Baby's First Homecoming

by Cathy McDavid

  She was right about that.

  “But you did insist on your share in the divorce settlement.”

  “I honestly thought your father still had his share of the money from selling the cattle operation.”

  “What happened to it?”

  She shrugged. “Between the time we drafted the property settlement and the divorce was finalized, he invested the money in stocks. The bottom fell out of the market, and he lost a considerable sum. He didn’t tell me about it. Too ashamed, I guess.”

  Like Wayne had been too ashamed to tell his kids about his financial mishandlings.

  “I’m sure your dad thought Wayne would make his payments. I assumed he was doing so all along. Certainly no one anticipated he’d sink into such a deep and lingering depression after Louise died.”

  Wayne’s children had obviously thought the same thing as his mother had, and Wayne didn’t correct them.

  Clay rubbed the back of his neck. What a mess. And the ones who’d suffered the most were Sierra and her brothers.

  “I was sick when I learned about the land sale. I loved Louise like a sister.”

  “Only sick? Weren’t you the least bit guilty?”

  “I barely slept for weeks. If I’d had any indication Wayne had defaulted on the loan and your father was selling the land, I’d have told him not to.”

  “You let me blame Dad all these years for something that wasn’t entirely his fault.”

  Blythe squeezed her eyes shut. “I did, and I regret that.”

  “Why?”

  “Divorce is complicated. I was furious with him. It skewed my thinking.”

  “Tell me about it. Been there, done that.” Clay ground his teeth together. “I agree Dad can be a jerk sometimes. Tough. Strict. Uncompromising.” He might have disagreed with his dad while he was growing up and rebelled more than once, but he’d always respected his dad until he’d sold the Powells’ land. “But it’s not like he gambled or lied to you or cheated on you.”

  “He didn’t.” His mother sighed. “He also wasn’t entirely responsible for our marriage ending. It’s taken me a while, but I see where I contributed. Greatly,” she added, in a wobbly voice.

  Clay wanted to vent more but he could see she was truly broken up.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure yet. Talk to Dad.”

  Tomorrow. After he’d had time to sort through everything.

  This conversation would be considerably less heated and involve considerably more forgiveness.

  * * *

  “I CAN’T TELL YOU how sorry I am,” Clay’s mother said. “I was thoughtless and selfish. I should have sent someone to find you and let you know I had Jamie. Better yet, I should have found you and asked you myself if it was okay. Next time, I will. I promise.”

  “Thank you.” Sierra smiled. “And I’m so sorry I snapped at you.”

  Clay watched his mother and Sierra make their sincere and heartfelt apologies to each other.

  “Are we good then?”

  “Yes, we’re good.” Sierra reached over and took Blythe’s hand.

  The three of them sat at the kitchen table, having recently finished Clay’s chicken dinner. Jamie occupied his high chair, strategically placed next to Sierra. He evidently loved cooked carrots—smashing them into a pulp as much as eating them.

  Everyone, including Jamie, was amused, until he started flinging carrot pieces onto the floor. Then, only Oreo was amused. The old dog lapped up the carrots with the dexterity and speed of an anteater.

  “Enough of that,” Sierra said and replaced the carrots with a sippy cup of milk.

  Jamie immediately shared his milk with Oreo by tipping the cup over and spilling several drops on the floor.

  “No, baby.” She righted the cup. “Don’t give any milk to the dog.”

  Jamie banged the tray and babbled as if to say, But he’s hungry.

  Oreo concurred and gazed at Sierra with soulful eyes.

  “Honestly.” She huffed. “Between the two of you, I’m going to have to break out the industrial-strength cleaner.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Clay assured her.

  “Nonsense. You cooked dinner, I’ll wash up.”

  “Why don’t we both wash up?”

  “And why don’t I watch Jamie in the family room while you do?” Blythe offered.

  Clay waited for Sierra to say no. After her scare at the wedding, he doubted she’d leave Jamie alone.

