Читать книгу Detective Daddy - Jane Toombs, Jane Toombs - Страница 10

By the following day, Fay felt strong enough to pick up little Marie, change her diaper and carry her to the couch to nurse. Every so often, though, she had to ask Dan to carry the baby back to the wood-box, making her wonder if it was normal to have such little exercise fatigue her so.

“The plows should be clearing the highway so repair trucks can get through,” he told her in the afternoon. “The problem is I don’t know where the electric and phone lines went down so I can’t tell how long it’ll be before we get them fixed. We’re stuck here ’til I can get a call out about the bridge being impassable.”

“Now that the storm’s over, won’t your siblings worry if they don’t hear from you?” she asked.

“Bruce might not, and Will’s out of town, but Megan’s sure to. We tease her that her mission in life is to mother the world. That’s why I’m out here. She drove me crazy fussing over me at our old home in town. Seemed to think I needed bedside nursing.”

His words reminded her she’d noticed he favored his left leg when he walked. “Were you injured?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Got shot in the leg. Flesh wound. Pretty well healed now.”

“Is that why you’re in the Upper Peninsula instead of on duty in Archer?”

“Some of the reason, anyway.”

Fay was sure the leg wound had been more serious than he let on. She wondered what else was keeping him off duty, but didn’t probe. If he wanted to tell her, he would. But he’d made her curious. “Who shot you?” she asked.

“The perp. Perpetrator. That’s cop talk for the bad guy.”

She opened her mouth to ask what happened to the perp, but decided she was doing exactly what she’d told herself she wouldn’t—probing. “Evidently your job has its exciting moments.”

“Some a lot more exciting than I’d like. Jean—” He broke off abruptly.

“Jean?” she echoed.

“My ex.”

“Oh.” She should have known a guy as attractive as Dan would have been married. At first she hadn’t thought of him as anything other than the man who’d saved her life. Who’d taken care of her and Marie. But there was no denying blond, blue-eyed Daniel Sorenson was a hunk to set women’s hearts—and other parts—throbbing.

Not that hers were. Physically and emotionally she was nowhere near ready for either romance or sex. Still, she did have eyes, after all, and she did like to look at him. She also wanted to know more about why Jean was his ex. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to ask. “So you’re divorced,” she said as casually as she could.

His mouth twisted. “Cops’ marriages have a tendency to fail.”

Fay blinked, having never thought about it before. “Why?”

“We sometimes get killed.”

She examined his blunt words. “I admit that’s a real problem, but—”

“Cops also work overtime and often can’t let a wife know they won’t be home on time. The uncertainty of whether their husband might not be coming home because he’s dead or lying in a hospital wounded seems to wear on women.”

“Okay, but that still doesn’t seem to me to—”

“In my case there was also the question of children.”

“Question?”

“I don’t want any. Won’t have any. Not with today’s world like it is. Jean wanted kids.”

Fay thought of his gentleness with little Marie and felt a pang. She could tell he’d already grown fond of her daughter. Dan would make a wonderful father.

“That’s too bad,” she said. “Raising a child has always been a risk, though.”

“Yet you took it.”

She smiled. “I’ve been a risk-taker for most of my life.”

He grinned wryly. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know firsthand.”

“I guess I deserved that. Going back to your divorce. Do you feel it was your fault? Because I don’t. Jean must have known you were a cop when she married you.”

“She thought she could convince me to get into something she considered safer. You may have the same trouble understanding what she never could. I like what I do. Once in a great while, I might even make a difference. I don’t want to find other work, safer or not. No, I don’t blame myself for the divorce, but I do for the marriage. Cops have no business marrying. Especially this cop.”

His tone was so bitter she suspected something else was involved at the root of the problem. Deciding not to touch on that, she said, “I think I can understand why you joined the police.” Though it was true he’d advanced to detective, he seemed to be saying he liked it just where he was. If he had any ambition, he could eventually become a police commissioner somewhere, become a real power. It reminded her of her father staying a foreman all his life when he could have advanced. He’d liked his job, too.

“We both have reservations about marriage,” she added. “How can one ever be sure the other person is the right choice?”

“By steering clear of the whole process in the first place. Like Bruce and Megan.”

“Your brother and sister aren’t married?”

Dan shook his head. “Bruce claims he knows when he’s well off. And Megan says she gets along just fine being single.” After a moment he asked, “Ever play double solitaire?”

She realized the question meant the marriage discussion was at an end. “I know what solitaire is,” she said, “but I didn’t realize two could play it together.”

“Not exactly together. More like opponents, since only one can win. I’ll teach you later, after your nap.”

