Читать книгу Colton Baby Homecoming - Lara Lacombe - Страница 11

Chapter 4

Ridge paced in front of the bank of windows that overlooked the woods at the back of his cabin, patting the baby’s back with a steady thump.

“It’s really coming down out there,” he observed quietly to no one in particular. As if to punctuate his observation a flash of lightning split the sky, the brightness illuminating the ground and revealing the raging river his backyard had become. “I hope the barn is still standing,” he muttered.

Ridge enjoyed working with his hands, and had taken great pride in building his cabin from the ground up. But after he’d finished construction, he’d felt at loose ends. He was so used to having a job to complete that he’d decided to start working on a barn he could use as part garage, part hobby shed. The project was coming along nicely, but his progress had slowed recently as the hunt for the Alphabet Killer had picked up speed.

He glanced down into the face of the infant he held. “Are you the key to finding the killer?”

She yawned and his jaw ached to mimic her gesture. The day was really catching up to him, and he wanted nothing more than to lay the baby down and sleep for a bit. But every time he tried, she woke up and started crying. The only thing he’d found that calmed her down was for him to pace back and forth, an action that simultaneously kept him awake and made him even more tired.

He glanced over to the dog bed on the floor by the fireplace. Penny had gone to sleep hours ago and she looked totally relaxed, sprawled on her back with her paws in the air. “Lucky girl,” he muttered. If only the dog could help him watch the baby!

“We’ll find your mother,” he said softly. “I just wish she had left your name in the note. What am I supposed to call you?”

The baby in question shifted slightly and emitted a soft squeak, so he increased the frequency of his patting until she sank back into sleep.

“I think you look like a Sara,” he said, feeling his heart tighten a little. Saralee had been his mother’s name, and it seemed fitting that this lost little one be named after the woman who had been such an important part of his life.

Sara let out a soft sigh, and Ridge decided to try to lay her down again. Moving slowly, he walked over to the makeshift pallet he’d made out of several old quilts and gently set her down. Then he tucked a blanket over her and straightened up, trying to work the kinks out of his lower back. Please don’t wake up, he pleaded silently, watching the baby as if she were a live bomb about to explode.

She frowned, the expression looking adorably out of place on an infant’s face. Ridge held his breath, hoping against hope that this time Sara would remain asleep, now that she was in her bed.

It wasn’t to be. The baby wriggled experimentally, as if she was testing the boundaries of her new location. Apparently finding it unsatisfactory, she opened her mouth and let out a wail that woke Penny, who emitted a startled yelp.

Resigned to his fate, Ridge leaned down and picked her up. Once he brought her to his chest she quieted down again, her wails subsiding into small whimpers until she finally fell silent. Penny flopped back down on her bed with a sigh, and Ridge resumed his walk.

Maybe Darcy was right, he thought. Maybe he really had taken on too much. He hated to admit the possibility, especially because he knew she didn’t think he could handle this. But he’d be damned before he’d admit it to her face. No way was he going to show any kind of weakness in front of her. He’d made that mistake once. Never again.

A loud clap of thunder split the air, making both him and Sara jump. “That one was close,” he said to her, pitching his voice low so as not to fully wake her.

On the heels of the thunder came another pounding, this one at his front door. Ridge frowned. He didn’t get many visitors, and the people who did come to his cabin knew to enter through the back door. That meant whoever was out there was a stranger, and given the events of the day, he didn’t fancy answering the door with a baby in his arms.

“Who do you think it could be?” he asked softly. The baby’s mother, come to claim her child? Maybe she had gotten away from the killer and wanted her baby back. If so, she had a lot of explaining to do. Even though she hadn’t been in his life for very long, Ridge had grown attached to little Sara and he wasn’t about to just hand her over to the first person who came knocking.

There was another possibility, one that made him frown. What if his visitor wasn’t Sara’s mother, but the Alphabet Killer, come to tie up loose ends? It was a bold move, but his cabin was on the edge of the woods in a fairly isolated location. And with the weather being so bad it would be days before anyone wondered about him or would be able to check on him. The more he thought about it, the more he realized this was the perfect opportunity for the killer to strike.

He set Sara back down on her bed and tucked a blanket around her, hoping to stave off her cries for at least a few minutes. Then he grabbed the baseball bat propped up in the corner and headed for the door. Maybe he was just being paranoid, but he wasn’t going to answer the door unprepared.

The pounding started up again with renewed vigor, as if his visitor was getting impatient. He flipped on the porch light and stopped to peek through the curtains at his front window, trying to identify who might be visiting. Unfortunately, the rain was still coming down hard and it obscured his vision of the porch—he could make out a dark shape, but he couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman.

Only one way to find out. Taking a deep breath and tightening his grip on the bat, Ridge unlocked the door and opened it a crack.

“Ridge?”

“Darcy?” He couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice. She was the last person he’d expected to see, especially on a night like this.

“What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?” She shivered slightly and pushed a wet tendril of hair off her face.

“Oh, of course. Sorry.” Ridge propped the bat next to the door frame and stepped back, gesturing Darcy inside. Sara chose that moment to let out a loud wail and Darcy smiled as she stepped across the threshold.

