Her Cowboy's Twin Blessings
Page 7
But Will didn’t settle. He sucked in great, heaving breaths and wailed with all his might. She tried changing his position, patting his back, rocking...and nothing seemed to work. Both babies cried their hearts out and Ember met Casey’s gaze with a panicked look of her own.
“What’s the matter with them?” she asked helplessly.
“This happens sometimes,” Casey said, raising his voice above the babies’ cries.
“What do you do?” she asked, looking down into that red, tear-streaked face of the tiny boy in her arms. She rocked back and forth, swinging her weight from one foot to the other in an instinctive sway. The cries paused for a moment, then started up again, as if the rocking had only been a mild surprise.
“Maybe they miss their mother,” Casey said, and Ember froze.
She swallowed, then adjusted Will up onto her shoulder once more so she had an excuse to turn away. Tears pricked her eyes, and she tried to swallow the lump that rose in her throat when she remembered that heart-wrenching cry that had erupted from her own son as his adoptive mother walked away with him.
It’s for the best, everyone said. She’d bestowed the gift of life by giving birth to him, and by placing him for adoption she was giving him a family that could provide him more than she could. But what if her baby boy had sobbed his little heart out while strangers tried to comfort him? What if that guttural, heartbroken wail had been her son’s only way to call for his mother?
And she’d never come.
This was why she shouldn’t be caring for infants—these memories that kept sweeping up and threatening to knock her down. She sucked in a wavering breath as she realized that Will was starting to settle. The baby’s cries were softer now, and as she swayed back and forth, his eyes were drifting shut. But Wyatt still wailed from Casey’s arms.
“Whatever you’re doing, it’s working,” Casey said with a grin. Then he hesitated. “You okay?”
“Yep.” She nodded quickly, keeping up that swaying as her throat thickened with repressed emotion.
“I have a theory,” Casey said. Then he nodded to a La-Z-Boy chair in the corner. “Go sit down there—it rocks.”
Ember sank into the chair. Will’s howls had fully subsided now, and he buried his wet little face into her neck. He sucked in deep, trembling sighs. If this child was crying in hopes of calling his mama, how long would it be before he forgot her? How long before his tiny heart stopped yearning for the mother who would never come?
Casey eased the wailing Wyatt into her arms on the other side of her chest, and Wyatt sobbed out his grief. Will started to whimper again, and then Casey put a big hand on the back of the chair and started to rock it for her.
“Talk to them,” he ordered.
“Uh—” Ember looked down at the frustrated babies and swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “Boys, I want you to stop now. Okay? I want you to be good boys and be quiet for me.”
Wyatt blinked up at her in mild confusion, but the crying stopped.
“All right, then,” she said quietly. “That’s good. Let’s not cry just now, okay? Because we’re okay. We’re going to get through this. It’s a feeling, and while feelings are very, very strong, they pass. They aren’t forever.”
Her words were meant as a reminder for herself—this overwhelming grief she’d been battling, the guilt at the thought that she’d made the wrong choice, or made her choice for the wrong reasons... It wasn’t forever. She could wade through it, and she would feel happiness and contentment again. Eventually.
Feelings were not permanent. Feelings did not define her. She might feel like a failure at times, or like she was unworthy after what she’d done, but that was not a fact. The fact was that she had a God who loved her despite her mistakes, and her identity was in Him.
The babies settled into quiet, softly hiccuping as their breathing slowed. Casey kept the chair rocking with his strong arm, and she was struck again by the size of him. Standing over her like that, she could feel his strength and his gentleness contained in that muscular physique—the last thing she wanted to be reminded of just now.
Her emotions were in enough of a muddle without adding a handsome cowboy into the mix, but when she glanced up at him, she saw a wistful look on his face.
“A woman’s touch,” he murmured.
“Maybe they just tired out,” she said.
“Nah, they’ve gone for way longer than that,” he replied with a soft laugh, and his brown eyes sparkled, then faded. He straightened, and Ember took over the rocking of the chair for herself.
The babies were quiet now, their eyes closed, wet lashes brushing their pink cheeks.
“Feelings don’t last forever,” she whispered against their wispy hair. “You just have to wait them out, and they go away eventually.”
One day, they wouldn’t remember their mother anymore and they wouldn’t yearn for her smell or her voice or her touch... One day, even memories would fade, as she knew would have happened with her own little boy. Her son—named by another woman—would have forgotten her entirely.
It was the mother who couldn’t forget.
* * *
Casey looked down at the woman in his armchair. Ember leaned her head back, her golden hair tumbling around her shoulders. The babies’ eyes had shut, and they slept facing each other as Ember rocked them. She had a hand on each little rump, but her attention seemed like it had wandered away as she looked toward the window and the afternoon sunlight outside. Whenever she held a baby, she seemed to do that—slip mentally away.
It shouldn’t matter. The babies were soothed, and it looked like those boys needed the feminine touch—the one thing he couldn’t provide. But he’d have to—sooner rather than later. He needed a woman in this with him—a wife to stand by him and help him raise these kids. Maybe a mom in the mix would make this feel more like a proper family.
