Terry McLaughlin - Maybe, Baby

Another fugitive from the big city who’d found a refuge in this small-town world.

“Look who just woke up from her nap.” Jody carried Nora’s three-month-old daughter, Ashley, into the parlor. “I changed her diaper already.”

“Thanks, hon.” Nora set her glass on the dainty mahogany tea table beside her. “I didn’t hear her wake up.”

“That’s ’cause she was sucking her thumb again.” Jody shifted the baby into Nora’s arms and then straightened, shoving reddish bangs out of her dark hazel eyes. “She was just lying there, staring at me and sucking away. Slurp, slurp.”

“Hello, sweetheart,” Nora murmured. “Are you hungry?”

Ashley stared into her face as if the question were the most important thing she’d ever considered, and Nora’s heart swelled against her ribs in an intensely painful and wonderful habit. Her daughter—her gorgeous, brilliant, marvelous daughter. She never tired of gazing at the frilly black ringlets springing out in every direction, at that turned-up button of a nose, at those wide, dark eyes. Her very own miracle.

“Here.” Jody handed her a small quilt and two fresh cloth diapers. “I’ll go get more.”

“I think this will be enough for a while.”

“The way that kid spits up?” Jody wrinkled her freckled nose in disgust. “I’ll just bring in the load from the dryer. Might as well save yourself the trouble of folding them.”

“Auntie Jody thinks you’re an awful lot of trouble,” Nora crooned as she unfastened the buttons of her blouse.

“I’m not the only one,” said Jody. “Fitz calls her Upchuck Charlie.”

“I hadn’t heard that one.” Maggie switched off the nursery monitor perched near Jenna’s things on the tiny lamp table. “The night before he left, he was calling her Suzie Oozie.”

“That’s when her diaper leaked all over his shirt.”

“The only thing I haven’t heard him call her is Ashley ,” said Maggie.

Nora settled the baby against her breast and adjusted the quilt across her lap. Behind her, the tall case clock chimed the hour. She glanced toward the window again, searching for a car on the long ranch road.

Jody peered over Nora’s shoulder to watch Ashley nurse. “She sure is a sweetie.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Pretty, too. She looks just like her mama.”

Nora reached back and squeezed Jody’s fingers where they rested on her shoulder. “Thanks for checking on her.”

“No biggie. She snores, though.”

“She does not.”

“Yes, she does.” Jody demonstrated with some snuffles and snorts. “And she grunts like a pig when she starts to wake up. I could hardly concentrate on my homework.”

The electronic tune of a cell phone—a more likely source for Jody’s difficulty finishing her assignments—jangled in her pocket, and she checked the screen as she exited the room.

Nora tipped her head against the deeply tufted chair, her thoughts drifting with the snowflakes tumbling through the streaks of lantern light beyond the porch roof eaves. Outside, the ranch dogs barked and scrambled across the wraparound porch and bounded down to the wide gravel drive. A few moments later, pale headlights swept across the turn at the bottom of the knoll.

“Looks like he made it.” Maggie stood and leaned a shoulder against the thick window trim. “Wonder how long he’ll tough it out.”

Jenna rushed into the parlor, wiping her hands on her apron. “That must be Burke. And Will just called with bad news about the water heater.”

“What about it?” asked Maggie.

“Fitz asked me to open Will’s old place for Burke,” said Jenna. Will Winterhawk had married her last fall and moved from the foreman’s cabin into the family home. “But Will says the water heater needs to be replaced. Pete’s Hardware doesn’t have the right model in stock, and now it’s too late to drive to Sheridan to get one.” She smoothed her apron. “I hope Burke doesn’t mind staying in the guest room tonight.”

“As long as he doesn’t mind sharing a bathroom down the hall with four other people,” said Maggie.

Nora shifted Ashley and lifted the quilt over her shoulder to loosely cover her. “If he doesn’t like that idea, he can always drive back to town and find a place there.”

She wasn’t sure she liked the idea of Burke camped out at the house. Or on the ranch. Or in the state, for that matter.

But in the next moment, she felt guilty about the fact that most of the extended Harrison clan was crowded into this one house, while she and her baby shared one of the three rooms in Ellie’s former home, the guest cabin a mile down the ranch road. There was plenty of space there for Burke, if he wanted it. She could keep an eye on him if she kept him close, and he could see for himself how happy she was here in Montana.

Ashley gurgled and whooped, and Nora eased her embrace and ordered herself to relax.

“He’s got a place right here,” said Jenna. “It shouldn’t be a problem. He’s practically family.”

“Hard to tell where he’s going to want to stay,” said Maggie, “except for somewhere else.”

“He doesn’t like it here, does he?” Jenna shook her head. “The poor man.” She continued into the front parlor, heading toward the entry.

A dark gray SUV pulled into view, and the dogs danced around to the driver’s-side door.

“Uh-oh, here comes Rowdy,” said Maggie with a grin. “This is going to be interesting.”

Nora tipped forward as far as she could and watched the driver’s-side door of the rental car swing open. One long leg stretched toward the ground, and in the next moment Rowdy, the newest ranch mongrel adopted by one of the hands, rushed forward and sank his puppy teeth into the fabric of thin dress slacks. Burke tried shaking him off, but that made the game more fun.

Jenna stepped off the porch and made her way to the car. Nora couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she guessed Jenna was trying to strike a ladylike balance between welcoming her guest and cussing at the dogs. Burke emerged from the car and stood, stiff and stoic, above the maelstrom of tails and paws and flying snow at his feet. He said something to Jenna with a formal nod and then stared at Rowdy, who’d released his toothy grip on Burke’s pants only to replace it with a more intimate embrace of his leg.

“What a welcome,” said Maggie with a laugh. “Poor Burke.”

Nora dropped the quilt to switch Ashley to her other side, and then carefully covered them both again. She glanced up in time to see Burke stalk to the car’s rear, yank open the hatchback and reach inside to collect a briefcase. Rowdy jumped up for one last nip at butt level, and Burke lost traction on the slick white snow coating the gravel and rammed his shin against the back fender.

She winced and shook her head. And then she remembered why he’d come, and she narrowed her eyes. Poor, poor Burke wasn’t going to enjoy this visit at all.

A FEW MINUTES LATER, after Maggie had followed Jenna into the kitchen to help with the last of the dinner preparations, Nora heard the massive front door of the ranch house close with a whump , and then Burke appeared in the high, arched parlor doorway. Melting flakes dotted the creases of a blue parka he must have pulled from the rack in Butte. The white shirt collar poking through the neck opening was tugged awkwardly to one side, and one Rowdy-mangled pant leg was wet and twisted, riding crookedly up a dark gray sock. Caked with patches of white, his black dress shoes looked soaked through.

He’d obviously plowed a hand through his thick black hair more than once, making it stand out in uneven layers. One loose strand drooped over an eyebrow to brush against the edge of his glasses, and his nose was red from the cold. That amazingly perfect British complexion of his looked paler than usual, making the spots of color edging his angular cheekbones a vivid contrast. When he reached up to straighten his glasses over dark, deep-set eyes, he seemed very tired, and very disgruntled and, oh, so very dear.