My Child, Our Child (Silhouette Special Edition)

by Hagan, Patricia

  Two stories, gleaming white, with a red roof, it also had a railed porch that ran down two sides and across the front. Withered wisteria and honeysuckle vines clung tenaciously to the trellises. Asleep for the winter, she knew they would be glorious in the spring.

  There was also a barn and a pasture. She could see a garden area that did not appear to have been worked lately, for it was thick with weeds. The clothesline was bare. And the house, overall, had a sad, neglected air about it. Curtains were drawn at all the windows. Flowerpots and hanging baskets on the porch had looked empty.

  Somehow she knew the place had not always seemed so miserable and neglected. Generations before had probably had happy times—cookouts, picnics, children running and playing on the lawn. It had to have changed when Sam’s wife had left. Or maybe when she came. Whatever or whenever, Jackie thought it was a terrible waste.

  But she did not go that route when she left Sam, and it took her nearly an hour to get home.

  She was exhausted—and also chilled to the bone.

  The first thing she did was peel out of her clothes, fill the tub, then climb in to soak till the water was no longer warm.

  Two cups of homemade soup from the crock pot, and she was ready to curl up beneath the blankets on her bed and read till she couldn’t hold her eyes open any longer.

  She was exhausted and glad of it. That meant she was too tired to dream about Sam Cotton—his dimpled smile, his strong, broad shoulders and how good he could make her feel when he was not in one of his bitter, cynical moods.

  But when she awoke the next morning, she realized she had not been so tired after all.

  Because she had spent the entire night with Sam.

  In her dreams, anyway.

  Sam waited in her driveway. He was cold, even with his layered clothing, but he did not like to keep the engine running. When you lived out so far, it was smart to save gas as much as possible...even though he kept small tanks for emergencies.

  He was not about to blow the horn to bring Jackie out of her cabin, either. It was not quite eight o’clock, and he didn’t want to seem anxious. Just neighborly. He would say he was passing by, checking on whether crews had left any trimmings to be mulched in her neck of the woods. That was all. And he thought he’d give her a lift to the work area since her car wasn’t ready. He knew because he had called Allen Parsons at home the night before. Things were slow because of the holiday. He’d have it by noon, though. Sam had already made arrangements for Hank to take her into town to get it. He wasn’t about to make the trip and start talk.

  No, he checked himself, that was not the reason.

  Hard as it was to admit, the truth was he did not want to be alone with her for that length of time. A fiveminute ride to where the mulching would take place was one thing. Twenty minutes to town was another.

  Okay, he thought with a wave of guilt, so he was a coward. He was afraid he might do or say something to let her know his feelings for her were starting to be anything but neighborly.

  Which was another reason he wished she would take his offer and leave.

  Get out of Dodge, by damn.

  Out of his life.

  And his heart.

  The woman was not his type, for Pete’s sake. She was another Donna. City born and bred, thought it was a lark to move to the mountains. What was it she’d said she wanted to do? Write poetry. Yeah, that fit in with the image some folks had of life up here. Creative thoughts blossomed. Freedom to let your imagination flow. Donna had said she wanted to paint. Up till the time she met him, she said she’d known nothing but turmoil. She was ready for peace.

  What a laugh.

  A month after they were married she started her weekend trips to Atlanta. Six months later she was actually trying to get him to sell out the farm and move there.

  The front door of the cabin opened, and Sam gratefully pulled himself from the miserable past.

  Jackie saw him, blinked in disbelief, then gave him that wide, glowing smile that always made him want to smile back.

  Hurrying down the steps, she came to his window, which he had rolled down at the sight of her.

  When she spoke, frosty puffs came from her mouth in the frigid morning air. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  “Just checking things out to see if I need to have the boys truck stuff over from here to be mulched. Get in. I thought you might like a ride.”

  She ran around the front of the truck. He leaned across to open the door for her.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said when she got in.

  He felt a twinge of worry. Surely he wasn’t that obvious. “What do you mean?”

  “You came hoping I wouldn’t be here...that I’d got lost in the woods or a bear ate me.”

  He bit back a smile. “Bears are hibernating.”

  “But you were hoping I was lost,” she playfully accused. “Go on. Admit it. You think your troubles would be over, but they wouldn’t, because if anything were to happen to me, the land would go to Libby’s favorite charity—the animal shelter in Durham.”

  It was his turn to tease. “Have you ever thought about becoming a deep-sea diver, Jackie? You wouldn’t even need a tank, because I’ve never seen anyone who could talk as long as you do without taking a breath. And I know about the animal shelter being the next beneficiary. Your lawyer told me.”

  “I breathe,” she assured, not about to let him get under her skin. “You just don’t see me. You aren’t observant enough. Besides, Mr. Burkhalter was Libby’s lawyer. Not mine.”

  And in the same breath, she asked, “Did you find out anything about my car? I’ve got to go into town and make some phone calls, get some firewood brought out, call a plumber and raise Cain with the phone company to get some lines put in. Doggone it, it’s time they realized we’re civilized here and need to be in touch with the outside world.”

  She chattered on until they reached the work area and she bounded out of the truck and began talking to the mulch workers like they were old friends.