“How’s it going here?”

Ridge winced. “She doesn’t like it when I set her down.” He quickly closed the door, then crossed the room and scooped Sara up again. Just as before, she stopped crying once she was back in his arms. He resumed pacing and eyed Darcy, who was looking around the den with open curiosity.

“This is a great place,” she commented, slowly wandering from one side of the room to the other, taking in the pictures on the wall, the books on his shelves and the furniture arranged throughout. “I had no idea it was out here. How did you find it?”

“I built it,” he said simply. It felt strange to have her in his home. This was his sanctuary, his safe place. He’d actually never brought a woman here before, and to have Darcy of all people checking out his things made him feel exposed.

“You built this?” She didn’t bother to hide the incredulity in her voice. Then she shook her head and bit her lip. “I’m sorry—that’s the second time I’ve implied that you’re not capable of something.”

He blinked, surprised by her apology. “Uh, that’s okay,” he said. “Most people are shocked when they find out I built it.”

“How long did it take you?” She seemed genuinely interested and he felt that old familiar tug to engage with her, to share with her.

“Six months,” he replied. Darcy whistled softly, apparently impressed, and his cheeks warmed in the face of her approval.

“How did you find me?” Time to get this conversation back on track.

Darcy raised a brow. “You filled out paperwork at the hospital, remember?”

He nodded, kicking himself for having forgotten. “I didn’t realize that was an invitation,” he said coolly.

If Darcy noticed his tone, she didn’t react. “I thought I would stop by and check on you and the baby.”

“Because you don’t think I can take care of her properly?” The words were out before he could stop them, and he heard the bitterness in his own voice. Too bad. He was tired of people scrutinizing his every move, searching for signs of the father in the son before them. All his life, he’d felt as if he was under a microscope, subject to the judgment of others. Even though he’d dedicated his adult life to helping others, people still gave him a wide berth. They treated him like some kind of half-feral dog, one they wanted to like but didn’t fully trust not to attack when their backs were turned.

Darcy held his gaze for a moment, studying him. “No,” she said thoughtfully. “Because I thought you might like some company. Taking care of an infant can be isolating.”

Her reply took the wind out of his sails and the irritation drained out of him, leaving him feeling oddly empty. “Oh,” he said dumbly. How had she known that? Did she have experience caring for a baby, or was it just a lucky guess? Against his better judgment, he found himself wanting to know more about what she’d been up to in the years since they’d parted ways.

She held up a plastic bag. “Also, I come bearing gifts.” She set the bag on the coffee table and proceeded to pull out packages of diapers and wipes and several bottles of formula. “I was able to raid the nursery before I left tonight. I know I sent you home with some stuff, but I thought you could use some extra, just in case.”

“Thank you,” he said, feeling more foolish by the minute. Darcy was just trying to help, and he’d nearly bitten her head off for her troubles. He shook his head, trying to slough off his bad mood.

“I also brought a little something for you, as well,” she continued, reaching back into the bag. With a flourish, she withdrew a long candy bar bearing a familiar white wrap and sporting bold orange letters. “Here you go,” she said, extending the treat toward him. “I got you the biggest one I could find.”

Ridge could only stare down at her and the gift she offered, shocked that she had remembered.

Darcy’s expectant expression melted off her face. “You used to love these. Do you not like them anymore?”

He shook his head, not trusting his voice. After all these years, she still remembered his favorite candy bar. It shouldn’t have surprised him—he still remembered her favorite foods and the way she was so particular about the amount of ice in her drinks. But he hadn’t expected the recall to be mutual. Especially not after so much time had passed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding contrite. “I shouldn’t have assumed you would still like the same things after ten years.” She dropped the candy bar back into the bag and set it aside.

“No,” he said, the word coming out a little hoarse. He cleared his throat and spoke again. “No, I mean I do still love them. I’m just surprised you remembered, that’s all.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks went a little pink and she fumbled in the bag for the candy bar, passing it to him with a shy smile. “Here you go then.”

“Thank you.”

She turned away and busied herself with folding the bag into a small square. “I figured you could use a little treat.”

Ridge used his teeth to unwrap the gift, then took a large bite. The combination of sweet caramel and salty peanuts hit his tongue, and he nearly moaned in pleasure. In all the ruckus of the early evening he’d skipped dinner, a fact that his stomach did not appreciate. And while a candy bar was not the most nutritionally sound choice, he could think of no finer meal at the moment. “Man, that’s good.”

Darcy grinned. “Glad you’re enjoying it. Would you like me to hold the baby so you can sit down?”

He started nodding before she could finish asking the question. “Yes, please.” His earlier resolve to stand strong and do this on his own crumbled at the thought of being able to sit still for a moment and refuel. Although he thought of himself as an independent man, he wasn’t stupid. He’d come to realize taking care of Sara was a marathon, not a sprint, and he’d be wise to take help when and where it was offered.