“Thanks for this,” he said, and he sank into the couch opposite her. The room was cozily warm, and he exhaled a tired sigh.
Ember looked over at him and smiled weakly. “No problem.”
They were quiet for a couple of beats, and then Ember asked, “How long have you known Mr. Vern? You two seem pretty close.”
“Most of my life,” Casey said. “He and my dad were friends, and when we lost the ranch, Mr. Vern offered me a job. I’ve been working here ever since.”
“That’s why he trusts you so much.”
“I’m good at my job because I was raised on a ranch and I was bidding on cattle at the auction by the time I was twelve. My dad showed me the ropes—I know how to run a ranch. So, yeah, he trusts me.”
She eyed him for a moment. “But you’re not happy here.”
Happy wasn’t something he’d been worrying about lately. He’d had a job to do, and land to buy. His happiness was going to come later—at least that was what he told himself.
“It’s been a place holder,” Casey admitted. “I want to own a ranch, not just run one for someone else. There’s something about having your stake in a place—makes a difference. And it isn’t that I’m not happy here, because I do love this land. I’m just not happy being only a manager.”
She nodded. “I get that.”
“You’re perceptive,” he said, then added with a teasing smile, “for a city girl.”
“You aren’t so mysterious as you think,” she replied with a smile. “It was how you acted in the house—kind of tense and coiled. You’re different on horseback.”
“Isn’t everybody?” he quipped. “But I’m not the only one who isn’t happy until I’m my own boss. You’re the same way, from what I can see.”
She angled her head to the side in acceptance of that. “Actually, I’m just trying to make the most of this before my father cuts me loose.”
“You’ve mentioned that before. Do you think he will?” Casey asked with a frown.
“You’re smart,” Casey said with a slow nod.
“I am.” She smiled ruefully. “But this isn’t about money. I’d trade it all in for an actual relationship with my father.”
“You aren’t what I expected,” he admitted.
“Under it all, everyone is surprisingly human,” she replied. “That is the one thing I’ve learned in my years as a therapist.”
“So if you aren’t terribly close to your family, who are you close to?” Casey asked.
“The money complicated things,” she said. “My old friends from high school fell away when I went to college. That happens, of course. And then the friends I made in college got a little jealous when I had privileged problems, like how to make sure I could make enough money off a property sale in order to invest in a new business venture. That sort of thing.”
“Their hearts bled for you,” he said with a low laugh.
“Something like that.” Will moaned in his sleep and Ember patted his back absently. “I’m in a bit of a no-man’s-land right now. Even you can’t quite decide what you think of me.”
Casey had to admit that was true. She was beautiful, insightful, but still stubborn when it came to her own point of view. She’d been on his mind lately, both as his competition, but also as... Dare he think of her as a woman? She was surprisingly human, but it didn’t change that she was going to alter the landscape of this ranching country—or that she’d be doing it on the land where he’d hoped to settle down and raise a family.
“Well, in the moment, you’re helping me out of a tough spot, so I’m inclined to like you.” He shot her a teasing smile. “You want some coffee?”
“Sure.”
He pushed himself to his feet and headed into the kitchen. He pulled the plug on the sink full of soapy water on his way past, glancing at the row of freshly washed baby bottles. He’d wanted a woman’s touch around here, but he had to admit that it stung when the babies seemed to prefer Ember to him when they wanted comforting.
But whatever. It was help, and he couldn’t be picky.
Casey grabbed a coffee filter and the tin of coffee grounds from a cupboard and set to work measuring and filling the coffee maker with water. His hands did the work without any thought, and his mind spun ahead.
“Mind if I ask you a question...professionally?” he asked.
“You mean as a therapist?” she said.
He winced, then turned around. “Yes.”
“Shoot.”
“When do I tell the boys about their parents? I mean, their death was pretty grisly, and I’d hate to scare little boys. The thought—I don’t know. How do I do that?”
“Never hide what happened,” she replied. “But there’s no need to go into detail. You can tell them a little more as they get older. But I’d recommend starting out with a picture of their parents in the home. Point to it, and tell them that is their first mommy and daddy. If they know from the start that they’re adopted and why, there are no big, shocking conversations to have later on.”
“Makes sense. I guess I’m a little afraid of being told I’m not their real dad when I tell them to do something.”
“Oh, kids come up with all sorts of stuff, even if you are the biological parent,” she replied. “Don’t be afraid of something they might say later. Besides, if you are always very open about their parents, they won’t feel like they’re betraying you later when they want to learn more about them.”
“Yeah...” He nodded, then sauntered back into the living room. Ember looked down at the sleeping babies, then up at him.
“Help me get them into their cribs?” she said.
“Sure.” Casey bent and picked up Will first, freeing up Ember so she could get to her feet. He laid the baby in his cradle and looked down at the little guy. “I guess I’m afraid that they’d be right.”
“About what?” she asked, laying Wyatt in the other cradle next to his brother.
