Читать книгу A Baby For Christmas - Marie Ferrarella, Marie Ferrarella - Страница 9

Chapter Two

There weren’t very many things that could catch Connor McCullough off his guard these days. One of the reasons for that was a great deal had happened in the last year and a half.

Cody had shown up with a newborn whom he’d helped a stranded mother-to-be give birth to in her dilapidated, stalled secondhand car. Not all that long after that, Cassidy had turned up, dripping wet and clutching a baby she’d helped rescue from the river during an unexpected flash flood.

And then Cole had topped both of them when he’d brought home twins who had been left in a basket on the doorstep. He had almost tripped over them when he’d walked out of the bunkhouse one morning.

All in all, Connor would have been the first to say that he didn’t think there was anything that would surprise him anymore.

With that in his mind, he was in no way prepared for what he saw when he swung open his front door to look outside.

A wan, breathless Amy Donavan was standing on his doorstep, holding what looked to be a six-month-old baby in her arms.

For a moment, he thought that he’d somehow managed to fall asleep in the kitchen and was dreaming this, or hallucinating it, or whatever it was called when a man’s mind conjured up an image of the only woman he had ever loved standing on his doorstep, looking utterly helpless and needy.

“Amy?” he asked uncertainly, half expecting the sound of his own voice to wake him up.

Except that it didn’t.

And then his hallucination spoke.

“I’m sorry, Connor. I just didn’t know where else to turn.” Her eyes, those beautiful, mesmerizing blue orbs that he always used to get lost in, were now the eyes of a woman who looked as if she was on a first-name basis with fear. “I’d understand if you don’t want to let me in,” the petite strawberry blonde added hesitantly, already taking a step back from the doorway.

“Maybe you might, but I wouldn’t.” Connor took hold of her elbow and drew her into his house.

Once she was in, Connor closed the door behind her and then did something that he normally didn’t do because he lived in Forever, where everyone trusted everyone else. He locked his front door.

Connor turned to look at the young woman, still stunned that she was actually here.

It had been a little over five years since he had seen her. A little over five years since Amy had left town. At the time, she’d been swept right off her feet and hopelessly in love with Clay Patton. Handsome to a fault, self-assured to the point, many felt, of being cocky, Clay was the town’s “bad boy.” He had a tongue that was dipped in honey and could sweet-talk the feathers off a pair of lovebirds.

When it became clear that Amy was falling for Clay, Connor began to worry about her. Worry about her getting hurt. But Amy seemed to be so genuinely in love and so determined to make things work between Clay and herself, he just couldn’t find it in his heart to stand in her way.

So he didn’t.

He also didn’t tell her how he felt about her.

Instead, he played his part as a steadfast friend, wished her well and told her that if she ever needed him, for any reason at all, all she had to do was pick up a phone and call him. No matter where he was, he’d find her and be there for her.

All this time and she hadn’t called. Instead, she’d come in person.

The Amy Donavan who had left town floating on a cloud and full of dreams was a far cry from the wan, frightened-looking young woman he saw standing in his living room tonight.

Ushering her and her baby over to the sofa, Connor coaxed, “Why don’t you sit down, Amy?”

Very gently, he had her take a seat on the sofa. It was almost like handling someone who was sleepwalking. “Can I get you anything?” he asked. “Some tea? Something to eat? Maybe some milk for the baby?”

The word baby seemed to snap her out of the temporary daze that had slipped over her the moment she sat down on the sofa.

“My baby,” she said as if she suddenly realized that she was holding the child in her arms. She pressed the tiny bundle to her chest.

Lord, but Amy appeared incredibly weary, he thought. He was afraid that any moment, Amy’s arms might give way and she’d wind up dropping the baby. “If you’d like to put her—”

“Him,” Amy was quick to correct. “My baby’s a ‘him.’”

“Him,” Connor amended without missing a beat. “If you’d like to put him down, I’ve got a cradle in the back bedroom down here. You could put the baby in there and give your arms a rest,” he told her tactfully.

Connor’s eyes washed over her. In his estimation, Amy seemed beyond exhausted. Not only that, but she looked like she’d lost at least ten, maybe even fifteen, pounds since he’d last seen her. Life with Clay Patton had not been good to her.

She gazed up at him, instantly alert because of the suggestion he’d just made.

“A cradle,” she repeated, coming to the only conclusion she could. “You have a baby.”

