Читать книгу The Child She Always Wanted - Jennifer Mikels - Страница 10

A t thirty-one, Rachel would admit that she had fallen into a rut before all this had happened. While her brother worked for a prestigious Boston law firm, and Gillian was still finding herself but was happy with a lifestyle that included traveling, Rachel had settled for what she had, a home in Texas, a job at the bank. She wasn’t unhappy. She had friends, a satisfying job, but there would always be an emptiness in her life. Always.

While Heather finished her nap, Rachel opened the front door to cart in the portable crib and clothes, but the rain had started again. She saw no point in getting soaked. Deciding to wait until the rain eased, she gave in to her curiosity about the house, wanting to see all the rooms, see if they looked the same, sparked memories.

At the end of the short hall was a sparsely decorated, masculine room. On the bed was a homemade dark-blue-and-white patchwork quilt. Had his mother or some other relative made it? On top of a small, round, mahogany table near the window was a photograph. Even from a distance Rachel recognized Marnie’s school photo. In a corner of the room was a three-shelf mahogany bookcase filled mostly with paperbacks. She’d have liked to step in, but felt she’d be invading his privacy.

Instead she crossed into the room that used to be her brother’s. On a clear day its window offered a view of a distant lighthouse, of the endless water. Rachel circled the empty room. In the closet was a pull-down ladder for the attic. Of all the rooms, this one was the most perfect for a nursery. She could imagine Kane’s expression if she hauled all of Heather’s belongings into it. No, for now she would keep Heather in the room near her.

She returned to the kitchen and groped in her shoulder bag for a paperback to read while she waited for the rain to end. The plan had made sense then, but by late afternoon a downpour had begun.

With little choice Rachel placed Heather in the middle of the bed, comforted that a newborn stayed still, and after fishing her van keys from her shoulder bag, she slipped on her rain slicker and headed for the door. Though she loved walking in the rain, she didn’t like storms. She was still wishing that she could avoid going out when she opened the door.

“Where are you going?”

She jumped, then laughed at herself as Kane stood before her. “Out there.” She gestured with her hand at the air and in the direction behind him. “You scared me silly,” she said on a laugh.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He stood so near that she smelled the rain on him. She never lied to herself and wouldn’t start now. The quickening of her pulse had as much to do with a sensual reaction as it had to do with skittishness because he’d appeared so suddenly before her. “I need to get Heather’s portable crib,” she said loudly to be heard over the hammering rain.

“Give me your keys.” The wind ruffled his hair, flapped at the hem of his yellow slicker. “I’ll get it.”

“That’s very nice of—” She didn’t bother to finish as he curled his fingers around the keys dangling from her hand and thrust a pizza carton at her. For only a moment she peered through the sheet of slanting rain and watched him sprint to the van.

This stay was not going to be easy, she decided as she shut the door. He was fascinating and annoying. One moment he came across as thoughtful and considerate, the next he bordered on brusque, almost unpleasant. He’d always been mysterious to her. He’d been a brooding, quiet boy who’d smiled rarely and usually only at his sister. But he’d warmed Rachel all the way down to her toes with that smile.

Grinning over her own thought, she set the pizza on the counter. Unable to resist, she peeked at it with a deep inhalation. It smelled heavenly. She swiped a piece of sausage from one slice, reclosed the box, then made her way to the bedroom to check on Heather.

Fortunately she snoozed, undisturbed by the weather and her surroundings. Shadows danced on the walls. The wind whistled through the old house, wiggled doors, banged shutters. Rachel decided that only an ungrateful fool wouldn’t appreciate what Kane was doing.

While waiting for him, she moved the infant seat and oversize diaper bag to make a spot for the crib. A soft bang, a muttered oath made her look up. Rain plastered his hair. Glossy, dark strands flared out in unruly curls below his ears. Raindrops beaded his face. “I appreciate your help.” She noticed that he’d shrugged out of his rain gear somewhere on his way to her.

“You don’t have to keep thanking me.” He snapped open a side of the collapsed crib, then un-clipped the other side of the bed. “Hell, you’re the one who’s been put out.” He pressed on the rail of the crib as if testing its steadiness. “I’ll get you sheets for your bed.”

He was acting more pleasant. Rachel hoped this was a new phase, one that would last for a while. While he was gone, she dug a crib sheet for the crib out of a suitcase and made up a bed for Heather. Though sleeping, her mouth puckered, made sucking noises as Rachel shifted her from the big bed to the smaller one. “You’re getting hungry, aren’t you?” she cooed. Peripherally she caught movement and looked up to see Kane set snow-white sheets on the top of a badly scratched walnut dresser.

