A Child Under His Tree

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  He shook his head. “Just ate.” He glanced around again. The beer didn’t really hold any interest. Nothing in the bar held any interest. Not the trio of young women sitting at the other end who were nudging each other and looking his way. Not the hockey game on the television mounted on the wall.

  The door opened, and Caleb automatically glanced over, then wished he hadn’t, because the woman walking in looked straight at him. Pam Rasmussen was a dispatcher at the sheriff’s office. She had been around forever and was one of the biggest gossips in town.

  And she was married to one of Kelly Rasmussen’s cousins.

  He looked down into his beer, resigning himself to being courteous when she stopped next to him at the bar.

  “Evening, Caleb. How’re you doing?”

  “Same as ever, Pam. You just get off duty?”

  She nodded. “I came by to pick up Rob.” She tilted her head toward the breezeway that led from the bar into the attached restaurant. “He’s holding a fund-raiser thing tonight for his class at school.” She pulled out the stool next to Caleb’s and sat. “Heard you saw Kelly today.”

  He gave her a bland look. “Oh, yeah?”

  She wasn’t the least bit put off. “Shawna Simpson had her baby in your office today for her checkup. She told me.”

  “It’s still Doc Cobb’s office.”

  “Everyone knows you’re going to take over his practice for good when he retires.”

  “He’s not retiring. Just on sabbatical.”

  She shrugged, dismissing his words. “Shawna said Kelly looks just the same.”

  He slid a glance toward the restaurant, wishing her husband, Rob, would hurry his ass up. “I don’t remember Shawna from school.”

  “Sure you do. She was Shawna Allen then.” Pam’s eyes narrowed as she thought about it. “Would have graduated high school a year ahead of you and Kelly, I think.”

  Whatever. He pulled out his wallet and extracted enough cash to cover the beer plus a tip and dropped it on the counter.

  “Leaving already?”

  “Hospital rounds in the morning come early.” Not that early. But as an escape line, it was pretty good. “See you around.”

  “Probably at the funeral, I imagine.”

  The wind was blowing when he stepped outside the bar, and he flipped up the collar of his jacket as he headed for his truck. When he drove out of the parking lot, though, he didn’t head for his apartment.

  He headed for Georgette Rasmussen’s old place.

  Even though it had been several years since he’d last driven out there, he remembered the route as easily as ever. When he turned off the highway, the condition of the road was not so good. More dirt than pavement. More potholes and ruts than solid surface. The fact that there had never been anything as convenient as streetlights on the road didn’t help. If he were a stranger driving out to the Rasmussen place for the first time, he’d have needed GPS to find his way.

  But Caleb couldn’t count the number of times he’d gone up and down that road when he and Kelly were teenagers. Following the curves in the road still felt like second nature.

  When he pulled up in front of the two-story house, though, he wasn’t all that sure what he was doing there. It wasn’t as though she’d welcome a friendly ol’ visit from him.

  He turned off the engine and got out anyway. Walked up the creaking porch steps and stood in front of the door beneath the bare lightbulb above it.

  She answered on the second knock.

  She’d changed out of the formfitting gray dress she’d been wearing earlier. In jeans and sweatshirt, she looked more like the high school girl she’d once been.

  “Caleb.” She didn’t close the door in his face, which he supposed was a good sign. But she didn’t open it wider in invitation, either.

  “Kelly.” He wasn’t used to feeling short on words like this.

  Her lips were compressed. She’d let her hair down. It reached just below her shoulders. When they’d been teenagers, she’d usually worn it braided down to the middle of her back.

  He’d always liked unbraiding it.

  She suddenly tucked her hair behind her ear and shifted from one bare foot to the other. “What are you doing here?”

  He balled his fists in the pockets of his leather jacket. It’d been too long since he’d had a date if he was so vividly remembering unbraiding her hair the first time they’d had sex. “Wanted to see how you were.”

  “Still standing.” She held one arm out to her side. “As you can see.”

