“Please.” Skye followed her, gently shifting Connor in her arms. Although her back and arms screamed for relief, the pleasant sound of his even breathing motivated her to keep holding him. She’d do whatever it took to keep him asleep for as long as possible.
“I have that appointment with my surgeon today at nine,” Mom said. “Want me to call and reschedule?”
Oh no. Skye winced. She’d forgotten. “No, I—I can take you.”
Mom’s brown eyes flitted to Connor. “With a sick child?”
“We don’t really have a choice. You need to keep that appointment. How about Drew or Jack?”
“Drew is on highway patrol today, and Jack is likely swamped. One of his IT clients had a security breach.”
“He can’t spare two hours to take you to the doctor?”
Her mother continued scooping coffee into the coffee maker.
Skye clamped her mouth shut. Drew was helpful when he wasn’t working as a sheriff’s deputy, but other than Connor’s birthday party, Jack had only stopped by to visit once since their mom’s surgery. He lived less than an hour away, and he conveniently found plenty of reasons to keep busy. Mom said it was his coping strategy. Coming to the house reminded him too much of Dad.
Frustrated, she heaved a sigh, which prompted a pathetic whimper from Connor. Skye stiffened, then rubbed his back gently and made a soft shushing noise like her mother had taught her.
“Gage seems nice.” Mom shot her a hopeful glance. “We could ask him.”
“Mom.” Skye tried to keep the irritation from her voice. “We aren’t going to ask Gage to drive you to the doctor’s office.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s already helping us this afternoon. Besides, I’m supposed to open the store at ten, so asking him to drive you doesn’t solve my child care problem.”
“Honey, it’s all right if the store doesn’t open on time. Or at all. Things happen. Most folks will understand.”
Skye bit back a sharp answer. Wasn’t Dad honest with her about the store’s precarious finances? Why didn’t Mom realize they couldn’t afford to lose any sales?
“I’m still not asking him to drive you to your appointment. What about Aunt Linda? She said she’d be glad to help you.”
“I don’t mind calling her, although she lives farther away than Gage. We’ll be cutting it close if I have to wait for her to get ready and then come over.”
Skye refused to back down. “Why don’t you call her right now? I’ll stay home with Connor until Gage gets here and then open the store late.”
Mom studied her with a pinched expression. “All right.” She pushed her walker toward the cordless telephone mounted on the kitchen wall. “I still don’t understand why you’re being so skeptical about Gage. He was great with Connor yesterday. If you’ll let him babysit, why can’t he give me a ride to the doctor?”
Skye ignored her and gingerly shifted Connor’s weight as she took a mug from the cabinet. While Mom spoke to Aunt Linda, Skye swayed back and forth and waited while the coffee brewed. How could she explain to Mom that she couldn’t afford not to be skeptical? She’d been wooed one too many times by a handsome guy with a megawatt smile. A man who’d transformed into an outspoken control freak behind closed doors. This time she’d be smarter. More aware. The walls of her still-fragile heart were fortified against smooth-talking men. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
* * *
“Take it easy. Let me help you.” Gage held Mrs. Tomlinson’s elbow and carefully helped her from the floor to the sofa.
She grimaced, her face pinched with concentration and perspiration dotting her forehead.
“You’ve got this.” He held his breath until she was safely in a seated position. While she’d probably done her leg-strengthening exercises numerous times, it still made him nervous seeing her try to get up without assistance. Gage feared Skye would clobber him if anything happened to her mother on his watch.
Right on cue, his phone chimed from his back pocket. Most likely another text from Skye. She’d sent three already in the two hours she’d been at the furniture store.
Mrs. Tomlinson gave him the side-eye. “She’s checking up on us again, isn’t she?”
“Yes, ma’am. I believe so.”
“That girl is going to wear herself out.” She reached for her water bottle and twisted off the cap.
“What do you mean?” Gage pulled his phone out and sat down on the opposite end of the sofa.
