Then Comes Baby

by Helen Brenna

  All sorts of challenges to his comment were at the tip of her tongue, but as he stalked out the door Natalie couldn’t help but accept that a part of what he was saying was true. At the end of summer, she would be returning to her nice cozy life, and these kids would be going back to what they’d left behind.

  Chase, Blake, Arianna and Ella had homes waiting for them. They weren’t perfect family situations, but there was someone home in Minneapolis who truly seemed to love each of them. Chase and Blake’s dad would be getting out of jail at the end of summer. Arianna and Ella’s grandmother would be out of treatment. In fact, those four kids would be going home a week earlier than the rest of them, their caretakers wanting to prepare them for school starting.

  Toni, Ryan, Sam and Galen would be returning to the Twin Cities with Natalie. They had no one in their lives who truly cared. Was this camp fair to them? Jamis’s accusations came back to her. Was she setting them all up for disappointment?

  Wish it, see it, make it happen.

  Somehow, she had to make it happen.

  DRUMMING HIS FINGERS ON HIS desktop, Jamis stared at the blinking cursor on his blank computer screen. Had he really called Natalie a Pollyanna yesterday when they’d argued over the no-trespassing signs? God, he could be such an asshole. So what if she got some kind of crazy thrill out of doing good? As long as she didn’t mess with him, her issues were none of his business. But, then, that was exactly what he was worried about. Her turning him into one of her pet projects.

  A noise on his front porch that sounded distinctly human distracted him. “I knew it. She didn’t even make it twenty-four hours.” Dreading the prospect of having to look and not touch the slightest inch of skin on that gorgeous woman, Jamis took off down the stairs, wanting to get his dose of daily torture over and done with.

  “What now?” he said, yanking open the door.

  Instead of Natalie, the teenage boy stood there shuffling his feet. “Hey,” he said, his bangs, far too long, hanging in his eyes.

  “What do you want?” Jamis glared at the gangly kid, not wanting to remember his name. Galen. It popped up anyway. Dammit.

  “Um. I was just…I was wondering.” The kid looked away. “Do you think I could watch some TV? Here at your house?”

  He couldn’t be serious, could he?

  But then Jamis understood. All those kids. The noise. The constant activity. What normal person wouldn’t go positively insane living in that Victorian? Still, there was no way this boy was stepping foot in this house.

  “I mean,” the kid said, “if it’s not too much trouble…I just…Oh, forget it.” He turned to leave. Hanging his head, the boy stepped off the porch and absently kicked a rock into the woods. There was something about how his feet seemed too big for his body that reminded Jamis of how awkward his own teenage years had been.

  Hell, here I come.

  “Hey, kid,” Jamis said. Someone else’s spirit, a much more kindhearted and compassionate one, must have taken over Jamis’s body. “I was just leaving to go into town. You can watch TV while I’m gone.” He’d have to give Natalie a pass on their deal for this one.

  “You sure?”

  “Do you want to, or not?”

  “Totally.” The relief in Galen’s eyes was almost tangible. “I can’t tell you how sick I am of watching stupid cartoons and girl shows. They don’t have video games. Or even a DVD player over there.”

  Yeah, life was tough all over. Jamis showed him how to use the remotes. “Do they know where you are?”

  He looked away. “Not really.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Fifteen.”

  Old enough to be gone for a while without Natalie calling Garrett Taylor.

  “I kinda had a fight with Natalie,” the kid explained.

  No way was Jamis getting drawn into this discussion. “Yeah? That sucks.”

  “She just drives me crazy, sometimes,” Galen said, the frustration almost palpable. “You know? All that cheery ass positive thinking bullshit.”

  “Yeah. I know.” Okay. So it wasn’t another human that had taken over his body. It was aliens.

  “What does she think is going to happen?” He shook his head.

