Читать книгу The New Baby - Brenda Mott - Страница 10

IAN PULLED OFF HIS welding gloves and laid them on the workbench next to the horse trailer he’d been working on for the better part of the afternoon. Bought at a bargain, it needed new feeder racks, tack compartment dividers and metal hooks for halters and ropes. The customer who owned it was a regular, always finding something or other for Ian to weld or repair.

Hot and tired, he set his hood on the welder and removed his welding sleeves. Despite the day’s accomplishments, he still felt an empty hunger no amount of hard work ever seemed to erase. He hadn’t been able to get Amanda Kelly off his mind these last few days, no matter how many customers came to his shop to chat and bring him things to do.

He thought back to the conversation he’d had with Papaw the other morning while they ate the doughnuts he’d brought.

“I couldn’t help but notice the way you looked at Miss Kelly,” Papaw said. His sharp blue eyes had studied Ian.

“Sure, and who wouldn’t?” Ian couldn’t help grinning. Papaw still had an eye for the ladies, and probably would until the day they laid him to rest. “She’s a good-looking woman.”

“Won’t get no argument from me on that,” Papaw said. “But I reckon I saw more to the way you watched her than that.”

“What do you mean?”

The old man grunted. “You know what.” He shook one finger at Ian. “You’re a workaholic, boy. When was the last time you took a woman out?”

“On a date?”

“No, on a fishing trip.” Zeb gave him a playful punch in the arm, his aim as good as it ever was. “’Course I mean on a date.”

Ian shrugged. “I don’t know.” He pondered the question. “Last Valentine’s Day, when Billy Ray’s sister Sheryl was in town?”

“That’s just what I’m saying.” Papaw shook his head in a gesture of hopelessness. “You need to get out more.”

“I can’t ask Amanda out,” Ian protested. “She doesn’t even know me.”

“Can’t never did anything. Go on and ask her. I’d do it myself, if I were ten years younger.”

Ian laughed and Papaw gave him a sly grin, made wider than normal by his dentures. Then he grew serious. “How’re you ever gonna make a family of your own if you’re alone all the time?”

How indeed? The thought ate at him now as Ian closed the shop door, locked it and headed for the barn. Banjo, Papaw’s buckskin mule, brayed at him from the connected paddock, wanting a treat. Ian gave him some sweet feed, then walked up the hill to the house he’d called home for the better part of his life. The worn porch steps creaked as he climbed them, and Cuddles, the Rottweiler he’d had since she was a pup, rose from her place near the steps and wagged her stubby tail. He patted her and fed her from a sack of dog food he kept on the enclosed back porch before going inside the house.

The kitchen was way too quiet without Papaw here. He’d lived with Ian ever since Mamaw passed away a year ago. But then he broke his hip, and all that had ended. At least for a while. From the fridge, Ian grabbed a can of beer, popping the top as he walked into the living room. Maybe his grandpa was right. He really didn’t have much of a social life, and couldn’t remember the last time a woman who wasn’t a relative had entered this house.

The men on the Bonner side of the family seemed to outlive their women more often than not. His mom had succumbed to cancer long ago, and his dad now lived in Virginia, close to three of his own sisters and their grandkids. With Ian an only child, Matthew Bonner had probably given up on ever having grandchildren of his own. Ian often wondered if his dad regretted having taken part in convincing him to give up his son all those years ago.

Sinking into his favorite chair, he propped his booted feet on the ottoman and looked around, trying to view the room the way a stranger might see it. What would Amanda Kelly think of this place if he were to invite her over? The living room was clean but cluttered, the windows bare of curtains. With neighbors no closer than a mile away, and the house sitting up on a hill some distance off the road, there was no need to worry anyone would look in. Like most other homes outside Boone’s Crossing, the place was surrounded by woods, with a grove of trees in the yard, the pasture spreading out beyond.

Ian closed his eyes and pictured walking up the front steps with Amanda, inviting her in for a cold drink. Probably sweet tea or Coke. She didn’t look like a woman who drank beer. Maybe wine. Not his thing. But then what did he know? As Papaw had pointed out, he didn’t make much time for dating, and overall, women were a mystery to him.

