Читать книгу The New Baby - Brenda Mott - Страница 9

THE MOUNTAINS OF TENNESSEE weren’t as tall and rugged as Colorado’s Rocky Mountains, but they were equally beautiful in Amanda’s eyes. Their beauty represented all she sought for her move—change, a fresh start, an entirely new world.

In the three months since the accident, she’d become someone she no longer knew. She needed to find herself. And the small town of Boone’s Crossing in east Tennessee was the perfect place to do just that.

Granny Satterfield’s log house had been in the family for three generations, though no one had lived there in a long while. It rested in a hollow, or “holler” as the locals pronounced it, six miles from town, surrounded by dogwood, hickory and oak trees. Knee-high grass and irises in vivid shades of lavender and deep violet choked the yard, front and back, tangled vines climbed over the lawn ornaments Granny had always treasured. Alongside the house ran a creek, close enough to the bedroom window for the relaxing sound of trickling water to lull Amanda to sleep each night. Even so, dark dreams plagued her. Drove her into nightmares so vivid, she’d wake up in a cold sweat, fear making her heart race in what quickly turned into a panic attack.

Sometimes she dreamt of the baby she’d never had a chance to hold. And other times, she saw her sister, Nikki, and her brother-in-law, Cody, wandering aimlessly down a long, dark hallway, searching for something they’d never find. Once, she even dreamed of Caitlin Kramer, the young girl who’d had the flat tire that night. From what Amanda had read in the local paper, Caitlin had been a top-notch equestrian with high hopes of making the Olympic show jumping team. But the injuries she’d sustained had ground her dreams into dust.

Nikki, Cody, Caitlin…and how many others? How many people, herself included, had been affected by the chain reaction set off when one drunk had decided to climb behind the wheel? The thought made her crazy.

THE RINGING PHONE pulled Amanda from her half awake, half asleep state of mind. Throwing back the covers, she stood, then hurried to the kitchen and lifted the cordless receiver from its base. “Hello?”

“Hi.” Nikki’s voice came across the line sounding a little fuzzy, which probably meant she was using her free cell phone minutes. Not that she’d had any reason to worry about long-distance rates lately. Shamefully, Amanda had been avoiding her sister, ignoring her messages on the answering machine, still hurt by the harsh parting words they’d exchanged when she left Colorado.

“Nikki.” The wall clock told her it was four-thirty in Deer Creek. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Trying to catch you at home.”

She rubbed the ache that hammered between her eyes. “If you’re calling to tell me what a horrible sister I am, I already know. I’m so sorry I haven’t called you sooner.”

“Well, you ought to be. I was beginning to worry.” Nikki’s concerned tone bordered on big-sister bossiness, leaving Amanda torn between laughing out loud and bursting into tears.

Though she’d telephoned Nikki briefly upon arriving in Boone’s Crossing, she’d only called to let her sister know she’d gotten there safely and that she’d found a position as Assistant Director of Nurses at the nursing home in town. Nikki would’ve worried about her, no matter what sort of hurtful words stood between them. Their conversation had been stiff and brief as the two of them sidestepped one another’s feelings.

Now Amanda felt awful for not being in touch. She missed Nikki far more than she’d believed possible. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. The silence stretched between them while she scrambled for the right words. How are you? seemed shallow, since Nikki had not been fine in a long while. And, What’s going on with you? fell short for the same reason.

“Are you okay?” Nikki asked.

“I should be the one asking you that.” Amanda took a deep breath and decided to dive right in. “I’m fine, if you mean physically. But mentally…no. I can’t stop thinking about you and Cody…” She fought to keep her voice from trembling. “…and little Anna.” Can’t stop being afraid every time I drive on a highway. This was exactly why she’d avoided her sister. She’d hoped time and distance would begin to put things right between them. Instead, it felt as though nothing had changed.

“We’re getting by,” Nikki said.

But from her tone, Amanda knew different. Cody had responded to the loss of the baby by channeling his hurt into anger, striking out at everyone around him. Herself, Nikki, even his best friend Mark, who ironically had once been Amanda’s fiancé. But that was a whole other can of worms. One she didn’t want to open ever again.