“Does she ever answer?”

Had that actually been humor? “No, but eventually she will.”

His eyes strayed to the crib. He looked baffled. “She’s sleeping again?”

Rachel veiled a smile. Until that moment she hadn’t thought he’d looked at Heather. That he was showing some interest in his niece meant progress. “Infants do a lot of that. That and eating.” She thought better about mentioning the dozens of diaper changes.

“If you say so.”

The sudden coolness surprised her. Had he drummed it up because he thought he was showing too much interest in Heather? Who knew what he was thinking. He wasn’t an easy man to understand. She usually preferred men who willingly carried on conversations, showed some sensitivity, weren’t so difficult to read. He really wasn’t her type, she acknowledged. Of course he wasn’t, but that didn’t stop her from staring at how his jeans snugly hugged his tight backside.

“If you’re hungry, there’s pizza.”

Fortunately she managed to stop staring before he turned around. “I’m starving. I didn’t have much breakfast before coming here.” Her stomach churning in anticipation now, she followed him to the kitchen. While he opened the refrigerator, she moved the carton to the center of the table. “I’m glad you thought of this.”

“I knew there wasn’t anything in the house.”

She’d nearly said the same thing but thought he might believe she was insulting him.

With the refrigerator door open, he held out a can of soda. “This or beer or—”

“This is fine.” Rachel took the can of soda. “I thought everything would look different here, but not much has changed,” she said to encourage him to talk.

He swung toward her, shutting the refrigerator door with his forearm. “People like it that way.”

Rachel looked down and yanked the tab on the can of soda. “I know.” When he straddled a chair, she joined him at the table. “It was always such a wonderful town. I’m glad it hasn’t changed.” Rachel glanced toward the window as lightning flashed again and brightened the darkness outside. She drew in one of those long breaths that was meant to calm a person.

Across the table from her, he gave her a long, searching look. “The storm bothers you.”

She hated to make the admittance. She was a grown-up, not six years old. “Sometimes. You must be busy as captain of two boats,” she said, searching for something that would keep conversation flowing. “Do you have a crew?”

“A small one. Lonnie Culhern’s my first mate.”

“I know who that is,” Rachel said as she recalled Lonnie, a blond Adonis type. Good-looking and muscular, he attracted women with little effort. “The girls liked him.”

Balancing a slice of pizza on his fingertips, he took a bite before answering. “Skirt chasing only ranks second behind fishing in his life.”

Rachel smiled. Despite the quip, his voice had carried a note of fondness. “You like him a lot.”

“He’s been around a long while,” he said, instead of commenting about what she’d said.

Did that mean he was close with him or not? Puzzled, Rachel concentrated on the pizza. Was there no bond between them, or was he one of those people who never allowed himself to admit that he cared about someone? Worry for Heather skittered through her. How would she fare with a man who so tightly guarded his emotions?

The scrape of chair legs on the linoleum made her look up. From a kitchen drawer he removed a candle and matches.

“Do you expect the power to go off?”

He didn’t need to answer. Lights flickered once more. The room went black. She heard the strike of a match then. When he turned with a candle in his hand, it cast an eerie glow over his face.

“Sit still,” he said, setting the candle in the middle of the table.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Unaccustomed to where furniture was in the house, she thought it would be dumb to move around and bump into things.

The beam of a flashlight suddenly swept the room. “Here.” He offered one to her.

As Rachel reached for it, his fingers lightly brushed hers. The contact was nothing, but unexpected warmth shot through her. She pulled back her hand. “Thank you.” The reaction seemed silly, but, a little space from him, a little time to think clearly wouldn’t do any harm. “I’d better check on Heather before I go to bed.”

Aiming the flashlight, she ventured down the dark hallway to the bathroom. It had been so long since she’d thought about any man in any way except as a friend. Perhaps that’s why she’d felt something. She’d probably overreacted.

In the darkness she bent over Heather and gathered her in her arms. Listening to the raging storm, she perched on the edge of the bed, and soothingly skimmed a hand over Heather’s soft, dark hair until her eyes closed. Possibly what she’d felt with Kane had been about old feelings.

Though she was tempted to keep holding Heather, she lowered her to her crib. Every time she cuddled the baby, her defenses weakened. Wasn’t this what worried her brother most? He knew her soft heart. He knew how easily she could let Heather into her heart if she wasn’t careful. But she was careful now. During one year of her life she’d endured a lifetime of pain and losses. She’d vowed then—never again.

