Heidi McCahan - Their Baby Blessing

She gently extracted her hair from Connor’s hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Gage looked away and jammed his feet into his boots. So she wasn’t a total ice queen. Maybe she was too stressed and overwhelmed. Or just not a fan of him dropping into her life unannounced? She’d mentioned her concerns about someone calling social services. Did she think he was going to try to take Connor from her?

Something told him now was not the time to offer reassurances. He put on his jacket and paused, one hand on the doorknob, and dared to look at her one more time. “Thanks for giving me a chance.”

“Don’t let me down.”

Wow. Okay. “See you soon.”

“Good night.”

He stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door closed behind him. Staring up into the night sky, his breath puffing in little white clouds, he silently offered a prayer for guidance.

I’m off to a shaky start here, Lord.

When he set out to find McKenna and her baby, he never anticipated meeting Skye. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t ignore his initial attraction to her. Not that it mattered. She was downright frigid tonight and clearly didn’t like strangers, no matter how honorable their intentions. She’d probably only asked for his help because her mom coaxed her and she was desperate. But he couldn’t let her attitude discourage him. He owed it to Ryan to keep his promise.

P lease, please let this be the one.

Skye folded her hands behind her back and pasted on a polite smile. Her customers, Mr. and Mrs. Crawford, circled the eight-piece dining room set in the furniture’s showroom for the third time, their brows furrowed.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Mr. Crawford clapped his hand on his wife’s shoulder, while he jangled his loose change with his hand in his other pocket. Skye held her breath, waiting for Mrs. Crawford to answer.

“I just can’t make up my mind. Do you think we can all fit around it for Easter? We’re hosting this year.”

Yes, of course. Skye dug her fingernails into her palm to keep from blurting out a response. She’d actually never visited the Crawfords’ home and had no idea how much space they had in their dining room, but the store’s dismal sales—almost nonexistent this month—could really use a boost.

“It might be a tight squeeze, especially with the credenza, too, but I’m sure we can make it work.” Mr. Crawford gave Skye a reassuring smile, the lines on his weathered face crinkling around his eyes.

She widened her smile, while the tension between her shoulders knotted tighter. Mrs. Crawford did not seem convinced.

“We really love the bedroom set we purchased from your daddy some years ago,” Mrs. Crawford said, running her hand over the oak tabletop. “Now that our son and his wife moved to Fort Collins and took our dining room table and chairs, I’d really like something that will accommodate him and his wife, and of course, any future grandchildren, if our daughter ever gets married...” She trailed off and stepped back as if to gain a better perspective.

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed your bedroom set.” Skye kept her tone warm. Optimistic. “We always appreciate loyal customers.”

“Your father was a great guy.” Mr. Crawford’s gaze filled with empathy. “We had a good time coaching your brother’s Little League team together all those years. How’s your mom doing?”

Skye swallowed hard, surprised by the emotion unexpectedly rising at the mention of her father’s good works in Merritt’s Crossing. “Mom’s getting by. I guess you heard she’s had knee replacement surgery. The recovery’s tougher than we expected.”

“I can imagine.” Mr. Crawford glanced at his wife, the change in his pocket jangling a little louder. “What do you say, hon? Is this the one or—”

Skye’s phone rang, and she froze. Ignore it? What if it was McKenna? But taking the call meant stepping away from the customers, and she hated for them to think they weren’t important. Quite the opposite, really.

“Go ahead and answer that if you need to, dear.” Mrs. Crawford smiled politely. “We don’t mind.”

“I’ll just be a minute.” Skye crossed the showroom in quick strides to the antique rolltop desk that served as the home base when she couldn’t be in the tiny back office. Business cards, a work space for her laptop and a vase of pink carnations with a sprig of baby’s breath decorated the well-worn surface. Her phone’s screen lit up with the church’s number in the caller ID. Oh no. Her stomach dropped. Connor.

“H-hello?” she said, unable to keep the tremor from her voice.

“Hello, Skye, this is Betty Sanders over at the church. How are you?”

Skye squeezed her eyes shut. A call from the child care director wasn’t a good thing. “I’m fine, Mrs. Sanders. How can I help you?”

“We’ve run into a bit of an issue with Connor this morning. Do you have a few minutes to chat?”

Skye opened her eyes and glanced over her shoulder. Mr. and Mrs. Crawford stood close together near the dining room set, talking quietly. At least they hadn’t left. Yet. “What happened?”

“I’m afraid he bit another child on the arm. As we’ve already discussed, biting is a cause for concern. Since it’s happened two other times, we’re going to have to ask you to leave the Mom’s Morning Out program.”

No, no, no. Skye pressed her hand to her cheek. “I’m sure you’re aware Connor’s had a lot to deal with lately, with his mom...out of town for a while. I mean, he’s not even one yet. Isn’t there a chance he’s just trying to express his frustration—”

“Skye, we can’t allow him to bite. It’s not fair to the other children.”

“But he isn’t trying to be aggressive. He’s never bitten me or my mom or anyone outside the nursery. How do you know he wasn’t provoked?” She knew she was pushing her limit with Mrs. Sanders, but she couldn’t help but try. The Mom’s Morning Out program was her child care lifeline. Without it, she had nothing. Well, nothing except Gage.

“I can assure you he was not provoked,” Mrs. Sanders said, her tone icy. “As the director, I have a responsibility to provide a safe and nurturing environment for all who attend. While it’s a real shame about Connor’s abandonment, I’m not going to excuse his unacceptable behavior.”

Skye bristled at the older woman’s harsh, judgmental tone. She bit her lip and glanced at her customers again.

Mr. and Mrs. Crawford were already halfway to the store’s front door. “We’ll be back,” they whispered.

No! She wanted to run ahead and plant herself in their path, maybe even offer them a discount off the full price. At this point, she wasn’t above begging them to reconsider. She really couldn’t afford to lose this sale.

“Skye?” Mrs. Sanders’s voice grated on her nerves. “Are you still there?”

“Yes, I just—”

“I’ll need you to come pick Connor up immediately.”

“What?” Skye glanced at the oversize wooden clock mounted on the wall, the hands on the distressed finish inching toward eleven o’clock. “I usually don’t pick him up until twelve fifteen.”

“Perhaps I wasn’t explicit enough. He’s being removed from the program. Permanently. I expect to see you here in the next fifteen minutes.”

“But—”

There was no point arguing. Mrs. Sanders had already ended the call. Skye pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. What was she going to do with an eleven-month-old in a furniture store? Sure, she could set up the portable crib to keep him contained in the back room, but he wouldn’t be content there for more than a few minutes. And he’d never take a nap there, either.