Kitabı oku: «Because of the Baby...»

To Sunshine Grandahl for sharing her preemie experiences, and Sarah M. Anderson for being such a fantastic collaborator.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Extract

Copyright

One

Lark Taylor gathered a deep breath as the elevator doors opened. Plastering a pleasant expression on her face, she straightened her spine. Time to go to work. With a cake box balanced carefully in her hands, she strode down the short hallway to the nurses’ station in front of the ICU. The three women behind the desk didn’t notice her approach, or if they did, they ignored her.

“So I told him if he thinks he’s going hunting two weekends in a row, he can find a new girlfriend.” Marsha Todd, a forty-year-old divorced woman with no kids, was holding court as usual. With her bleached teeth, flawless makeup and manicured nails, she was the same sort of shallow individual who had tormented Lark in high school. “So naturally he’s staying home. He might not be the brightest guy I’ve dated, but he’s smart enough not to mess with all this.”

Jessa and Chelsea, the two other nurses working the ICU today, laughed in appreciation. Taken separately, either woman was tolerable to work with. Jessa was a quiet single mom with a three-year-old son and Chelsea had an alcoholic husband who worked construction. With Marsha as their ringleader, however, they took on a pack mentality. Which meant, if they didn’t want to be on the bottom of the pecking order, they’d better make sure someone else was. That person was Lark.

“You’re early,” Marsha remarked, her tone pitched in criticism as Lark set the cake box on the counter.

“I’m going to spend some time with Grace. I just wanted to drop this off first.”

“What is it?” Jessa asked. The nicest of the trio, she had borne the brunt of Marsha’s bullying until Lark transferred to the ICU three months ago.

“A cake for Marsha’s birthday tomorrow.”

“You bought me a cake?”

“Actually I made it.”

Chelsea opened the cake box and peered in. “You made this? Really? Looks store bought.”

“It’s a hobby of mine.”

“It’s beautiful.” Jessa’s brown eyes were wide with appreciation. “How long did this take?”

“A couple hours,” Lark said, her anxiety easing beneath her coworkers’ admiration.

“How did you do the flowers?” Jessa asked. “The roses look real.”

“I use a frosting tip and something called a rose nail.”

Marsha barely glanced at the three-layer white cake painstakingly decorated in a basket weave pattern with buttercream frosting and royal icing daisies, roses and forget-me-nots. “If it’s not gluten free, I can’t eat it.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know that.”

“I don’t know how. I talk about it all the time.” But never to Lark.

“I guess I’m so focused on the patients.” Lark realized even as she uttered the excuse that it was the wrong thing to say. “I haven’t heard you mention it.”

“And speaking of patients,” Marsha said, shooting looks at both Jessa and Chelsea. “We’d better get in and check on them.”

All three of her coworkers walked away, abandoning Lark at the desk with her cake and her disappointment. Her efforts to make friends with the other nurses these last few months had all been a bust. Marsha was top of the social order in the ICU and she didn’t like Lark.

Not knowing what to do with the birthday cake that Marsha couldn’t eat, Lark took it down to the surgical floor. She knew her former coworkers would appreciate the treat. Leaving the cake box on the desk of her friend Julie with a brief note explaining what had happened, Lark headed to the stairs.

One floor down from the surgery floor was the maternity ward. Lark had worked at the hospital for three years without ever setting foot on the floor where children were born until a fateful night three months ago when her niece was born. Estranged from her sister these last four years Lark hadn’t been able to tell the medical staff when Skye was due, but they’d been able to surmise she was about twenty-eight or twenty-nine weeks along.

Reaching the third-floor landing, Lark headed to the door that would take her into the maternity ward. She put her hand on the door and pushed it open an inch, finding her way blocked by a broad shoulder clad in a navy blue cotton shirt. Dark brown hair in desperate need of a cut curled upward against the shirt’s collar.

