Читать книгу Her Sister's Secret Son - Lisette Belisle - Страница 11

A muffled sound came from the basket.

Reminded of her reason for being there, Rachel said, “If you could just take the puppies, we’ll be going.”

Jared looked into the round wicker basket. “Puppies?”

He sounded exactly like Dylan, Rachel thought, hiding her amusement. Apparently puppies brought out the kid in grown men as well as children. She stood back and watched as Jared examined a puppy, every move sure and controlled. His hands gently explored the delicate mass of flesh and bone. What had she expected? He was a trained veterinarian after all, which meant he liked animals—perhaps better than humans, she reminded herself.

Rachel cleared her throat. “What kind of breed are they?”

“Do you want a list? Could be collie, maybe setter, or a hound.” He peered into the pup’s eyes and smiled when it blinked and yawned. “They may not have a pedigree, but they are cute.”

Rachel had to agree, but she couldn’t be responsible for them—not if it meant Dylan getting hurt if something went wrong. He’d known too much upheaval in his short life. He’d lost his mother at an early age. And now Drew.

Dylan asked, “Are they going to be okay?”

Jared examined the weakest pup. “This one’s dehydrated. We’ll keep him and try intravenous feeding, but you can take the rest home.” After placing them all back in the basket, he knelt and spoke directly to Dylan. “Without mother’s milk, they don’t have natural immunity, so infection is a risk. Keep them warm. They’ll need a special formula. We can supply that, along with some miniature bottles and soft nipples. They can have puppy food in a couple of weeks, but for now they have to be hand fed on demand.”

Dylan nodded. “Got it.”

While admiring Jared’s way of dealing gently with Dylan, Rachel didn’t appreciate having to be the bad guy and letting the boy down. “I’m sorry, but I never said we were taking them.”

Now both Dylan and Jared turned to frown at her.

Dylan pleaded, “Why can’t we take them home?”

“Because we have a dog.” At her response, she could see storm clouds gathering. “Besides, I have to work.”

“Mary Ellen will help.” Dylan was usually cooperative, but he could be stubborn when it mattered.

“I can’t ask the baby-sitter to dog-sit,” Rachel said, trying to find a logical excuse—one that Dylan would accept.

“She likes dogs,” he argued. “She said so.”

Jared stood. His height didn’t intimidate Rachel—nor did his maleness. She had experience dealing with men, and keeping them at arm’s length. In her current job at the sawmill, she dealt with loggers and truckers. Before that, she’d worked at the Inn, which catered to tourists and rugged outdoorsmen. She’d met all types. Men, in general, didn’t affect her. This one in particular did, however.

Well, she wasn’t going to let that stand in the way of her common sense. Was she? No! She was not bringing those puppies home with her—not even one. She’d done her duty, rescued them, brought them to the vet.

No one could ask more of her.

Meanwhile, Jared reeled off a list—as if she’d never raised an objection. “Keep them warm. A hot water bottle should do it. They can be adopted at eight weeks.”

Rachel asked, “How old are they now?”

“Around four weeks—more or less. Is there a problem?”

“What if Dylan gets hopelessly attached?” Rachel knew her response was out of proportion, but some instinct warned her not to get involved. “What if they don’t all make it?”

Jared countered in a reasonable tone, “There’s always a risk, but animals can teach young children about life.”

Life!

What did he know about her life? Dylan was her sole responsibility. She had to deal with the fallout when things went wrong. If anything happened to her, Dylan would be all alone in the world. Rachel’s brief experience with the child care system after her parents died had left her wary.

With a persuasive note, Jared said, “Children often cope better than we think they can.”

Rachel’s glance fell on the puppies. They tumbled over each other, trying to scramble out. She had to admit, they were adorable. They were odd sizes with different coloring—some tan, some black, some mixed with white patches. One pup scrambled atop the others and whined pathetically. Dylan picked it up, cradling it in the palm of his small hand. It fit snugly.

“I won’t get attached,” he promised, his hazel eyes full of puppy love. “Honest!”

Rachel sighed. “Oh, Dylan…I know you. I wish I could say yes, but I can’t.”

