”
“Everybody needs hugs.” Some people just didn’t know it. Sydney had a feeling the good doctor fell into that category. “Don’t you?”
Looking surprised at being found out, Sara nodded vigorously, the ends of her hair bobbing up and down like tiny springs. “Yes, but everybody doesn’t need them. Mac says he doesn’t. And my daddy doesn’t.”
“Oh, I think you’re wrong there. Mac and your daddy both need them. As a matter of fact, I think your daddy needs them most of all.” She saw the doubt in Sara’s eyes as she reached for her robe, not that it offered much protection from the cold. “He just doesn’t know how to ask. Tell you what—” Sydney swung her legs over the side of the bed and rose “—why don’t you hug him when you go downstairs?” She slipped the robe on over her arms and tied the sash. “It’ll be a nice surprise for him.”
Sara cocked her head, mulling the suggestion over. “You think?”
Sydney ruffled her hair, laughing. “I think.”
Shayne glanced at his watch, wondering if he should go and wake Sydney, or just leave when he said he would. It was almost seven-thirty. Sydney should have been down here by now if she was coming with him to the clinic. Probably sleeping in, he guessed. Morning without dawn took some getting used to. He had no doubt that her system was also thrown off by the time change she’d experienced, coming from Nebraska.
Just as well. The woman would probably only get in the way instead of help. The last thing he needed was someone getting in his way.
The bottom step squeaked. Hearing it, Shayne turned around. But instead of Sydney, he found himself looking down into his daughter’s face. Mac was probably still upstairs—avoiding him, like most mornings.
“Good morning, Sara.”
“Good morning,” she echoed, then tugged on his sleeve and beckoned him down to her level.
Not knowing what to expect, he knelt. “Something wrong, Sara?”
She didn’t answer. Instead she caught her lower lip between her teeth, worrying it a little. Then she put her small arms as far around him as she could and squeezed. Hard.
Startled, it took Shayne a moment before he responded. Had something happened? Was she afraid? But when he tilted Sara’s head back slightly to look at her, none of that was evident in her face. She looked a little nervous, but that was all.
“What’s this all about?”
Sara wondered if maybe she was doing it wrong. Did grown-ups hug different? “I’m hugging you, Daddy.”
“Yes, I know, but why?”
This had come completely out of the blue. Sara hadn’t hugged him when she’d first met him, and after that, there’d been no reason to. At least none that he could see. There still wasn’t. For that matter, she hadn’t called him Daddy before, either. The last time he’d seen her, she was six months old. To her, he was more of a stranger than “Daddy.”
An impatient little frown creased her small mouth. Didn’t he like being hugged? Was Sydney wrong? “Because Sydney said you needed one.”
“Oh, she did, did she?” Sydney took a lot upon herself, especially for a stranger, he thought. He had to admit, though, this once he couldn’t find fault with that. “I guess she’s right.”
Like a man picking his way across a sheet of ice he knew was dangerously thin, Shayne lightly stroked his daughter’s hair. Emotions too large and unwieldy to be captured and caged slammed through him, making holes, creating chasms. Leaving him stunned by their intensity. He had no idea just how much he’d missed having his children with him, missed having their love, until this very moment.
He held Sara to him, wondering how someone so small could be responsible for creating something so immense. Like a huge net, love spread completely over his heart, enmeshing it.
Wrapped up in this newly roused emotion, it took Shayne a few minutes to realize that he was no longer alone in the room with Sara. Raising his eyes, he saw Sydney in the doorway, a pleased smile on her lips as she watched them. He hadn’t even heard the bottom step squeak.
Emotion quickened in his throat. He tried to clear it away. “I’m told I have you to thank for this.”
Sydney raised one shoulder, letting it drop again. “The only one you have to thank is Sara.” She looked toward the kitchen. There was no telltale aroma in the air. “Any breakfast ready? If not, I could whip up something.”
He had no doubt that she could. And breakfast was only part of it. Surprised by the stray thought, he wondered where it had come from. “There’s no need. Asia’s taking care of it.”
Asia. Sydney thought of last night’s soup before she’d put her hand to it. Food for survival, not for enjoyment. She didn’t think she was up to facing that this early. A sunless morning was difficult enough.
