Читать книгу Custody for Two - Karen Smith Rose - Страница 8

As Dylan carried the last of his gear into his apartment, the space definitely had the feel of a bachelor pad not lived in for six months. Situated on the second floor of a rambling old farmhouse on the outskirts of town, Dylan kept it for when he returned to the area. The retired farmer who lived on the first floor kept watch for him and sent someone in to clean once a month when he wasn’t home. It had always suited his purposes just fine.

Yet now the place held so many memories of Julia and her years with him that he felt bombarded. Although he could now indulge in a bit of luxury if he wanted to, he hadn’t. Practically furnished when Julia had lived here, he’d replaced the second-hand sofa with a more contemporary comfortable one. The TV and sound system sitting on pine shelves were utilitarian, too, rather than up to date. Julia had bought the setup for him one Christmas after she and Will were married. His small kitchen with its bar and stools was functional, and he still slept in the thrift-shop bed he’d bought after he’d landed his first job. The second bedroom, which had been his sister’s, was now filled with file cabinets that stored transparencies and negatives. Cartons of photographic equipment were stacked in any spare space. A third bedroom was occupied with state-of-the-art equipment—computer, scanner, two printers and a fax machine. Julia had often shaken her head with a smile and told him he should invest in drapes rather than update his computer. But he never had.

In spite of the memories, the unlived-in feel of the apartment bothered him now, when it never had before. Because he’d lost Julia and she’d never be calling to chat with him again while he worked? She’d never be testing out a new recipe on him when he was home? She’d never be—

The thoughts tightened his chest and made breathing difficult.

After Dylan turned up the heat, he stripped off his clothes and showered, letting the sluicing hot water splash away images that were just too painful.

He’d found a pair of clean jeans and was pulling on a tan-colored, long-sleeved flannel shirt when his cell phone beeped. He’d placed it in the charger on the bedroom dresser. He picked it up, bracing himself as he switched it on.

“Mr. Malloy? It’s Dr. Carrera.”

Dylan’s heart hammered faster. “Yes, Doctor.”

“What’s your blood type?”

“AB positive.”

“Good. Timmy is anemic and we think a transfusion will help. Fortunately he’s AB positive, too. Would you be willing to give blood? Or should we go to the blood bank?”

“Of course, I’ll give blood. I’ll be there in five minutes.” Something about giving his life force to his nephew seemed right.

“Careful on the roads, Mr. Malloy. Snow’s making them slick and we don’t want any further tragedies.”

Further tragedies. Such a generic way of putting it. The words didn’t begin to cover what Dylan was feeling.

“Is Miss Bartholomew still there?” he asked before the doctor hung up.

“Yes, she is. She also wanted to volunteer for a transfusion but she’s not a match.”

A picture of Shaye was beginning to form in his mind; a picture of a woman who was a caregiver. He hadn’t known many women like that in his life and neither had Julia. Maybe that’s why his sister had gravitated toward Shaye.

Thinking first and foremost about the transfusion he was going to give Timmy, Dylan grabbed his jacket, wallet and keys and headed for the hospital.

When Dylan met Dr. Carrera in the emergency room, he asked, “Is this really going to help?”

“I’m hoping it will. Nothing in medicine is a certainty.”

“Nothing in life is a certainty,” Dylan muttered.

The staff was pleasant and friendly, but Dylan wished he was anywhere but here.

That was especially so a half hour later when Shaye peeked into the cubicle. “How are you doing?” she asked.

They’d just removed the paraphernalia needed to withdraw his blood. He was glad Shaye hadn’t stopped in five minutes sooner when he’d been flat on his back. He didn’t like the idea of her seeing him as anything but strong.

“I’m fine. The toughest part of this is signing all the paperwork,” he joked. “There’s more red tape in giving blood than in applying for a visa.”

Coming into the room, she shrugged. “I wouldn’t know about that. I’ve never been out of the U.S.”

Rolling down the sleeve of his flannel shirt, he buttoned the cuff. “Did you ever want to see the rest of the world?”

