Читать книгу Child of His Heart - Joan Kilby - Страница 10

ERIN DIDN’T WAKE UP until ten on Saturday morning. Although she’d gone to bed early and slept soundly, she still felt tired. As she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her stomach lurched queasily. With an involuntary moan, she clutched her midsection. She hoped she wasn’t coming down with the flu.

Later that afternoon, Erin was in the backyard, digging well-composted horse manure into the flower bed. Her stomach had settled down after breakfast. She’d weeded and mulched the mixed beds of perennials and colorful annuals, keeping a watchful eye out that Gran, given the job of trimming dead heads, didn’t overtax herself.

After lunch Gran had gone in for a nap and Erin carried on. She ought to wash the floors when she was finished gardening. Then there was the vacuuming, the bathroom to clean and the laundry. She’d suggested hiring a cleaning lady, but again Gran had been so upset at the thought of a stranger in her house that Erin had given up the idea. Weekdays she got up early and did at least one chore before breakfast so Gran wouldn’t have anything to do. Keeping her grandmother resting was a job in itself.

At the front of the house, the doorbell rang.

“Coming,” she called, scrambling to her feet. She hurried around the side of the house, hoping the ringing hadn’t wakened Gran.

Her heart gave a little leap. Nick Dalton stood on the porch in hip waders and a fishing vest, holding a string of steelhead trout. His wide white grin contrasted sharply with the five o’clock shadow on his strong jaw. “Look what I pulled out of your grandfather’s fishing hole.”

Erin climbed the stairs, pushing at straggly wisps of hair that had broken free of her ponytail, and self-consciously brushing bits of compost off her baggy-kneed, shiny-bottomed track pants. Pants she’d hidden in the back of the linen closet so Geena couldn’t get her ruthless hands on them.

“Three steelhead,” she exclaimed. “Congratulations.”

“I’ve got more. These are for you and your grandmother.”

“Why, thank you.” She started to reach for them, then withdrew her hand when her stomach roiled at the faint but distinctive fishy odor. Her “bug” was back. “You caught them, keep them for yourself.”

He thrust the fish toward her. “If it wasn’t for you I might not have caught any.”

“Really, I insist.” She backed away from the fish and into the front door just as it opened from behind. “Wha— Oh, Gran!”

“Well, what do we have here?” Bright-eyed and sprightly after her rest, she glanced from the string of fish to Nick.

“Nick Dalton, ma’am.” He shook her hand, then presented her with the trout. “My respects to your late husband. I brought you ladies an offering from his fishing hole.”

“Why, thank you. Call me Ruth. I’m pleased to meet you.” Gran gave him a friendly smile. “Erin, why don’t you ask this nice young man in for coffee.”

“Well, he probably has to get back.” She glanced at the dark green Suburban parked at the curb. “Is that your daughter waiting in the car?”

Gran waved a hand. “She can come in, too.”

Nick gazed at his vehicle and thoughtfully stroked his jaw. “Miranda’s wet and muddy. She wouldn’t want to go into anyone’s house.”

“Another time,” Erin said.

“Go home and change first,” Gran suggested hospitably.

“Actually, I was wondering if Erin would like to join us for dinner,” Nick said, speaking to Gran but looking at Erin.

Erin crossed her arms over her rebellious stomach. If Gran wasn’t standing there she was sure she could think of a little white lie. “Uh…”

Before she could speak, Gran reminded her, “Kelly will be here tonight.”

Saved. “That’s right.” She turned to Nick. “Thanks, but I can’t.”

Then Gran’s eyes lit behind her outsize glasses. “Nick and his daughter can come over here and we’ll have ourselves a big old fish fry.”

Erin stared at her grandmother. “I’m sure Nick has other things to do today. Shopping, for example. It’s Saturday.” She’d heard from Kathy down at the grocery store that Nick bought his weekly supplies on Saturday afternoons.

“I went last night, just to keep people on their toes,” he told her with a wink. “But I don’t want to intrude on your family dinner.”

She wasn’t feeling well; she could beg off. But as he backed away, all at once she found herself saying, “No. Please join us.”

Then she glanced at the trout and covered her mouth. She wasn’t up to dealing with fish. “Are they cleaned?”