The tall, ruggedly built man on the other side of the door was Keaton Holt, brother of the man Lark’s sister had run off. She seldom encountered him around Royal. He spent most of his time at the family ranch and only made occasional visits into town. She usually heard about those from her father, who complained every time Keaton showed up at the Texas Cattleman’s Club.

All that had changed after the tornado ripped through town and a pregnant Skye had been discovered in her overturned rental car.

Keaton was talking on his cell, fully engaged in conversation, and hadn’t noticed her presence. Lark would have to interrupt in order to get past. It would mean she’d catch Keaton’s attention and have to brave the intensity of his sharp blue gaze that seemed to see straight through her.

As Lark debated retreating back down the stairs and avoiding Keaton altogether, his words floated through the narrow crack between the door and frame.

“That’s why I demanded we get the DNA test run. You’re Grace’s grandmother. You shouldn’t be limited to staring at her through the NICU window.”

“Of course Grace is his daughter. He and Skye were madly in love when they left Royal.” Keaton’s voice rang with arrogant confidence that chafed Lark’s already frayed nerves. “He chose her over his family. And yeah, he’s a stubborn jerk, but if things had ended between them, we’d know.”

Lark leaned as far forward as she dared, her curiosity getting the better of her. Day after day she’d sat beside her sister’s unconscious body, desperate to know what Skye had been doing in the years since she left town. Did Keaton have the answers?

“I don’t know where Jake is.” And Keaton sounded far from happy about that. For the last few months, Lark had rebelled against the possibility that Jake was Grace’s father. He’d made no attempt to get in contact with Skye in the three months since she was hurt by the tornado that had devastated Royal. That was why Lark had resisted the DNA test as long as she had. What sort of man abandons his child and the woman he loves? A no-good Holt, that’s who.

“I haven’t been able to get a hold of him. I’ve called his company several times, but his assistant has given me the runaround. From some of his other staff I was able to find out that he’s out of the country, but they refused to give me any more information, so I have no idea where he’s gone.”

Until this moment Lark hadn’t realized that Jake didn’t know about Skye. She’d just assumed that he hadn’t rushed to Skye’s side because their relationship was over. Skye wore neither an engagement nor a wedding ring, and her fingers hadn’t borne any telltale band of paleness that indicated a ring had recently been removed. Given how passionate their love had been when they first left Royal, Lark couldn’t believe Jake and Skye had been together four years without making some legal commitment to each other. Especially after Skye became pregnant.

“Of course I explained that Skye was hurt. His assistant...” Keaton’s frustration was audible, but there was pain in his voice, as well. After a long moment, he continued. “The last time I called for Jake, she told me that she’d been informed he didn’t have a brother.”

Despite the animosity that existed between their families, Lark winced in sympathy. She and Skye hadn’t had any contact these last four years either. She’d been shocked upon moving back to Royal to discover Skye and Jake were still involved and actively hiding their relationship from their parents. Several times in the few months between Lark’s return to Royal and Skye’s departure with Jake, Lark had warned her sister that she was making a huge mistake trusting a Holt. When Skye chose Jake over her family, Lark had said some harsh things.

She’d accused Skye of being selfish and inconsiderate. At the time Lark had believed her indignation was righteous, but as the years passed, she realized that what she’d perceived as concern for her parents was really resentment born of envy that her sister had chosen to be happy.

“It’s okay, Mom. I get that Jake hasn’t been able to forgive me for putting them in a position where they felt they had no choice but to leave town,” Keaton said, his tone dark. “I can live with being disowned by him. But that doesn’t mean I stopped caring about him or his family. He and Skye might not be married, but she is still family. That’s why I wanted proof that Grace is his daughter.”

“Excuse me.” Someone had asked Keaton to step aside.

He nodded and moved out of the way before continuing. “The DNA test should be back today or tomorrow. In the meantime I hired an investigator to find out where Jake has gone.”

Before Lark could move, the door she’d been leaning against was pulled away. Off balance, she stumbled into the hallway that led to the NICU. After she made a couple ungainly sidesteps, someone caught her by the arm, steadying her.