  Jamis might have been wrong, but he could’ve sworn he saw tears gathering in the boy’s eyes, and the kid wasn’t too happy about it, either. “Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Well, this is where I cut out.” He gathered up his grocery list, backpack and a package he should’ve mailed out yesterday and headed for the door. “Come on, Snick. Let’s go.”

  The dog hesitated, glancing from the boy to Jamis and back again before running outside.

  “And, hey,” Jamis said, pausing on the porch, “this is a one-time deal, dude. And don’t you dare tell Natalie or any of those other kids you’ve been here.”

  “I won’t. Thanks, man.”

  Jamis shut the front door behind him, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was debatable whether or not he’d managed to dodge that bullet, but he certainly stepped directly in front of the next one. When he got to Main Street, the town was crawling with tourists. He glanced at the package in his hand. There was nothing for it. His editor needed this paperwork by tomorrow, and he was not going home to hang out with that kid.

  “Come on, Snick. Gotta do it.” Avoiding Main, he took a side street to the post office. Breathing a sigh of relief, he stepped inside the cool, quiet building and went to the counter.

  A young man appeared. “Can I help you?”

  For four years he’d been coming to this post office on a regular basis and for four years there had been only one person who’d ever assisted him. “Where’s the regular postal clerk?”

  “She’s on medical leave.”

  “Sally? For what?”

  “I don’t know.” The guy squinted at him. “But even if I did, I couldn’t tell you that. It’s private.”

  “When will she be back?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Do you know anything?”

  “Look, buddy. They told me to fill in, so that’s all I’m doing. Filling in.”

  “You’re not from Mirabelle, are you?” If he’d been an islander, he’d know what was going on with Sally.

  “No. Like I said. Just filling in.”

  He shouldn’t care. Really, he shouldn’t. Jamis mailed his package and left the post office only to have bright sunlight hit him square in the face. He flipped his sunglasses on, untied Snickers and stood there, debating. Sally McGregor, as gruff as she’d been, had been the only human contact Jamis had had through the years. It seemed strange and unlikely, but he already missed her.

  With Snickers by his side, he walked down the street, feeling at a loss. He stopped at Newman’s, filled his grocery list and was standing in line behind several people when a store employee, an older man with glasses that Jamis had seen nearly every time he’d been in the store, walked by him.

  “Excuse me,” Jamis said out of the blue.

  “Yes, sir, what can I do for you?”

  “Do you know Sally McGregor?”

  “I do.” His expression turned instantly somber.

  “Can you tell me what’s wrong with her?”

  The man studied him. “I don’t know—”

  “I’m Jamis Quinn.”

  “I recognize you, but…”

  “I live on the other side of the island. Quinn Roberts? The writer?” At that several strangers spun around, stared at him and whispered amongst themselves.

  “Oh, yeah. Quinn Roberts. I’m Dan Newman.”

  Absently, he shook the other man’s hand. “I’m sorry we haven’t met before now…”

  A small crowd gathered around them.

  “Mr. Quinn,” someone said, “could you autograph this receipt?”

  Jamis glanced at the woman. There were others looking for pens and paper.

  “Why don’t you come to my office?” Dan took h
im by the arm and drew him into an office near the front of the store and quickly closed the door.

  “Thank you,” Jamis said awkwardly. “The man at the post office said Sally was on medical leave. Do you know if she’s all right?”

  He studied Jamis. “Well, I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. The way the gossip circuit works around this island, all you’d have to do is ask any islander and they’d likely be able to tell you.” He sighed. “She was diagnosed with cancer.”

  “What kind?”

  “Pancreatic.”

  “What’s the prognosis?”

  “From what I hear, not very good.”

  “Is she still in the hospital?”

  “As far as I know.”

  “Thank you.” Jamis turned to go, feeling oddly disoriented. When he opened the door, a small group had gathered, each person holding pen and paper.

  “There he is.”

  “It is Quinn Roberts!”

  They asked him to sign books, papers, T-shirts, hands. Resigned, he quietly went from one person to the next.

  A short while later, the storeowner came to him with his groceries bagged. “You better take off.”