“They are. But I’ll take them home and wrap them and the others in foil. Ma’am,” he said, retrieving the fish from Gran. “Thanks for the invitation. We’ll see you shortly.”

As he walked back to his car, Gran nudged Erin in the ribs. “I think he likes you.”

ERIN RUMMAGED THROUGH boxes and assorted junk in the garage for the barbecue starter fluid. From the backyard she could hear the tumbling clatter of the briquettes Nick was pouring into the barbecue. Despite telling herself she wasn’t trying to attract or encourage the man, she’d showered, washed her hair and changed into a flowing summer dress that brought out the blue in her eyes. The floors and the laundry could wait.

“Here’s the starter fluid,” Erin said when she rejoined him a moment later, and watched as he poured a liberal dose over the briquettes with a satisfied grin. “You’re enjoying this.”

A playful light in his eyes, he capped the tin of starter fluid. “I’m a fireman.”

Miranda, who sat cross-legged on the grass teasing Chloe into leaping at a dandelion, glanced up. “He’s a firebug. He loves fire.”

These were the first words the girl had uttered besides hello. Erin eyed Nick curiously. “Is that true?”

“I don’t light them, but yeah, I get a buzz out of fighting fires. Most firefighters do.”

“Water—now, that’s a different story,” Miranda said sagely.

“Miranda.”

The ring through Miranda’s nose quivered as she gleefully ignored the warning. “He’s from California and he can’t even swim. He loves boats, but hates being in water.”

Nick laughed it off. “She keeps me humble.”

Erin could have cheerfully smacked the girl. “I can’t ski, even though Mount Baker is barely an hour’s drive away,” she confessed. “I’m terrified I’ll break a leg.”

“Have you two got that barbecue going yet?” Gran called from the back porch. “Kelly and Max and their brood will be here soon.”

Nick held a lit match above the briquettes. “Stand back.”

Whoosh! Orange flames leaped into the air and a burst of intense heat drove Erin back a pace. Through the flames she could see Nick’s face lit by the fire, his hair lifting with the breeze from the backdraft, and his grin of delight. She had to laugh. As annoyed as she’d been with Gran for orchestrating this event, she had to admit she was enjoying his company.

Nick moved around the barbecue and stood beside her. His gaze on the flames, he leaned sideways, his bare arm brushing hers, and the faint scent of his woodsy after-shave came to her over the pungent smells of charcoal and starter fluid. “I appreciate you having us over. It’s nice to be made welcome in a new town.”

She smoothed a hand over her skin where her arm had touched his, wondering if she should move away. Staying put ensured more contact, which seemed to be what he wanted, but was she ready for it? “You’ll soon get to know everyone. And once Miranda starts school she’ll make friends.”

“I hope you’re right. Miranda can be pretty disdainful about small towns.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, effectively increasing the distance between them.

Erin glanced at the girl. She’d put on headphones, and the tinny beat of techno music mingled with the determined chirping of a robin sitting on a branch of the cherry tree above her head. “Raising a daughter on your own must be difficult.”

“Teenagers are like another species altogether. We used to be close, but now it’s hard to find activities we can do together and both enjoy.”

“She went fishing with you.”

“And whined the whole time.”

“Does she like sports?”

“Sure. Let’s see, there’s Internet surfing, telephone marathons…oh, yeah, and she loves racket sports— MTV at top volume.”

Erin chuckled. “I’m coaching the junior girls’ basketball team this year at the YWCA. If Miranda’s interested, I’d love to have her on the team. Our first practice will be a few weeks after school starts.”

“Did you hear that, Miranda?” Nick called.

“What?” she answered lazily.

“Do you want to join Erin’s basketball team?”

“Basketball’s boring.”

Nick picked up the poker lying on the grass and pushed the briquettes around. “According to her, everything’s boring these days except video hits and clothes and—” he paused to shudder “—makeup.” He shook his head and smiled wryly. “I’d give her a few tips but we have completely different coloring.”

Erin glanced at Miranda’s inexpertly applied eye-shadow and dark purple lipstick. Underneath the paint was a pretty, if insecure, young woman. “True, she doesn’t look anything like you,” she said, and added jokingly, “are you sure she’s not the milkman’s child?”