She glanced up at her savior. Softened by a thick fringe of black lashes, Keaton Holt’s denim-blue eyes captured her full attention. At five feet ten inches, Lark rarely encountered a man she could look up at. Keaton towered over her, making her feel normal. Maybe even a little dainty.

The heat at her center had worked its way into her cheeks by the time she realized she wasn’t standing on her own two feet, but still relying on his support. She should have regained her balance and gotten the heck out of there. Keaton and Gloria had to be wondering if she’d been listening in on their conversation. But the leashed strength of the man slammed into her like a runaway calf.

Gripped by what could only be described as a rush of lust, Lark floundered in confusion. Starting when she was a baby, her father’s bedtime stories had revolved around the wrongs inflicted on her family by the Holts. She couldn’t possibly want Keaton Holt.

“Thank you.” She disengaged her arm and took an awkward step back. With effort she ripped her attention away from his sculpted lips. Twenty feet away the room that housed the smallest and sickest babies offered refuge. “Excuse me.”

“Lark.” Keaton’s deep voice rumbled through her as she fled. “Lark, we need to talk.”

His voice didn’t recede the way it should if she was escaping him. Bracing herself, Lark stopped beside the door that led into the NICU unit.

“The DNA results are due shortly.”

“I know,” she mumbled, miserable at the idea that she’d have to share Grace with any of the Holts. Unfortunately and against her better judgment, she was also sympathetic to their plight. If she’d been denied access to her niece, she would be beyond miserable.

“We need to talk about what’s going to happen next.”

“Nothing is going to happen.”

“That’s not really the case, is it? Once the test determines that Grace is Jake’s daughter then I have the same obligation to her as you do.”

“Obligation?” Did he seriously think what she felt for Skye and Grace was born of responsibility? She loved her sister and would do everything in her power to take care of Grace. “You think it’s your duty to step up because your brother is nowhere to be found.” Lark’s earlier compassion was trampled beneath an onslaught of annoyance. “You needn’t bother. I have matters well in hand.”

“I don’t think of it as a duty, but I do feel responsible because Jake isn’t here.”

“And why isn’t he?”

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know what’s going on.” Keaton set his hand on his hip and gazed beyond her shoulder. “If he did, he’d be at her side.”

Lark wasn’t at all convinced. “What makes you think they’re even still together?”

“My brother loves Skye. Grace is his daughter.” Keaton’s thick brows drew together. “That’s all the proof I need.”

Having had no way to reach her sister these last four years, Lark understood his frustration, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it. “Did you let him know Skye was hurt?”

Keaton’s expression shifted into stoic lines. “I’ve spoken with his assistant, but she’s refusing to forward any messages.”

“That’s quite an excuse.” Lark blew out a breath. “If he and Skye were still together I believe he’d have moved heaven and earth to be here for her and Grace. I don’t think he’s her father.”

But she wasn’t as convinced as she pretended to be. Grace had Holt eyes and bone structure. That was why Lark had resisted the DNA test for so long. Her instincts told her Grace was Jake’s daughter, but the feud that existed between the Taylors and Holts made it so hard for Lark to do the right thing. In the end Keaton’s determination and threats of legal action had worn her down.

“Then who is Grace’s father and where is he?” Keaton demanded.

Lark had no more idea what had been going on between Skye and Jake than Keaton did, and she wasn’t going to pretend any different. “I don’t have a clue. We haven’t spoken since she left Royal.” Seeing Keaton’s surprise, Lark continued. “I didn’t think running away with your brother was a good idea and told her so.”

“Because you didn’t think a Holt was good enough for her?” Keaton’s neutral tone kept his comment from sounding bitter.

Lark didn’t want to fight with Keaton. She was sick of their families being at war. “I knew my father would disown her if she left.”