“That I’m not their real dad.” He looked up at Ember uneasily.
“Because they don’t feel like yours yet,” she supplied.
He was silent—was that a terrible thing to admit to?
“Casey, I’m going to tell you something,” she said, stepping closer and putting a hand on his arm. “I’ve heard biological parents say the same thing. Childbirth is traumatic. They expect to feel this rush of unblemished love when they look at their baby, but that child is purple, squished and, frankly, a little ugly. They’re in shock from the pain, the blood loss, from meeting their child for the first time... And when they get home from the hospital, they are sleep deprived and overwhelmed. They don’t feel what they expected to feel. It isn’t all picture-perfect and rosy. It’s exhausting and scary and a massive change.”
“Okay...” he said slowly.
“My point is, you lost your cousin when you became legal guardian of these boys. That’s traumatic. You’re busy, trying to adjust your life to two infants, and have no idea what your future with them will look like. This wasn’t planned. This wasn’t anyone’s ideal, including yours. And that’s okay.”
“Is it? I think those boys deserve to be someone’s ideal,” he said.
“You’ll get there.”
“I want to.”
“You will.” She met his gaze evenly, and she seemed convinced of that, at least.
“Yeah.” That was all true. Frankly, it was downright scary at the moment. He’d gone from bachelor to single parent of two overnight.
“Stop expecting perfection.” She let her hand on his arm drop.
“That’s it?” He eyed her.
“That’s it.” Ember shrugged. “None of us are perfect, Casey. Stop expecting it of yourself. You’ll adjust. You’ll figure it out. You’ll be a good dad.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“You cared enough to ask.” She shot him a smile, and for the first time she looked relaxed, and that smile lit her features. She went from awfully pretty to stunning, and he swallowed. Ember pulled her hair away from her face with a swipe of her fingers, and he tried not to notice how appealing she was when she relaxed like that.
“Okay,” he said feebly.
“That right there—” She waggled a finger at him. “That was therapy.”
He rolled his eyes. “Hardly. That was advice.”
“Yeah, well, it was advice from a professional, and if you don’t get that reassurance, you might worry for nothing, or beat yourself up when you should really be cutting yourself a little slack. Sometimes it helps to have someone else point out that you’re doing okay.” She eyed him, waiting.
“And this is the gift of therapy that you want to bring the people of this county,” he said with a wry smile.
“It isn’t such a terrible thing, is it?” She smiled again, her blue gaze meeting his.
“You relax when you’re solving other people’s problems,” he said instead. She did more than relax—she came to life. Not that he’d put it that way out loud.
She blinked, and some of that self-confidence fell away. The smile slipped, the sparkle in her eyes dimmed. He hadn’t meant to do that, exactly, and he regretted it. He was just meaning to point out what was obvious to him—she seemed to blossom when sorting out other people’s garbage.
“It did...uh...help, though,” he offered after a beat of silence.
“You hate that a little bit,” she said, a rueful smile curving her lips again.
“Nah...” He chuckled, then shrugged. “I’m a man. I’d rather rub dirt on it and walk it off, but that doesn’t always work.”
“I daresay it never works,” she countered.
“You walk long enough and you forget,” he replied with a lift of his shoulders.
“You don’t forget, though.” The smile evaporated and sadness misted her eyes. She compressed her lips into a line and swallowed. “They tell you that you will—but that’s a lie.”
Those words were coming from a deeper, more private place inside her, he could tell, and he tried to catch her eye again, but she turned away and headed back into the kitchen, where the coffeepot was burbling away. She grabbed a mug and poured herself a cup prematurely, the drips of coffee hissing on the heater below before she replaced the pot.
“Ember?” he said. “You okay?”
She turned back toward him, recomposed. “I’m fine.” She lifted the mug in a salute. “You rub dirt, and I drink coffee.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“Not really. It’s—” She shook her head. “It’s old. I’m fine.”
Fair enough. But when he’d seen that pain in her eyes, it made him want to fix it somehow. Maybe that was just the man in him. But he had a feeling that she wouldn’t let him, anyway.
Chapter Six
Ember got up early the next morning. Casey had offered to drive her to church with him, and she’d accepted the offer. From what Casey told her, this was the only congregation a comfortable driving distance from the ranch, and most of the Christians in the area attended one of two services in a little country church that wasn’t big enough for everyone at one time.
But Ember hadn’t agreed to go to church just to see the local parish. She felt like she needed some grounding after her last week. Worship was healing.
Ember heard the rumble of Casey’s pickup truck outside the house, and she grabbed her purse, slipped on a pair of strappy heels and went out to meet him. The chill spring air made her shiver as it met her bare legs. She hurried to the passenger side and Casey leaned over and pushed the door open for her.
“Good morning,” he said as she hopped up into the cab and the welcome jet of heat.
“Morning.” She smiled at him and looked into the back seat. Both babies were sleeping, their soothers rising and falling in a syncopated rhythm. She pulled on her seat belt as Casey started forward again.