Rachel tightened her lips, refusing to belabor the point. After all, this man was a stranger. Easy for him to voice his opinion and claim children should be exposed to some hard knocks in life, but a degree in veterinary medicine didn’t make him an expert on children. Dylan was hers; he’d already “coped” too often and experienced too much loss. She knew all about Dylan’s insecurities, his fear of losing the people he loved. Only time would heal his losses. And hers.

A few days later, Jared was on hand when his father passed his medical physical with flying colors.

“Keep an eye on your blood pressure and watch out for cholesterol,” Dr. Peterson advised, fixing Ira with a stern look. “That’s an order.”

Ira calmly buttoned his shirt. “Thought that little yellow pill was supposed to take care of that.”

“Only if combined with proper diet and exercise.”

“Man don’t need exercise if he does an honest day’s work.” Ira patted his chest. “Besides, this here pacemaker keeps everything ticking. Never thought I’d be wired up like a time bomb, but there you go. You know, Doc, you ought to try it. Might recharge your battery.”

Doc Peterson scowled. “Oh, get out of here. You should have enough pills for a month. Jared can bring you back then.”

Ira frowned. “I can drive myself.”

“No, you can’t! And that’s final! Jared or Jessie can drive you around.”

Jared tried to defuse the situation. “Dad, you’re on the losing end of this argument.” His father had taught him how to drive when he was sixteen. Taking away the car keys was one of the hardest things Jared had ever done.

Ira was still sputtering when he left the doctor’s office. Fred Cromie had come into town with them to do a few errands. He was waiting outside. He’d worked at Stones End as a farmhand for as long as Jared could remember. His friendship with Ira went back even further. The elderly farmhand had been like a father to Jared—filling in wherever Ira failed.

When Fred heard the test results, he let out a whoop that turned a few heads in downtown Henderson. “How about grabbing some lunch at the diner?”

With an under-browed glance at Jared, Ira said, “Sounds good. I could use a square meal.”

Fred laughed. “Least the boy’s trying. Course there’s only so much you can do with food that comes out of a box or a can.”

Ira grouched, “Gotten so I can’t tell the difference.”

“The boy” grinned. Accustomed to his dad’s crankiness and Fred’s teasing, Jared ignored them both. His mood lifted when he caught sight of Rachel’s bright head and long-legged grace on the opposite side of the street.

Wearing a pale lavender dress that came short of her knees with delicate string sandals on her feet, she reminded him of a long, cool, thirst-quenching drink on a scorching hot day. She was on the end of a leash, with the other end attached to a yellow Labrador. Her nephew was with her.

She stopped by a small blue car, opened the back hatch and tried to coax the huge playful dog to jump in. When a cat crossed the dog’s path, the dog bolted after it, directly into the path of a passing truck.

For a perilous moment, Jared thought the dog was going to drag her along—but then she dropped the leash. Jared acted—tackling the dog, and rolling it into a nearby ditch.

Brakes squealed as the truck came to a screeching stop, missing them by inches. The driver was shaken. “Honest, I never saw the dog until it was too late! You hurt?”

“No harm done.” An acrid odor of scorched tires stung Jared’s eyes. His left shoulder had connected with the concrete curb. Before he could move, the dog straddled his chest and pinned him down. When the yellow Lab licked his face, Jared said with a weak laugh, “Good dog.”

“Thanks for saving her.” Dylan’s gruff little voice betrayed bottled-up emotion as he dragged the dog off Jared.

A yellow Labrador retriever, the dog was shorthaired with a bulky chest and regal head, a soft mouth and gentle eyes. Like most of her breed, she was clearly an active, good-natured dog. The dog brought back memories of Jared’s own youth, both good and bad.

Rachel’s face was white as she knelt beside Jared. “I’m so terribly sorry about the dog. Today was bring your pet day at summer school. I’m afraid Sunny got a little too much attention and a bit out of control. She didn’t want to leave. Are you all right?”

The color of her dress turned her eyes purple; the neckline was cut square and exposed her throat and shoulders. When she bent over him, a filigree locket on a long gold chain slipped into the mysterious shadow between her full breasts. Jared’s gaze followed the movement.

He’d seen that locket before—on Laurel. He didn’t want to think about Rachel’s twin. Laurel was temperamental and self-centered. Perhaps Rachel was the calm after the storm.

As if she felt his warm gaze, Rachel drew back. A tiny telltale pulse beat in her throat.