Skye had always been her parents’ favorite. They understood her. Unlike Lark, she’d been pretty and popular in school. She didn’t lock herself away in books. Their parents didn’t care that Skye’s grades were good enough to keep her in the top twenty-five percent of her class; they loved the fact that she was a cheerleader and voted prom queen her senior year.

“I guess we have more in common than either of us knew.”

“Seems we do.” Tightness eased in Lark’s chest. Regret had been her constant companion for four years. It had been a lonely time. Her parents refused to talk about Skye, and Lark had been too ashamed at how she’d treated her sister to confide in any of her friends.

“Thank you for letting me do the test.” Keaton’s voice softened. “My mother desperately wants to visit her granddaughter.”

Regret swamped her at his words. Lark wished her parents had similar desires. “My parents haven’t seen Grace.” The words spilled out of her with more bitterness than she’d intended.

“But once she leaves the hospital, they can see her as much as they want.” Keaton had misinterpreted Lark’s meaning.

“The problem is they don’t want to see her.”

Despite the harm that had befallen their daughter, Tyrone and Vera Taylor hadn’t set aside their resentment over Skye’s choosing to run off with a hated Holt. Oh, they’d visited her in the beginning when she was first brought in and they acted genuinely concerned, but as the months passed and Skye didn’t wake after the medical treatment that induced her coma ceased, they’d retreated into bitterness.

“I don’t understand.”

“They still can’t forgive Skye for running off with your brother.”

“Don’t you think this thing between our families has gone on too long?”

“Maybe.” Everything she’d ever been told by her parents made her want to keep Keaton and his family as far from Grace and Skye as possible, but deep in her heart she knew that if Keaton was right and Jake was Grace’s father, the Holts deserved equal time with her. “But you can’t expect decades of mistrust to evaporate overnight.”

“Jake and Skye got the ball rolling. The rest of us have had four years to adjust.”

His challenge settled a huge weight on her shoulders. She was supposed to mistrust him, dislike him even. Since the late 1800s their families had been fighting over the ownership of two thousand acres dotted with several lakes, owned by Lark’s family, that bordered the Holts’ ranch. She’d grown up listening to her grandfather and father rant about what liars and cheats the Holts were. Never to be trusted. How they were willing to do whatever it took to take what didn’t belong to them.

Lark was sick of the feud. It had started with a bill of sale that had gone missing back in 1898. Edwin Holt claimed Titus McMann had sold him the two thousand acres in order to fund his trip to Alaska where gold had been drawing prospectors since the 1880s.

Unfortunately, Titus had died before he could leave town and when Holt’s bill of sale couldn’t be found in the town records, his brother subsequently sold the land to John Taylor. Although there was nothing overtly suspicious about Titus’s death, the fact that both the money he’d received from Edwin Holt and the bill of sale had mysteriously disappeared caused Holt to insinuate John Taylor had been up to no good.

A hard headed, unforgiving man, John Taylor hadn’t appreciated the trouble Holt’s allegations caused his family and did everything in his power to ruin his neighbor’s business and reputation.

Lark hated that her parents continued to be obsessed with the ancient land dispute. They couldn’t just let it go. It would be one thing if they’d been the ones who’d lost the land, but they’d won and couldn’t rise above their hostility. And she was ashamed that she’d let their spiteful rhetoric poison her against her own sister, something she’d give anything to fix. If only Skye would wake up.

“I heard they’re going to release Grace in the next few days,” he continued.

“I know.” The news that her niece was healthy enough to leave the hospital brought with it both excitement and panic.

“Are you planning on taking her home?”

Something about the intensity in Keaton’s manner warned Lark that this wasn’t just an innocent question. “Yes.”

“She’s just as much my responsibility as yours.”

“You don’t know that. If you did, you wouldn’t have asked for a DNA test to prove she’s your brother’s daughter.”

“The test isn’t for me,” Keaton assured her. “I trust that Jake and Skye are together and want everyone else to know it too.”

“What makes you so sure?” Lark asked, wanting him to reassure her.