“I don’t make a habit of talking about my children behind their backs, and I certainly can’t blame her for getting worked up. We’ve got a lot going on.” Mrs. Tomlinson paused and took a long sip. “On the other hand, I’d love to see her simmer down a notch, you know?”
Gage couldn’t hide his smile. He hadn’t expected her to speak so candidly.
“That look on your face tells me you agree.”
“She does seem stressed. I’m sure she’s trying to do what’s best for the people she loves, though.”
He glanced at his screen while Mrs. Tomlinson took another sip of water.
How is Connor doing? Does he still have a fever? Did he take a long nap? Has Mom finished her exercises? Please remind her to ice afterward.
Oh boy. He sighed and set his phone on the coffee table without responding. Maybe she did need to simmer down a notch. Connor was still napping, and Mrs. Tomlinson appeared to be doing everything she was supposed to.
“I’m sorry.” Mrs. Tomlinson shot him an apologetic glance. “I shouldn’t have said that. You’re right, she is trying to do what’s best. She’s been very good about taking care of her family, especially her cousin.”
The hair on Gage’s arm stood on end. “How so?”
“My husband was a good man, and he thought he was doing the right thing for the family at the time, but he and his brother, McKenna’s father, had a blowout over our furniture store.” She pressed her lips together. “My husband was willed the store by their father, and Kenny, my brother-in-law, was much better at working with his hands. He could build a table and chairs that were absolute works of art. Most of the furniture in this house, he built. Anyway, Kenny was so upset and accused us of swindling him out of the family business. He—he took his own life a few years back, and we have always blamed ourselves.”
Gage’s chest tightened. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” She patted his arm. “McKenna was always a spirited child, and her daddy’s girl. She got away with a lot, growing up. Mostly silly stuff. We called her mischievous and headstrong. Never imagined it would come to this. The rift in our family and then his death wrecked her.”
Her words pricked at lingering wounds. He could relate. The loss of his own parents and then Ryan’s accident had done a number on him emotionally. Palming the back of his neck, Gage tried to process this new layer to an already complicated scenario. “If your family was fighting over the store, then why did she leave Connor with you and Skye? As payback?”
Mrs. Tomlinson sighed and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I don’t know why exactly. I suspect she knew motherhood was not her thing, and it isn’t really Skye’s thing, either, but I think she knew Skye was dependable. She wouldn’t turn her away.”
“Did you just say motherhood isn’t Skye’s thing?”
“Skye has zero interest in being a mother.” Mrs. Tomlinson studied him. “She has a good heart, but I know she’s only here right now because she loves us and can’t bear to see us struggling.”
Gage could only stare at Mrs. Tomlinson. He had so many questions. The muffled sound of Connor crying broke the silence and he quickly stood.
“Gage—”
“I’d better check on him.” Gage skirted the coffee table and strode toward Connor’s room, his mind racing. Skye has zero interest in being a mother. Why did he f
ind that so hard to believe? And what did it mean for Connor? If she didn’t really want him, was she only caring for him out of guilt and obligation? What happened when she’d finally reached her limit?
He quietly pushed open the door of Connor’s room and found the boy had pulled himself to a standing position inside his crib. Tears tracked down his red cheeks, and he stretched out both arms over the crib rail while repeating a string of consonants that conveyed his earnest plea for freedom.
Gage swallowed hard against the emotion clogging his throat. He couldn’t let this little boy be abandoned again.
“C’mon, buddy. Let’s get up.” He strode to the crib and gently lifted Connor into his arms. He smelled like peach-scented soap, and damp wisps of hair were matted to his forehead. Did that mean he didn’t have a fever anymore? The baby’s wide blue eyes scanned Gage’s face as if assessing the situation. Gage waited, holding his breath, and braced for a meltdown. Slowly, Connor’s mouth morphed into a toothy smile.