Why else would anyone have a cradle? She was stupid to have thought that life had been put on hold for everyone else after she’d left Forever, she admonished herself.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude,” Amy apologized. Holding the baby against her, she was already struggling to her feet. “I just—”

The baby began to whimper.

“No, I don’t have a baby,” Connor assured her as he lightly took hold of her arm and then gently urged her to sit back down on the sofa.

All the fight had been taken out of her long before she’d walked into Connor’s living room. Consequently, when Connor tugged on her arm, she practically collapsed onto the sofa. But she continued tightly holding on to her child.

“I have a cradle,” Connor told her again, then set her mind at ease. “But I don’t have a baby.”

The reason for the cradle was a story for another time. Right now, the immediate problem was getting Amy to tell him what she was doing here after such a long absence. And why she looked so beaten down and frightened.

“I’ll bring the cradle out,” he offered. “You can set the baby down in it and have that cup of tea I promised you. It’ll do you good. And once you’ve finished your tea, you can tell me what this is all about.”

“Connor, you don’t have to...” Amy began, not wanting to make him feel obligated to go out of his way for her.

Rather than stay and argue with her, Connor disappeared into the side bedroom and fetched the cradle he’d mentioned to her. Carrying it out, he placed it on the floor right next to where Amy was sitting.

And then he stood in front of her, his eyes indicating her son.

“May I?” he asked.

Not waiting for an answer, he very gently took the whimpering baby from Amy’s arms. Rather than place him into the crib, Connor held the boy for a moment, gently rocking him and whispering something in the baby’s ear that Amy appeared not to make out even though she had moved to the edge of her seat.

As if by magic, the baby stopped whimpering and fussing. The next second, he was cooing and making happy noises. The boy settled down as Connor placed him into the cradle.

“It’s got runners,” he pointed out to Amy. “So you can rock your son while I get you some tea.”

She did as he told her, all the while staring at the baby in the cradle. Much to her relief, he looked contented. She was amazed at how calm he had become.

“What did you say to him?” she asked. “He hasn’t been this calm in weeks.”

“I just seem to have a knack with babies,” Connor called out from the kitchen. Within a couple of minutes, he walked back in carrying a mug of tea for her. “I guess after all the babies that have been through here, it’s a talent I just developed.”

“All the babies coming through here?” Amy repeated, clearly puzzled. She had no idea what he was talking about.

He realized there was no way she could know what had been going on here recently.

“Long story,” Connor told her, handing Amy the mug and sitting down beside her.

“I like long stories,” Amy said, taking the mug with both hands. The warmth that seeped through as she held it felt oddly comforting.

“And I’ll tell it to you,” the six-foot-tall rancher promised gamely. “Right after you tell me yours.”

She took a long sip of the tea, letting the soothing, hot liquid fortify her. It never occurred to her to put him off. Connor had been her best friend once—and she really needed a friend now.

“Oh, Connor, I don’t know where to start.”

“The beginning is always the best place,” he said kindly. When she looked at him with those same terrified eyes he’d looked into when he’d opened his door to her, he knew she needed his help. And patience. “I’ll start you off,” he said. “What’s this little guy’s name?”

At the reference to her son, Amy seemed to light up a little.

Studying her, Connor could see a little of the old Amy struggling to surface.

“Jamie,” she said, uttering the name almost reverently, as if the baby was the only thing still tethering her to life.

“How old is Jamie?” Connor asked, looking down into the cradle. After returning with tea for Amy, he’d begun gently rocking the boy again. Jamie looked as if he was about to drift off to sleep.

“He just turned six months,” Amy answered fondly.

For the first time, Connor detected a note of pride in her voice. It was easy to see that whatever else was wrong in her life, the baby was clearly the center of her universe.

“Is he Clay’s?” Connor asked.

At the mention of the other man’s name, anger flashed across Amy’s face. “He’s mine,” she said fiercely.

“And Clay’s?” Connor prodded, his question technically still unanswered.

In the five years that Amy had been gone from Forever, the possibility that she had taken up with another man was definitely there. But he knew Amy, knew her like he knew his siblings and himself. Possibly even better. Amy wasn’t the type to go from one man to another. She’d left town with Clay and he was willing to bet that she had remained with Clay—until something had forced her to flee with her baby.