“Your sister loves my brother. She’d never leave him.”

Then why had Skye been returning to Royal and where was Jake?

“I have to start work in forty-five minutes,” Lark said. “I really want to go spend some time with Grace before that happens.”

“What are your plans for her care while you’re working?” Keaton’s blunt question caught her unprepared.

Lark usually worked four twelve-hour shifts in a row and then had six days off. She liked the schedule, but it was going to make being Grace’s primary caretaker a little challenging. Lark had no intention of putting the tiny baby in day care and she didn’t like the idea of a stranger watching her while Lark was at work. She’d hoped her mother might be willing to watch her grandchild, but thanks to Skye’s estrangement from the Taylor family, Lark was pretty sure the answer would be no.

“I haven’t finalized anything.”

“Good.”

“Why good?”

“Because I intend to be involved.”

* * *

Keaton saw immediately that Lark didn’t like what he had to say.

“Involved how?”

“I’m going to take care of her while you’re working.”

“You, personally?” She shook her head. “What do you know about babies?”

“What I don’t know I can learn.”

“Don’t you have enough going on with rebuilding your ranch?”

When the tornado had torn through in October, the Holt ranch house had been demolished along with several of the outbuildings. Fortunately Keaton’s parents had been out of town and most of the ranch hands had been miles away checking the fence line for breaks.

Keaton and a few of his employees hadn’t been so lucky. Most of the men working nearby had made it to shelter before the tornado hit, but Keaton and his foreman had been in the barn. Jeb had suffered a minor concussion and Keaton’s shoulder had been dislocated by flying debris.

Because of the number of people injured by the tornado, Lark had been working in the ER when Keaton drove himself and three other injured men to the hospital. He recalled the way his spirits had lifted at the briefest flash of awareness that had sparked between them as her eyes first met his. A second later she’d blinked and became all business as she sorted out the extent of their injuries.

The fleeting connection reminded him of simpler days when they’d been kids and he found her both appealing and a curiosity. The three-year difference in their ages and the feud between their families had given him plenty of reasons to give her a wide berth. But it hadn’t stopped him from wondering about her.

“My foreman can supervise when I’m not there and call me if something needs my immediate attention.” He was determined to protect his brother’s paternal rights. “I’m not negotiating with you, Lark.”

A mulish expression settled over her features. “Do you even have a place you can care for her? Where are you living while your ranch house is being rebuilt?”

“A hunting cabin.”

“A cabin?” Lark crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t think so. A preemie’s lungs are delicate. She needs to be in a clean, warm environment free from drafts and damp.”

“My parents are staying with friends in Pine Valley. I could bring her there on the days you work.” He made the suggestion knowing it would never fly.

“That would be a terrible imposition on your parents’ friends.”

“Then I’ll watch her at your house.”

Lark’s eyes widened. Her mouth popped open, but she must have recognized the determination on his face, because whatever refusal she’d been about to utter didn’t come. Her facial muscles shifted into unhappy lines.

“I don’t really think...” she began before turning toward the door to the NICU. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to take care of a baby?”

“Some.”

Giving him a doubtful frown, Lark motioned for him to follow her. Her stiff posture demonstrated she wasn’t happy with his determination to be involved with Grace. Too bad. As her uncle, he had as much right to be with the infant as Lark.

In silence they walked down the row of incubators to the crib that held Grace. The anxious burn in Keaton’s chest whenever he visited his niece had faded. Born ten weeks premature at two pounds, two ounces, the baby girl had gained almost three pounds since then and was now free of all sensors, IVs, pressurized oxygen and the feeding tube.

Acting as if Keaton had ceased to exist for her, Lark carefully picked up Grace and settled her into the crook of her left arm. “Hello, beautiful. How are you doing today?”

“She’s doing great,” said Ginger. The nurse on duty was a plump woman in her midforties with keen brown eyes and an engaging smile. “Ready to go home in a few days.”