  “That would be great. And maybe you can give him a bath, too.”

  Blythe’s hand fluttered her heart. “I’d love nothing better.”

  Sierra turned to Clay. “Is it all right if we use your bathroom?”

  He cleared his throat, which had tightened during the last several seconds. “Have at it.”

  Over thick slices of apple pie, Blythe regaled them with stories of when Clay was Jamie’s age, how cute he’d been and some of his more adventurous baby pranks. Normally Clay would have put an end to the torture. Instead, he let her talk uninterrupted. Sierra—where she got the patience Clay had no clue—listened raptly.

  Jamie tossed several apple chunks to Oreo.

  Sierra administered stern looks to boy and dog. “What am I going to do with you?”

  Clay chuckled, only to be silenced by a sobering thought. He was having dinner with his family. How long had he wished for this very thing? A sense of amazement and profound satisfaction enveloped him.

  It faded the next instant.

  If Sierra decided she hated living here, took a job elsewhere, they’d be back to square one in three months.

  Regardless what she did, wherever she went, he would not lose Jamie. He might be a brand-new father, but he loved his son more than life itself.

  While Clay carried dishes to the sink, his mother filled the tub in the hall bathroom, and Sierra made a quick trip to the casita. She returned with a armful of bath paraphernalia. A towel, toys, three bottles, one of them shampoo, a hairbrush, a toothbrush, pajamas and some kind of ring contraption with suction cups on the bottom.

  “This bathing stuff is kind of involved,” he said as she traipsed through the kitchen.

  “You have no idea.”

  After five minutes, he began to suspect Sierra wasn’t able to leave his mother alone with Jamie after all. Well, next time. It was enough that she and his mother had resolved their differences.

  He began loading the dishwasher.

  Partway through, Sierra joined him. “That was a disaster.”

  Clay hid his pleasure. “What happened?”

  “Jamie decided he needed a prewash in the toilet.”

  He grimaced. “I’m not going to ask.”

  “You’re smart not to.”

  “I’m curious, what’s that ring contraption?”

  “To stabilize Jamie so he doesn’t slip on the porcelain. He sits inside it.”

  “I guess our moms lived on the edge.”

  She laughed, a sound Clay liked to hear. “I admit, some of the baby safety gadgets these days are a little extreme. But most of them are clever and really useful.”

  They made quick work of the remaining dishes. When they were done, Clay fed Oreo. Dog food, not carrots and milk and apple chunks.

  “I’m going to check on Jamie,” Sierra said breezily.

  Clay was impressed she’d gone as long as she had without dashing to the bathroom.

  “While you do that, I’m going to take Oreo outside. He likes to go on a stroll every evening around the back pasture. His one shot at exercise.”

  “Wait a minute, and I’ll go with you.”

  What?

  Hell, yes.

  He would, he realized, wait a very long time if necessary.

  Chapter Ten

  Clay retrieved his jacket from the hall closet and Sierra’s old sweater from the back of the kitchen chair where she’d left it.

  “Thanks.” She tugged the bulky garment over her head, then freed her ha
ir from the neck hole. The long sleeves hung past her wrists and the hem nearly to her knees.

  Clay thought she looked pixieish and rather cute.

  Like the time she’d worn an old work shirt of his with nothing underneath but a teeny-tiny pair of pink panties.

  They’d spent a lazy Saturday afternoon lounging on his couch, eating popcorn and watching movies. By the middle of the second movie, she wasn’t wearing anything at all, and his hands were caressing her silky bare skin.

  A rush of desire plowed through him with the force of an avalanche.

  “All set?” His fingers fumbled with the zipper on his jacket.

  She rolled up her sweater sleeves. “I noticed earlier it’s cold outside tonight.”

  Good. Bring it on. Cold evening air was just what he needed right now.

  Oreo ambled slowly along behind them as they walked from the house toward the pastures. The pair of feral mustangs delivered earlier that day whinnied and ran over to the fence, snorting lustily as Clay and Sierra approached.

