Читать книгу Because of the Baby... - Cat Schield - Страница 8
ОглавлениеThe ranch house where Lark and Skye had grown up was a sprawling single-story structure with a cathedral ceiling over the enormous, open great room. Lark’s father was an avid hunter, and the walls between the windows and ceiling were covered with trophies of white-tailed deer and bobwhite quail.
Above the dining table hung a chandelier made of antlers. A second one hung above the living room seating area composed of a brown leather couch and love seat. A fire crackled in the fireplace. Set into a sixteen-by-fourteen foot wall and surrounded by large river rock, it took up a corner of the room. As usual the television was on. Lark could tell her father wasn’t home because it wasn’t tuned to a sports program. Instead her mother had on the shopping channel.
Lark’s rubber-soled shoes made no sound on the tile as she went across the room, shrugged out of her wool coat and draped it over one of the dining chairs. Her mother was in the open kitchen. Lark tried to gauge her mother’s mood as she drew near.
“Oh, Lark. Must you wear those scrubs? They do nothing for your figure. And you really should do something about those dark circles under your eyes. They’re not attractive.”
Having just come from a double shift at the hospital because Marsha had called in sick again, Lark couldn’t summon the energy to explain why she looked so tired. “Is that a new lipstick?” she asked. It made her mother happy to talk about herself, and Lark needed her in a good mood.
Vera Taylor smiled, obviously pleased that her daughter had noticed. “Passion’s Promise.” She dug into her purse and pulled out a tube. “It might be a good shade for you. Come closer and let me see.”
Fighting down impatience, Lark let her mother apply the vivid red, knowing it would look ridiculous on her. She rarely wore make-up at all, much less something as eye-catching as ruby lipstick.
“And a little concealer.” Her daughter’s docility had prompted Vera to pull a bag of make-up out of her purse. It was a rare mother-daughter bonding moment. Skye had been the pretty one, the one Vera could relate to. “Some color in your cheeks.”
Vera stepped back and regarded her daughter with something akin to satisfaction. Lark’s chest constricted. No matter how much she loved her mother, Lark had never been completely sure her mother felt the same way about her. Vera’s childhood in San Antonio had been composed of a string of beauty pageants starting when she was one. She’d grown up praised for her beauty and style. Lark was sure it had broken her heart to give birth to a child of average prettiness and no interest in fashion.
Her mother must have thanked heaven when Skye came along. Beautiful and personable, with an abundance of talent. A mini Vera. A doll for her to dress and mold into the perfect pageant princess.
“See, that took me no more than a minute and a half and you look so much better. Imagine what would happen if we did a little mascara and eye shadow. You really should take more care with your appearance. What will people think?”
Considering that her patients in the ICU were unconscious and their family members too distressed to notice anything but their loved ones, Lark doubted that it mattered what she looked like. “I’ll make more of an effort.”
Knowing it would make her mother happy, Lark went into the small bathroom off the entry and checked her appearance. To her amazement, her mother was right. The little bit of makeup had transformed her. She was pretty. Not beautiful like Skye or their mother, but maybe attractive enough to make Keaton give her a second look?
The instant the thought entered her head, Lark banished it. Depending on how her mother responded to Lark’s request to babysit Grace, she might just be stuck dealing with Keaton on a much more regular basis. If that happened, the last thing she needed was to start wondering if she appealed to him.
First of all, there was the hundred and some years of fighting between their families.
Then there was the little problem of whether or not she could trust him. Skye had put her faith in Jake and look what had happened. He’d vanished when she needed him most.
Last, but certainly not least, Keaton’s brusque manner and ruggedness were a little overwhelming. Granted, he’d handled Grace with an acceptable amount of gentleness, but he’d obviously been on his best behavior. Would he be as careful with her?
And would she want him to be?
Swept away by the thought of his large hands skimming over her body, pulling her tight against him as his mouth claimed hers in a vigorous kiss, Lark shuddered in delight. Her skin warmed as the fantasy heated her blood. She could almost feel the scrape of his rough chin against her neck. Desire lanced through her like an electric shock, leaving her knees oddly unsteady.
“Mom,” she called, emerging from the bathroom. “I have a favor to ask you.”
Vera frowned. “I’m not sure this is a good time. Your father is very distressed about the loss of the tree farm and the damage done to the irrigation pipes.”
Lark recognized this tactic. Her mother was always using Tyrone as an excuse to avoid doing things she deemed too great a burden. Ignoring her mother’s broad hint, Lark muscled on.