  He reached for his wallet.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Dan waved his hand. “This bag’s on me.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ONE DAY DOWN IN HER deal to stay away from Jamis Quinn. Only six more to go. The nighttime hours, especially those after the kids had gone to bed, would be the worst, so Natalie decided it was time to take Missy up on a girls’ night out.

  Having left Sam and Galen in charge of the rest of the kids for the first night since they’d all arrived on Mirabelle, she now sat at a table in Duffy’s Pub with Missy and a couple of her friends, Sarah Marshik, the flower shop owner and wedding planner, and Hannah Johnson, one of the island’s elementary school teachers.

  Over wine and pecan-crusted fish fingers and stuffed mushrooms, she laughed until her stomach ached at the story Missy was telling about doing tarot card readings for a group of hard-core FBI trainees when she’d lived near the training base in Quantico.

  “So I’m flipping over the cards and knives and sword are showing up everywhere,” Missy said, pausing. “And I said to the guy, ‘I hate to say this, but there’s blood in your future.’ He looked up at me with this deer in the headlights look and said, ‘From what?’ I looked at him and said, ‘Dude, you’re an FBI agent. What did you expect?’”

  “He wasn’t serious, was he?” Natalie chuckled.

  “Totally,” Missy said. “Turned out he was an accountant. He was working computer fraud cases and hated guns.”

  Natalie had so needed this night, needed to get away from the kids and the house, and a wonderful meal cooked up by Garrett Taylor’s new wife, Erica, had been an unexpected bonus.

  “I can’t believe you take care of eight kids all day every day.” Sarah shook her head. “One child is enough for me.”

  “Hey, what about me?” Hannah said. “I have more than ten kids in my classes. All day long.”

  “Yeah, but you have the summer off. And during the school year you get to go home every night. Alone.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Hannah downed the last of her chardonnay and then thrust her hand out across the table, palm up. “Missy, read my love line.”

  Missy chuckled. “Why?”

  “I want you to tell me if I’m ever going to get married.”

  “It’s not like that, honey.”

  “Then what good is it having your palm read?”

  “Not much. All I can tell you is pretty much what you already know about yourself.” She grabbed Natalie’s hand, flipped it over and studied her palm. “Take Natalie for example. See her very strong, deep line,” she murmured.

  “What is it?”

  “Your heart line.” Missy ran her index finger along the line running mostly horizontally below Natalie’s fingers.

  “What does that mean?”

  “The ability for strong and deep devotion.” She glanced up at them. “Anyone surprised by that?”

  “About a woman running a summer camp for disadvantaged kids?” Sarah chuckled. “No.”

  “Then again.” Missy pointed to a spot in the middle of her palm. “That could be him.”

  “Who?”

  “The love of your life.” She grinned conspiratorially at Natalie.

  Natalie grabbed Missy’s hand and studied her palm. “What does yours say?”

  “One true love for my entire life. And I already met him.”

  “You did?” Sarah said.

  Hannah’s jaw dropped. “You’ve never told us.”

  “What happened?” Natalie whispered.

  “Didn’t go so well.” Missy’s expression turned somber as she twirled the straw in her Black Russian. “He died. In an FBI training operation. A helicopter crash.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Natalie murmured.

  “Don’t be.”

  “But you said he was the love of your life.”

  “He was. That doesn’t mean we were right for each other.” Missy chugged the last of her drink. “I loved him. He loved his job. No getting around that one.”

  “So that’s it? You’re done?”

  “With anything serious. Most likely.” She pointed at each of the other three. “But you guys aren’t.”

  “The only problem is that there aren’t any eligible men on Mirabelle,” Hannah grumbled.

  “You got that right. And the last one was snapped up so fast by Erica, everyone’s heads were spinning.” Sarah glanced up and noticed Garrett Taylor sitting in the booth next to them with Herman Stotz, his deputy, and Jim Bennett, the ex-police chief. “Hey, Garrett,” she called.