Nick’s smile faded abruptly and he lapsed into stony silence. He gave the briquettes a jab with the poker, raising a shower of sparks.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” Erin broke off; she was making her blunder worse by apologizing.

When Nick glanced up, he was smiling again, his face blandly cheerful. “You wouldn’t happen to have a beer, would you? It’s a little hot here at the coal face.”

She smiled tentatively. “Sure. I’ll get you one and be right back. Miranda,” she called to the girl, “would you like a soda?”

“Yes, please.”

Erin ran up the back steps and into the kitchen, where Gran was mixing a batch of coleslaw in a big stainless steel bowl. Half a dozen foil-wrapped fish lined the counter. “Gran, what are you doing! I said I’d make the salad. Why don’t you take a cool drink outside and find a seat in the shade.”

Ruth gave the mix a final stir and dropped the spoon into the sink. “How’s Nick going to ask you out if you’re in here and he’s out there?”

“Gran, you’re being silly. No, Gran, look at me. Don’t start matchmaking. It’s embarrassing. Anyone would think I’m the old maid the family is trying to marry off.”

“Aren’t you?” her sister teased from the doorway. Kelly came in carrying a plastic-wrapped bowl in one hand and a cake tin in the other. Tammy and Tina milled around her skirt, while her older two, Robyn and Beth, followed carrying extra lawn chairs.

“Here, let me help you.” Erin unloaded the bowl and gave Kelly a hug. “Hi, girls. Robyn, Beth, are you looking forward to going back to school?”

Her question elicited loud groans from nine-year-old Robyn and a shy nod from seven-year-old Beth. Both girls had inherited their mother’s dark hair and brown eyes, though they’d likely be tall like their father.

“Where’s Chloe?” the smaller children demanded.

“Outside,” Ruth said, taking off her apron. “Shall we go find her? Come on, everyone.” She and the children went out the back door.

“I’m glad we could get together today,” Erin said to Kelly. “I’ve hardly seen you since I’ve been back.” She went to the fridge for the cold drinks. “Where’s Max?”

Kelly’s mouth dropped at the corners, the way it did when she was trying not to cry. “He’s not coming. We had a fight. He’s ticked off with me because I worked again last night. But he sends you his love.”

“Oh, Kel.” Erin put the drink cans on the counter. She closed her arms around Kelly again. “It’ll be okay. Say hi to Max for me.”

“I will.” Kelly’s voice quavered; she was definitely not her usual happy-go-lucky self. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall apart.”

“Shh,” Erin whispered. “What’s a sister for? Today’s not a good time for a heart-to-heart, but let’s make a time to talk, just us, really soon.”

“I’d like that.” Kelly reached for a tissue from the box on the counter and blotted her eyes. “I’ve got a pretty busy schedule this week. I might be able to squeeze in an hour for lunch on Thursday.”

“You know, you’re ruining my image of the slow-paced small town,” Erin teased as she brushed the hair out of her little sister’s eyes and straightened the collar of her blouse. “If there’s anything I can do to help, such as baby-sitting, call me. You and Max could go out for a wild night on the town.”

Kelly’s smile returned, full of mischief. “I’d have thought you’d be more interested in your own wild night out—with our gorgeous new fire chief. I saw the way he looked at you the other day.”

Erin rolled her eyes. “Don’t you start. And keep your voice down. He’s in the backyard.”

“You’re kidding!” Kelly went to the window and peered out. “Gosh, Erin, how can you not be interested?”

“He is nice.” She put the cans and some tall glasses on a tray. “Grab that bag of chips, would you?”

“Nice?” Kelly repeated. “That’s all you can say? Nice?”

“Okay, really nice. But John isn’t totally out of the picture. Come on. Let’s take this stuff out. I promised the man a beer.”

THEY ATE AT A CLOTH-COVERED table in the shade of the big old cherry tree that spread its thick limbs across half the backyard. The mellow afternoon was warm and golden, rich with the aroma of barbecued fish and the honeyed scents of late-summer flowers. The queasiness that had dogged Erin on and off all day had abated. Replete and content, she placed her knife and fork atop her empty plate and sat back.

“That trout was the best I’ve ever tasted,” she pronounced with a smile for Nick. “My compliments to the chef.”