Jared’s pulse soared. “I’m fine.” Actually, he felt a little light-headed.

“Your arm is cut,” she pointed out gently.

At a glance, he dismissed the angry gash. “It’s nothing.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Well, if you’re sure?”

Jared had the distinct feeling she was treating him like a child. No one had mothered him since he was seven years old. He felt a bit bemused as a slow smile softened her perfect features. Today, she wore her hair free, curling around her smooth shoulders. Her mouth was frosty pink, and full. Her face grew flushed with concern for him, or perhaps the heat.

Jared lay there, feeling winded, yet oddly content. For the first time since they met, Rachel was looking at him with approval. Maybe risking life and limb to rescue damsels in distress—or their dogs—wasn’t a bad idea.

She said slowly, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

He could think of a dozen ways—unfortunately, none of them were suitable for daytime exposure, let alone public display, in the middle of Main Street.

“I’m glad I was on hand.” He nursed his sore shoulder.

“I thought you weren’t hurt.”

“Just an old football injury.” He couldn’t say it hurt like hell, or that sharp needle-like pains were travelling down his arm. “It acts up now and then,” he insisted.

The driver of the truck left. Rachel watched him drive off as if she’d lost her last ally.

Jared got to his feet. “How are the puppies?”

“They’re growing. As you might expect with bottle feedings every three hours around the clock.” She sounded exasperated. Apparently she hadn’t forgiven him for saddling her with the puppies. Or perhaps she was just cranky from lack of sleep.

Either way, Jared was to blame. “I thought I’d stop by. They’ll be needing a checkup. And puppy shots.” He had to admit it was a flimsy excuse to see her.

“I didn’t realize you made house calls.”

“I can bill you, if that makes it better.”

Her irritation melted with a surprised laugh. “You wouldn’t happen to want a free puppy as payment?”

“On second thought, forget the bill.” Jared bent and scratched the dog’s head. “Hey, girl. What’s her name?”

Dylan replied, “Sunny.”

Jared drew a sharp breath at the coincidence. “That’s a good name for a dog.”

“I know.” The boy’s smile was missing two front teeth. “My dad had a dog named Sunny. My mom told me.”

With those few words, Jared’s past collided with the present. He rocked back on his heels—as if he’d taken a direct punch to the midsection. He looked at Rachel. What sort of macabre joke was she playing? She stared back innocently. There had to be another logical explanation…apart from the obvious one. But why would Laurel make up something like that?

Jared had once owned a dog named Sunny.

And Laurel had known about it.

In a daze, Jared stared down at Dylan’s unruly red hair, freckles and wide hazel eyes. Of all places to find out—in the middle of the street on a busy afternoon.

Jared shook his head, feeling as if his world had tilted and remained permanently askew. Dylan’s hair color matched Rachel’s; the boy’s eyes were an indefinite hazel; but there was that dimpled chin, and nose—so similar to Jessie’s baby.

But the resemblance was indecisive. Dylan didn’t look like Drew or Jared; he looked like himself—like a Hale.

But what about Sunny?

The dog’s name could be a coincidence, Jared reasoned, trying to maintain calm. Surely, if there was a blood tie, he’d feel some emotional connection to the boy.

But he felt nothing; in fact, he felt numb.

Cars swept past them, reminding him that this wasn’t the time, nor the place, to get the answers he needed.

Help came from an unexpected source. At some point—Jared wasn’t sure exactly when—his father and Fred had joined them. When Jared introduced Rachel and her nephew, Fred merely looked curious, while Ira looked disapproving.

“Fool chance you took,” Ira said, with a disparaging glance at the dog. “And all over a dumb animal.”

Dylan frowned. “That’s my dog, and she’s not dumb!”

Ira issued an unrepentant “Humph.”

If his father ever knew what a special dog could mean to a little boy, he’d obviously forgotten, Jared thought. No one could accuse Ira Carlisle of having a soft heart, least of all his son.

With Dylan visibly upset, Jared caught a glimpse of Rachel frowning at Ira, who was frowning back at her. It was a clear-cut case of instant dislike on all sides. Jared might have laughed at the situation if it wasn’t such a damn mess! The moment was surreal. They could all be related.

