As damned tired as Jake was of having Rory Callahan thrown in his face, he had to admit that he did have some scoundrel in him. What Kat hadn’t seen or wouldn’t acknowledge—or hell, maybe he hadn’t shown her—was that he was a lot like her father, too.
“That’s what makes me the perfect man for her.” He found another stone and sent it skyward with another kick. “I’m Trace McBride with enough Rory Callahan in me to make me interesting.”
Not that McBride was the paragon she believed him to be. Oh, no. Maybe that’s what he should do, clue her in to her father’s nonsense. Show her that Trace McBride had some troublemaker in him, too, by God.
Except, knowing his luck, that’d backfire on him. Instead of getting himself moved into his wife’s bed, he’d get his father-in-law kicked out of his. Trace would need somewhere to live, and he’d move into the extra bed in the room Jake was renting.
Jake shuddered at the thought.
Hell, he didn’t know where to go from here, other than make sure Kat didn’t throw him out of her house. She said she wanted a partner, someone who’d be there when she needed him, a partner she’d never doubt, never distrust. How the hell was he supposed to become that partner if she held him at arm’s length?
Jake’s wanderings had taken him to the tree swing. Idly, he twisted the rope, then released it to set the swing spinning. Sort of like his emotions, he thought wryly.
The kitchen screen door squeaked open, then banged behind Kat when she stepped outside. Jake’s heart gave a little lurch as he watched her approach. The woman was work, no doubt about it, but the prize was truly beyond compare.
Whatever it takes, Katrina. However long it takes.
Even if the waiting damned near killed him.
“Everything all right?” he asked when she drew near.
“Yes. Mari was just checking a couple details about the christening. I told her about the pies, and she said I shouldn’t worry. Aunt Claire is bringing lots more than we’ll probably need.”
Jake gestured for her to take a seat in the swing, and after she did, he gave her a gentle push and pointed out, “Your aunt Claire likes me, you know.”
“That’s because you make such a to-do over her raspberry tarts.”
“Maribeth likes me, too.”
“You go on about her chocolates like you do the tarts.”
“What can I say? I have a sweet tooth. Your mother also likes me, Kat, and I’ve never said a word about her tapioca pudding.”
“Her tapioca pudding is awful.”
“I refuse to comment on that. The point I’m trying to make, here, is that the women in your family are pretty astute, and they have a positive regard for me. That’s something I’d like you to think about.”
He gave her another push and Kat swung a little higher. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled at him. “I haven’t played in a swing in a very long time.”
“Your father told me you’d done a lot of growing up.”
“I think that’s true. Although, I’m not sure that’s entirely a good thing. Maybe I wouldn’t be so, well, whatever I am if I took a little more time to play.”
Jake liked the sound of that. As much as he wanted to pursue the idea of playing with Kat, he decided he shouldn’t let this opportunity to make another good point pass him by. “I reckon I’ve done some growing up myself. I’d like you to give that idea some thought, Kat. Try to see that in me.”
She dropped a foot to the ground, stopping the swing. Jake moved around in front of her. She looked at him with eyes that were round and solemn. “I will. I promise I will. But right this moment I want to play.”
He wanted to kiss her then, and the intention must have shown in his expression because she backed up, then picked up her feet, teasing him with a gleeful look as she swung herself beyond his easy reach. She leaned, pumping her legs, propelling herself higher. When she turned her face toward the sunshine, her hair slipped from its pins and fell free, flowing behind her like a golden waterfall. A laugh escaped her, and the joy in it brought an answering smile to Jake’s mouth.
The smile died abruptly when, with a whoosh and a roar, flames burst through the roof of Kat’s house.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
UGLY BLACK SMOKE BILLOWED into the afternoon sky.
Fear unlike any Jake had known before gripped his throat. His feet started moving toward the house even as the reality of what he was seeing made sense in his mind. This couldn’t be happening. Not the children. This was beyond bad luck.
This was pure hell.