He raised his glass, holding her gaze across the table. “Thank you.”

Erin didn’t miss Kelly’s and Gran’s quick exchange of glances, but she hoped Nick had. Her sister and grandmother had thus far resisted embarrassing her, but she had a horrible feeling that was about to end.

“I hear there’s a new movie on at the theater,” Kelly said with a casual innocence Erin recognized as one-hundred-percent calculated. “A romantic comedy.”

“Sounds like just your sort of film, Erin,” Gran said, picking up her cue like a pro.

Erin silently began stacking empty plates together.

“What type of movies do you like, Nick?” Kelly continued in the same innocent tone.

Erin leaned over to take her sister’s dish and whispered in her ear, “Cut it out.”

Before Nick could say anything, Miranda spoke up. “Dad likes action movies. Car chases and explosions. Guy stuff.”

“Thank you, Miranda,” he said good-humoredly. “I have been known to branch out on occasion.”

“Perhaps dining out is more your style,” Gran suggested. “Nearby Simcoe has several fine restaurants and Seattle is only an hour away.”

“Erin lived there for years. She’s familiar with all the best spots,” Kelly chimed in.

Erin sighed. There was no stopping them.

“Dad hates to eat out,” Miranda countered quickly. “Plain home cooking—that’s what he likes.”

“Erin’s a wonderful cook,” Gran and Kelly said together.

Miranda’s beringed nostrils flared as she clearly tried desperately to think of a comeback.

Erin glanced sideways at Nick and burst out laughing, relieved to see the humorous twinkle in his eye. “Isn’t family wonderful?” she asked him, rising from the table.

“Gotta love ‘em,” Nick agreed. He rose, too. “I’ll help you clear up the dishes.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Erin apologized when they’d reached the kitchen. “Gran and Kelly have no idea when to quit.”

“They mean well, which is more than I can say for Miranda.”

“She doesn’t need to feel threatened.”

Nick set his stack of bowls in the sink. “I know, although try to convince her of that.”

Erin heard the click from the New Haven shelf clock that signaled the hour. If Nick heard it, he didn’t realize the significance, because a second later he jumped as the house resonated with the melodious combination of bells and bongs.

“What the hell?” He turned in a slow circle, trying to locate the source of the echoing chimes. He stopped in front of the shelf clock, with its wooden front carved in the shape of a church. “This isn’t making all that noise.”

“It’s only one of seven. I collect clocks,” Erin said, pitching her voice above the chimes. “MTV has nothing on me as far as racket goes.”

“That’s an unusual hobby. I bet you never miss an appointment. You’ll have to show them all to me someday, but speaking of time…” Nick eyed his watch. “Miranda and I had better get going.”

Erin went with him to the back door. “If she changes her mind about playing basketball, let me know.”

“I’ll do that.” He paused, head lowered in thought. Then he glanced up, his mouth serious. “Erin?”

Erin found herself looking for the twinkle that lurked in his eyes. “Yes?”

“Would you like to trade sandwiches again on Monday?”

Decision time. Part of her had been hoping he would ask to see her again, but now that the moment was here, she let a beat go by, then another. Hands loosely linked in front of him, he waited, confident but not arrogant. Exuding masculinity. Regarding her curiously, patiently.

“My fiancé in Seattle…ex-fiancé,” she amended painfully. “It’s only fair to warn you, we may get back together.”

Nick spread his hands. “This isn’t a marriage proposal. Just an invitation to lunch.”

Only lunch. Yet deep down, she knew there was more to it than they were pretending; otherwise why would accepting seem so significant?

In spite of her reservations, she found herself saying, “In that case, I’d like that very much.”

THE NEXT DAY, SUNDAY, Erin felt queasy most of the day. It couldn’t be Kelly’s potato salad, she reasoned, because Gran had eaten some and she felt fine. And it couldn’t be the flu because she had no other symptoms.

A sudden thought made her palms dampen.

That last weekend with John… No. No way! They’d used protection every single time. She was too cautious not to, and John was too averse to children. She must have a stomach bug. Erin ignored the mild nausea as best she could and went on with her day.

Monday morning, she threw up in the toilet.