“Grace gets to leave the hospital in a couple days.”
“So soon?”
“It’s been three months.”
And as far as Lark knew, Vera had only stopped by once. Lark thought about Keaton’s mom, visiting both a child she didn’t fully believe was her granddaughter and the woman who’d been instrumental in taking her son away. Gloria had just as much reason to take her anger out on Skye and the baby, but she’d chosen a path of forgiveness instead.
“Things have been so bad around here, I haven’t noticed how much time has passed.”
“I was wondering if you could help me out with her.”
“I don’t know how I can find the time. There’s so much to do here.”
Lark braced herself to beg. Her parents had always made it hard for her to ask for anything. “Please, Mom. Can’t you help me out until Skye gets better?”
“Are you sure you’re the best one to be taking care of your sister’s baby, Lark?”
“If not me, who else?”
“There’s the father.” Vera arched one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Has he shown up yet?”
“If you mean Jake...” She didn’t dare defend a Holt to her mother. “I don’t know where he is. His brother hasn’t had any luck locating him.”
“Does that surprise you? None of those people can be trusted.”
“Grace is a Taylor, Mom.” Lark wasn’t comfortable misleading her mother, but she hoped that maybe Vera would be more inclined to help if the conflict with the Holts wasn’t part of the equation. “None of us had heard from Skye in four years. We don’t even know if she and Jake were still together.”
Vera considered this and for a brief second, Lark thought her mother might have forgiven how badly Skye hurt them when she’d run off with a Holt. But then Vera shook her head.
“I heard that brother of his is doing a DNA test. We’ll know soon enough, won’t we?”
“Grace is so beautiful, Mom,” Lark said, hoping if she appealed to what her mother valued most that Vera might be persuaded to put aside her hurt and embrace her granddaughter. “She looks exactly like Skye.” Which wasn’t completely true, but hopefully Vera would be so thrilled to have a mini Skye to smother with love that she wouldn’t notice the Holt eyes and bone structure.
“I’m sure she’s quite lovely.” Vera could have been speaking of a stranger’s child for all the warmth she showed. “I can see that you are quiet passionate about taking on the responsibility of your sister’s baby. I just don’t think you realize how challenging it will be with you working full-time. A normal baby is exhausting and she’s bound to have special needs. I’ll speak with your father about helping you out with the child care costs.”
And Lark knew her last hope was gone. Her mother wasn’t ready to forgive Skye for turning her back on her family and would resist warming up to Grace.
“I don’t want a stranger taking care of her,” she told her mother, letting her disappointment show. It was looking pretty certain that her options had dwindled to Keaton.
“She’s had strangers taking care of her for the last three months,” Vera retorted a touch impatiently. “I don’t see the difference.”
The difference was Grace had needed medical attention and the nurses in the NICU were experts in the care of preemies. “I appreciate your offer of financial help, but I really think we owe it to Skye to do the best we can for Grace, and that means having her family take care of her.”
A layer of frost coated Vera’s features at Lark’s mild reproof. Almost immediately she wished she could take back her criticism. No purpose would be served by alienating her mother, but along with regret, Lark noticed a tiny buzz of triumph for having stood up to her mother.
Unfortunately, Lark’s confidence quickly faded as the reality of her situation engulfed her, and she drove home in such a state of disappointment that she didn’t remember Keaton had invited himself on her shopping trip for the baby until she noticed the four-door pickup parked in front of her house.
The clock on her dashboard said quarter after two. She was fifteen minutes late. Lark settled her car in the garage and headed down the driveway to meet up with Keaton.
“I forgot we were getting together today.”
“You look different.” His eyes narrowed as he surveyed her.
When his gaze settled on her lips, Lark remembered the makeup her mother had applied. “I went to ask my mother for help with Grace. She thought I looked tired so she put makeup on me.”
“You look very nice.”
“Thank you.”
Nice wasn’t beautiful, but it was better than tired and drawn. And there was something new about the way he stared at her. Something intense and interested that made her pay attention to the flutters in her stomach and the slow heat building in her core.
“Are you heading back to work?” He indicated her scrubs.
Lark shook her head. The slight breeze cooled her skin. “One of my coworkers called in sick and we’re shorthanded as it is. I pulled a double shift.” A sharp wind cut off any further explanation she might have made. “Do you want to come inside?”
“I picked up a few things this morning. I’ll go get them.”
“You did?” Lark wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or dismayed. He was really determined to take care of Grace.
From the backseat of the pickup he unloaded two enormous bags printed with the logo of the local baby store. Lark hastened to open her front door so he could carry his bundles inside.
