Marie Ferrarella - A Baby For Christmas

“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.