“Not really.” She came a few steps closer. “I went to a conference in New York City once and hated it. Too much hustle and bustle. I’ve also been to California, and that was okay. There’s some pretty scenery there, especially around Big Sur. But I love the mountains and the plains and the hot springs, the cactus and sage. I love the old-fashioned flavor of this town and its history.” She shrugged again. “I’m happy here.”

Her hair brushing against her cheek distracted Dylan. So did the pretty amber of her eyes. “I guess that’s the difference between us. I was never happy here. I always wanted more. I wanted to run free, stopping when I pleased, moving on when I liked.”

“Like the wild mustangs,” she remarked softly.

A nurse bustled in, bringing Dylan a glass of juice. He drank it quickly, handing the glass back with a thank-you.

She’d disappeared when Shaye said, “Julia didn’t feel like that at all. She didn’t want to wander, either. Maybe it’s a woman thing. I’ve met other men who seem to be searching for something.”

The way she said it, wandering was a dirty word. “I don’t think needing space and wanting to travel has anything to do with being male or female,” he protested, reading an underlying message in what Shaye had said…a possible story in her background.

As he stood, he felt almost exhausted.

She was by his side in an instant. “You’re looking kind of gray. Are you okay?”

“Just tired. I’m going to bunk on the sofa upstairs in the waiting room.”

Still gazing at him with those beautiful, soft, golden-brown eyes, she asked, “When was the last time you ate?”

Before he could answer, a tall, husky, bearded man in a parka appeared in the doorway. “I could ask you the same question.”

Shaye turned at the sound of an obviously familiar voice. “Randall! What are you doing here?”

“Barb sent me. She said I should hogtie you if I had to and drag you back to our place for a decent meal. You can’t live here twenty-four hours a day. Those are her words and mine. What are you doing down here, anyway? One of the nurses pointed me in this direction.”

As Shaye studied the older of her two brothers, she realized he looked as if he should work in a logging camp. Instead, he was an X-ray technician and had probably just gotten off duty.

Turning to Dylan, Shaye said, “Dylan, this is my brother, Randall. Randall, this is Julia’s brother, Dylan Malloy. He just gave blood for Timmy.”

“I see.” After he extended his condolences and Dylan thanked him, Randall glanced at Shaye thoughtfully, then back at Dylan. “You are looking a bit gray around the gills. Why don’t you come along with us? My wife always has a refrigerator full of leftovers.”

“I’ll grab something in the cafeteria,” Dylan answered, looking uncomfortable.

“The cafeteria is closed,” Shaye told him. “You’d have to get one of those dry sandwiches out of the vending machines. Come with us. We don’t have to be gone long. You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten.”

As soon as Shaye said the words, she knew they weren’t true. Nothing could help the way Dylan was feeling. But the food would help keep his body strong…and hers, too.

Dylan mulled over her advice. “I want to go upstairs first and talk to Dr. Carrera.”

“We can do that. Randall, if you don’t want to wait, I can drive us over.”

“I want to know how Timmy’s doing, too. I can wait, then I can drive you back.”

Unsettled by her reaction to Julia’s brother, Shaye watched him carefully as they all got into the elevator and went upstairs, grateful Randall was along. With a chaperone of sorts, she didn’t have to worry so much about the increase of her pulse or the excitement that tingled through her when she was close to Dylan. However, when Randall gave her an interested glance, she knew that might not be true. In the close quarters of the elevator, she could feel a pull toward Dylan that shocked her. If she had to admit it, she’d felt that same pull at Julia’s graduation when she’d met him, and had run from it.

She’d known what Dylan Malloy did for a living and she’d wanted no part of an involvement with a man like him.

A half hour later Dylan found himself seated at Barb and Randall Bartholomew’s kitchen table, enjoying a dinner of warmed-up barbecued back ribs, parsley potatoes and green beans. Shaye was daintily cutting meat off her ribs with a knife and fork while he just picked up a portion. Maybe he’d become less civilized in his travels, not in tune with the needs of humans but rather in tune with the animals he photographed.

“We’re ready for bed, Mommy,” came a childish girl’s voice from the upstairs of the old Victorian house. Dylan had met Barb and Randall’s kids briefly when he’d come in. They were six and seven, and as soon as they’d found out he photographed animals, they’d been full of questions until Randall had shooed them off to get ready for bed.