“What is all this?”
“Bedding, clothes.” Keaton followed Lark into her living room and deposited everything on her couch. He glanced around. “I know you said you hadn’t bought a crib yet. I thought that was something we could do together.”
Curiosity drove her to investigate what he’d chosen. Rather than an ultra-feminine pastel-pink ensemble, he’d chosen pale yellow sheets, bumper, dust ruffle and comforter with fun jungle animals. Lark spied pajamas, bodysuits and pants, tiny socks, bibs and a towel.
“You look surprised,” Keaton said.
“I am. You did a great job. How did you know what to buy?”
“I went online and found a list for what to have on hand when bringing home a baby.”
“She’ll need some diapers. I can get those later today.”
“I already contacted a diaper service.”
“I figured we would just use disposables.”
“Cloth is better for the environment.”
She couldn’t argue with that. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to deal with keeping dirty diapers around until they could be picked up.” And the unpleasantness that went along with doing that.
“The person I spoke with said they have a hamper that keeps the smell contained.”
“Sounds like you’ve done your research.”
“I always do.”
Lark was surprised at the resentment brewing in her gut. Why was she annoyed with Keaton for being helpful? After she’d worked back-to-back shifts, she should be relieved that some of the preparations for Grace’s homecoming were done. So what if she wasn’t the smartest person in the room?
Thinking of her double shift reminded Lark just how tired she was. Before she could contain it, an enormous yawn broke free.
“Sorry.”
“You’re tired.”
“Back-to-back shifts are brutal.”
“I can take care of the shopping and get the crib. I’m sure you have a list of everything you still need to do before Grace leaves the hospital.”
While she realized he was only trying to lend a hand, Lark rebelled at the thought of him taking over the preparations. Grace was her responsibility. If she was too tired to shop for her, how was she going to cope once her niece came home?
“No.” Lark gave her head a vehement shake. “I want to pick out the crib and finish up the shopping. It won’t take long. And you’re right. I have a list of what I need.”
She should be annoyed that he’d presumed things about her habits when he knew nothing about her, but she found herself flattered by his accurate read. Few people noticed her much less paid attention to her practices.
A glow bloomed in her chest, banishing her tiredness. She recognized Keaton as the source of her abrupt sense of well-being. His proximity had a disturbing effect on her world. Long ago she’d learned that asking for help was likely to end up in a rebuff. So she’d grown used to muddling along without anyone noticing she needed help much less offering to pitch in. Now she had Keaton insisting on lightening her load and was more than a little afraid to trust what he was offering.
Dropping her gaze to the floor, she said, “I’ll be okay on my own.”
* * *
Stubborn, Keaton noted, just like her father. She was determined to make things more difficult for herself rather than let him help. Pushing down his irritation, he said, “Why don’t I put this stuff away while you change?”
“I’ll take care of it.” She drew near and reached out for the bags. “I’m going to put the crib in my room. The master suite is on the opposite side of the house from the other two bedrooms, and I don’t want her so far away.”
Keaton surrendered the purchases and watched her retreat. As soon as she was out of sight he surveyed his surroundings. The house was a split-floor plan, just as she’d described, with bedrooms on opposite sides of an expansive great room/dining room/kitchen combination. The design was modern; the open flow of the place made it nice for entertaining.
The rooms reflected exactly what he’d expected her style to be. Like him, she preferred furniture that was comfortable rather than stylish. She’d always struck him as practical, but she’d chosen dreamy Texas landscapes for her walls.
Books overflowed the shelves that flanked the fireplace, leaving no room for knickknacks. Or family photos. More books were stacked on the coffee table and each of the side tables. Which wasn’t surprising: his every memory of her had a book in it.
One of the most telling aspects of her décor, and where their taste was drastically different, was the lack of electronics of any kind. That included a television, stereo and video equipment. As rustic as his cabin was, one of the first purchases he’d made before moving in was a forty-inch TV. How could she stand not having such an important connection to the outside world?
“Is something wrong?”
Keaton turned his head and spied her coming his way. She’d traded baggy scrubs for snug jeans that hugged her curves and a dark green sweater with a scoop neck that showed a hint of cleavage.
Knowing he was staring at her in mouthwatering fascination, but unable to help himself, Keaton answered her question. “You don’t have a television.”
“No.” She knotted a scarf around her neck, slipped into her coat and gathered up her purse and keys.
“Any particular reason?” With the most seductive aspects of her form hidden from view, Keaton was able to wrestle his thoughts back into line.