When Rachel felt Dylan lean against her hip, she placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Carlisle,” she said, before adding, “Dylan, that was rude. Please apologize.”

Dylan looked up at her in angry appeal. “But, he…”

Her mouth tightened. “Dylan,” she said, deliberately using her “no opposition” voice, which generally got a response.

Dylan hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Better keep a closer eye on that dog,” Ira returned.

When Jared said nothing, Rachel drew back in confusion. She and Dylan hadn’t made a hit with Ira Carlisle, but why was Jared openly distancing himself? She couldn’t deny her disappointment. Had she begun to hope for something more?

Every feminine instinct screamed a warning that he was all wrong for her. He could be kind—if and when it suited him; but then, he could turn it off without notice.

Only moments ago, Jared had been lying in the gutter, flirting with her; now he looked tense and edgy. His hot-and-cold attitude was beginning to annoy her.

Had she misread more than friendship in his warm gaze? Obviously, she had. Dylan was vulnerable; and she wasn’t prepared to risk her heart. Jared was definitely a risk.

She sighed.

Even surrounded by a pair of grumpy old men, he looked gorgeous. They were all three frowning at her!

Suddenly, Rachel needed to get away from Jared’s stare. Something in his eyes confused her. He’d saved Dylan’s dog. She’d stood frozen and watched it happen—terrified for Jared’s safety and the dog’s. She owed Jared her heartfelt thanks, but couldn’t quite put her heart into it. “I’m very grateful.”

His eyes flickered over her, but didn’t meet hers. “I’m glad I was on hand,” he said, equally stiff.

Rachel lifted her chin. “Excuse me, I have to go.”

She felt ridiculously let down by Jared’s coolness. It must be the heat, she argued with herself as she shoved the dog into the car. She refused to admit it could be anything else.

To her dismay, Jared gave her a hand. His arm brushed against hers. She felt a trembling heat, then cold. She climbed into the car. She turned the key in the ignition.

Jared gently closed her door. “Drive safe.” There, he’d done it again. Of all the miserable, phony, low-down…

How dare he be kind! She gave him a pasty smile. She was not attracted to Jared. She didn’t need an added complication in her life, particularly a six-foot-two, gray-eyed wolf in sheep’s clothing! She had Dylan. Love was highly overrated anyway.

Hadn’t it—or its facsimile—destroyed Laurel?

Hadn’t it eluded Rachel all her life?

The car started on the third try.

Rachel took a deep breath, then calmly bid Jared a cool farewell. She took pride in maintaining an even temper. Heaven knew she worked at it! The habit was ingrained. As a child she’d heard it often enough…Laurel was the extrovert; Rachel was more shy, more reflective. People always compared them. Even her mother always said, Laurel followed her heart, while Rachel used her head. Mama always laughed when she said it. But somehow, that had excused Laurel’s excesses and made Rachel feel less loveable. After all these years, why did it still have the power to wound?

Dylan had the last word. He attached his seat belt, then muttered under his breath, “I don’t like that man.”

Which one?

Jared watched Rachel and her nephew drive away; he felt a strong urge to follow and get some answers, but knew he couldn’t act rashly. He had to think.

After lunch at the diner, he drove home and wrestled with his conscience. Whether intentional or not, there was a real possibility that he’d abandoned Laurel when she was pregnant. Youth was no excuse. The years slid away…and he was eighteen again, and his dog had been fatally wounded in a hunting accident involving Drew and his friends. Jared went looking for Drew at the Stillwater Inn. Drew wasn’t there, but Laurel was. She served him drinks and flirted openly. She’d listened to his anger about Sunny and offered sympathy. When her shift ended, they went down to the lake and found an empty tourist cabin. He didn’t need to coax her onto the bed. She was more than willing. With her red hair spread against the pillow, Jared paused. He’d never been with a girl before, but clearly it wasn’t the first time for Laurel. She’d laughed at his clumsiness.

When it was all over, he tried to do the gentlemanly thing and asked to see her again. She laughed. Why would she choose a poor farmer? He was shocked to learn she was dating Drew Pierce. She only went with Jared to get even with Drew for taking a college girl home for the weekend. Apparently, Drew’s parents didn’t approve of Laurel. She started to cry—hot, angry tears. At that point, Jared’s fury and hurt male pride met a hollow death when he realized she was just a crazy, mixed-up kid.