The word nap made her realize how fast fatigue was once again creeping up on her. She yawned and nodded. Later was fine with her.

Several hours later, Fay had mastered the rules of the game and Dan had beaten her three times out of three.

“Be warned,” she advised. “No one wins against me forever.”

“You haven’t tangled with me before.”

“Hey, when I say no one, I mean no one. Just you wait. If you’ve got a Scrabble board around here someplace I’ll take you three out of three.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

She smiled. He was in for a big surprise.

Just before Fay fell asleep that night, it occurred to her how fast time was passing. Maybe it was because much of her time was spent either nursing or otherwise caring for her baby and a lot of the rest sleeping, but she was surprised to realize that she wasn’t in the least bit bored. Even if the cabin had TV the electricity was out. It was a welcome change not to be reminded of the world’s problems.

The batteries in Dan’s radio had given up the ghost the day after Marie was born, so the outside world couldn’t invade the cabin at all.

They were suspended in a cocoon where time didn’t matter. Of course, like all time-outs, it wouldn’t last, and, in a way, she was sorry.

The next morning, Fay woke to the welcome smell of coffee and found sunlight brightening the room. Fire crackled in the fireplace, a sure sign Dan had placed a new log on. She’d never before realized how a wood fire warmed the spirit as well as the body. She said as much to him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Could it be high-powered consultants don’t have time to spend contemplating a fire?” She scowled at him and he laughed, adding, “We’re out of eggs, out of bread and almost out of peanut butter. The powdered skim milk’s still with us, though, so we’re having oatmeal for breakfast.”

“Is that a tricky way to get me to admit I’m glad I got rescued by a cop who can cook? I’m not such a bad cook myself, as I’ll show you one of these days.”

After making her way to the bathroom and dressing in a pair of her old maternity jeans, she pulled on a sweatshirt and came over to check on Marie, who was sleeping peacefully. Fay’s burst of energy began to fade, but she sat down at the kitchen table rather than retreat to the couch. She simply had to get back to normal.

She dug into the honey-sweetened oatmeal diluted with reconstituted skim milk and ate with relish. “One thing about nursing,” she said. “It keeps a gal hungry.”

“Good thing the storm’s letting up, ’cause that’s the last of the honey, too. Tomorrow we’re reduced to plain white sugar.”

She rolled her eyes. “Horrors.”

“The highway must be completely clear by now, so I figure Megan’ll be sending someone to check on us today.”

“But the bridge is out. Right?” Before he could answer, she said, “Oh, I see what you mean. As soon as whoever it is reaches the far end of the bridge, he’ll discover what the problem is—and voilà—we’ll be rescued.”

“More or less. With luck we’ll be out of here by late tomorrow or sometime the following day. Before we’re reduced to beans and canned stew.”

After Marie’s next nursing, Fay napped and roused when she heard what sounded like a truck horn in the distance. Dan was already donning his jacket.

“Going down to greet our rescuer,” he told her.

After he left, she got up and peered from a window, but the drive curved among the pines, making it impossible to see what was happening. The rain had melted some of the snow and the sun was trying to finish the job. Here in the woods, though, the trees’ shade slowed the melting. She gazed out at what was still a winter scene. In April.

She remembered one of her father’s sayings and repeated it aloud. “Spring’s like love, it can be delayed, but you can’t stop it.”

What was he thinking now? Did he worry about where she was and if she was all right? Probably not, he’d be too busy with his new companion, a widow he’d met at Archer’s senior center. Fay hadn’t met her yet. Hadn’t wanted to. Didn’t want to.

Restless, she sat at the table and wished she had her laptop computer with her. She hadn’t brought it along, figuring she wouldn’t be using it at her aunt’s. If only she had her computer and a place to plug into a phone line that worked, she would at least know what was going on in the world. Not that it really mattered at the moment. But everything you wanted to know could be found on the Internet.

Well, not exactly everything. Advice might be available on the Net, but advice frequently didn’t work when dealing with tricky human relationships. Love, for example. She’d never been quite sure she’d ever actually been in love. Her father’s homily said love couldn’t be stopped. Okay, but how could you tell when it finally got to you?

The front door opened and Dan stuck his head in. “I’ve arranged for the bridge to be fixed. Frank’s plowed from the highway to the far side of the bridge and he thinks they can shore it up tomorrow morning. I’m going to plow the drive from here to the bridge now so we’ll be set to go once the bridge is safe to cross over.” Before she could answer, he was gone.