For a moment Rachel peered out the window at the branches swaying beneath a violent wind. Before she spooked herself, she made up the bed, then changed into a pale-peach, silky nightshirt and climbed beneath the sheet. She didn’t need to keep herself awake all night with imaginary fear. She had plenty of real problems to face tomorrow, like how to make a home here for Heather.

Crazy. His whole world had tipped and gone crazy, Kane decided the next morning as he stood on the deck of the Maggie Lee. In one day his solitary existence had been swept away. He tried to assure himself that it was temporary. But already his sleep had been interrupted by the baby’s lusty wail in the middle of the night. Briefly he’d worried something was wrong with her, then as she quickly quieted, he’d assumed Rachel had control of the moment. He was glad someone did, because it sure as hell wasn’t him.

They’d taken over his life in less than twenty-four hours. Cans of baby formula lined a shelf in his refrigerator, the sweet smell of some kind of baby powder hung in the air of the bedroom they occupied.

Then there was Rachel. She pulled at him with those soft-green eyes, with that smile, with that gentle, smooth voice.

“See you, Captain,” a voice called out.

Kane yanked himself back to his surroundings. He nodded in response to the man passing by. A corporate-type in his white baseball cap, polo shirt and Bermuda shorts, he shared a fishing story with his friend while they sauntered toward their luxury cars. They’d spent early-morning hours on the water for the thrill of catching a big one.

Lonnie Culhern, his first mate, stood on the pier. He’d dropped out of college years ago to the dismay of his family who’d perceived their son as a Harvard graduate. After moving around like a rolling stone, he’d settled again in Hubbard Bay and had taken a job with Kane. Though comfortable with Lonnie’s company, Kane had doubted his deckhand’s staying power and kept a check on any real friendship developing between them.

“Heard a woman, new in town, was asking about you.” A mixture of curiosity and speculation had entered Lonnie’s voice. “According to Ephraim,” he said about the owner of the town’s oldest gas station, “she’s a Quinn. Rachel Quinn. And a looker.” An interested look spread over Lonnie’s face. “Who is she? An old girlfriend?”

Kane squinted against a bright morning sun. “Never dated her.”

“Ephraim said she’s really something. Before I could ask more, Phil showed up and said we needed rain,” he said with the annoyance he’d felt then. “That set off Ephraim who said sunshine was good for tourists, and Phil crabbed about us needing less instead of more of them. You know how they go on.”

Kane nodded distractedly, figured they’d spent enough time talking about Rachel. She wasn’t one of them anymore.

“Someone said she took care of her brother and sister after her parents died.”

Kane continued to hose down the deck. “You turning into one of the town’s gossips?”

Lonnie scowled as if he’d been insulted. “Just telling you what I heard.”

“She has a kid.” Purposely he led Lonnie astray.

As expected that news backed Lonnie up. Any hint of commitment scared the daylights out of him. “Whoa. Bad news.” Completing his chore, he dropped a bag of trash, mostly beer cans into a nearby receptacle. “No wonder you’re keeping your distance,” he said before sauntering away from Kane.

Keeping his distance? Hardly.

Rachel had spent the morning playing catch up on sleep. She’d felt more rested than she’d expected, and except for Heather’s usual 2 a.m. feeding, she’d slept through the night, able to ignore the storm.

She bathed Heather, emptied her suitcase and hung the clothes in the closet, but whiled away the rest of the day. By three o’clock she hadn’t accomplished anything else. The mistake she made was digging into her shoulder bag for a piece of peppermint candy. Once her fingers curled over the paperback in her purse, she hadn’t budged from the chair until after the author had her protagonist discover the first murder.

A touch annoyed with herself, Rachel grabbed her keys and made her way to the front door, intending on bringing Heather’s things in from the van, then going to the store for formula. She took only one step onto the porch.

At some time earlier Kane had taken her keys from the kitchen counter where she’d dropped them. Before leaving for the boat, he must have brought to the porch the bouncing exerciser that resembled a car, an infant swing, and several boxes filled with baby clothing and blankets.

Rachel left all of it there, certain no one would take anything. The late-afternoon air carried a pleasant warmth. Hours ago the sun had burned away the mist off the Atlantic Ocean.

She pushed Heather’s navy-colored stroller with its blue-and-white-striped canopy across the street and strolled along the cliff walk that traveled parallel with the water. She took in the rocky cliffs, the water crowded with boats sparkling beneath the sunlight. Everything from the smell of the salt-scented breeze to the sight of the deserted, weathered wood shacks made her feel at home. A gentle breeze whipped through her hair. Several gulls trailed a boat, skimmed the water for food.