He got dressed and went home, where he got into a flaming argument with his father for staying out all night. The exchange had opened old wounds and left the family in shambles. The following day, Jared left town, humiliated over Laurel, and bitter over his father’s betrayal. He never saw Laurel again. At eighteen, Jared lost his innocence. He’d never quite believed in anything since….

The truck hit a bump.

Jared glanced at his father’s slumped shoulders. Ira had been silent at lunch. Fred hadn’t said much, and neither had Jared, who couldn’t recall what he’d eaten. Whatever it was, he had a bad case of heartburn.

They dropped off Fred, then reached the turn to Stones End. At the house, Jared swung into the driveway. The motor died, and the silence of the hills closed in around him. He looked at the old farmhouse. It needed a coat of paint and a new roof. The front porch sagged. There was work to be done. The question was, where to start?

With a mental reminder to pick up some house paint, he climbed out of the truck.

So did Ira. He stared at Jared across the cab. “I heard that boy—what was his name?”

Jared braced himself. “Dylan.”

Ira lifted an eyebrow. “I heard him say his dad had a dog named Sunny. Seems to me that was your dog. Not Drew’s.”

Meeting that stone-cold stare, Jared knew the same hardness had crept into his own eyes. “That’s right.”

“I want you to tell me there’s no chance that boy is your flesh and blood.” Ira was breathing hard—as if he’d run a mile.

The reminder of his father’s weak heart stopped Jared from snapping back and telling him to stay out of his personal life. Jared broke out in a sweat as he recalled telling Laurel about Sunny. The possibility of a child coming from that one night seemed unreal. But Dylan was real—so was the possibility that he was Jared’s flesh and blood. “I can’t do that.”

“Then you find out!” Ira’s face contorted with fury. “All these years, I saved Stones End for you…for you, and your sons. If that boy is a Carlisle, he belongs here.”

Jared weighed each word. “What about the aunt?”

Ira dismissed Rachel. “Deal with her. If he’s yours, she has no right to keep the boy from you. Besides, she’s done her duty by the boy—she’ll probably be relieved to be set free.”

Somehow, Jared didn’t think Rachel would be relieved. From what he’d seen, she was devoted to Dylan. But Ira hadn’t seen that. Even if he did, would he care? Sometimes Jared worried about growing old and alone, but most of all he worried about growing hard…like his father. “I’ll look into it.”

Ira bent just enough to grunt, “Good.”

Jared bit back a comment. His father probably thought he’d won. Somehow, that didn’t feel so bad. Like this harsh northern land that produced him, Ira Carlisle was still a force to be reckoned with; but just then, Jared saw only a tired old man. He deeply regretted causing his father any pain.

In heavy silence, Ira walked toward the house. He climbed the porch steps and went inside.

Jared watched him go, worried about all the upheaval this would cause. He let his gaze wander over the emerald green fields and distant hills. The beauty of Stones End hurt his eyes and burdened his heart. Years ago, he’d left, weighed down by lies and half-truths—lies his father had told him about his mother—that she’d left and never asked to see Jessie and Jared again.

Eventually, Jared had hired a detective and learned she’d died in a charity hospital. But the trail didn’t end there. There was a mother’s ring with three stones. Three. He’d found a photo among his mother’s things. It showed a small child with fair hair. Her flowered dress looked too big, a pink ribbon drooped in her hair, but nothing dimmed her smile. She looked like Jessie…but in the background, there were palm trees instead of Maine’s native pine.

On the back of the snapshot was one word—Olivia.

He had another sister. He couldn’t rest until he found her. The detective was still working on the case and claimed they were close. But Jared’s recent trip to trace down another lead had come to nothing.

And now, there was Dylan.

Finding Olivia would have to be put off until Jared took care of matters closer to home.

Just then, Jared had to get back to work; but later that evening, he walked over to Jessie’s house. Made out of log beams and glass, it stood in a clearing by the pond.

It was a summer house, which meant Jessie and her family would be leaving when the leaves turned. Ben Harding owned and operated a horse farm in Virginia—a lucrative enterprise if the size of this house was any sign. Jared found Ben and Jessie on the front porch, rocking, as they sipped iced tea.

At her feet, Jessie’s dog, Bandit, lifted his head at Jared’s arrival, then settled down again.

