Judy Duarte: Christmas Baby

When she turned around, she smiled, lighting up the room in an unexpected way. “When you said you lived in an apartment, I thought it would be in a typical complex, like mine. I didn’t expect something like this.”

Was that good or bad?

He supposed it shouldn’t matter, yet it did. “So what do you think?”

“It’s got an interesting view.” She walked to the sofa, which he’d purchased a couple of months ago, and placed her hand along the backrest. “I like it.”

Thank goodness. It would have been tough if she were to hate the idea of being stuck here for a couple of weeks. So he returned her smile, then nodded toward the bedroom. “I’ll show you where you can put your things.”

“All right.”

As he led her through the doorway, he said, “I made some space for you in the closet, so you can hang up some of your clothes, if you want to. And I emptied the top two drawers of the dresser. I hope that’ll give you enough room.”

He’d also made sure there was a brand-new tube of toothpaste for her to use, and he’d purchased two fluffy white towels, which now hung pristinely on the rack.

“I didn’t expect you to go to any trouble for me,” she said.

“It was no trouble.” He placed her suitcase on the bed. “If you need some time to rest or settle in, I can make myself scarce. Or if you want something to eat, we can go down to the diner. I’ve got plenty of food in the fridge, but to tell you the truth, I eat most of my meals at Caroline’s.”

“It’s so close. I can see where it would be easier for you.”

“Yeah, but Caroline’s also one heck of a cook.” He chuckled. “I’d never want my mom to know this, but some of the meals at the diner are actually tastier than the ones I get when I’m back home.”

Jillian smiled. “I’d like to check out Caroline’s cooking and see if it holds up to my grandmother’s.”

Ten minutes later, after Jillian had settled in, Shane took her to the diner, where she scanned the interior, clearly taking in the white café-style curtains on the front windows, the yellow walls with a wallpaper border, as well as the wooden tables and chairs.

“It sure looks like a down-home-style restaurant,” she said as she glanced at the chalkboard that advertised a full meal for seven dollars and ninety-nine cents.

In bright yellow chalk on black, someone had written, What the Sheriff Ate, followed by, Meat Loaf, Green Beans w/ Almonds, Mashed Potatoes and Peach Cobbler.

“What does that mean?” Jillian asked.

“Caroline’s married to the town sheriff, so that’s how she lists the daily special.”

Jillian smiled. “That’s really cute. And that meat loaf plate sounds good to me, especially with the peach cobbler.”

“Then let’s find a place to sit.”

Shane and Jillian had no more taken seats at an empty table when he saw Sam Jennings enter the café. In his early sixties, with silver hair and a barrel chest, the Brighton Valley sheriff also had a belly that lapped over his belt, thanks to nearly forty years of his wife’s cooking.

Sam waved at Shane, then headed for the table. The two men had become friends a while back, after a rash of robberies in town had left the sheriff perplexed. Shane had offered his help by studying the crime scene evidence, and they’d soon found the culprit, who was now behind bars.

“How’s it going?” Sam asked.

“Great.” Shane introduced the jovial sheriff to Jillian.

After the customary greetings, Sam stuck around and chatted for a while, mostly about the weather, the fact that the bass were really biting down at the lake and that Charlie Boswell, who’d just retired as fire chief, planned to take his wife on an Alaskan cruise.

Shane hoped Jillian didn’t mind the small-town talk. When he glanced across the table at her, she was smiling, which suggested she was okay with it all.

So far, so good, he thought.

As Sam made his way to one of the booths at the back of the diner to join another Brighton Valley old-timer, Margie, the waitress, stopped by the table with menus and two glasses of water.

“We won’t need to look at these,” Shane said, handing the menus back. “We’d each like the special.”

Margie didn’t bother taking out her notepad. “You won’t be sorry. Those green beans are really fresh. So what would you like to drink?”

“I’ll have seltzer,” Jillian said.

Margie looked at Shane and smiled. “How about you, cowboy?”

“Iced tea.”

“You got it.” Margie started to walk away, then stopped. “Say, how are things going out at the ranch? I heard one of Dan and Eva’s twins came down with strep throat.”

“That was Kevin,” Shane said. “But he’s feeling a lot better now. Fortunately, he didn’t share his germs with the rest of the family.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Margie said before walking back to the kitchen with their orders.

“I take it she was talking about your boss and his kids,” Jillian said.

“Yep. Dan and Eva have two sets of twins. I’ll probably take you out to meet them while you’re here.”

“I’d like that.”

She would? Shane took that to be another good sign that she didn’t find Brighton Valley to be a hick town or a total waste of her vacation time.

“I’m wondering, though. How do your friends feel about our living arrangement? What did you tell them about me?”

“Dan and Eva are two of the nicest people you’ll meet. I told them the truth—that we met in Houston, that we conceived a child and that we need to sort through some things. They actually asked me to bring you out to the ranch.”

She bit down on her bottom lip, then surveyed the diner. When her gaze returned to his, she gave a little shrug. “But what about everyone else in town? They all seem to know each other—and what’s going on in their lives. What have you told them about me?”

“Just that we’re friends. It’s really none of their business.”

As she reached for her glass and took a sip of water, he wondered if she was concerned about being fodder for gossip.

He supposed there were some people who might find her condition and her presence in town worthy of discussion, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

Opting to change the subject and to get her mind off the small-town rumor mill, he asked, “Have you ever been on a ranch before?”

“No, so it ought to be interesting. I’d also like to see where you work.”

It was another way to get to know him better, he supposed. He couldn’t blame her for that.

He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “I’ve got an idea. After dinner, let’s take a walk.”

“All right, but where?”

“Just outside the diner. We can check out some of the shops on Main Street. I think you’d enjoy that. You might also be surprised at how much fun it is to people watch in this town.”

Jillian blessed him with a pretty smile. “That sounds great.”

It did? That was better news yet, especially since Shane planned to convince Jillian that Brighton Valley wasn’t just a little Podunk town.

And that it would be an ideal place to raise their child.

Jillian and Shane spent the evening window shopping along the main drag of Brighton Valley. Along the way, she’d also met some of the more colorful citizens who called the small town home, like Anson Pratt, who sat outside the drugstore, whittling small wooden animals to give to the kids in the pediatric ward at Brighton Valley Medical Center.

On several occasions, her shoulder had brushed against Shane’s. Each time it happened, she’d been tempted to slip her hand into his.

She’d been alone for months, determined to create a home for her baby while she chased her dream to teach. And now, as she strolled along one of Brighton Valley’s quaint, tree-shaded streets, she relished Shane’s musky scent and the soul-stirring sound of his soft Southern drawl.