Little had changed in the sixteen years since she’d left Hubbard Bay. It had maintained its small-town appearance. Generations of families lived in the town. Store owners passed businesses on to their children. Progress and expensive condos for summer tourists sprang up at more picturesque towns.

Hubbard Bay beckoned the tourist who wanted to see authentic New England, yearned for the feel of the ocean on the skin, viewed the weathered clapboard houses as quaint, instead of shabby. She’d spent years in Texas, longing for the smell of the ocean and wondered now how she would ever leave it again.

For the next hour she browsed along the part of Main Street’s string of cottages that were used for businesses, mostly antique shops, though intermingled between them stood an insurance company, a baby store, a clothing boutique and several souvenir shops.

Feeling more content, more at peace than she had in ages, she strolled into the grocery store for formula. Though groceries were needed, she wanted to talk to Kane first about his food preferences. That Velma wasn’t working made her feel as if she’d gotten a reprieve from the woman’s interrogation.

In a good mood, she took a different route back to the house. She’d breathed a sigh of relief too soon, she realized. She was almost at the walkway of the house when she spotted Velma. Politeness forced Rachel to stop, but she eyed the house, wondering how to make a quick escape.

“Nice to see you again, Rachel. Did you get settled in?”

“Yes, I—”

“Guess you found Kane Riley since you’re staying there,” she said with a backhand wave at the house.

“Guess so,” Rachel responded, not surprised that where she was staying was public knowledge.

Bending slightly forward, Velma scrutinized Heather’s carriage with the removable infant seat. “Newfangled-type thing.” The lines in the woman’s face deepened. “Will your husband be coming?”

Rachel knew her answer, an honest one, would travel over the gossip grapevine faster than the speed of light. “I’m not married.” She should have clarified everything, told Velma that the baby was Marnie’s, but she wasn’t in a mood for explanations.

“I see,” was all the woman said.

Rachel took a step toward the house. She could make a mad dash for it, but that seemed silly. “I need to go in now, Velma. It’s almost time for Heather’s bottle.”

“He got that house, got everything of Charlie Greer’s after the old man died, you know,” Velma said before she’d taken another step. “Of course, that was Kane Riley’s fault.” Rachel didn’t miss the slight shift in the woman’s mouth as if she’d just sniffed something disdainful. “What’s that thing on the porch? One of those things the baby bounces in?”

Frowning at her words, Rachel traced the woman’s stare to the bright-yellow car on the porch. “Yes.”

Velma’s scowl deepened. “Little young for that, isn’t she?”

“It was given as a shower gift for later.” Rachel couldn’t stop herself. “What’s his fault?” she asked in regard to Velma’s previous quip about Kane.

“Old Charlie’s death. Shouldn’t have happened.”

Rachel checked herself from delving deeper. Was the woman really talking about something that had happened years ago? Anything Velma said might be only gossip, old gossip, she decided.

“You should know the truth. People hold Charlie’s death against him. They—” Velma’s voice died as she looked past her.

With an askance glance, Rachel saw Kane’s truck. She swung back to tell Velma that she’d talk with her tomorrow. The woman was gone, scurrying down the path toward the town square.

Rachel wished she could ignore the woman’s words, but they bothered her. She waited on the porch for Kane while he parked. Loyalty to Marnie had made her want to defend him even though she didn’t know the facts.

“Were you warned to keep your distance?” he asked, with his approach up the walk, as if he could tell they’d been talking about him. Gossiping, actually. The stubble of an evening beard toughened his looks. What appeared to be motor oil stained the right side of his navy T-shirt near its hem.

“I told you that I’m not concerned.” As a young girl when she’d visited Marnie, she had never shied from Kane because of what others thought about him. She’d kept her distance for fear she would act like a blubbering idiot if he talked to her. Back then, sullen and distant, he’d never bothered with her. If given a choice, he’d probably do that now, too, Rachel thought.

“You’re too nice, Rachel.” Smoky-gray eyes locked on hers while he climbed the stairs. She felt herself being baited and didn’t bite. “You’d say anything to keep from repeating some dire message about the evil Kane Riley.”

“Are you boasting?”

The firm line of his mouth twitched as if he was truly tempted to smile. He didn’t, and she wondered why he held himself so aloof that he wouldn’t give in to such a simple response. “Pick up the baby, and I’ll carry that in for you,” he said, gesturing toward the carriage.

Rachel was determined to make some headway at a friendlier relationship. “Thank you for emptying the van for me,” she said to get the conversation going.

“No problem.”

She stayed near, waiting for him to collapse the buggy. “I’ll start dinner in a few minutes,” she said, though she wasn’t sure what they’d eat beyond soup and crackers.