“I’m really excited about that,” Lark said, adjusting Grace’s pink hat embroidered with the word Miracle.

“Are you ready?”

“I have tomorrow off. I’m going to go shopping for everything.”

“We’re going shopping,” Keaton corrected her, drawing Ginger’s gaze. “Grace is my niece, as well. I’m going to be involved with taking care of her.”

Ginger’s eyes brightened. “That’s wonderful. Grace is going to need a lot more care than the average baby. I’m glad you’re going to be helping Lark out.” The NICU nurse gave his arm a pat as she moved off to check on another infant.

“It’s premature to talk about your involvement,” Lark muttered as soon as the other nurse was out of earshot. “Grace’s paternity has not yet been determined.”

“Today or tomorrow we’ll have the results and you’ll see she’s my niece as much as yours.” Seeing the way Lark’s mouth tightened, Keaton continued. “I intend to share the responsibility.”

“A lot of men wouldn’t want the responsibility of a preemie.”

“I know Jake would expect me to take care of his daughter.”

He wasn’t surprised when she didn’t respond. Lark had always struck him as the ultimate wallflower. Quiet and reserved, she watched more than participated. Why had he noticed her at all? Probably because he had similar tendencies. He kept to himself, enjoying the solitude of his cabin beside the small five-acre lake after a hectic day spent managing the ranch.

Her preoccupation with the baby gave him a chance to study her at length. Dressed in pale green scrubs, her wavy blond hair cut in a short bob, she gave off an ignore me vibe. She might have gone unnoticed if she wasn’t so tall. At five feet ten inches, she would have made a great basketball or volleyball player, but she’d been more of a bookworm than an athlete. She and Jake had been classmates, but despite the fact that he’d been secretly dating her sister all through high school, Lark had never been part of the same crowd.

Three years older than Lark, the single year they’d attended the same in high school, Keaton hadn’t had any contact with her, but she’d been extremely intelligent and that intrigued him. With a perfect score on her ACTs and could have had her pick of colleges if she’d wanted to venture out of Texas.

“Can you hold Grace for a second?”

Keaton blinked himself out of his thoughts. “Excuse me?”

“Can you hold Grace?”

“Why?”

Lark’s long lashes fluttered upward as she glanced at him in confusion. “Because she needs to be changed and I need to go get some wipes. This is out.” She pointed to a box on a nearby shelf.

Keaton stared down at Grace with his hands at his sides. She was so tiny. And he was a big guy more accustomed to wrestling with querulous calves than handling fragile things like a five-pound baby.

Lark stood and held Grace out to him with an impatient “here.”

Alarm flashed through him. Keaton took an involuntary step backward. Still staring at Grace’s precious face with its soft, perfect skin, he clasped his hands behind his back, feeling the rough scrape of calluses. It wouldn’t be right to touch her delicate skin with anything so abrasive.

“Keaton?” Lark’s tone had softened. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s really small.” He paused. “And...”

“You’re afraid to hold her.”

“No.”

“How do you expect to help me take care of her when you aren’t comfortable enough to hold her?”

He let a breath hiss out from between his clenched teeth before replying, “I’m going to be fine. I just need a little time to get used to her.”

“No time like the present.” Lark moved into his space, her manner determined. “Give me your left arm.”

He resisted her imperious tone for only as long as it took her to lift her gaze to his. She had the greenest eyes, like spring grass after a week of rain. How had he never noticed how beautiful they were? She raised her eyebrows at him. Moving slowly, giving her plenty of time to change her mind, Keaton let his arm swing forward.

She took ahold of his wrist and placed his arm against his abdomen. Her fingers were warm and light against his skin. His heart shifted off its rhythm.

“You need to support her head.”

Her shoulder bumped against his chest as she placed the delicate bundle in his arms. The top of her head swept beneath his nose, offering him a whiff of whatever shampoo she used. It reminded him of summertime and his mom’s strawberry shortcake. His mouth watered.