Still, he’d managed to do his share of tomcatting in his younger days, which had gotten him in trouble to begin with. His high school sweetheart, Jolene Bradford, had taken his heart, his class ring and his virginity, all in short order. Getting Jolene pregnant during their sophomore year hadn’t been the smartest thing he’d ever done. Giving up their baby boy had seemed a step in the right direction toward growing up and making responsible decisions. Or at least, it did at the time.

But as the years went by, the regret of not knowing what had become of his own child had worn on him. He’d lost himself in work, starting with after-school jobs and helping Papaw at the welding shop and with putting up the tobacco they used to raise. One day seemed to fold into the next, one year into another, until he now owned the shop and Papaw was in the nursing home.

What did he really have to show for his life? He’d always thought he’d have a family by now. A couple of kids and a wife to come home to…even if coming home only required walking up the hill. Though he had searched time and again, he’d never found his son, and the pain of that stayed with him.

Shaking off the melancholy thoughts, Ian let his mind wander back to Amanda. Maybe he ought to come right out and ask her on a date. He could take her to supper or something. Dancing maybe. Nope. He shook his head. He hadn’t danced in so long, he’d likely make a fool of himself by stepping on her toes. It would have to be supper. Someplace nice but not too romantic. Dinner. That’s what she’d probably call it. Just thinking about her western accent made him smile. It was hard to understand at times, but he liked the sound of it—the way the words rolled off her tongue. Though they barely knew each other, he hoped she’d accept his invitation, if for no other reason than the fact that their grandparents had been friends.

Would a woman like Amanda find a lifestyle like his worthy? She was a nurse, probably used to fancy things and men who worked white-collar jobs.

“You’re getting way ahead of yourself, Bonner,” he muttered out loud. But there wasn’t any harm in getting to know her. He could hear Papaw’s voice inside his head, as sure as if he were sitting right there beside him.

Can’t never did anything, son.

Papaw was right.

At the door, Cuddles scratched and whined to come in. Rising from his chair, Ian abandoned his half-empty beer to open the screen for her. “Some watch-dog you are,” he said, as she bounded inside and rolled over on the braided throw rug. Her paws in the air, she begged for a tummy rub. Ian laughed and scratched her belly. “Big baby.”

Maybe Amanda liked dogs.

Maybe he’d find out, the next time he visited Papaw.

TO IAN’S DISAPPOINTMENT, Amanda wasn’t working at Shade Tree Manor when he stopped by there Wednesday morning. But Papaw told him she lived at her granny’s cabin, and that Saturday was also her day off. He’d therefore planned to drive out to the old Satterfield place as soon as he finished a few odd jobs at the shop. Instead, he found himself in charge of the group of kids he’d volunteered to look after on a once-a-month basis. The Cumberland Cubs, a scout troop of a dozen boys under the age of twelve.

He shouldn’t have answered the phone.

Oh, he liked taking the boys camping well enough. But last Saturday had been his weekend with the Cubs, and he hadn’t planned to act as scout leader this weekend, too. Yet he never seemed to be able to say no to someone in need.

He now stood, dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved khaki shirt and hiking boots, next to a commercial-sized van that belonged to the head scoutmaster—his best friend, Neil.

“I sure appreciate this, buddy,” Neil said after giving the troop one more round of last minute instructions. “Having Peggy and the girls down with this cruddy spring flu, and my other two scout leaders sick, I didn’t know who else to call. And I hated to disappoint the boys. They love camping out at ’Livia Satterfield’s old place.”

“The Satterfield place?” Ian’s ears perked. “That’s where you were planning to take them?” They rotated locations on their monthly overnight outings.

Neil looked at him as if he’d grown an extra eye. “Yeah. You know we generally go there at least every other month.” Olivia Satterfield had loved the woods almost as much as she loved kids, and she’d let the Cubs camp on the back of her ten acres anytime they wanted. But Ian had assumed that was all in the past, now that Amanda lived there.

“I know, but—is the new owner okay with it?”

Neil shrugged. “Olivia left the place to her daughter, Bridget. And when I talked to her after the funeral, Bridget said ’Livia wrote it up in the will that the Cubs were to keep camping there for as long as the place remains in the family. I thought I’d told you that?”

“If you did, I didn’t hear you,” Ian said, trying not to smile. Perfect. “I guess we’ll find out if her granddaughter feels the same way.”

“Won’t matter. Like I said, it’s in the will.” Neil cupped his hands around his mouth. “Okay, troop, let’s load up! Pronto!”