Darcy walked over to him, stopping when she was mere inches away. Moving carefully, Ridge transferred the little bundle into her arms, trying to ignore the little zings of sensation that arced through him every time they accidentally touched. He told himself to step back once she had a secure hold on Sara, but his feet wouldn’t obey his brain’s command. This was the closest they’d been to each other in years, and his body wanted to know if she would still feel the same against him.

Warmth radiated off her skin and he took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. It was a mistake. She smelled like the rain, and she’d brought the scent of the woods in with her. It was a comforting, familiar smell that made him want to get closer and he had to force himself to move away before he did something he’d regret.

Darcy looked up at him, her skin damp and shining in the light of the lamp. “She’s a beautiful baby,” she whispered with a smile.

“Yes, she is.”

“And she’s very lucky she found you.”

His chest warmed at the compliment, and the sensation climbed up his neck and into his earlobes, making them burn. Ridge cleared his throat and took a step back. “I think it was actually the other way around,” he said, needing to inject some levity into the moment. “Penny deserves all the credit.”

They both turned to look at the dog, who had fallen back asleep and was snoring softly, her paws twitching as she dreamed. A swell of affection filled Ridge’s heart, and not for the first time, he wondered what he would do without her.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Darcy suggested. “I can walk with her for a while.”

“Thanks,” Ridge said. He sank into the couch with a sigh, surrendering to the comforting support of the overstuffed cushions. Darcy started humming softly as she walked, a sweet melody that made him want to close his eyes and sleep for the next month. Shaking off the fatigue, he took another bite of dinner and focused on chewing.

“I think it’s finally easing up out there,” she observed.

She was right. Now that he was paying attention, he noticed the rain did seem to be slowing down. I should check the barn, he thought, stuffing the rest of the candy bar into his mouth.

Darcy glanced up when he stood. “Do you mind holding her for a few more minutes? I’m building a barn out back and I want to make sure it’s still standing after those storms.”

“No problem,” she said. “Take your time.”

He grabbed a flashlight and paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of Darcy holding Sara close. She was the very picture of maternal comfort and the pair of them seemed to give off a golden glow in the lamplight, lending the scene a dreamlike quality. It would be so easy to stand there and watch them forever, but he couldn’t let himself get trapped in this moment. Neither Darcy nor the baby were his, and he’d do well to remember it.

* * *

The rain was cold, and Ridge welcomed the splash of the fat drops against the skin of his face and neck. The shock of it helped to clear his head and refocus his mind. He’d come dangerously close to kissing Darcy, which was a mistake he couldn’t afford to make. We had our chance, he reminded himself firmly. And things hadn’t worked out between them. It was silly to think now would be any different.

He eyed the ground in front of him, trying to pick out the least treacherous path to the barn. His formerly green yard was now a lake of mud interspersed with large puddles of standing water, making the once familiar place look like an alien landscape. There was no help for it—he was just going to have to get dirty.

Resigned to his fate Ridge trudged forward, his boots squelching in the mud. They would be hell to clean, but he had to see if there was any damage that needed to be repaired. The barn was more than halfway complete, so he wasn’t worried about the walls falling in. But it would be good to see how the roof had held up under the onslaught.

He ducked inside and passed the beam of the light along the walls, pleased to find there were no damp spots that would indicate a leak between the boards. Then he checked the floor. Not so lucky here. There were several small puddles, which meant he was going to have a lot of patching to do on that roof once the sun came back out.

He glanced around the space one final time, imagining it as a completed barn. The mower would go in the left corner, along with his other yard equipment. There was space for his tools in the far right corner. And then there was some room left over, space he now thought could be used for a bicycle or two. He closed his eyes, picturing it—two large bikes and one small one parked and ready to be used on those lazy summer nights when the fireflies rose up from the grass like living sparks.

The yearning for a family hit him hard, and he leaned against the doorjamb for a moment, his hand to his chest. Where had that come from? Was it being around the baby that made him think this way? Or perhaps seeing Darcy again? Maybe both, he admitted to himself. Truth be told, Darcy was the only woman he’d dreamed of having a family with, and after she had dumped him he had given up on the dream ever becoming a reality.

But maybe it was time he took a second look. Holding Sara had rekindled the desire to have his own children. Over the years he had forgotten just how much he wanted a family of his own, one where his children would grow up with both parents and wouldn’t be subjected to the whims of the foster care system the way he and his siblings had. He pictured his youngest sister, Josie, and a fresh pang hit him as he recalled the last time he’d seen her, when she’d told him not to visit her again. She’d gone from a sweet girl to a distant, hardened young woman, all thanks to the system. He shook his head. Their lives would have been so much better if they had had someone—anyone—else as their father.

But life didn’t work that way.

The patter of raindrops began to change, the cadence becoming faster and louder as the rain picked up again. Time to go back inside and check on the girls and get himself dried off. His wet boots were starting to feel tight, and he knew from experience it was only going to get worse if he didn’t take them off soon. He cast one last look around the barn before closing things up, then put his head down and took off for the house, trying to dodge the worst of the puddles as he went.

He’d made it about halfway across the yard when a woman’s scream pierced the air and froze his blood.