She and Nikki had stood by one another, awkward, confused, each hurting in her own way. Who was the real victim here? And how did they put the pieces of their lives back together?

Seeing a therapist hadn’t helped much, not for any of them. And neither had any of Amanda’s attempts to make things better. She’d wanted to repay Nikki and Cody for the expenses they’d incurred during the surrogacy procedure—expenses that had eaten up their entire savings, leaving Amanda with the feeling that she’d robbed them of their last chance for a child of their own. Nikki had responded to her offer with offense and sadness. How could you think the money mattered? Cody had become even more angry. You can’t buy back our daughter, Amanda!

“Come on,” Amanda prodded. “I know you better than that. Remember, you’re talking to the kid who used to find your diary no matter where you tried to hide it.”

Nikki’s sob wrenched her heart, and Amanda cursed under her breath, wishing she hadn’t pushed the issue. That she hadn’t been such a coward and run over fifteen hundred miles to get away from the pain that chased her anyway.

“We’re not getting along,” Nikki said. “I thought for a while the counseling was working, but now I feel like we’re right back to square one.”

Amanda let her feet slide out from under her, sinking down to sit on the cool linoleum, her back pressed against the cupboard where Granny Satterfield had always kept a jar of lemon drops. They’d been Granny’s cure for whatever ailed you. Amanda longed for the days when life was so simple. When she was five and Nikki was eight, and the two of them climbed Granny’s trees and rode their pony double, talking about what they’d be when they were all grown up.

“Come home,” Amanda said. The idea was spontaneous, flying from her lips before she could stop it.

“What?” Nikki gave a dry laugh. “You’re the one who needs to come home, Amanda. We haven’t lived in Tennessee since we were in elementary school.”

Amanda squeezed her eyes shut. “I know,” she whispered. “But it’s so peaceful here, and the people are really friendly. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that coming here has solved everything for me, because it hasn’t.” Again, frustrated anger rose inside of her. She’d been perfectly satisfied with her life before the accident—well on her way to having everything she’d dreamed of. She was certain Mark would change his mind about not wanting kids once he’d seen the baby, and that the two of them would marry as planned and have children of their own. “But I do think being here is going to help me heal.” Eventually.

“It’s not the same here without you,” Nikki said. “There’s no one to go to lunch with, or shopping.” Her voice came out thick. She sniffed. “No one to talk to.”

Amanda swallowed over the obstruction in her own throat. “You’ve got friends there who love you, hon.”

“Yeah, but not like you. No one else has ever loved me so unconditionally.”

Her heart clenched as Amanda struggled not to cry. She’d hated watching Nikki suffer through repeated miscarriages, the result of an incompetent cervix, and had been more than willing to carry Nikki and Cody’s biological child when the subject of surrogacy had come up. Nikki’s words echoed in her memory— Now that’s what I call sisterly love. Amanda, you are the most caring, giving, person. They’d hugged each other and cried, but those tears had been happy ones.

The tears she now heard in her sister’s voice were anything but, and she felt like hell for leaving Nikki behind. How could she explain that she’d had no choice? That she’d felt as if her last thread of sanity had been torn in two?

“I can’t come back right now,” Amanda said. Maybe never.

“But you loved your job,” Nikki prodded. “I know it was tough to try and go back after—”

Amanda cut her off. “I have a job I like here.” She knew Nikki meant well, but the accident had created a cesspool of pain, anger, fear and remorse Amanda could not wade out of, no matter how hard she tried. And she absolutely could not bring herself to face her job as an RN in the maternity ward at the Deer Creek County Hospital. Being around the babies, the expectant mothers, was more than she could bear.

“Not one you love with a passion,” Nikki countered. “Is it really so rewarding, taking care of old people? Watching your patients die on a regular basis?”

Amanda fought her irritation, knowing her sister didn’t mean for her words to be hurtful. “Yes, it is rewarding. In a different way.”

“Yeah, well, maybe so. But the way you took off reminds me too much of Mom.”

“I’m not chasing shadows, Nikki.”