The boys piled into the minivan, and Ian climbed behind the wheel, feeling like a kid himself. A kid with a crush.

“Hey, Ian.” One of the youngsters leaned over the seat and tapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks for taking us camping.”

His conscience gave a mental blush. He shouldn’t be happy they were headed for Amanda’s place just so he could see her. He loved kids, and the Cubs came first. The purpose of this camping trip was to be sure they had a good time.

“You’re more than welcome, Jeffrey.” Ian wondered how it would feel to drive a van full of children of his own. Maybe he’d find out someday. If he could ever find someone to be their mother.

He waited while the boys settled in place with all doors shut. “Is everybody buckled up?”

“Yeah!” they chorused.

“And is everyone ready to have some fun?”

“Yeah!” Their voices were louder this time, full of enthusiasm.

Ian’s lips twitched. He was already having a good time. “And is everybody ready to kiss some girls?”

“No!”

“Yuck.”

“I’m not going if we have to do that.”

He let out a hearty laugh. “Okay, no girl kissin’. How about catching frogs?”

“Yeah!”

A grin plastered on his face, Ian waved at Neil and drove away.

AMANDA SANK INTO the steaming tub of bubbles. From the headphones of her portable CD player, the sounds of nature helped her relax, as did the scent of the aromatherapy candles lining the vanity. Closing her eyes, she dozed and awoke a short time later. The headphones were silent but she could hear the faint chatter of birds. Laughing at herself, Amanda sat up straight in the tub. She had all the nature sounds she wanted right outside her window.

Discarding the headphones, she leaned forward and turned on the hot water to bring the tub’s temperature up to a comfort level once more. Then she rose and flipped open the latch on the window. Hands slick, she pushed upward on the sliding pane of frosted glass and very nearly lost her balance. Creaky with lack of use, the window stuck a moment, then slid abruptly to a wide-open position. Through the screen, she heard the running creek, and the birds, louder now, singing in the trees…

And the voices of children.

Kids? Out here? Frowning, Amanda turned off the water and peered over the edge of the windowsill. She didn’t see anyone. Her nearest neighbors lived some distance down the road in either direction. So where were the sounds coming from? Head cocked, she strained to listen. For a moment, she heard nothing and wondered if she’d imagined the whole thing. Then a burst of laughter rang through the air, followed by a shout and a man’s voice.

Hastily, Amanda closed the curtains and climbed from the tub. She dried off haphazardly with an oversized bath towel, doused the candles, then wrapped herself in a terry-cloth robe. Who on earth was out in the woods behind her house? Belting the robe at her waist, Amanda stepped into the kitchen and let out a startled gasp.

A boy, who looked about nine or ten, stood in front of her sink. Chubby with sandy hair and freckles, he stared at her, eyes wide, candy-stained mouth open. A plastic cup of water slipped out of his grasp, landing on the floor to pool across the linoleum.

“Who are you?” Amanda clutched the bathrobe against her damp skin. “And what are you doing in my kitchen?”

The poor kid clamped his mouth shut, then tried to form a sentence. “I—I…” He looked down at the water spreading around his feet, then back up at her. “You’re not Miss Rachel.”

He referred to the woman who’d been Granny Satterfield’s dear friend, and who had kept an eye on Granny’s house for the past two years. Sixty-five, Rachel Fultz lived down the road on the way to town.

“No. I’m Amanda Kelly. This used to be my Granny Satterfield’s place.”

“I’m Troy Stoakes,” he said. He bent over to pick up the plastic cup and Amanda belatedly realized he was wearing some sort of scout uniform.

Boy Scouts were supposed to be honorable, dependable, good kids, so surely this one meant no harm in entering her house. But the fact that he’d walked in without knocking was a bit unusual, even for small-town etiquette.

“If you’ve got a towel, I’ll clean this up.”

“It’s okay,” Amanda said, still confused. She reached for the roll of paper towels hanging near the stove. “Troy, why are you in my kitchen?”

Now it was the boy’s turn to look confused. “I know Miss ’Livia died, but I thought Miss Rachel was taking care of the house. Miss ’Livia always let us come in for a drink or a cookie, and Miss Rachel said it was still okay to come in here for water.” He took the wad of paper towels from her and proceeded to clean up the spill. “I can’t drink from the creek outside. My ma says it’ll give me jagardia.”