  “Yeah.” He glanced beyond the porch. Light shone from a few of the windows, but otherwise the place was dark. “How’s Tyler’s arm?”

  “Fine.” Her tone was short. “He’s asleep.”

  Caleb exhaled slightly. “He’s a good-looking boy.”

  She shifted again, lowering her lashes. “What do you want, Caleb?”

  He cleared his throat. Pushed away the memory of his hands tangled in her hair. “Where’s Tyler’s father?”

  Chapter Three

  Kelly felt the blood drain out of her face. She tightened her grip on the doorknob. Her palm had gone slick. “I beg your pardon?”

  The porch light cast sharp shadows on Caleb’s face as he looked down at her. “Sorry. That was blunt.”

  She let out a breathy sigh, which was all her throat would allow.

  “There’s just no tactful way,” he went on. “You know. Asking.”

  “Right.” Still breathy. Still faint. “I, uh, I—”

  “Is he still in the picture?”

  “Who?”

  “Your husband.” He took a step back from the doorway, pulling one hand from his pocket and running it through his hair.

  “I don’t have a husband!”

  He didn’t look shocked. He just nodded and studied the toes of his boots for a moment. “I wondered if you’d split up after I saw your name on Tyler’s paperwork this afternoon.”

  She pressed her shaking fingers to her temple. “Who, uh, who told you I was married? My mom?”

  “Yeah. She told me you eloped after you went to Idaho. That you had a baby.”

  Kelly’s eyes burned. Her mother was dead. She hadn’t been a part of Kelly’s life since Kelly walked out all those years ago. So why did her mother’s words and actions still have the power to hurt? Georgette hadn’t felt a need to make up a fictional husband when she’d had Kelly. But she’d created one when it came to explaining an illegitimate grandchild? “When did she tell you?”

  “Doesn’t matter. A while ago.” He pushed his fingers through his hair again. “Look, I’m not trying to stick my nose where you don’t want it. I know this can’t be easy for you, coming back like this. Regardless of how tough things were between you, she was still your mom. I just wanted to tell you that if you need anything, just ask.”

  Her nose prickled. She couldn’t seem to get a word out. She managed to nod.

  “Well.” He took a step back. “It’s late. Watch for any increased tenderness or pain in your boy’s arm.” Caleb went down the porch steps, and she had the feeling he was anxious to get away. “The films looked good,” he went on, “but switching up the cast can still be jarring.”

  Her tongue finally loosened. “I’m an RN. I know what to watch for.”

  He stopped, obviously surprised. “You’re a nurse?”

  She lifted her chin. “Don’t look so shocked. Even I managed to get an education.”

  “That’s not why I—” He broke off. “I’m glad for you. I didn’t know nursing was something you were interested in. Doc Cobb never mentioned it.”

  “I wasn’t interested. Or at least I didn’t know I was when I was his receptionist. And I didn’t know you were interested in pediatrics. Seems there was a lot about ea
ch other we didn’t know.” She smiled tightly. “Good night, Caleb.” She didn’t wait for a response.

  Just shut the door in his face.

  After a tense minute, she heard his truck engine start up, followed by the crunch of his wheels over the uneven, rutted drive as he drove away.

  She shivered, leaning back against the door. “Oh, Mama. Why did you lie to everyone?”

  What was worse? Admitting to everyone that it was a lie? Or admitting to Caleb the truth?

  And why did she have to do either, when she was only there to bury her mother?

  “Mommy!” Tyler’s sleepy voice came from the head of the stairs, and she quickly swiped her cheeks.

  “What is it, buddy?”

  He came down the steps. He was wearing his footy pajama pants but—as was typical—had pulled off the matching shirt somewhere along the way. Didn’t matter how chilly it was outside, her son liked wearing as little as possible when he slept. He was rubbing his eyes, and his hair stood up in a cowlick. “My stomach’s growly.”

  She picked him up when he lifted his arms and smiled into his face. “I’m not surprised. You only ate half your supper.”