“I don’t want you to become like her—a nomad.”

For as long as Amanda could remember, their mother had moved them from town to town, state to state, holding down various jobs. Always thinking the next place would be exactly what she’d been looking for—whatever that was. “I don’t plan to. Boone’s Crossing was about the only place we ever had roots, thanks to Granny. Why don’t you take a week or two and come down?” she asked again. “School will be out in a few days.” How Nikki managed to cope with teaching a room full of kindergartners after the emotional upheaval she’d suffered, Amanda didn’t know. She personally couldn’t have done it.

“I don’t know.” Nikki sighed, and Amanda could picture her jabbing her fingers through her honey-brown bangs, then twisting them around her fingers. It was a habit Granny Satterfield had never been able to break her of.

“Maybe putting some distance between you and Cody would help,” Amanda coaxed. She swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “He doesn’t mean the things he said. It’s just the cop in him.” No matter if Cody had meant them or not, her brother-in-law’s harsh words had cut deeply.

How could you be so stupid, Amanda? So irresponsible. Stopping on a dark highway like that, for God’s sake!

And Nikki, torn between her husband and her sister. Cody, that’s not fair. Amanda, maybe you’d better leave for now.

She’d left all right. Taken off for Boone’s Crossing without much of a second thought.

“I’m not so sure of that,” Nikki said quietly, and Amanda wasn’t sure if she referred to the fact that some distance would help or that Cody hadn’t meant what he said. “Some distance, huh?” she added dryly. “You don’t think fifteen hundred miles would be overdoing it?”

Amanda chewed her bottom lip. “You’re the only one who can answer that, sis. But the invitation’s open. Any time.” She forced a note of humor into her voice. “You know where Granny kept the spare key. It’s still there.”

Nikki made a sound that could’ve been a sob or a laugh. “Not that she ever bothered to lock the door anyway.”

“You let me know,” Amanda said. “Promise?”

“I’ll think about it. And don’t go so long without answering my phone calls, do you hear me? I can still kick your butt, you know.”

“You can try,” Amanda teased. “I love you, sis.”

“Love you, too.”

Amanda hung up, but made no move to rise from the floor. Somehow, she found comfort sitting here, looking at Granny’s kitchen on a child’s level. Her earliest recollection of this room had been when she was around four years old, though she’d stayed at Granny’s even as a baby. The last time she’d set foot in here while Granny was alive, she’d been in middle school. But once Amanda had reached high school, other interests had taken the place of her summer trips to Tennessee, and then there had been college, nursing school….

She felt ashamed that she’d only managed to visit Granny once as an adult, and that had been at the hospital. Though she’d seen her a few times prior to that, when Granny had come to Colorado to “stay a spell,” it wasn’t the same as coming here to the log house. To Boone’s Crossing, where gospel music and old-fashioned manners were still an integral part of life, giving Amanda the feeling of being wrapped in a warm, handmade blanket.

Too bad Granny wasn’t here now, to offer words of wisdom. Still, she recalled one thing her grandmother had always said. No matter the ups and downs a person faced day to day, life was far too short to waste one single, precious minute. Putting Granny Satterfield’s house in livable order had kept Amanda’s mind and hands busy, and her position at Shade Tree Manor filled her days and gave her purpose.

Yet, no matter what she’d said to Nikki, she did not feel whole. Instead, she seemed to follow a mechanical pattern of waking, going to work, coming home to an empty house and repeating the routine the next day. But she hadn’t lied about the satisfaction taking care of senior-aged residents gave her. They were the bright spot in her day, and with that thought, Amanda pushed herself up off the floor, put the phone back in place and headed for the bathroom.

She showered, dressed, and twisted her hair into a serviceable knot on the back of her head. In a matter of minutes, she arrived at Shade Tree Manor. Starting her second week on the job, she felt safe and comfortable among both the staff and residents, and as she walked through the door, her co-workers greeted her. One of the LPNs, who she’d taken an immediate liking to on their first meeting, rolled her eyes as Amanda approached the nurses’ station.