  “We don’t have to go very far,” he said. “Oreo’s not as frisky as he once was.”

  “He looks like he’s doing okay. And so am I. You don’t have to fret.”

  “I’m not.” He was too busy entertaining inappropriate thoughts about Sierra to fret, or do anything else for that matter.

  She checked her watch. “I have about fifteen minutes. That seems to be my threshold before I start going ballistic.”

  Was she ever going to let him live that down?

  “You’ll get better.”

  “I want to get better. I hate being this afraid. It’s not healthy for either me or Jamie.”

  “The counselor will teach you how to cope.”

  “Among other things, I hope.”

  “Like what?”

  “How to effectively communicate and negotiate.” She slanted him an amused smile. “How to stand up to pushy people. How to conquer my insecurities.”

  What about them and their relationship? Clay was starting to think his goals were evolving from co-parenting Jamie with Sierra to co-habiting with her to—

  Best stop there. He wasn’t ready for what came next.

  “You made my mother very happy tonight. You didn’t have to let her bathe Jamie.”

  “I like your mother.”

  “She likes you, too.” Where was a snake or bat when you needed one? Anything to spook Sierra and cause her to jump into his arms. “I’m going to invite my dad over this week to meet Jamie.”

  Sierra went abruptly quiet.

  It killed his ardor better than the cold air.

  He probably should have waited to tell her but he didn’t dare risk her finding his dad at the house.

  “He’s Jamie’s grandfather,” Clay explained. “I want them to meet.”

  “I thought you and he didn’t get along.”

  “We haven’t been. I’d like that to change.”

  “Why now?”

  He couldn’t tell her his mother had allowed him to unfairly blame his father for years, not without dragging Sierra’s father into the discussion.

  “What if I said no?”

  “I would try and convince you otherwise.”

  “And if I still said no?”

  “Grandparent visitations are covered in the custody agreement. Monthly supervised visits.”

  “So, we’re going by the agreement verbatim?”

  “It’s why we drew it up,” he said reasonably. “So we wouldn’t have these arguments.”

  “We’re not arguing, Clay.”

  Not yet, but the mood had certainly shifted—downward. “Have you asked your dad about mine lately?”

  He sensed more than saw her withdrawal.

  “The other night, when you came by.”

  The night they’d kissed.

  “I told him you’d seen your dad earlier at the Saddle Up.”

  “How did he react?”

  “Is it important?”

  “I’m just curious to know if he’s any less angry.”

  She chuckled mirthlessly. “He’s not. In fact, he warned me to stay away from your dad.”

  Clay would give anything to know the reason why. Was Wayne afraid Clay’s dad would give away his biggest secret? Or were his parents distorting the truth in order to make themselves appear better?

  “We should get back.” Sierra stopped and peered anxiously over her shoulder. She’d apparently reached her threshold.

  Clay reversed direction. “Oreo’s getting tired anyway.”

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Fire away.” He’d asked one of her. She deserved the same.

  “Why did you and Jessica divorce?”

  That came out of the blue.

  Then again, maybe not. Sierra was living with him, more or less. She was naturally curious about his ex-wife, as he was curious about the men in her past.

  “I think the better question is why we married in the first place.”

  “You were in love.”

  “Not the healthy, happy kind of love. Not the kind that sustains two people for a lifetime.”

  “Lust?”

  “There was that, I won’t lie.” He paused, waited for Oreo to catch up with them. “Jessica infatuated me from the moment I met her. And she knew just how to work that infatuation to her advantage. She always held back a little, enough to keep me on the hook. She’d break up with me then take me back with no rhyme or reason other than her own unpredictable whims.”

  “It was a game to her.”

  “Not entirely. That was just how she operated. I’m not sure she was even conscious of it.”

  “Didn’t you get fed up with her manipulations?”

  “I did. And when that happened, she’d pile on the charm. Next thing, I’d be suckered in all over again.”