“I’ll be up in a minute,” Barb called.

“I’ll go with you.” Randall pointed to the chocolate-chip brownies sitting on a dish on the counter. “Help yourselves,” he said with a wink as he and Barb left the kitchen and went to put their kids to bed.

Left alone with Shaye, uncomfortable silence fell between them. “They’re nice people,” Dylan commented.

“My brother used to be a real bug when we were growing up. He pushed the limits as far as he could to see if I could handle him or if I had to bring Dad in on it. But he’s mellowing with age.”

“Or maybe you are,” Dylan responded, recognizing changes in himself…in his way of thinking as he’d gotten older.

She gave a little laugh. “I guess that’s true.”

After Dylan finished his potatoes, he kept the conversation rolling, not only to fill the silence but because he wanted to know more about Shaye. “Randall mentioned he’s an X-ray technician.”

She set her fork beside her plate. “Yes, he is. He didn’t want to be a rancher or to run a small business. He liked the medical field but he certainly didn’t want the hours our father put in. He and Barb met in high school, so he didn’t want to spend too many years studying, either. Becoming an X-ray technician seemed to be a good compromise.”

“Does Barb work?”

“No, she’s always been available for the kids, helping out at the school. But…”

“But?”

“She’s volunteered to take care of Timmy for me once he’s out of the hospital…once I go back to work.”

“You’re making plans.” Dylan’s voice was low as he realized how Shaye’s life was going to change.

“I have to. I have to believe everything will work out. I don’t know how long Timmy will be in the hospital. After he comes home I’ll take a couple of months off and then go back about thirty hours a week for a while.”

Suddenly he thought about Timmy’s inheritance and what that could mean to Shaye. “Timmy will inherit everything of Julia’s and Will’s.” He watched her carefully to gauge her reaction.

“Yes, he will. But all of that will go into an account for his education. I don’t want to touch it.”

After Dylan thought that over, he asked, “Has Will’s mother been to the hospital to see Timmy? I know her arthritis limits her mobility.”

“She was in this morning, but it’s so painful for her to look at him. She remembers everything she’s lost. She’ll be returning to Nebraska right after the service. I promised her I’d call her often to let her know how Timmy is doing.”

Dylan knew he had to bring up what he’d been thinking and feeling. “I don’t know if it’s right for me to let you do this. I’m Timmy’s uncle and he should be my responsibility.”

Shaye’s face went pale. “A child has to be more than a responsibility, and I think Julia knew that. She also knew I love children and I’d cherish one of my own—not just feel responsible. Eventually, I’m going to file for adoption, but not until Timmy’s healthy and everything’s on an even keel. I want to be Timmy’s mother.”

Something else had been bothering Dylan. “Are you involved with anyone?” He didn’t care if the question sounded blunt because he needed to know. A beautiful woman like Shaye certainly didn’t sit alone on her free nights.

“No, I’m not,” she answered easily. “I can give all my time and attention to Timmy. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I wasn’t worried. I was more concerned your significant other wouldn’t be able to accept a child not his flesh and blood.” He couldn’t bear to leave Timmy in a situation like that.

“I’m not involved with anyone,” she said again.

“Surely, you date.”

“Actually, I don’t very much. My work takes up a lot of my time…at least, it did before Timmy. And I socialize with my good friends on weekends, or with my family. I have a full life, Dylan. I don’t need a man in it.”

“You don’t need a man in it, or you don’t want a man in it?” Now his interest was piqued. Was Shaye just a typical modern woman who could find happiness on her own? Or was there a reason behind her independence?

She pushed her plate back and crossed her arms in front of her on the table. “You’re fishing. What do you want to know?”

In spite of himself, Dylan had to smile. He liked Shaye’s up-front attitude. “I’m wondering if you had a bad experience that made you create your life the way it is.”

When she tucked her silky hair behind one ear, the wave of it curled on her shoulder. “I was involved with someone when I was in college. It didn’t end well.”

If he wasn’t careful, he knew she’d clam up and not tell him more. “When you were an undergrad?” he asked.