“What’s the point?”
“It’s television.”
She focused a sharp gaze on him. “Mindless entertainment. I prefer to read or bake. I like feeling productive.”
“Not everything on TV is mindless. There are educational programs.” After gesturing her to go first through the doorway, Keaton stepped aside so she could lock the front door. “Some interesting stuff.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” she murmured, looking completely unconvinced as he opened the passenger door for her.
His pulse kicked up as she whisked past him. Was his attraction for her going to cause problems? She was already as skittish as a feral cat. If she got any inkling that he craved a taste of her lips, it might ruin the fragile cease-fire they’d established.
Keaton slid behind the wheel. Although he wasn’t much for small talk, he thought engaging Lark in casual conversation would be a good way to build rapport. “You have quite a collection of books. What do you like to read?”
“I alternate between classics and contemporary fiction.”
Hearing her answer, he sighed in frustration. Their taste in books wasn’t going to keep the dialogue flowing easily. “I like biographies and nonfiction.”
She nodded and subsided into silence. Keaton shot her a sideways glance and noticed that she was gripping her purse as if it was a lifeline. He wanted her to relax in his company. If she decided he wasn’t the villain her father made him out to be, he would have an easier time staking his own claim on Grace.
Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, Keaton tried again. “I downloaded a couple books on preemies to my e-reader in an attempt to figure out what to expect with Grace.”
“At this point her gestational age is that of a newborn. She’s still tiny compared to most, but her need for specialized care is done.”
“I realize that I missed being around for her early days, but the books talked about kangaroo care where the baby is held against her mother’s skin to help with her development.”
Lark nodded. “Because she couldn’t leave the NICU, I would go in before and after my shift and hold her like that.” Her voice took on a husky note. “I wish we could have put her and Skye together, but I did the best I could.”
“You did a great job,” he assured her. “She’s thriving and ready to leave the NICU.” Once again it struck Keaton just how much Lark had been dealing with on her own, and irritation with his brother flared anew. Whatever Lark and Grace needed, he would make sure they were taken care of. “But I think you’ve single-handedly shouldered the burden for too long. From everything I’ve read, preemies are more work than an average newborn, which means you’re going to be even more exhausted. Let me help.”
“I would be lying if I told you I was completely convinced of my ability to take care of Grace on my own. Frankly, I’m terrified of failing. I owe it to Skye to do what is best for Grace.”
The level of conviction in Lark’s voice resonated with Keaton.
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do for Jake.” And in his brother’s absence, he intended to protect Jake’s rights. The Taylors needed to understand that Grace was also a Holt—Keaton was convinced of that, with or without the DNA test—and that they had an equal say in her care.
“We share a common goal, then.” She stared hard at the road before them. “I’m sorry if I’ve been suspicious of your motives, but I have to tell you that all my life I’ve had to listen to how untrustworthy your family is.”
“It’s not true.”
“I’m sure where the rest of the world is concerned it’s not, but when it comes to my family, there’s been so much strife over the years I can’t shake my uneasiness. And then there’s the fact that I haven’t spoken with Skye since she left Royal. I don’t know what happened between her and Jake. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing letting you be involved with Grace.”
He wasn’t sure what had happened between Skye and Lark, but he had a feeling the Taylor-Holt feud had caused the sisters’ relationship to suffer the same the way his and Jake’s had. Whatever had happened, there was no question that Lark bore her sister no lasting ill will. Her dedication to Skye and Grace was unflinching.
“I assure you—” His phone began to ring before he could finish the thought. Not recognizing the number, he keyed the truck’s hands-free option and answered the call. “Keaton Holt.”
“Mr. Holt, this is Sabrina from Dr. Boyle’s office.” The doctor who had administered the DNA test.
Keaton glanced Lark’s way and spied her somber green eyes on him. “What are the results?”
“The kinship index was well over 1.0. You and Grace show a strong chance of being related. That’s a very good indication that your brother is her father.”
Because they hadn’t been able to collect Jake’s DNA, they’d had to test Skye and Keaton for an uncle comparison. It wasn’t as definitive as a paternity test, but the results were strong and should satisfy all but the most skeptical.
“Thank you, Sabrina. Please send the results to me by email.”
“Of course, Mr. Holt. And congratulations.”
Keaton ended the call and waited for Lark’s reaction. They were nearing the furniture store where she intended to get Grace’s crib. In a minute there would be no time for private discussion.
“That’s it, then,” she said, her voice low and without inflection.
“You don’t sound surprised.”