  He glanced up.

  “You got any brothers?”

  He grinned and held up three fingers.

  “Yeah, but are they single?”

  His smile broadened and he continued holding up two fingers.

  “So when are they coming to visit?” Missy said, laughing.

  “I’m not sure either one of them is Mirabelle material,” Garrett said, shaking his head.

  All four women returned to their drinks, decidedly more serious than before. Natalie took a big gulp of her Cabernet. “I know an eligible bachelor on the island. And he’s very attractive.”

  “Who?”

  “Jamis Quinn.”

  Sarah put down her martini and leaned forward. “He’s come into my flower shop a couple of times. Sent flowers to funeral homes. An office once for someone’s birthday. I’ll tell ya, he’s an odd one.”

  “Well, if he showed even an iota’s worth of interest in me,” Hannah said, “I’d be all over him.”

  Natalie couldn’t imagine this woman all over any man. She looked every inch the elementary schoolteacher. Too sweet for Jamis, that was for sure.

  Where did that leave Natalie?

  “Turquoise and blue,” Missy said.

  “What’s that?” Sarah asked.

  “Our auras,” Natalie explained.

  “Perfectly matched.” Missy grinned. “Only Natalie, here, has sworn off all men forever.”

  “Uh-uh,” Natalie objected. “Only until my luck changes.”

  “Bad luck with relationship, huh?” Sarah asked.

  “Don’t get me started.” Natalie shook her head.

  Hannah chuckled. “Must be contagious.”

  “Like a virus,” Missy added.

  “WELL, I HATE TO TELL you this, Jamis,” Chuck Romney’s voice came quietly over the phone, “but Natalie Steeger has done a very thorough job in preparing for this camp. She obtained approval from the Mirabelle Island council and has complied with all the state licensing requirements for this type of facility.”

  Jamis still hadn’t started a new book. Even a realistic idea for a story hadn’t revealed itself, preoccupied as his thoughts were with the bustling activity on the other side of the trees bordering his property.

  “You’re sure?” he asked
. “You didn’t find anything?”

  “I took it apart. Piece by piece. You have no grounds to shut her down.”

  He paced in his kitchen. “What about trespassing?”

  “Jamis, give it a rest. Is she truly that bad?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Do you have no-trespassing signs up identifying your property line?”

  “I put them up the other day.”

  “All right. Well, there’s a process to these things. Eventually, you’ll have to file a complaint with the police.” He sighed. “You sure you want to go that route?”

  No. He wasn’t sure, but he was getting desperate. “What about buying her out?”

  “You have enough money for that?”

  “I’ll figure it out.”

  “You go that route and you can forget about getting rid of her before the end of summer.”

  He sighed, resigning himself to that fact. “Not having to worry about her returning next summer is better than nothing.”

  “Do you want me to make her an offer?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll talk to her attorney again, but I’m not expecting to make any headway. That man’s made it very clear that she doesn’t want to sell, and from the information I’ve gathered about her she doesn’t have to. Along with the house on Mirabelle, she also inherited another house in Minneapolis and a big chunk of change from her grandmother. She’s soliciting donations and grants for the future, but with or without outside funding, she can keep this summer camp running for several more years.”

  “You need to talk to her directly, Chuck.” This was for her own good. “Tell her I’ll buy her something in town or on one of the other islands. I could give her a donation for her camp on the condition she moves. Do whatever it takes to get her off this island.”

  “Whatever it takes. All right, I’ll give it a shot.”

  Jamis hung up the phone and immediately became aware of a presence outside in his yard, and it wasn’t as innocuous as a squirrel. He glanced out the kitchen window and there climbing around on his rocks was that little girl with the curly dark hair. No, Jamis. You are not going out there. No way. No how. That teenage boy was one thing. This little bundle of wide-eyed innocence was an entirely different matter. The kid could putz out there all day long for all he cared, and Natalie was not going to get a pass for this one. Their deal was over, fair and square.