  He wrapped his legs around her waist and leaned his head on her shoulder. “Can I have ice cream?”

  “Not at this hour, bud.” She carried him into the kitchen. She’d spent two hours cleaning it, and there were still stacks of empty boxes and crates lining the small room. Among other things, her mother seemed to have become a pack rat.

  Kelly set him on the counter next to the refrigerator and made him half a sandwich. “PB and J,” she said, handing it to him. “Plus milk.”

  He swung his foot as he ate. “When do we get to go home?”

  “In a few weeks.” She brushed down his hair again. He definitely needed a barber. “We’ve talked about it, remember? We’ll go home just as soon as we can.”

  He nodded, licked his finger and drank his milk.

  Love for him swelled inside her. She cupped her hand under his chin. “You know what?”

  “What?”

  She kissed his nose. “I love you.”

  “To infinity and beyond!”

  She smiled. “You betcha. Come on.” He’d finished his milk already. “Gotta brush your teeth again, then back to bed.” He wrapped his arms around her neck and circled her waist with his legs, clinging like a limpet as she carried him back upstairs.

  “Can I have another story?”

  She was a sucker where he was concerned. She rubbed her hand down his bare back. “A short one.”

  The short story spread into two, then part of a third before his eyes finally closed and she was able to slide off the bed. She turned off the light and left the room, leaving the door ajar so she could hear him if he needed her.

  She passed her mother’s room and hesitated at the closed door. She inhaled deeply, then quickly pushed it open. It was the first time she’d gone inside the room since her mother’s death, and she did so now only because she still needed to choose an outfit for Georgette’s burial. She’d promised the funeral home that she’d deliver it the next day.

  The room hadn’t changed during Kelly’s absence, any more than Kelly’s bedroom had, except that like the kitchen, here too Georgette had stored dozens and dozens of containers. Empty shoe boxes. Empty plastic bags. Even empty coffee cans.

  Kelly was going to have to clean up all of it before she could put the house on the market.

  She opened the closet. Typically, there were only a few choices. For Kelly’s entire life, her mother had run her spit of land all on her own. She’d lived in jeans and boots. There was only one dress for those times when Georgette couldn’t get out of going to church.

  Kelly pulled out the dress. Studied it for a long while.

  Then she shook her head and hung it back up and chose a pair of clean jeans instead. Her mother was who she was. Burying her didn’t change that. The metal hangers squeaked as she pushed them on the rod until she found a decent plaid blouse. It was cotton and obviously new, judging by the tag still hanging from it.

  She set it on the bed along with the jeans and went to the chest of drawers. Georgette Rasmussen had never owned lingerie. For her, underwear was underwear. Serviceable and plain. Kelly chose socks and cowboy boots. The only pair in the closet that weren’t run down at the heels. She bundled all of it together in her arms and turned to leave the room, stopping at the last minute to grab the small metal box sitting on top of the chest. Her mother’s version of a jewelry box.

  She left the room, closing the door firmly, and carried everything downstairs. She used a kitchen towel to polish up the boots as best she could. Shiny boots were another thing that Georgette had considered a waste of time, so Kelly knew better than to look for polish.

  She set everything inside one of the plentiful boxes stacked around the room and flipped open the jewelry box. Her mother had only ever worn a plain gold chain necklace, but it wasn’t there. The only things inside the metal box were a couple faded photographs of her mother when she’d been young and still smiling—which meant before Kelly—and a few rings. Old-looking and probably belonging to Georgette’s mother. Kelly could barely remember her. She’d died when Kelly was little.

  She pulled out a tarnished ring, trying and failing to picture her grandmother. All she knew about her was what Georgette had told her. Kelly had always assumed it to be the truth.

  Yet Georgette had told at least one big lie in her life. She’d told Caleb—told everyone, it seemed—that Kelly had gotten married.

  Why bother? Had she actually wanted to protect Kelly’s reputation?