Frank must be the rescuer Megan had sent, Fay told herself. So tomorrow they would be leaving the cabin, all three of them. She sighed, wondering why she didn’t feel more elated at the rescue. Probably because she felt so tired. The mere thought of trying to drive home exhausted her. First she would have to arrange for a car, because Dan had said hers was pretty well totaled and would need to be towed. He’d told her he would take care of all that, but she knew the drive would be her responsibility.

Marie began to fuss and, as Fay changed her and settled with her on the couch to nurse, she considered the idea of heading on to Duluth instead. It wasn’t any farther from here than going home, and there she’d have her aunt to help her, while in Archer she had no one.

When Marie was satisfied and had been burped, Fay laid her across her lap and studied the baby’s tiny features. She envisioned someday telling her daughter the circumstances of her birth. She could end by saying Marie’s blue eyes reminded her of the wonderful man who’d saved both their lives.

Nothing about the baby reminded her of poor Ken, but she thought Marie looked a bit like baby pictures she had of her mother, though the blond hair was Dad’s and so were the blue eyes.

When she got to Duluth, she’d ask her aunt who she thought the baby resembled. If she made it that far. Fay shook her head. Of course she would. Tired or not, she had to.

Though cheered somewhat by the thought of being with her aunt, it didn’t make her feel any stronger. What if Dr. Bruce found something seriously wrong with her when he examined her tomorrow? No! She wouldn’t worry about the day that hadn’t yet come. After all, this was her first child. For all she knew, her fatigue was normal.

When Dan came in through the back door, he shed his snow gear and found Fay propped up on the couch, the baby asleep in her lap. He eased himself down next to her, saying “We’re all set.”

He looked at the baby and smiled. “She gets prettier every day.”

Fay touched her hair self-consciously, aware she looked far from her best. She knew he’d seen her at what was undoubtedly her worst, but, still, she wished she felt more like fixing herself up. As it was, she’d just run a brush through her hair and hadn’t bothered to use any makeup because she hadn’t the energy.

Glancing at her, Dan added, “Must take after her mother.”

Suddenly Fay realized that he meant the baby’s prettiness came from her.

“Nice try at being gallant, Sergeant,” she said.

He frowned at her. “I’m not the gallant type. When I say something, I mean it.”

He couldn’t possibly, not the way she looked at the moment.

“I didn’t find a camera in your car,” he said.

“I forgot it. I was going to get a disposable one in Duluth.”

“My camera’s back in Archer. Buying a disposable one’s a good idea so you can take some shots of the baby. We can pick it up in town tomorrow.”

“What I’d really like is a shot of you holding Marie,” she admitted. “One I could show her when she’s older, so she’ll know who you are.” As she spoke, it occurred to her that she wanted the photo for herself, too. So she could look at it and remember. Not that she’d ever forget Dan.

“I’ve been thinking I’d like to go on to my aunt’s in Duluth once I leave here,” she added.

He scowled. “You’re in no condition to drive anywhere alone yet.”

She had to be, there was no choice.

“Why not wait till my brother examines you before making any decisions?”

“Sooner or later, I have to—”

“Later.” His tone offered no room for argument. Plucking Marie from her lap, he carried the baby to her bed.

Fay was too tired to bristle. Sighing, she eased herself down and closed her eyes.

As Dan looked over the dwindling food supply, he told himself it was a damn good thing they would be leaving the cabin in the morning. He had enough spaghetti for supper, but nothing to make a tomato-based sauce with. He located some fairly ancient cheese and decided with flour, skim milk and the last dab of butter, maybe he could conjure up an edible white sauce. There would be nothing but beans for a side dish. When he’d stocked up, he hadn’t counted on either the storm or the pregnant woman lost in it.

In another way, though, he hated to leave the cabin. In ordinary circumstances he tended to be close-mouthed. The circumstances of Fay’s arrival and their enforced intimacy had certainly loosened his tongue. He’d never before explained to anyone why he and Jean had split. Rather than being sorry he’d told her as much as he had, he felt they’d exchanged confidences. He’d shared some of his past with her in the same way she had with him. He was going to miss her. And the little peanut as well. He’d had no conception of how quickly a baby could carve a niche in the hardest heart.

He tried not to worry that Bruce might find something seriously wrong with Fay, but her pallor made him doubt that her lingering fatigue was normal.

Supper, while not an outstanding success, was edible. There was nothing wrong with Fay’s appetite anyway. While he cleaned up the kitchen, he glanced now and then at her as she nursed the baby, enjoying the warm feeling it gave him.

After returning Marie to her bed, Fay sat at the table. “Look what I found in one of the cabinets,” she said, tapping a finger on what he saw was a Scrabble board. “Prepare for an ignominious defeat.”