Thank You. Gage offered a silent prayer of gratitude, then looked around the room. He’d managed to avoid changing Connor’s diaper yesterday, but he needed to step up and make an effort today. Even though he didn’t have a clue how to accomplish the task. While Connor babbled happily, Gage spotted a plastic package of diapers propped against the wall and a carton labeled Wipes with a picture of a smiling infant on the front. He grabbed both of those and carried Connor out to the living room.
Mrs. Tomlinson glanced up from the e-reader in her hands. “There’s our precious boy. Did you have a good nap?”
Connor grinned some more and clapped his hands together.
“Oh, you must be feeling better.” Mrs. Tomlinson looked relieved. “Maybe his fever is gone.”
“I hope so. As soon as his diaper is changed, I’ll take his temperature.” Gage sank awkwardly to the floor and set Connor beside him. “Would you mind giving me some tips here?”
“Excuse me?”
“The diaper. Changing it. I—I have no idea how to do that.”
“Oh. Right.” Mrs. Tomlinson patted the sofa cushion beside her. “If you bring him to me, I can probably take care of it.”
“No, no. I need to learn.” Gage felt his cheeks redden. Incompetency made him feel weak. He hated that.
“All right. Start by laying him down on his back. Maybe give him a small toy to keep him occupied.”
A few minutes later, after a lot of trial and error—and very little cooperation on Connor’s part—Gage managed to change the diaper. He was in the process of snapping the bazillion snaps on the legs of Connor’s one-piece outfit when boots thumped up the steps outside and then the front door flew open.
Skye came in, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide with panic. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re all okay.”
“Skye, you scared me to death.” Mrs. Tomlinson pressed her hand to her chest. “What are you doing home so early?”
Her icy gaze toggled from Connor to Gage. “Why didn’t you answer my texts?”
Whoa. Gage sat back on his heels. Was she serious?
“Been a little busy.” Gage gritted his teeth and helped Connor sit up. “Can I throw this diaper in the trash can or should I carry it outside?”
“The trash can under the kitchen sink is fine,” Mrs. Tomlinson said. “Thank you.”
He strode toward the kitchen, slowly counting down until Skye trotted after him. Three, two, one.
Sure enough, boots tap-tap-tapped behind him. “I need you to answer me when I text you. I was extremely worried when I didn’t hear from you. My mom could’ve been hurt, or something might’ve happened to Connor. What am I supposed to think when you don’t respond?”
Gage paused, one hand on the cabinet doorknob, adrenaline coursing through him. “That I’m handling it.”
“It doesn’t seem like you’re handling things well when you can’t find the time to send a brief text.”
He threw the diaper in the trash, then straightened to his full height. In her navy wool peacoat belted at her slim waist, knee-high brown boots and windblown hair cascading around her shoulders, he had to admit she was stunning. Even if she was angry with him. Yet he couldn’t ignore her attitude or the way her thoughtless words made him feel so unappreciated.
“You’re going to have to learn to trust me, Skye.”
Her face puckered, and she propped her hands on her hips.
“I understand that you have a lot on your mind. But if I don’t answer you immediately, it means I’m most likely doing what I said I would—taking care of Connor or helping your mom.”
“But neither one of you answered me. My mom is recovering from surgery, and Connor had a fever last night. I assumed the worst.”
“The worst about who?” He’d struck a nerve. He could tell by the way she visibly flinched. “Now that you’re here, I think I’ll go. I’ve got an exam to study for.”
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I—”
Really? He arched an eyebrow in disbelief, then moved past her into the living room and gave Connor’s head a gentle pat on his way to the door. “See you next time, little dude.”
“Gage, wait.” Mrs. Tomlinson rose from the sofa and reached for her walker. “Please don’t leave when you’re angry.”
“I’m not angry.” Okay, maybe he was a little angry. He calmly shrugged into his jacket, then forced a polite smile. “If you don’t think this arrangement is going to work out, just let me know, but I still plan to be involved in Connor’s life—one way or another.”