“Boy, am I glad to see you.” Reed-thin and six feet tall with wavy black hair, Roberta Baker hid a tender heart beneath a faux display of gruffness. She worked the night shift and showed a devotion to the residents Amanda liked to see in her nurses.

Amanda tucked her purse under the counter, and turned to face her. “I take it you’re ready to go home.”

“Honey, let me tell you.” Roberta blew out a puff of air that sent her bangs flying. “Albert’s at it again, thinking he’s Daniel Boone. I caught him in the hallway, not once, but twice—” she held up two fingers for emphasis “—wearing nothing but his skivvies and a raccoon skin hat. I think we’ve finally gotten him to go to sleep, but I’m telling you what’s the truth—y’all better keep an eye on him.”

Amanda smothered a chuckle. She loved the melodious way Roberta spoke, with her thick southern accent. She hailed from Kentucky, Boone’s Crossing being just a short drive from both Kentucky and Virginia. While it was sad that Albert’s mind had been seized by dementia, Amanda got a kick out of the way Roberta described his antics. Apparently, the seventy-five-year-old gentleman was good for some unique forms of entertainment, though Amanda had yet to witness one personally.

“We’ll watch him,” she promised as Roberta gathered her purse and prepared to leave.

A short while later, after making sure one of the LPNs was keeping close tabs on Albert, Amanda headed through the day room on her way to the employee lounge. She could do with a quick cup of coffee. The day room was all but empty. Two residents watched a morning news program, another was working at a jigsaw puzzle.

It was the resident sitting in a wheelchair at a card table in the far corner who caught her eye. At eighty-seven, Zebadiah Bonner had a sharper mind than a lot of people twenty years his junior. And he’d been a friend of Granny’s, though Amanda hadn’t remembered him. He’d come to Shade Tree Manor just a few days prior to Amanda’s arrival, following three weeks in the county hospital with a broken hip. Now on the slow road to recovery, starting with a regime of physical therapy, Zeb was generally in high spirits. His injury had done nothing to quell his feistiness.

He was playing chess by himself. It was the unique set of game pieces that had initially captured Amanda’s attention the first time she’d met Zeb. Handpainted, they were figures from the Wild West; cowboys on rearing horses, saloon girls, covered wagons. A gift from his grandson, the chess set was Zeb’s pride and joy. But he refused to play with anyone. Instead, he moved both sets of chess pieces on his own, making the game go the way he wanted.

“Good morning, Zeb.” Amanda stood beside the old man’s wheelchair, her hand on his shoulder. “How are we doing today?”

He cocked his head and gave her a toothless smile. Zebadiah also refused to wear his dentures most of the time. “I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I’m finer than frog’s hair, now that a pretty blonde is in the room.” He winked, then turned his attention back to the chessboard, focused on his next move.

“Still playing alone, I see.” Amanda gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

“Darned right. Ain’t gonna play with nobody else, especially Charlie.” He looked up at her once more, his blue eyes bright beneath the ball cap he always wore. “He cheats you know.”

“So you’ve told me.” She gave his shoulder a final pat. “Well, I’m off for a cup of coffee. See you later.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a bottle of Southern Comfort tucked away in that employee’s lounge, now would you, honey?” Zeb arched one brow, eyes twinkling. It was a game he’d played with her since day one. Craving in jest the drink he’d given up long ago.

Amanda played along. “Nice try.” She pointed her finger in mock reprimand. “Behave yourself, now, or I’ll tell Charlie you’ve invited him out here to be your opponent.”

“Oh, don’t you do that.” Zeb shook his head, raising his hands in surrender. “I promise I’ll be good.”

Amanda laughed, then headed for the lounge. By the time she’d grabbed a cup of coffee and started back across the day room toward her office, Zeb was no longer alone.

Her chest gave a little hitch at the sight of the man seated near his elbow. She’d guess his age to be either side of thirty. His long legs, clad in faded jeans, stretched out in front of him, the toes of his work boots peeking out from beneath the table. Like Zeb, he wore a ball cap with a farm product insignia on the front. The blue denim of his shirt looked worn to the point of comfort, and his hair showed beneath the cap just enough for her to see it was a warm shade of brown. But it was his eyes that had her heart doing a funny little blip. Deep, chocolate-brown with thick, dark lashes, they studied her as though he were intent on reading her mind.