Amanda pursed her lips in a smile. “You mean Giardia.” She knelt beside him and helped mop up the water.

Troy paused in his task long enough to point at the cupboard beside the sink. “Miss Rachel keeps cups for us in there.”

“I see.” She hadn’t thought much about the plastic cups, since quite a few of Granny’s things still remained in the house and in the toolshed outside. And while the utilities had been turned off until Amanda’s arrival, the old hand pump at the sink worked without electricity, fed by a natural underground spring. “But I still don’t understand what you’re doing here at my granny’s place.” She frowned, remembering the sound of laughter she’d heard through the bathroom window. She gave a nod in the direction of the woods. “Are there Boy Scouts out there?”

Troy stood, paper towels dripping in his hand, and Amanda pulled the trash can out from under the sink for him. “Uh-huh. We’re sleeping in the woods behind your house.” He tossed the soggy towels into the container. “We camp out several times a year, and this is one of our favorite spots.” He smiled at her, revealing a row of teeth darkened by what must be black licorice. “We’re the Cumberland Cubs.”

“Oh.” Amanda bit her bottom lip. This boy was sweet. “Where’s your scoutmaster?”

“He’s out back. His name’s Aain.” Carefully, Troy refilled the plastic cup, took a big gulp of water, then set the cup in the sink. “Can I go now?”

Amanda shrugged. “Sure.”

“Bye.” He pushed open the screen, then paused and looked back at her. “I’m sorry I made you yell, ma’am.”

“That’s all right.”

Amanda put the trash can back under the sink as the kid hurried away, letting the screen door slam behind him. She walked over and shut the door as well, making a mental note to lock it from now on. Ingrained habits faded far too easily out here in Granny’s beloved woods, where the only thief Amanda could remember had been a raccoon after the eggs in Granny’s henhouse. She flipped the latch in place and went to her room to get dressed, deciding she’d better have a talk with Troy’s scout leader.

Aain? What sort of name was that?

She hung her bathrobe on a hook behind the door, and slid into her underwear and jeans as light dawned inside her mind. Troy had a thick, southern accent. He hadn’t said “Aain.” He’d said Ian. And he’d also said they’d come to camp here on Granny’s property.

Her property now, since her mother had no interest in the place. Did he mean Ian Bonner?

Fully dressed, Amanda slipped on her tennis shoes and hurried out the back door, picturing Ian, with his dark brown eyes and sexy drawl. Sleeping in the woods, practically in her backyard. She told herself it might not be him. Maybe it was another Ian. But whoever it was, he’d brought kids. And that made her a bit uncomfortable.

How dare he do so without asking? While she’d be more than happy to honor Granny’s wishes, she still felt the man owed her the courtesy of making sure she didn’t mind before simply descending on her with an entire troop of scouts.

Knowing she should be wearing boots in case there were snakes, Amanda strode across the backyard toward the woods, her footsteps quiet in the tennis shoes. Quiet enough that she managed to come close to the man who sat on a fallen log in a clearing just behind the house without him noticing her. It was Bonner. He was watching the boys pitching tents and unpacking supplies.

“You’re doing fine, men.” He chuckled. “I’d help you, but you know the rules. So tell me—what does a Cumberland Cub do before turning to his leader for help?”

“Ask a team member!” More than one boy shouted.

“And try, and try again,” another added.

“That’s right.” Ian raised one fist in the air in a gesture of triumph and encouragement. “So keep at it.”

But the look on his face told her how much he wanted to dive in and help the kids, in spite of what he’d said. At last, he noticed her, and Amanda’s heartbeat rose, then dived as he turned to face her. She did her best to ignore what she felt, watching Ian. She had no business being attracted to him or any other man, seeing as how she wasn’t ready to begin a relationship with anyone right now. She wasn’t even sure she could ever take a step past casual friendship again. Dating led to intimacy and that led to heartbreak. She’d had enough of that being engaged to Mark.

The accident had robbed her of everything, had put her thoughts into a whole new perspective. She’d once loved working in the maternity ward, taking care of countless newborns. Precious little things, swaddled in teddy-bear blankets. Wearing teensy-weensy booties, their skin so soft and sweet-smelling. She’d dreamed of one day having a child of her own.

Then Anna had been killed, and now Amanda no longer wanted what she’d once held dear. A husband…a family.

It would be a cold day in hell before she ever allowed herself to be pregnant again.