  Sam watched her in amazement. He had to hand it to her. She was sure trying to fit in. It was just a shame she was wasting so much time and probably much of the profits she had coming to her. It had been a good year.

  He thought, too, of how completely rude he had been to her on a number of occasions and how she had not let it throw her. She had snapped right back, and, though he would never admit it, she had put him in his place a time or two.

  She even acted like she genuinely wanted to be his friend: only he knew better. She was using him to learn all she could about the farm. Then if she did ultimately stay, she wouldn’t need him to take care of her share.

  But he chided himself for even worrying about it. He had other problems—like his mother nagging him to send Brian to an institution. She did not think he was going to ever speak again, and she wanted Sam to get on with his life. She also bluntly said that it would not be fair to a new wife to have to take on the responsibility of a child with disabilities.

  His mother had changed since she had remarried and moved to the city. She was no longer the apple-cheeked housewife and mother wearing a clean apron with cookies baking in the oven. Now she wore designer jeans and cashmere sweaters, followed a low-fat diet, worked out at a gym and had dropped forty pounds. She insisted she had loved her years on the farm but life went on—something she constantly urged him to realize.

  Brian, she said, would be happier with his kind, and though Sam thought it was a cold way to put it, there were times when he wondered whether she might be right. But if he ever did agree to let Brian go, it would not be for the sake of a woman. In the first place, he had no intention of marrying again, and, if he did, it wouldn’t be to a flatlander, for God’s sake. He’d learned his lesson there.

  So that was another reason he had to get crazy notions out of his head over Jackie Lundigan.

  The morning passed swiftly. He was glad when it was time for Hank to take Jackie into town, but groaned out loud when he s
aid Bonnie was making lunch for all of them at Sam’s house where she was keeping an eye on Brian. The last thing Sam wanted was Jackie for a luncheon guest, but Hank issued the invitation before he could say anything. He didn’t know of any way he could have gotten out of it, anyway, without raising eyebrows.

  Jackie was tickled to death, and when Bonnie met them at the front door, Jackie hugged her and said, “This was so sweet of you. I’m starved, and—” she squealed to see Brian peeking around a corner “—I get to see my favorite little bandit.”

  Sam watched as she dropped to her knees to hug him. Brian merely stood there woodenly, as always, allowing her to put her arms about him but not responding.

  Jackie chattered on as though nothing were wrong. She took his hand and led him into the dining room. “Sam, I love your house. Look at all these antiques.”

  “I never thought of any of it as antiques,” he said, taking his place at the head of the table. “Just old furniture that’s been in the family for years.”

  “Then you don’t know antiques.” She made sure Brian was seated right next to her, then continued to glance about with interest.

  Bonnie served up hot tomato soup, sourdough crackers, and chicken salad sandwiches.

  “Delicious,” Jackie gushed. “You made the soup from home-canned tomatoes, didn’t you?”

  Bonnie beamed. “How can you tell?”

  “My grandmother used to can her tomatoes. It’s a flavor you don’t get in the store-bought kind.”

  “Well, I’m glad you like it,” Bonnie said. Then she turned to Sam. “I’m sorry about the pecan pie.”

  Sam couldn’t help looking disappointed. She had promised to make him one after he told how his mother refused to have any fattening desserts for Thanksgiving dinner now that she was on her health kick.

  “I burned it,” Bonnie apologized. “I got busy ironing the tablecloth and forgot it. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, smiling to let her know he was not upset. “Willa makes pecan pies this time of year. I’ll just have to stop in at the Book Nook and see if it’s my lucky day.”

  When they finished eating, Bonnie took Brian upstairs for his nap, and Hank asked Sam if there was anything he needed from town.

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact there is,” Sam said. “Tom called last night and said the seeds I ordered came in. That’s good timing, because I’m going to spend the rest of the afternoon getting the beds ready in the nursery so I can start first thing tomorrow. If you could pick them up for me, I’ll appreciate it.”

  “Will do.” Hank took his hat from the rack near the door and shook it at Sam, “But you better make sure you’ve got that stove ready to fire up in the nursery. I don’t care whether you can smell it or not, I say snow will be here by the weekend.”

  Sam walked to the door and told Jackie, “Take the rest of the day off. There’s no need for you to come back. All I’m going to be doing is raking beds, and any rookie can do that.”

  “Ah, so now I’m a rookie.” She laughed and caught Hank’s arm. “Come on, before he really starts calling me names, although I think Bonnie’s tomato soup has mellowed him a bit. He hasn’t said one nasty thing in the last half hour.”

  “Oh, he’s not so bad when you get to know him,” Hank said, also laughing as they went on out.

  Sam closed the door after them and told the nagging voice within to shut up for a few minutes. Being around Jackie always lifted his spirits somehow, and he wanted to savor the moment.

  It was, after all, the first time since the trouble with Donna that the house had seemed like a nice, happy place to be.

  If only for a little while.

  It was nearly dark when Sam got back to the house. Bonnie had been watching for him and was ready to leave the minute he walked in.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, “but when Hank got back with those seeds, I decided to get a few trays planted.”