“No, when I was working on my master’s degree. He was a guest lecturer—an archeologist.”

Sensing Shaye wouldn’t go on unless he poked a bit, he did. “He wanted you to leave Wild Horse Junction with him, but you wanted to stay here.”

“Not exactly. I loved him. I thought we were building something important. I would have gone with him if he had asked. But he didn’t ask. He received a grant for a dig in India, and he didn’t even consider taking me with him.”

“Maybe he guessed you wouldn’t be happy.”

“I never had a chance to find out…because apparently his feelings for me weren’t as deep as mine were for him.”

Although Shaye had recounted her story as if it were old history, Dylan could hear the refrain of betrayal that ran through it—the pain that had never completely gone away.

“How about you?” she asked.

He’d left himself wide open for that one. “My life hasn’t been conducive to serious involvement.”

“But it is to non-serious involvement?”

The hint of disapproval in the question had him watching how he answered. “Even a wanderer needs company besides his camera now and then.” Though truth be told, that kind of company wore thin and he’d rather be alone or trekking after a photograph he’d never taken before.

As if his answer disturbed her, Shaye restlessly rearranged her silverware, stood and picked up the plate of brownies on the counter. When she brought them over to the table, she set them in front of him.

“Not interested?” he asked with a half-smile.

“I don’t give in to chocolate cravings often because I know it’s habit-forming.”

“I admire your willpower.”

“I’m not sure willpower has anything to do with it.” She smiled back. “I’m just vain.”

“I doubt that.”

She looked up at him, surprised. “Why would you say that?”

“Because selfish people are vain, and I already know that you’re not selfish.”

Her cheeks took on some color. Leaning away from him and their conversation, she began to clear the table. “We’d better get back to Timmy. I don’t want to be gone too long.”

“Neither do I.” Timmy was the only essence of Julia he had left. Seeing him made losing Julia even more real. But seeing him also reminded Dylan the baby was an essential part of his sister that he could hold on to.

Dylan’s deep, heartfelt words turned Shaye to face him once again. Their gazes locked and held. A vision of holding Shaye in his sleeping bag under the stars was so incredibly real, he ached to do it. His physical response was so strong that he set his brownie back on the plate. It seemed the pain he was experiencing over the loss of his sister was rebounding into an attraction to Shaye.

Breaking eye contact, he muttered, “I think I’ll skip dessert, too.” She obviously knew what was good for her. Dylan reminded himself what was good for him. While he was in Wild Horse Junction, Timmy was his main concern…his only concern.

Dylan stood in the NICU, looking down at his nephew. He’d let Shaye visit first since he needed a little time to prepare. He wasn’t sure what he’d prepared for because the sight of the tiny baby on the ventilator to help him breathe was heartbreaking. All Dylan could do was wish Timmy life, wish him good health, wish Timmy could have known his mother and father. Dylan had long ago stopped praying, stopped believing that someone had a master plan.

After losing his parents, after losing Julia to the foster care system for a while, he’d known a man created his own destiny. If he didn’t take control of it, others would. Now, standing beside Timmy’s bed, he wished he could believe that prayer could make a difference. He wished he could believe that one day he’d see his parents and Julia again.

After his visiting time with Timmy was up, he went to the waiting room. Shaye wasn’t there, though her coat hung beside his on the rack. By the time he crossed to the window to look down on the lamplit street, Shaye came through the door, her arms full of pillows and blankets.

“I thought we might need these.”

He’d been in such shock when he’d first arrived, confused by his sister’s decision, that he hadn’t completely appreciated Shaye’s beauty. In spite of that, her presence had impacted him and now he realized why. Her silky burnished-brown hair moved around her face when she walked. He’d seen amber mined from the earth that was the rich color of her golden-brown eyes. When he was close enough to her, he could just make out the smattering of almost invisible freckles on her cheeks. From what he could tell, she didn’t use makeup to try to cover anything, and he liked that natural look. Now, as she walked across the room, he couldn’t help but admire her trim figure.

He glanced again at her arms full of blankets and pillows. There was one long sofa in the waiting room and several chairs.

“I’ll push two of the chairs together,” Dylan told her as he slipped a pillow and blanket from her arms.