“The children!” Kat cried.
She ran with him toward the burning house. “Kat, stay here.”
“No. You need my help. You can’t get them alone.”
She was right. The children were in two different parts of the house. He hated leading her into danger, but he had no choice.
He took another look at the house. The fire threatened the girls playing in the attic more than Robbie, asleep in his crib. She’d be safest going after the baby.
His long legs outreached hers, and he called over his shoulder as he approached the house. “The baby. You get the baby and I’ll get the girls.”
“Yes. Yes.” Terror loomed in her expression and her steps faltered. “I can’t. I can’t lose another child.”
He stopped, grabbed her. Gave her a shake. “Kat! The baby? You’re with me here?”
“Yes. Yes,” she sobbed.
“I need your help!”
She closed her eyes, just for a second, and when she looked at him again, calm determination filled her eyes. He knew then that she’d be all right. “Get the girls. Get our daughters.”
The acrid scent of smoke filled his lungs as he burst into the house. He grabbed a kitchen towel on his way through and held it up to his face. Ah, Penny. I promise I won’t let anything happen to your babies. As Jake pounded up the stairs, he heard Kat cough behind him. It took all his discipline not to turn around to tend to her. Trust. Hell. I’m trusting you, Kat Kimball. You take care of yourself.
On the second floor at the end of the hallway, he heard the baby crying. Good. That’s good. “Girls?” he shouted. “Girls? Where are you?”
Above him, where the fire raged its worst, the smoke turned day to night, and the heat peeled paint off the walls, he heard the sweetest sound in the world. “Uncle Jake. Help us!”
Up the attic stairs. His eyes burning. Breathing almost impossible. His stomach felt nauseous. Too much smoke. Dammit, he had to keep a clear head.
Mentally he sketched the layout of the attic. A hallway down the middle. Two extra bedrooms on the north side. A couple of storage rooms and the playroom on the south.
At the top of the stairs, he turned south. Flames crackled. The heat intensified. “Girls? Where are you?”
“Here, Uncle Jake!” Miranda cried. He heard many beautiful voices screaming and calling his name. He followed the sound. “We’re in the storeroom, Uncle Jake. We can’t get out. Something’s blocked the door. Hurry. Please. It’s getting hard to breathe.”
“Something” was a large roof support beam that had fallen and lay propped at an angle against the door. Jake put his back against it, planted his feet and shoved. The beam didn’t budge. He repeated his action, putting every ounce of strength he had into the effort.
The beam slowly slid, then crashed to the attic floor.
He had the door open in a flash. The girls were huddled against an open window. “Come on, now. Go go go go!”
They darted toward him, and even as they came, he realized something was wrong. There wasn’t enough of them. “Caroline. Where’s Caroline?”
“She wasn’t trapped,” Miranda panted. “She’d just left the room. We told her to go get you to help us.”
She must have been downstairs and he hadn’t seen her as he rushed through the house. Please, God, let her be outside, safe and sound, with Kat and the little guy.
He herded the girls downstairs, swooping Belle into his arms as sh
e bent over, coughing. As they burst through the door, Jake heard the clang of bells heralding the arrival of Fort Worth’s Fire Department. Less than five minutes had passed since they’d spied the first flame. It felt like an hour.
Frantically, he looked for Kat, finding her even as Theresa called out, “Aunt Kat!” Jake’s heart stood still.
Kat and Robbie, but no Caroline.
He called out. “Caroline? Have you seen her?”
Her voice shook. “No, Jake.”
He turned on his heel and rushed back inside.
“Jake!” he heard his wife scream, her voice filled with fear.
The amount of smoke in the downstairs portion of the house had doubled since his first entrance. Visibility worsened with every second. I won’t be able to see her. I’ll never find her.
I have to find her.