“Evening.” Jared smiled at Jessie, then nodded toward the man she’d married. He wasn’t sure what he thought of Ben—a hard battle-scarred man. “Where’s the little guy?”

“Asleep,” Jessie responded. “Finally.”

Jared looked up at the summer evening sky. “Seems early.”

She laughed. “Not if you’re five months old.”

“Or the worn-out parent of a five-month-old.” Ben didn’t look particularly worn out. He looked restless, like a caged tiger ready to spring.

Obviously, Jessie wasn’t daunted. “Admit you love it.”

When she reached for Ben’s hand, Jared wanted to warn her not to love so much, not to wear her heart on her sleeve. But then Ben’s hand closed over hers, and Jared knew their love was mutual. Jessie had won this man’s heart. Ben had drifted into her life—a stranger who stayed—a willing captive.

With a warm glint, Ben smiled. “I’m not complaining.”

Conversation slipped into concerns with the farm. The previous summer, Ben had managed Stones End and married Jessie in the bargain. At length, Ben stood up and stretched. “Well, I’ll be turning in.”

Jessie murmured, “I’ll be along in a minute or two.”

Jared stood. “I should be going.”

“No,” Jessie said, adding softly, “Stay.” And once they were alone, she said, “What’s up? I can always tell when something’s on your mind.”

Jared laughed. He’d spent years protecting Jessie from life’s blows—everything from neighborhood bullies to eating too many unripe apples. When had she gotten so wise?

“I have a problem.” He leaned against the porch rail, but didn’t relax. He looked out toward the pond and the surrounding trees. The forest floor was green and lush. There was new growth where last summer’s fire had left total devastation.

Jessie sat back, rocking gently. “So, tell me.” The squeak on the porch floorboards made an easy rhythm, but it didn’t make the words he had to say anything less than tawdry.

He didn’t know where to begin. “It’s not that easy.”

“Nothing that really matters ever is.”

The moon settled lower in the sky. Somehow, the words felt less awkward under shadowy light where Jessie couldn’t read every expression on his face. Of course, she could probably hear the painful regret in his voice. Explaining to Jessie was hard, much harder, than he’d thought. If he could spare her, he would. At the end, she looked deeply saddened, not judgmental. “And you never saw Laurel again?”

Jared took a deep breath. “No.”

Jessie came to stand beside him. “Does Rachel know?”

Jared looked down into her troubled face. “I don’t know how much she knows. I need to find out before I do anything.”

Wrapping her arms around her waist, Jessie nodded. “There was gossip about Drew and a girl from Stillwater.” In simple words, she explained all she knew, which unfortunately wasn’t much. “This girl turned up and claimed she was pregnant with Drew’s child. When he refused to marry her, his father paid to keep things quiet. But there was still talk.”

Jared frowned. “Why didn’t I ever hear about it?”

“You weren’t here.”

At the reminder, Jared felt a familiar stab of guilt. At eighteen, he’d left, joined the Navy, then worked his way through college and veterinary school. Over the next eight years, he’d come back for visits but never stayed long until he came home for good last summer. He’d left Jessie to deal with his father and the farm. He felt guilty about that, too. So much guilt, so many mistakes. Hopefully, he could handle this situation without making more. He wanted to do the right thing—for everyone.

Contrary to his father’s opinion, Rachel Hale was very much a part of the equation. Jared couldn’t rule her out.

Reminded of Dylan’s aunt, he straightened abruptly. “Ben’s waiting up for you. I should be going.”

Moments later, Jared walked away from Jessie’s snug house. The windows were all lit up. Feeling more alone than usual, Jared walked down the road toward the main farmhouse. The day had started out with promise, but now the evening turned cloudy. Shadows drifted across the far meadow and crept up on Stones End. Like day into night, the past held Jared’s future. In all his wanderings, he’d learned a simple truth: this was where he belonged. He was a Carlisle. Blood ties were indestructible. Instinct told him that Dylan was his.

There were simply too many clues to ignore. But he needed more than instinct before disrupting so many lives.

He had a son.

Son.

The word whispered through him and stole into his heart. His son. His. Then, he remembered Rachel. He remembered her blue-violet eyes, her soft pink mouth.

She was going to hate his guts.