He laughed. “Only in your dreams, gal.”

He hadn’t played Scrabble since he’d been a kid, and even then it hadn’t been his favorite pastime. But, hell, there wasn’t all that much to the game.

When he drew the X, worth eight points, right off, he smiled. Since he had an S and an E he spelled out sex on the board.

His smiled faded as she added a Y to the word and spelled yazoo down the other way. “Is that a word?”

“Certainly. It’s a person who lives by the Yazoo River in Mississippi.”

“Then it’d be capitalized.”

“Actually, no, it isn’t,” she said smugly.

He eyed her assessingly. Was Fay a cheat? Shaking his head, he muttered, “Have to admit I never saw a sexy yazoo. But then I’ve never been to Mississippi.”

The next word he spelt out was breast. As he looked up from the word, his gaze traveled over Fay’s T-shirt and, noticing the sensual curve of her breasts underneath, he felt a sudden stir of desire. He wondered why watching her nurse Marie didn’t turn him on, yet the sight of her covered breasts had done just that.

You’re losing it, Sorenson, he told himself. Cabin fever.

In the end, Fay beat him by a narrow margin.

“Close, but no cigar, as my dad used to say,” she remarked as she tallied up the game.

“Mine, too,” Dan told her. “He said it came from carnivals where you got a cigar if they couldn’t guess your weight within a pound either way.”

“Do you think we’re doomed to become our parents?”

“I sure hope not.”

“My mother was okay,” she said, “but my dad…” She broke off.

“The other way around in my family.” He hadn’t known he was going to blurt that out until he heard himself say it. He saw her interest and groaned inwardly. What was there about Fay that made him reveal more of himself than he ever had to anyone else?

“Can I ask, or are you sorry you said anything and don’t want to talk about it?” she said.

“Not much to tell,” he said gruffly. “She ran off with another man when I was in college and Dad divorced her. He’d never talk about it, but he was devastated.”

“Are both your parents still living?”

“Dad is. Bought a place in Florida. Said he had enough of cold winters. I—we don’t know where my mother is.”

“How sad.”

Dan shrugged. His sympathy had always been with his father. He couldn’t imagine living all those years with a woman and then, without warning, having her leave him flat for some other guy. Marriage was vastly overrated.

“Is that why Bruce and Megan have never married?” Fay asked.

“Part of it. Will—that’s my older brother—had a failed marriage and so did I. That contributed to our belief that Sorensons are better off single.”

“I see. But it’d be interesting to talk to your mother.”

He stared at her, frowning. Why in hell would she want to talk to his mother?

“There’s always more than one side,” she informed him. “Didn’t you ever search for her?”

“No!” The word burst from him.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to press on a sore point. Or interfere in what’s your business and not mine.” She rose from her chair.

When he noticed her clutch at the chair back to keep her balance, he jumped to his feet and put an arm around her to help her back to the couch. His anger was no reason to forget how fragile she still was. Wouldn’t happen again. Above all, he meant to keep Fay safe.

He just had no intention of marrying her or any other woman. Even if she’d have him. Which he doubted. Fay had made it pretty clear if she ever chose a husband, he’d be the high-powered, ambitious type. Which didn’t even remotely describe Dan Sorenson. Not that he cared.

When he’d eased her onto the couch, she looked up at him and said, “When we get the camera, I’ll make sure you get a picture of Marie to keep.”

He’d forgotten all about the camera. “I’d like that.”

“But not necessarily one of me. Really, I usually look a lot better than this.”

He figured he’d give her another try at understanding how he saw her. “You look fine. Too pale, but otherwise—”

“You’re a sweetheart to say so.”

Which he deciphered to mean she didn’t believe a word of it, so he decided she wouldn’t believe anything else he might have to say about her appearance. If he admitted that he found her beautiful, she would attribute it to kindness on his part. Gallantry, even.

“There’s more than one who’d tell you I don’t have a kind bone in my body,” he told her. “Or a sweet heart.”

He could see his words had confused her.

“You’re wrong about what I want,” he added. “I’d like a photo of you as well as one of Peanut.”

“Peanut? Is that how you think of her?” She smiled. “I guess she is sort of tiny, at that. Maybe your brother or sister will take one of the three of us. A memento of the April storm.”

Megan would, he was sure. A memento. But that was what their time together would become, after all.

Dan reached a gentle finger to brush a strand of hair from her cheek, his touch lingering on the smoothness of her skin for a moment. “Yes,” he said. “Something to remember.”

He already suspected the hard part would be forgetting.