Without another word, he stepped outside and closed the door firmly behind him. That wasn’t his proudest moment—leaving with a thinly veiled threat—but she’d come at him with her frustration and her doubt in his abilities, and he’d lost his cool. Despite their fight just now, he and Skye both shared a common objective—doing what was best for Connor. But now that Mrs. Tomlinson had revealed Skye didn’t want to be a mother, how would she react when she found out about Ryan’s parents?
Chapter Seven
“Did you apologize to Gage yet?” her mom asked, sitting at the table and calmly sipping her morning coffee.
Skye winced. Mom’s simple question only amplified her guilt. “Not yet.”
“You’d better.”
Skye bit her lip and tucked a plastic bag full of carrot sticks into the thermal lunch tote and zipped it shut. Connor was down for his morning nap already. If she hurried, she could still get to the furniture store in time to open by ten.
“What if he doesn’t show up to help this afternoon?”
“He will.” Skye turned in a slow circle, looking for her keys.
“How do you know? He seemed upset when he left yesterday.”
Skye located her keys under a pile of mail on the kitchen counter and turned to face Mom. “I’ll call him when I get to the store.”
“Promise?” Her mother shot her a doubtful look over the rim of her coffee cup.
“I promise.” Skye rounded the table and gave her mom a quick peck on the cheek. “Aunt Linda will be here at ten fifteen to stay with you and Connor. She needs to leave after lunch.”
“All the more reason for you to call and confirm that Gage is still coming.” Mom flashed an innocent smile.
“You’re relentless, you know that?”
“I’m only trying to help.”
And maybe fix her up. Skye slid her feet into her boots. “I’ll be back tonight. Call me if you need anything.”
“Have a good day, sweetie,” Mom called after her. “Don’t forget to call Gage.”
Skye chuckled as she put on her coat and grabbed her lunch bag and purse. The crisp winter air nipped at her cheeks as she stepped outside.
McKenna, where are you?
Skye had texted her a picture a few days ago of Connor smashing his fist into his birthday cake. Maybe it was a passive
-aggressive move, sending her that photo, but she wanted McKenna to know what she was missing.
Still no response. Didn’t McKenna care about her son? Since she’d intentionally left Connor behind and never mentioned when she’d be back, Skye was starting to question her cousin’s motives. Checking in with Drew again hadn’t helped, either. The missing person’s report hadn’t generated any leads at the sheriff’s department. Was McKenna just ignoring Skye’s attempts to reach out, or had something terrible happened to her?
Skye heaved a sigh and trudged through the snow to her car. McKenna’s silence aside, she owed Gage an apology for the way she’d treated him. She cringed as she mentally replayed her snide words and subtle accusations, especially after he’d gone out of his way to be helpful. Why did she jump to conclusions so quickly? A small part of her—the part that hated to admit she’d been wrong—hoped he wouldn’t answer when she called. Mom was right, though. If he was so angry that he didn’t want to help with Connor this afternoon—or any afternoon ever again—she needed to know.
Her stomach twisted at the thought of having zero child care options. Again. Aunt Linda graciously offered to step in on an as-needed basis, and a handful of other friends had done the same, but soon she’d run out of favors to call in. She needed consistent, reliable child care—not only for her own peace of mind, but because that was what Connor needed, as well.
After putting on her gloves, she scraped the snow and ice from her windshield and gave the engine a few extra minutes to warm up. By the time she finished and slid behind the wheel, shivering, the clock on her dash indicated she only had seven minutes to get to the store. Calling Gage would have to wait.
On the drive to work, she abandoned her usual morning radio show and rehearsed a hypothetical apology. “I’m sorry I was rude.”
Not sincere enough. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry I d-doubted you.”
Better. No stuttering, though. “I’m sorry I didn’t tru—”
Trust you. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.
The words died on her lips. How in the world would she manage to apologize if she couldn’t even verbalize it while driving alone? She sighed and shook her head. Trust. Why was it so hard for her to conquer her fears?
Their Baby Blessing Page 8