“Not for me.”

Rachel stared at his bent head, made a face. She had to get rid of the strain between them. Even a day here with him could seem like an eternity if she didn’t. “Let’s have coffee, then.” She really did have something she needed to say. “We have to talk.”

Bent over the carriage, he didn’t look up as he collapsed it. “About a salary?”

Sensing he would only join her if he felt an obligation to, she nodded. “Yes, that and something else. Just give me a minute, though.” She hurried to the bedroom to change Heather’s diaper. She really hadn’t given money much thought, but this was a man, like his sister, full of pride, someone who’d insist on taking nothing from anyone. Maybe that was her real goal here. The better she understood him, the easier it would be for her to get through to him about Heather.

Rachel stared down at the little one. Her hair was as dark as her uncle’s. “Hello, sweetheart,” she murmured while she finished diapering her. Lightly she kissed the sole of one tiny foot before slipping it back into the leg of the pink-and-white sleeper. She was so precious, so special. She’s not yours, she reminded herself. That was something she couldn’t afford to forget. Neither was the promise she’d made to Marnie to keep her baby happy and safe.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee drifted to her by the time she approached the kitchen. She’d thought she would make the coffee. She should have known a loner, a solitary man used to fulfilling his own needs, wouldn’t wait for someone else to do something.

“Coffee’s poured,” he said, though his back was to her.

Rachel waited for him to face her. “How did you know I was near?”

“Lemon.” His gaze traveled from her mouth to her hair. “What is it? Your shampoo?”

“My—” Rachel touched her hair. No man had ever noticed something like that about her. “Yes, it is,” she said with a calm she didn’t feel.

“Nice.”

Her legs nearly buckled from shock. Had he actually said something pleasant to her?

He set the cup on the table, crossed to the window, stared up at the sky as if judging the weather. “I’m not rich. But I could come up with a sensible amount for a salary.”

Somewhat recovered, Rachel listened as he offered an amount she viewed as more than generous. “That’s fine.” Aware that he’d probably resist what she had to say, she brought up her brightest smile. “But there’s something else we need to discuss.”

When he turned back, she saw that wariness had returned to his eyes. He probably felt deluged by problems.

Rachel knew she was going to give him another one. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to search for Heather’s father.” To avoid the darkening of his stare, she moved to the counter and scooped formula into two of Heather’s bottles. He was silent for so long that she felt compelled to look at him.

“That’s not the first time I got the impression you were against looking for him.” Surprising her, he moved near her, lounged against the counter. “Why do you say that?”

“Marnie might not have wanted it.” That’s what bothered her most about his idea. She believed her friend hadn’t thought the father was best for Heather. “She told me to find you, to give Heather to you.”

“The baby is the father’s responsibility.”

He’s like a brick wall, Rachel decided. She fitted the nipple over the neck of the bottle. Was his resistance personal? When he’d said that, had he been thinking about his own father? According to gossip, Ian Riley had cared more about his next drink than his children. If Kane was letting the past influence him, she’d have a difficult time shaking his belief. “That may be true,” she said, hoping to reason with him. “But right now you’re the only family Heather has. And why would he be better than you?” She looked away in response to Heather’s cry. “I need to get her,” she said, already on her way to the doorway.

“Rachel—”

She paused and looked back at him.

“He would be better.”

A world of pain came through clearly with those four words. Did he really believe that? Why was he so hard on himself? In the bedroom, she lifted Heather into her arms, then rushed back to the kitchen for the bottle. His mistake was still being there. Rachel persisted. “You think a man who used Marnie and left her would be a better father for Heather?”

A hint of challenge skimmed his voice. “You know that for sure?”

“Well, no, but—” She cupped a hand around Heather’s bottle. “Marnie could have revealed the name of her baby’s father, but she never had, never indicated she wanted Heather anywhere except with you.” Greedily Heather sucked on the nipple. “Marnie had thought you’d be best for Heather.”

Under his breath, he muttered something earthy. “That’s what you think. You don’t know that for sure.”

Protectively Rachel brought Heather a little closer to her breast. Why was life so complicated for her? “You’ve never looked at her,” she said as he started to step away.

Stilling, he half turned toward her. “What?”

“The baby. You’ve never really looked at Heather.” Rachel removed the bottle and lowered the blanket that curtained Heather’s tiny face. Eyes squeezed tight, she pursed her lips in a sucking motion. “She’s dark-haired like Marnie.” Rachel raised her gaze. “Like you.”

He was staring. Just staring.

“She really looks like Marnie. She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”