He went upstairs, thinking she might have gone to the bedroom she shared with Belle. “Caroline Barrett,” he shouted through the smoke. “Now I know you’re scared. I know you’ve been scared for a long, long time. But you have to be brave right now. As brave as you’ve ever been. I know you can do it, sweetheart I know you can. Caroline, talk to me, honey. Tell me where you are.”
He listened hard even as he searched. Not under the bed. Not in her wardrobe. Not in this room. “Dammit all.”
Where else would she have gone?
He stepped out into the hallway. “Caroline, enough of this. You hear me? You tell me where you are, child. Right now.” He paused, listening a moment “Caroline? Caroline!”
Fire burned through the ceiling above him, and debris crashed to the floor. “Caroline Barrett,” Jake shouted. “I am your father now, and I demand you talk to me and tell me where you are. Right now, young lady. This is your father speaking.”
Heart pounding, fear licking at his soul, Luke held his breath. One beat, two.
“Papa? Papa, I’m in Mama’s room. Help me, Papa!”
Jake shuddered and dashed for the room at the end of the hall.
KAT STOOD on the lawn holding Robbie in her arms, Miranda, Theresa and Belle clinging to her skirts and crying as they watched flames eat through the roof of their home and clouds of gray smoke surge into the sky. Despite the chaos surrounding her, she remained amazingly calm.
Jake would find Caroline in time. Kat had complete confidence in the man. For all his talk of fear of fatherhood, Jake’s instincts were right on the mark where the children were concerned. He gave them his time, his attention, his discipline when they need it. He still mixed up the girls’ names, but now he did it to tease them rather than because he needed color coding to tell them apart. He acted like a father, she thought. A good father.
He would save their child.
“I’m so scared,” Theresa sobbed.
“Hush.” Kat hugged the girl against her. “It’ll be all right. You’ll see. Your uncle Jake will save your sister. You can trust him.”
Her own words echoed in her mind. Kat’s heart, already pounding, beat even faster.
She trusted Jake. It was true. She trusted him to save Caroline from the fire. She trusted him to protect all these children under any circumstance. She trusted him to love them and cherish them and give them guidance and support. She trusted him to be these children’s father.
“Where is he?” Theresa asked. “Why don’t they come out!”
“They will. Trust in your uncle Jake.”
Jake Kimball was a trustworthy man. Kat and the children could trust him with anything, with everything. With their lives. Their hearts. He would treat them all like treasures.
“We didn’t do it, Aunt Kat,” Miranda said. “I promise. We weren’t playing with matches or candles or anything. Do you believe me? Please, say you believe me. It wasn’t our fault.”
“I believe you, sweetheart. Sometimes these things just happen.”
“Sometimes it’s just bad luck,” Belle said. “Right, Aunt Kat?”
Bad luck.
Kat absorbed the words like a blow. Oh, no. Is that what this was? What started the fire? Was she the reason her husband was risking his life in a burning building searching for their precious child?
Oh, dear Lord. What’s been wrong with me?
All these incidents and accidents Jake had suffered…she was the reason for them. She was the Bad Luck Bride. Poor Jake had made the mistake of marrying her, falling in love with her. And look where that had gotten him.
Risking his life again and again because she’d refused to recognize his love. Had she subconsciously required a life-or-death test like Mari said? Was she that shallow?
Shame washed through her. Jake did love her. She knew it for certain. She believed it down to her bones. And his love for her was strong—it had pulled him back from Tibet. It was vigilant—he showed it in little ways every day. Fixing a loose step of her kitchen step stool. Fussing at her to take a break and put her feet up from time to time throughout the day.
And his love was true. She hadn’t missed the batted lashes and flirtatious glances sent his way by some Fort Worth floozies. Jake, who noticed everything, acted as if he didn’t even see them. He wanted no one but her. His love was true.
Hers was the love in question. Love she’d refused to acknowledge, even to herself.
Her breath came in fast, shallow pants. Did she really have to have a house burn down to get this through her thick skull? Jake wasn’t the problem here. She was the problem. Trust was the issue, only not in the way she’d thought. It wasn’t her lack of trust in Jake that kept the bad luck hanging around, kept husband and wife apart. Perhaps even set their house on fire.