  “It’s okay. Brian is watching TV. He’s had his supper and will probably fall asleep on the couch. You’ve got leftovers from lunch, and I’m late for my circle meeting. See you tomorrow.

  “Oh, almost forgot,” she stopped halfway out the door. “There’s a pecan pie on the table. It looks wonderful.”

  Sam broke into a wide grin. “Hey, you made another one. Thanks a lot.”

  “Oh, I didn’t make it.” She breezed on out, and he almost missed hearing her say, “Jackie did.”

  He hurried into the kitchen, and, sure enough, there was a crisp, golden brown pecan pie sitting on the counter. The smell of toasted nuts, butter and hot syrup was more than he could stand, and he immediately cut himself a slice.

  It was delicious.

  But as he ate, he couldn’t help wondering about Jackie’s motive. Did she think if she got on the good side of him he would be more cooperative about teaching her what she needed to know so she could take over her half of the farm sooner?

  Then he saw the envelope propped against the salt and pepper shakers.

  He tore it open, pulse racing, his mind automatically going back to another time when he had read a note that turned his life to ashes.

  He told himself to calm down. She had made him a pie, that’s all. It wasn’t a goodbye gift, and so what if it was? If she was leaving, whether she took his offer or not, well, it was for the best, and...

  He began to read.

  Hi Sam,

  I saw how you tried not to show how disappointed you were at lunch today when Bonnie told you she’d burned your pie. So it gave me the idea for the perfect “happy” for you, so, here ’tis.

  A “happy,” by the way, is something you give to someone for no other reason than to make them happy—because they made you happy, like you did me, today, when you allowed me to come into your home and share lunch.

  Enjoy

  Jackie

  He folded the note and put it away, then settled down to finish enjoying his pie. Somehow, it tasted all the better to know it wasn’t a goodbye gift, after all.

  Chapter Ten

  Jackie couldn’t wait to get to the nursery the next morning to hear how Sam had liked the pecan pie. She’d had to force herself not to leave any earlier than she did, afraid her eagerness would be obvious.

  When she had gone to his house late the day before, Bonnie had been tickled pink when she’d seen the pie. It was his favorite, she’d said, and swore no one could make one like his mother. Well, Jackie wasn’t trying to compete with Mrs. Colton, but she had been told more than once that hers could win a blue ribbon at the state fair.

  She had learned to layer when she dressed—tank top, T-shirt, sweater and insulated vest. If it was very cold, as it was this morning, she also wore a heavy down jacket. But it would be warm inside the nursery, and she could start peeling down. Sam, it seemed, had to really be cold to wear more than a flannel shirt, which he seldom buttoned all the way up.

  She wondered if he knew what a terrific body he had. His jeans looked like they’d been molded to his nice, round buttocks. But she doubted he gave much thought to his personal appearance at all, other than cleanliness. He wasn’t the type. His good looks just came naturally, and if he was aware of being a hunk, he didn’t let on.

  Jackie figured he actually didn’t care. He had a son everyone was trying to make him believe was retarded and a huge farm to run. He also had her to worry about—only he didn’t realize yet that it wasn’t necessary. He thought it was all a lark to her, unwilling to accept the fact that it was actually her life.

  The hothouse was a long, narrow building situated not far behind Sam’s house. It had been built on level ground, which was, of course, not easy to find in the mountainous terrain. An electric heater stood outside the door. Sam had told her it had cost a small fortune to install, and he hadn’t been able to do it till after his father died. The elder Colton had been a real penny-pincher and used a corn furnace to warm the nursery. It did not work well in sub-zero temperatures, and sometimes valuable seedlings w
ere lost. Sam put in a state-of-the art system with a backup generator.

  Jackie had wondered about another hothouse she’d seen, on her land, not far from the cabin. It looked as though it had been used a long time ago, and when she asked Sam, he said it had been abandoned after his was modernized.

  “If you go over the records your lawyer has probably given you, you’ll see part of the cost of upgrading was deducted from Libby’s share of the profits that year. But she never questioned it. I guess she had so much money she didn’t notice...or care.”

  “That wasn’t the case,” Jackie had informed him with a touch of indignity over the slight at Libby. “Didn’t any of you Coltons ever realize that the reason you didn’t hear from her was that she just didn’t want to make waves? All she wanted was to have something to remember Roy Colton by—his land. The money wasn’t important, so she wouldn’t have given a rat’s fanny how much you spent on improvements.”

  That had ended the conversation, which was a good thing. As much as Jackie wanted to get along with him, she would not stand for any criticism of Libby.

  Hank’s truck was parked outside the nursery, but Sam’s was nowhere around.

  “Good morning,” she called, opening the door and immediately starting to unzip her jacket. It was warm to the point of sweltering, after coming in from the frigid air outside.

  “Momin’, Jackie,” Hank said from where he was already at work making little indentions with a small scoop in a seed tray.

  Jackie loved the nursery with its loamy, woodsy smell. And she liked strolling down the aisles to see the different stages of development, from the newly planted seedbeds to the nearly two-year-old seedlings that would be transplanted to the fields in the spring.