“You won’t be able to sleep like that.”

“I’ve slept on worse. Don’t forget, I’m used to a tent.”

“Whether you want to admit it or not,” Shaye argued with him, “you’re practically dead on your feet. I’m not there yet, but getting there fast.”

She glanced at the sofa. “I checked to see if they had any of those recliners we could wheel in, but they’re all in use. We’ll have to share. From the looks of the sofa, we can both stretch out.” When she added the last with a little smile, he realized he liked her positive outlook. He liked a lot of things about her.

“We can try it,” he said doubtfully. “On the other hand, you could go back to your place and get a good night’s sleep. I’ll call you if anything happens.”

“Or you could go back to your place and I could call you.”

Already Dylan knew Shaye wouldn’t budge on this. “The sofa it is,” he decided, going to it and shaking out the blanket.

The whole idea of sharing the sofa seemed like a common sense one until Shaye plunked on one end and looked at him as if to figure out how to accomplish the feat.

“You can put your legs on the inside,” he suggested.

Propping her pillow against the arm of the sofa, she swung her legs up close to the back. “It’s a good thing this is wide.”

“And long,” Dylan remarked, lying back against his pillow.

After he swung his feet up beside Shaye’s hip, he crossed one over the other to take up less room. She was small and he was long. Somehow they seemed to fit like two puzzle pieces. The thing was, his legs were smack against hers. Even with corduroy and denim between them, he found he couldn’t help but imagine the curve of her leg, the probable smoothness of her skin.

Aroused, he picked up the blanket and tossed it over them. He’d simply been without a woman for too long. That was all. However, as he lay there, he could smell the traces of a sweet, rose-scented perfume that did as much to arouse him as her leg against his. He’d noticed it earlier and wondered if it was shampoo or lotion or perfume. Wondering about it brought other visions he didn’t want to entertain—Shaye smoothing lotion on her arms, Shaye dabbing perfume on her pulse points, Shaye under the shower washing her hair…

Damn! He must be more than sleep deprived if he couldn’t control the path of his thoughts. Dylan considered himself flexible, but he always liked to be in control. Since he’d returned to Wild Horse Junction, he didn’t seem to have any control. He’d left the small town to run his own life…to find freedom…to take what he wanted in a world that was so big he couldn’t explore it all.

Uncomfortable silence filled the waiting room. Dylan didn’t move, not wanting to remind himself of how close Shaye was. His mind told him to close his eyes so his body could sleep.

Instead of closing his eyes, curiosity nudged him to ask, “You said you have another brother besides Randall?”

“Yes, I do.”

“What does the other one do?”

“John manages the feed store.”

“Is he married?”

“Nope.”

His mind wandered back to their dinner at Randall and Barb’s. “You were great around your brother’s kids. It’s obvious they like you to visit.”

“I try to spend Sunday evenings with them.”

He had never been around kids at all. Although Shaye’s mother had died, she knew a lot about being a mother from a practical standpoint.

Veering off that track, he suddenly wanted to know more. “How did you survive growing up with a house full of males?”

She laughed, a soft musical sound that seemed to ripple through him. “It wasn’t easy. I often felt as if I were on an alien planet. But I have two really good friends who I’ve known since grade school. They were my ‘sisters.’ Once all of us started riding bikes, we could get to each other’s places. I had plenty of girl-time with them.”

“The three of you are still friends?”

“I don’t know what I’d do without them. When I got the call about Julia… They both stayed with me the first day until I finally shooed them off. Gwen, Kylie and I have been through a lot. We’re always there for each other.”

Shaye’s life was hard for Dylan to fathom. She had lots of family and close friends. He had friends, but they were colleagues, not anyone he’d turn to in times of trouble.

Tomorrow he’d have to tend to Julia’s memorial service, contact Will Grayson’s widowed mother to find out if she wanted to have the service separately or together.

After a considering moment, he asked Shaye, “Was Julia happy?”

Shaye’s voice was gentle. “Yes, she was happy. Couldn’t you tell?”

“The last couple of years, I didn’t know if she was just putting on her party face when I was in town. She seemed happy when she e-mailed me. She told me about everything she and Will did together when they weren’t working. Was that real or was she just filling the screen so I’d have something to read?”