  It was too late for an answer. She would never know what had motivated her mother now.

  She dropped the ring back in the box, closed it with a snap and went to bed.

  * * *

  “Kelly! Kelly Rasmussen, hold up!”

  “Hold on, buddy.” Kelly caught Tyler’s hand and stopped him from stepping off the curb as she looked back to see who was yelling her name. It had been a busy morning. Dropping off the clothes at the funeral home. Signing some paperwork at the lawyer’s. Getting Tyler into the barbershop.

  “But I’m hungry.”

  “I know.” She barely got out the words before the dark-haired woman reached them and caught Kelly’s neck in a tight hold. “Pam,” she managed to squeeze out. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Rob and I are so sorry about your mama, honey.” Pam finally let go of Kelly’s neck and crouched down to Tyler’s level. “Hey, there, cutie pie. I’m your cousin.” More accurately, the woman was married to one of Kelly’s distant cousins. Even so, Pam had known Kelly all of her life. “But you can call me Auntie Pam. How’s that?”

  Tyler cast Kelly a wary look. She gave him a calm smile. “Pam used to babysit me when I was your age,” she told him.

  Pam laughed, tweaking Tyler’s nose lightly before rising. “Sure. Make me sound old, why don’t you? I was only sixteen when I babysat you. Now I hear you’re an RN even!”

  “I see word still spreads as fast as ever in Weaver.” She hadn’t mentioned becoming a nurse to anyone but Caleb. And that had been just the night before.

  “Time brings progress, but some things just stay the same and the grapevine is one of them. Puts all other means of social media to shame.”

  Kelly smiled despite herself. “I don’t do any kind of social media. Never had the time nor the inclination.”

  “Which explains why we still need a grapevine in Weaver. How else would we keep up with anyone?” Pam grinned. “So proud of you, though. I’m sure your mom was, too, even if she couldn’t bring herself to say so.” Pam’s smile softened. “I wanted to get by your place yesterday, but I was working a double shift at the sheriff’s. Is there anything we can do for you?”

  Th
e offer reminded Kelly of Caleb’s. Not that she needed any sort of reminder.

  “The funeral’s pretty well taken care of,” she said. “The lawyer handled most of it. Evidently, my mother left him instructions a few years ago.”

  “Sounds like Georgette. Probably because she didn’t trust anyone else to get things right, rather than not wanting to burden her loved ones.” Pam made a face. “Sorry. Shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. Especially to you.”

  Kelly smiled humorlessly. “It’s all right. You’ve only said what everyone already knows.”

  Pam gave her a sympathetic look. “You and Tyler are welcome to stay with Rob and me at our place. We have plenty of room.”

  Kelly was genuinely touched. “Even though I haven’t spoken to any of you in all this time?”

  Pam clicked her tongue. “There’s not a soul who knew your mom who blames you for that, hon. She made it pretty obvious she didn’t approve of you eloping. She was so mad about it, all she’d say about him was his name was Joe.”

  Kelly opened her mouth, then closed it and smiled weakly. She rubbed her hand over Tyler’s neatly cut hair. “It...it doesn’t matter anymore.”

  Pam nodded sympathetically. “These things happen,” she said. “I meant what I said, though. You’re welcome to stay with us. We’re right here in town.”

  “Thanks, but there’s a lot to be done out at the house, and I only have a few weeks off work. I want to get the farm on the market as soon as possible.”

  “So you’re going to sell it, then?”

  “If it will sell.” The house was in deplorable condition, and the farmland was equally neglected.

  “Selfishly, we’d love to think about you moving back home. But I do understand. Your mom—” Pam broke off and shook her head. “Well, it was her way or the highway. She didn’t want help from anyone.”

  And the state of the farm showed it.

  “Mommy,” Tyler said, “my stomach’s growly again.”

  “I know, baby.” She knew Pam’s propensity for gossip. But she had never been anything but nice to Kelly. “I promised him lunch after we got his hair cut,” she told Pam.