No one should look that sexy in a work shirt and John Deere cap.

Amanda forced herself to look away. “Hey, Zeb, did you find yourself a chess partner after all?” With a will of their own, her eyes darted back to focus on Zeb’s companion.

A deep chuckle rumbled in the man’s chest, and when he grinned, dimples creased his cheeks. “Not me. Papaw’s too much competition for my liking.” His southern drawl slid over her like melted butter. His statement was accompanied by a wink, not flirtatious, but one that left her feeling as though the two of them shared a secret.

“This here’s my grandson Ian,” Zeb said. “The one who gave me this.” He indicated the chess set with a wave of his hand. “Ian, meet Miss Kelly, my favorite nurse. She’s Olivia Satterfield’s granddaughter. Y’all were too far apart in age to play together back then, or you might remember her.”

Ian half rose from the chair to briefly grip her hand. His palm curled around hers, warm, callused. The hand of a working man. “Ian Bonner,” he said. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Kelly. I’m sorry I don’t remember you.”

“Amanda.” She tried not to stare. But his eyes…good Lord, talk about tall, dark and handsome. “Amanda Kelly. And it’s nice to meet you, too, Ian.”

“He brought contraband.” Zeb spoke in a stage whisper, one hand shielding the side of his mouth. With the other, he hooked his thumb in the direction of a box of doughnuts on a corner of the card table.

“So I see.” Amanda pursed her lips and squirmed as she noticed Ian’s gaze lingering on her. “But since you’re not on a restricted diet,” she went on, “I suppose we can let a box of doughnuts slip by this once.”

“If you’re gonna eat ’em, you’ll have to put your teeth in, Papaw,” Ian ribbed. Then he flipped open the lid and held the box up in offering. “Would you like one?”

The tempting scent of chocolate and powdered sugar wafted over her, but she barely gave a second thought to the proffered treats. Ian Bonner was far more distracting than bakery goodies, which meant she needed to get back to work.

“No thanks. If I eat a doughnut, I’ll end up wearing it on my hiney.”

Zeb guffawed, then gave her an approving look. “Nothing wrong with your hiney,” he teased. “I doubt a doughnut or two would hurt it.”

Embarrassment filled her as Amanda realized what her comment had evoked. Ian shifted his eyes to her hips, then looked back up at her and hid a smile with obvious effort. The expression on his face made her blush even more. “You’re a masher, Zeb,” she said. “Admit it.” She shook her finger at him once more. “And don’t forget you need to take those doughnuts to your room. No food or drink allowed in the day room.”

“Spoilsport,” Zeb said. Then to Ian, “C’mon, son. I’ve got a bottle of Jack Daniel’s hidden in my closet that’ll go real nice with these doughnuts.”

“I thought that was moonshine.” Amanda’s lips twitched.

“Nope. That I hid under my bed.” Zeb began to put away his chess set, placing the pieces inside the hinged compartment of the rosewood-and-mahogany playing board.

“It’s a shame to interrupt your game,” Ian teased. But his smile was for Amanda, and she felt her face warm all over again.

“No problem.” Zeb closed the board. “I was losin’ anyway.”

IAN HATED TO LEAVE Papaw. It didn’t seem right, having him here in the nursing home when the old man had spent the better part of his life in the hills, hunting, fishing, running his small tobacco farm. But a fall from his mule had put him in the hospital with a broken hip, and Shade Tree Manor was the best place for him to recover.

“I’ve got to go now, Papaw,” Ian said, rising from the chair next to his grandpa’s bed. “I’ll be by again soon.” He tried to visit Papaw as often as possible, but for the last week or so, things at the welding shop had kept him busy enough that he’d only managed to come by twice.

Papaw waved a gnarled hand in farewell, already absorbed in watching his favorite game show. Ian smiled, noting a dab of chocolate stuck to the corner of his grandpa’s bottom lip. He tossed a paper napkin in Papaw’s lap, then crumpled up the bag that had held two cartons of chocolate milk and stuffed it into the trash can. “See ya.” He gave the old man a quick hug, then walked out into the hall to the open reception area.