  “What prompted the divorce?”

  “She didn’t want children. Not right away and possibly not ever.”

  “Isn’t that something you decided on before you got married?”

  “I talked about having kids all the time and failed to notice her lack of enthusiasm. My mistake was assuming the absence of a no meant yes. Shortly after we married, she got pregnant.”

  “She did?” Sierra let out a soft gasp.

  Clay had told only his mother and a few close friends about the baby. It was too hard on him, too many sad memories.

  Not, he noticed, with Sierra. The pressure in his chest wasn’t there, and he could breathe without experiencing a sharp, stabbing pain.

  It had been the same two years ago when he’d poured out his heart to her after his and Jessica’s latest breakup.

  “I was thrilled. Jessica wasn’t. I figured she was simply scared about being a first-time mother.”

  “What happened?” Sierra asked, her voice low and strained.

  She must have realized that she and Jessica were pregnant at the same time, Sierra further along by a few months.

  “She miscarried. At fifteen weeks.”

  “Oh, Clay. How tragic.” Sierra touched his arm, let her fingers remain.

  “It was rough. I was disappointed.”

  Disappointed and devastated and guilty. He could still hear the doctor gently advising them it wasn’t their fault the fetus hadn’t thrived.

  How could the baby not thrive when he’d already loved him or her so much?

  “Jessica, on the other hand, was relieved. She went right out and changed her birth-control method to something more reliable. Didn’t bother telling me. I had to accidentally discover her stash of pills.”

  “Nothing is worse than losing a child.” Sierra stared at the ground in front of them.

  “For some of us.” He covered the hand she’d rested on his arm. “If I overreacted when I first learned Jamie was mine, I apologize. I had a knee-jerk reaction.”

  “I’m glad you told me. It explains a lot.”

  “I did tell you because I want you to know how serious I am about being a good f
ather and making this arrangement of ours succeed.”

  “I am, too.”

  She met his gaze boldly, and, for the first time, Clay believed her.

  * * *

  “SOMEBODY’S TIRED.” Clay’s mother cuddled with Jamie on the family-room sofa. All the lights were dimmed and soft music played from the sound system’s built-in speakers.

  Clay tarried behind while Sierra went over and peered down at grandmother and grandson, her features radiant.

  “It’s almost his bedtime.”

  Jamie lay with his head in the crook of Clay’s mother’s arm, sucking his thumb, his eyelids drooping heavily. Oreo lumbered over to the rug at their feet and dropped onto it with an exhausted sigh.

  “Looks like it’s someone else’s bedtime, too.” Clay grinned. He himself was too wired to sleep after his conversation with Sierra.

  Sierra held out her arms to Blythe. “I’ll take him and put him to bed.”

  “So soon?” The corners of his mother’s mouth fell. She brightened almost immediately. “Thank you again for this evening. It’s been wonderful.”

  “Anytime.”

  Did she mean it? Clay hoped so.

  His mother stood and carefully passed Jamie to Sierra. “I think he’s getting used to me.”

  The baby immediately wrapped his arms around Sierra’s neck and snuggled his face in her sweater. She kissed the top of his head.

  Jamie might be getting used to Clay’s mother but he loved Sierra more than anyone.

  She turned to Clay. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He wasn’t ready for the evening to end. “Can I go with you?”

  “What about your mother?”

  “Don’t let me keep you, I have to leave anyway.” Clay’s mother went to the long breakfast bar separating the kitchen from the family room and retrieved her purse. “I’m scheduled to be at the office early for a big real-estate closing.”

  Sierra could still say no to Clay’s request, manufacture an excuse. Lucky for him, she didn’t, though her hesitancy left something to be desired.

  “Good night, my dear.” His mother dispensed hugs to Clay and Sierra, then tenderly kissed Jamie’s forehead.

  “I’ll walk you to your car, Mom.”

  “Don’t bother. Go put your son to bed.”