“It was real. She and Will liked being together and I rarely saw them apart. When Will found out she was pregnant, he brought home balloons and a teddy bear that was almost as tall as Julia was. They were very happy, Dylan. Never doubt that.”

The week ahead loomed like a dark specter. “I’m going to have to go through her things.”

“Yes, you are. It might be easier to pack them up and put them in storage, then wait a few months till you actually sort them. When my mom died, my dad left her things alone for months. Then slowly, my brothers and I would see a carton go to Goodwill…a few weeks later, another one. Everyone deals with grief in his or her own way.”

Dylan remembered the nights he’d spent in foster care after their parents had died, when he’d been separated from Julia. He hadn’t been able to cry. His eyes had stung, his body had felt heavy with a monumental weight. After a few zombie-like days, he’d begun planning how he would see his sister again, how he would make a life for the two of them. He’d always been a man of action and that was the hardest part of watching Timmy in the NICU. There was absolutely nothing Dylan could do.

Shaye shifted, her hip brushing his leg. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“Don’t worry about it,” he returned automatically, then finally closed his eyes. If he slept, he could escape everything for a few hours.

When he awakened, he’d know what to do.

Six hours later Dylan knew he’d slept in the deep, dreamless world he needed. Glancing at the window, he saw the barest hint of light in the gray sky.

Unable to help himself, his gaze fell on Shaye. She hadn’t moved much, either. Her face was turned toward the back of the sofa, her hair spreading out over the pillow. His fingers suddenly itched to touch it.

Not wanting those yearnings to start all over again, he lowered his feet to the floor.

Coming awake, Shaye hiked herself up on her elbows until she was sitting against the arm of the sofa.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He studied his watch, the hands visible under the light of the lamp that had burned all night.

“I should find one of the nurses and see how Timmy’s doing.”

“They would have come for us if there had been a change.”

Running a hand through her hair, Shaye swung her legs to the floor. She was close enough that their knees brushed, close enough that his shoulder would graze hers if he leaned a little toward her.

Quickly she ran her fingers through her hair again. “I must look a sight.”

“You look fine.” Very fine. His body was humming a song he didn’t know. He’d wanted to kiss women before but not in this same high-potency, high-need kind of way.

So he didn’t touch her. Instead he rubbed his hand over his beard stubble. “I need a shave.”

“You shaved last night.” Her cheeks reddened because her comment told him she’d noticed.

“If I grew a beard, life would be a lot simpler.”

“Do you ever grow a beard?” she asked.

“Sometimes when I’m on a shoot.”

Sitting like this, he thought he felt the desire in her to touch him, just as he had a desire to touch her. Should he find out? Maybe if he quelled his curiosity, he wouldn’t have such a strong reaction to her. Maybe he wouldn’t get aroused every time he breathed her in.

“Do you wear perfume?” he murmured.

Her eyes still on his, she shook her head. “Lotion and powder.”

“What’s it called?”

“Rose Glory.”

He wasn’t sure exactly what happened then—if he reached out to touch her hair or if she leaned into him. The shadowy haze of night, the hush of early morning wrapped around them, creating a world apart. Dylan’s hand clasped her shoulder and when he bent his head, she turned her face up to his. There was a bond between them that had to do with Julia and Timmy and everything they’d both lost. But there was something else, too…electricity that only had to do with the two of them. It zipped and sizzled now as his lips neared hers, as he noticed her wide-eyed look of longing, as he thought about what kissing a woman like Shaye would mean.

Kissing a woman like Shaye. He must be out of his mind!

Dropping his hand away from her and raising his head, he knew he had to give an explanation. “We don’t want to start something we can’t finish.”

Looking startled, it took her a moment to grasp the meaning of his words. Then she blinked and rose to her feet. “There’s nothing to start. There’s nothing to finish. I’m going to see if Timmy’s doctor came into the hospital yet.”

Before Dylan could agree that that was a good idea, she hurried out the door and down the hall.

Standing, Dylan decided not to go after her. He’d get them some black coffee instead so they’d be ready for whatever came next.