“Grace looks like Jake.”
Her admission annoyed him. “But you fought me on the DNA test.”
“I didn’t want to believe my sister and her baby had been abandoned by your brother.” Her eyes hardened. “How could he be so unreachable? They need him.”
“They have us,” Keaton reminded her. “I’m going to do everything in my power to take care of my niece. And your sister.”
“I spoke with my mother today. She and my dad are busy because of the damaged tree farm and other things.” She ducked her head, her posture defeated. “I think I’m going to need help taking care of Grace.”
He was saddened, but not surprised, that the Taylors had chosen not to pitch in to care for their granddaughter. Skye had been disowned by her parents when she left with Jake. The Taylors were obstinate and inflexible. It was their intolerance that had forced their daughter to run away from Royal and further aggravate an already bitter war between their families.
He wanted to touch Lark’s hand, to reassure her that he was on her side. “You and I are going to make a great team.”
“That remains to be seen,” she remarked, some of her prickliness returning. “I’m dreading the scene when my parents find out you and I are working together to care for Grace.”
If that bothered her, she was really going to hate where his thoughts had taken him over the last twenty-four hours. “You’re doing the right thing for Grace, and that’s what counts.”
“I hate having to choose between being a good daughter and a good sister and aunt.” Lark worried her fingers along her jacket’s zipper. “I suppose you think it’s stupid that a twenty-seven-year-old woman is afraid of upsetting her parents.”
From what he’d experienced of Tyrone Taylor’s temper, Keaton understood Lark’s desire to avoid her father’s wrath.
He guided the truck into the furniture store parking lot and took a spot not far from the front door. Keaton shut off the engine and sat in silence for a long moment. He was overwhelmed by a strong desire to protect her from anyone who made her unhappy, but she wouldn’t appreciate his opinion about her parents even if all he was doing was defending her.
At last he spoke. “We can’t let this rift between our families keep us from doing what is best for Grace.”
“You’re absolutely right.” She nodded fiercely. “Let’s go buy some baby furniture.”
If Keaton had expected to spend the next two hours bored to tears while Lark shopped, he was pleasantly surprised when she went straight to a crib in the middle row and gave it a quick nod.
“I want this one,” she told the sales clerk who approached less than a minute later. “As well as that changing table.”
“I’ll get it all written up. When do you want it delivered?”
“The sooner the better.”
“Let me check the schedule. We have tomorrow afternoon available.”
Lark frowned. “I have to work.”
“That will be fine,” Keaton said.
“But I won’t be home.”
“I’ll meet them.” He could see immediately that she was uncomfortable with the idea. “You might as well get used to having me in your house. I’m going to be taking care of Grace there, after all.”
“You’re right.” Lark shook her head. “I haven’t had to share my space with anyone since buying my house two years ago.”
“You’re never lonely being on your own?”
“Sometimes.” She offered him a tiny smile. “Mostly I love it. I walk in my front door and don’t have to worry about anyone but me.”
“Bringing Grace home is going to change that.”
“I don’t mean it the way it sounds. It’s just that with Skye coming home, my parents are stressed out and things around the hospital have been really challenging since the tornado. I moved from the surgery team to ICU so I could be closer to Skye and am having a hard time with the nurses I’m working with. Everything I say gets twisted around. I feel as if I’m constantly walking on eggshells. It’s exhausting.”
“Sounds like you need a break.”
“I’m taking a week off when Grace comes home.” She gave a happy sigh. “I’ll need it to get her settled in.”
With the crib paid for and the delivery arrangements finalized, Keaton and Lark headed back to his truck. He scanned Lark’s face as she buckled herself in. She looked worn to the bone.
“Can I buy you dinner before I take you home?”
She gave him a weary smile. “I’m too tired to be much company.”
“How about takeout?”
“Are you always this persistent?”
Yes, when something was important to him, and Lark’s well-being was rapidly climbing his priority list. “I don’t feel right taking you home without feeding you.”
Besides, he wanted to spend more time in her company. She intrigued him. They’d been neighbors most of their lives, their families had been at odds with each other for generations. He knew little about her beyond what was common knowledge, but had long harbored a sense that they could be kindred spirits if circumstances were different.
“Obviously you are not going to take no for an answer and I’m too tired to argue.” She leaned her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. “But just because I gave in this once, don’t think you can get your way every time.”
He felt a smile tug at his lips as he started the car, but refrained from pointing out that ninety-nine percent of the time people did as he indicated because he was right. She’d figure that out soon enough.