She began to edge her way out of the room. “I’ll just go see if she needs any help.”
He knew it was useless to tell her not to bother. She didn’t seem to be the type who listened to things she didn’t want to hear. For now, he let it go.
Sara watched Sydney leave the room, then looked up at her father. “I like her,” she pronounced. When he said nothing, she cocked her head, studying him. “Do you like Sydney?”
He knew she wanted him to say yes, but he wanted to be truthful with her at all times. That way, she’d never have cause to doubt him.
“I don’t know yet.” He looked down again at Sara’s face.
She was smiling at him, her young eyes sparkling as if there were some delicious secret dancing inside of her. He had never seen them look so bright, so lively. He gave in to the feeling coursing through him and hugged Sara again. Sara nestled happily against him.
What he did know, he thought, was that this woman Ben had brought into their lives was apparently someone who knew what she wanted and went after it. As far as traits went, it wasn’t a bad one to have.
As long as it didn’t get in his way.
Chapter Seven
“And what’s your problem?”
The question sounded a little short even to his own ear. But. as far as Shayne was concerned, there was a damn good reason for his being annoyed.
He looked at the man sitting on his examining table. Precariously perched was more like it.
Shayne and Klondyke LeBlanc had been best friends since childhood, back when their schooling bad meant sitting on the floor of Faye Elliot’s drafty little cabin, listening to her read aloud as the wind whistled through the cracks. “Ike,” as he was affectionately known, was one of the few people in that group, along with Ben and Shayne, who hadn’t fled Alaska for one of the lower forty-nine as soon as he was of legal age.
Ike had bought into the Salty Saloon as soon as he’d scraped together enough money. Eventually he’d taken over and now he and his cousin, Jean Luc, ran it.
Neither Ike nor Jean Luc had ever known a sick day in their lives. Which was why, as Ike sat before him now, as healthy as a prize-winning stallion, Shayne had reason to question his presence.
A sheepish grin tugged on Ike’s wide mouth. He avoided looking into Shayne’s eyes. He’d never been very good at lying, something some viewed as a shortcoming in his line of work.
“Well, it’s this c
ough, Shayne.”
Ike tapped his chest for emphasis, then coughed, rather dramatically. In the middle of his performance, his brown eyes slanted toward the waiting room, hoping to catch another glimpse of the woman who had ushered him in so nicely. The door separating the two areas had accidentally been left standing slightly ajar when she’d walked out.
Shayne crossed his arms in front of him, not buying into this third-rate performance. “My guess is that it would be your knee that’s giving you trouble.”
That caught Ike’s attention. Arched dark eyebrows drew together over a surprisingly aristocratic nose. “My knee?”
“Yes.” Shayne pointed to the leg dangling over the side of the table that was closest to the door. “The one you’re going to land on after you fall off the table if you keeping leaning over like that.” Walking over to the door, Shayne shut it. “Why are you really here?” As if he didn’t know.
“I told you, it’s this cough—” The sheepish grin broadened. Knowing when he was caught, Ike surrendered the lie amiably. After all, he and Shayne had shared a drink or three in their time. Nothing bonded two men together more than that. “And to check out the new talent,” Ike confessed.
Ike began to button up his shirt, the expression on his face distracted. Since the reason for his visit was out, there was no longer any need to behave like a patient.
“Haven’t seen a woman that handsome around here since…” Slipping the ends of his shirt back into his jeans, he paused as he came to a realization. “I don’t recall ever seeing a woman that handsome before.” For a muscular man he moved with a certain easy grace. He eased himself off the table. “What’s she doing here?”
“You tell me,” Shayne suggested. “I’m sure the rumor mill is already grinding.” It had probably started as soon as she’d set foot in Hades.
“It’s grinding, all right, but I figured you’d be the one to know, since she’s here with you.”
Ike eyed him. “You send for her?” The fact would surprise him only because it was Shayne. Mail-order brides, or their modern equivalent, were not entirely unheard of in these parts. Ethan Parks had met his Emma that way and they seemed happy enough.
Wife in the Mail Page 8