“Yes,” Amy admitted with a great deal of reluctance. The next moment she looked up at Connor and cried, “Oh, Connor, I’ve been such an idiot.”

“We’ve all been there,” he said, doing his best to get her to go easy on herself.

But it was obvious that she wasn’t about to do that. “Not like me.”

He’d never heard her sound so terribly sad before. “Why don’t we talk about that later?” Changing the subject, Connor asked, “When was the last time you ate?”

Amy started to answer, then stopped. She thought for a moment and then, unable to remember, she shook her head, embarrassed.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, that ends now,” he informed her. Taking charge—he didn’t know how to do anything else—he rose to his feet. “You stay here and I’ll put something together for you to eat.”

He was already beginning to leave the living room to make good on his promise.

Amy looked at him in surprise. “You cook?”

Connor grinned. “Yeah, but I reheat better.” And then he explained. “My housekeeper, Rita, went to visit her sister in Austin for a few days, but, bless her, she prepared a bunch of casseroles for me before she left. I think she was secretly afraid that I’d wind up subsisting on scrambled eggs three times a day until she got back.”

This, too, was news to Amy. It made her realize even further that a great deal had happened since she had left Forever.

“You have a housekeeper?” she asked in amazement.

“That’s right. You’d left town before Rita came to work for us.”

He watched as Amy flushed at the mention of her having left town. Connor silently upbraided himself for having so carelessly tossed the phrase around. He didn’t want to rub salt into her wounds, especially since he had no way of knowing what those wounds were or just how deep they actually went.

Wanting to distract her, Connor said, “Tell you what. Why don’t you come into the kitchen with me? That way you can talk while I warm up your meal.” He saw the reluctant expression on her face as Amy glanced toward the cradle. “Don’t worry. If Jamie starts to cry, we’ll hear him,” Connor assured her. “The kitchen’s only a few feet away.”

It was all the persuasion she needed to sway her. Although still a little hesitant, Amy rose to her feet and followed Connor into the kitchen.

“When you said your housekeeper came to work for you, you used the word us,” Amy began.

Opening the refrigerator door, he rummaged around. There were still a number of casseroles to choose from, and Rita, bless her, had labeled everything.

“Yeah, I did,” he answered absently.

“By ‘us,’ did you mean your brothers and Cassidy?” Amy asked.

“Yes,” he told her, making his selection. He seemed to recall that turkey was always her favorite. But wanting to be sure he wasn’t mistaken, he asked, “Turkey okay with you?”

“Anything is fine,” she answered, although her smile told him that he had remembered correctly. He took the casserole out and shut the refrigerator again. “So where is everyone?” Amy wanted to know. Then, not wanting to seem as if she was digging into his personal life, she clarified by saying, “Cody, Cole and Cassidy. Are they out?”

Connor laughed softly. “Oh, they’re out, all right. They’re all out on their own.” When he saw the slightly quizzical look on her face, he added, “As in married with kids.”

“Really?” Although her own life had taken that course, somehow, she hadn’t thought of anyone she’d left behind doing that. To discover otherwise was extremely eye-opening.

“Really. All three of them are married. They still live around here and Cole turns up like clockwork five mornings a week to help me with the work on the ranch,” he said. He placed the casserole in the microwave oven and set the timer. “And everyone turns up here on Sundays for dinner. They’d all love to see you.”

Just then, the microwave dinged, signaling that the meal was warm enough, and he opened the door. Taking a towel, he carefully eased the hot dish out onto the counter.

“I doubt that,” she murmured, almost more to herself than to him.

He looked up at her sharply.

“I don’t,” he countered. “And with Jamie by your side,” he went on as he set the individual casserole dish right in front of her on the kitchen table, “you’d fit right in here.”

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than he saw they had generated tears in her eyes.

“I really doubt that,” she repeated in an even quieter voice.

Seeing her cry really got to him. He had always felt helpless in the presence of a woman’s tears. The two times he’d been around Cassidy when she’d cried, he’d felt utterly at a loss, and Cassidy had never been one of those gentle little flowers despite the fact she was small in comparison to the rest of them.

But seeing Amy cry just ripped his insides to shreds—and even though he was by and large a nonviolent man at heart, it made Connor want to punch out whoever was the cause behind her tears.

Most likely, his number one candidate was Clay Patton, Connor thought. There’d never been any love lost between them to begin with and even less now.

Connor fisted his hands at his sides in mute frustration.