Her bare toes curling against the tile floor, she shivered inside her flannel bathrobe. But not because she was sick with food poisoning or gastroenteritis.

Inside she knew with cold certainty exactly what her condition was. She couldn’t bring herself to voice her suspicion. Not yet. Not until the evidence was before her.

She dressed quickly and slipped out of the house before breakfast to drive thirty miles down the highway to Simcoe to buy a pregnancy testing kit. Once home again, she ran up the stairs to the bathroom before Gran could ask her where she’d been. With trembling fingers she administered the test and sat on the closed toilet seat to wait for the results.

The procedure was a mere formality. Erin knew even before the indicator strip turned color that she was pregnant. Now that she thought about it, her period was over a week late—she, who’d always been as regular as a Swiss timepiece. Yet she stared at the stick of damp paper with numb disbelief.

She was going to have a baby. A tiny thread of delight curled inside her heart. And then disappeared as she contemplated the reality of her situation.

She and John were anything but a couple. Raising a child by herself? She adored her sister’s kids, but the thought of being responsible for children of her own was daunting. Babies, especially, terrified her. They weren’t like numbers, predictable and compliant, staying put in neat columns and always adding up the same. Erin tried to recapture the shred of delight, but it was gone, overwhelmed by a host of fears for the uncertain future.

She forced herself to adhere to her morning routine—shower, dress, makeup and hair. Everything went wrong. She applied conditioner first instead of shampoo and wondered why it didn’t lather. Then she ripped three pairs of stockings before she thought to file down a ragged nail. Her hand shook and pins rained onto the tile floor as she fumbled to roll her hair flat against the back of her head. By the time she hurried out the door, her clocks were chiming nine, the hour at which she should have been at the bank.

All her life she’d put one foot in front of the other, always knowing where she was headed. This morning when she stepped onto the sidewalk to go to work she felt as though the universe had shifted. Nothing looked familiar. Not the cream picket fence that bordered Gran’s house or the broad-leafed maples that lined the street. Next door, Mrs. Contafio waved to her from her front step, where she was retrieving her milk and newspaper. Erin walked past, aware only of the knot in her stomach.

She was going to be a mother. And she was scared spitless.

Despite being late for work, her footsteps slowed as she approached the fire station. What guy would be interested in a woman who was pregnant by another man? The answer came to her with the swiftness of instinct—not Nick. Her mind flashed back to her joke about Miranda and the milkman and how Nick had reacted. She didn’t know what that was all about, but she’d obviously touched a sore spot.

She walked softly, not wanting to attract attention, but he must have been watching for her. Even before she was abreast of the station, he strolled out of the truck bay. He glanced at his watch, then thrust his hands in his pockets as casually as if he were merely taking a breath of air. On the sidewalk, he awaited her approach.

His dark hair and freshly shaven jaw gleamed in the morning sunlight. “Good morning. Beautiful day.”

She felt his gaze absorbing her hair, her face, her legs. Beautiful woman, his eyes added silently. He couldn’t see the nervous flutter in her stomach. Or the baby in her womb.

“It’s lovely,” she agreed.

“Perfect for lunch in the park.”

Be firm but nice, she told herself. He would know the reason for her backing off soon enough. For now he would just have to think of her as fickle. “I was going to call you. I…” Despite her resolve to be brave, her voice wobbled. Hoping he hadn’t noticed, she cleared her throat and said more firmly, “I won’t be able to make it.”

There was a moment’s pause, and then he said easily, “No problem. We’ll do it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s no good, either.” Her hands wanted to twist themselves around the strap of her leather handbag. She forced them to be still, and radiated calm and certainty. Aloofness.

A tiny frown line appeared between his eyebrows, but his voice was even. “What day would be good?”

Erin took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Nick. This isn’t going to work out. I…I’ve got to go. I’m late.”

She started to walk away, heart pounding.

“Wait!” He strode after her and put a hand on her arm. “I don’t understand. What happened between Saturday evening and this morning to change your mind?”

She couldn’t stand it; her gaze dropped. For some inexplicable reason, the sight of her Jimmy Choos with the kitten heels toe to toe with his polished black leather brogues filled her with loss. Lifting her eyes to his, she answered, “I…I’ve had time to think. You know how people in small towns talk.”