There she was again. The nurse that had left his stomach doing funny things that had nothing to do with too much chocolate. Amanda Kelly. He liked the way her name sounded inside his mind. She hadn’t noticed him the last time he’d been here, but he’d sure noticed her. And when she’d walked up to Papaw’s card table this morning, he’d had a hard time keeping his eyes where they belonged. He might not have recalled seeing her years ago, but her shapely curves, pretty green eyes and blond hair definitely had his attention now.

Today she wore a pale-green blouse with her white pantsuit uniform. The blouse brought out the color in her eyes, and Ian wondered how close she was in age to his own thirty-two years. From Papaw’s earlier comment, he concluded she must be somewhat younger, certainly not older. She had her back to him at the moment, and though her jacket hid a good deal of her figure, he was sure Papaw was right. There was nothing wrong with the way she was shaped. Nothing at all.

She stood inside the nurses’ station, bent over the computer with another woman who sat at the keyboard. They talked and Amanda nodded, then picked up a stack of papers and made her way into the reception area. She glanced up at him and smiled, then averted her gaze and walked on by. He started to say something, anything that would make her stop and talk to him, but before he got the chance, one of the sheets of paper she carried slid out of her grasp and fluttered to the tile floor.

He would’ve picked it up for her, had he reached her sooner. As it was, he was but a couple of steps shy of doing so when the glass doors of the front entrance swung open and a young man and woman hurried into the building. Ian recognized the guy as Danny Taylor, who worked at the auto parts store in town. Danny’s wife, barely more than a girl, carried a baby in her arms, wrapped in a pink afghan. Laughing and talking, neither of them paid attention to where they walked, and as Amanda bent to retrieve the paper from the floor, Danny nearly bumped into her.

“Look out, Danny.” His wife balanced the baby in the crook of one arm, and clutched his sleeve with her free hand, tugging him sideways.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” Danny gave Amanda an apologetic smile as she straightened, paper in hand.

“No problem.” Her lips curved in response, but her face went ghastly pale, and Ian wondered if she’d stood up too fast after bending over to reach what she’d dropped.

Her eyes locked on the baby, and the look of sadness and longing he saw there gave him a chill. Amanda’s expression closely mirrored one he knew he’d worn more than once.

How many times had he searched the faces of babies so many years ago, looking for familiarity in their features? And later, in the scout troop he occasionally supervised. Most recently, wondering where his son might be today, he caught himself watching the faces of teenagers he saw around town. The pizza delivery boy, the kid who pumped gas at the BP station…

No matter how futile the effort, Ian couldn’t stop looking.

Amanda wore that same haunted expression as she stared briefly at the baby, then turned away and quickly tried to hide what her face so clearly said she’d felt. She saw Ian watching her, and waved her fingers in a see-you-later gesture, then headed down the hall and ducked into an office, closing the door behind her. Ian mumbled a greeting to Danny and his child-wife as they passed by, his thoughts whirling. Outside, he climbed into his pickup and cranked the engine, leaning his elbow on the open window as he backed out of the parking space.

Had Amanda given up a baby when she was young? He shook off the thought, telling himself it was ridiculous to assume things about a woman he didn’t even know. Her reaction could’ve been due to any number of things. Maybe she had a half-grown kid at home and longed for the days when the child had been an infant. His cousins often complained how quickly their little ones grew up. Or maybe she wanted a baby and didn’t yet have one.

Or maybe he was nuts, thinking and worrying over a stranger and what her life might involve. But he couldn’t help it. The sorrow he’d seen in Amanda had hit him right in the stomach. And the way she’d tried to hide her emotions before anyone noticed left him wanting to go back inside the building and ask her what was wrong. Tell her he’d sit and listen if she needed an ear to bend or a shoulder to lean on. Because he’d been there.

He’d felt pain as deep as that in Amanda’s eyes on a cloudy day sixteen years ago.

A day when he’d signed his newborn son away to a pair of total strangers.