The fault lay in Kat’s failure to trust herself.
Jake Kimball was nothing like Rory Callahan. Period. Her instincts had known it all along. Her heart had recognized him all along for the fine man he was. A scoundrel, true, but Jake Kimball was her kind of scoundrel.
And right that minute her scoundrel came running from their burning home, their smiling, sooty daughter cradled safely in his arms.
Kat’s heart filled with joy. “See, girls? I told you Uncle Jake would save the day. He’ll never let us down.”
Some ten yards away from her, Jake stopped and set Caroline on the ground. “Go ahead, honey,” he said to the child. “Tell her.”
Kat’s heart climbed into her throat as Caroline looked up and said, “Right before Mama went to Heaven, she told me Uncle Jake would be my new daddy and that he would take real good care of me and that he’d someday get me a new mommy, too. So, I’ve been wondering. Can I call you Mommy?”
The girls squealed and cheered to hear the sound of their sister’s voice. Kat set Robbie on his feet, then smiled at Caroline and opened her arms. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more, Caroline. I’d be so proud to be your mommy.”
Her arms were full of the little girl, but her gaze never left Jake. The children were babbling, the house was burning down next to them, and all she could think about was him.
“You saved my babies.”
“Our babies.”
He was her hero, her love. Her partner. Tears rolled down her face. “Are you all right?”
“Honey, I have never been better.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “Jake, about earlier. The things I said. I’m sorry. I was wrong—wrong about so many things.”
“Hush, now.” He hugged her to him with his free arm. “All that can keep. Let’s just enjoy this moment, it’s a good family moment. Even though we have no house, all our clothes are gone, and your piecrust is turned to toast, it’s about as good a moment as I can remember. We need to wallow in it a bit, I think. All right?”
“All right.” But as the girls surrounded them, four beautiful babbling voices, Kat decided she’d try to make it up to him. He deserved a grand gesture, something to prove to him, to her family, to everyone in town, that her love for him was strong, vigilant and true.
And as her parents and sister arrived, their faces wreathed with worry, Kat figured
out just what that gesture should be.
The time had arrived for a traditional McBride family wedding.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL ceremony,” Kat told her sister as they entered the church vestibule following the christening.
It was, wasn’t it?” Mari pressed a kiss to her infant son’s forehead, then nodded toward the baby in Kat’s arms. “Although I thought Jenna might bring down the ceiling when the reverend sprinkled her with water.”
“I never heard a baby cry so loud,” Caroline said in awe.
Theresa nodded. “Mrs. Peters said it was shrill enough that even old Buck Laney must have heard it, and he only hears in one ear.”
“He has to be listening through one of those ear horns, too,” Belle added.
“Our Jenna lets everyone know when she’s not happy,” Mari said. Turning to Kat, she said, “Your turn, sister. Are you ready?”
“I’m a little nervous,” Kat admitted. “There are even more people here than I expected.”
“You knew there would be a crush.”
“Well, yes,” Kat said with a sigh.
Traditionally, McBride family christenings were festive affairs attended by relatives and invited guests. Adding a last-minute wedding to the event—a last minute McBride wedding—meant the addition of uninvited guests to the church, too.
Ever since Trace married Jenny way back in ‘79, McBride family weddings had become known as one of the better entertainments offered to the citizens of Fort Worth. Once word got around town that the McBrides were making this a “two-fer” celebration, the pews at First Methodist had filled to overflowing.
Miranda eyed the wedding gown hanging on a rack, and her eyes gleamed with excitement. “Hurry up, Mommy. I can’t wait to see you in the Good Luck Wedding Gown. I think it’s the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen!”
“Of course it is,” Claire McBride said as she swept into the room along with her sister-in-law, Jenny. “That’s because your grandmommy made it and Jenny is the best seamstress in the world.”
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