Baby Love

“Straight as an arrow,” Rafe assured him. “Meeting her saved my life, Ryan. I promise you’ll love her. And hey, just wait until you see Jaimie.”

  “Jaimie?”

  “Her baby boy. He’s cute as a speckled pup.”

  “She has a baby? Rafe, where exactly are you?”

  “Squire, just across the Idaho border.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Well, it’s not exactly a metropolis. It’s up north. Colder than a well digger’s ass up here, too. Your lungs damn near freeze when you breathe.”

  “I’ll be there tomorrow morning,” Ryan promised. “I’d be there tonight, but it’s been a while since I’ve taken the Cessna up. It’ll need a preflight, and I’ve got to map a flight plan. Rafe? Don’t do anything dumb before I get there.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like—well, hell, I don’t know. Marry her or something stupid like that, I guess. Let’s you and me have a long talk first. All right, brother?”

  “Actually I hadn’t thought far enough ahead yet to consider marriage. Not a bad idea, though. If ever a woman needed a husband, it’s Maggie.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Rafe was, and yet he wasn’t. “We’ll have to see what happens, I guess. She’s a little skittish about tying up with me.”

  “Well, at least one of you is thinking straight. I may be able to get there sometime late tonight. Sounds to me like you need a caretaker.”

  Rafe threw back his head and barked with laughter. The rumble wakened Jaimie, and he let out a thin cry.

  “Damn, there really is a baby.”

  “Yeah,” Rafe said, jiggling the infant to lull him back to sleep. “And there’s no need to break a leg getting here, Rye. There’s nothing you can say or do to change this. I already swallowed the hook.”

  Ryan sighed. “You’re a grown man. I guess you know what you’re doing. All I care about is that you come home to do it.”

  Home. The word moved softly through Rafe’s mind, rekindling memories that he had been trying to escape. Now he no longer felt the need. He was going back, and unless Maggie came up with a damned good argument against it, he was taking her with him. There was a great college there and plenty of employment opportunities. It’d be the perfect place for her to start over, with the added benefit that he’d be nearby to look after her.

  Fleetingly, Rafe thought of Susan. One corner of his heart would always belong to her and his children. But he was finished with punishing himself for something he’d never meant to happen and couldn’t change.

  “Will you call Mom and Dad for me?” Rafe asked gruffly. “I don’t want it to be a shock when they see me.”

  “They’re in Florida. But I’ll call them. They’ll want to fly back to see you. Dad’s been having chest pains, though. I think he has an appointment scheduled with a heart specialist, so it may be a few weeks. Mom probably won’t let him fly until the doc says it’s all right. That’ll give them both some time to talk to you on the phone and absorb the news before they actually see you.”

  Rafe pictured his tall, robust father. “A heart doctor? Is he all right?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary for a man who’s sixty. Frequent angina attacks, Mom says. You know how that goes, though. The RN in her can’t resist diagnosing stuff, and a fourth of the time, she’s wrong.”

  Rafe frowned. “It seems odd that he’d get heart trouble all of a sudden.”

  “I think it’s the food,” Ryan said. “They’ve been into Creole lately. And you know how he is about grease. Put the two together, and you’ve got chronic indigestion. He’s still sneaking smokes behind her back, too. Ornery old cuss.”

  The thought of losing his dad before he had a chance to see him again made Rafe’s blood run cold. “I’m glad Mom’s on top of it. He’d say, ‘Screw the chest pain’ and climb on a plane.”

  Ryan chuckled. “Damn, it’s good talking to you again.”

  “It’s good talking to you, too.” It felt so good Rafe wondered why he’d waited so long.

  “We’re getting Christmas early this year. We’ve combed the whole country, looking for you. Offered rewards. We’d damned near given you up for dead.”

  “So had I,” Rafe admitted softly. “For a long time, I wanted to die and spent a lot of time wishing I would.” He took a cleansing breath and smiled. “Sounds pretty stupid, saying it aloud. But I was pretty messed up, Rye.”

  “You had a right.” Another silence came over the line. “I wish you had stayed here and gotten counseling like I suggested. They have all kinds of help for people to get through the grieving process.”

  The grieving process. Rafe could remember Ryan’s using that phrase before and how it had infuriated him. Now he knew that there was a grieving process. It was called hell, only you didn’t have to die to go there.

  “I found my own cure.”

  “Do you know how lucky you are to still be alive, you blockhead?”

  Rafe chuckled. “Damned lucky,” he said, and sincerely meant it.

  “How are you fixed for money?”

  “I have some business to settle up here in town that’ll set me back a little over seven hundred, so I’ll need some cash. Bring me a little extra, hey, bro? Speaking of which, is my checking account still active? I have a woman calling the bank to verify funds.”

  “Of course it’s still active.” Long silence. “I, um…couldn’t quite bring myself to close it out. It felt so final. Rationally, I figured there wasn’t much hope that you’d ever come back, but a part of me just couldn’t—” Ryan cursed under his breath. “Yeah, it’s still active.” He sighed. “What makes you think I haven’t managed to go bust, trying to run this place by myself?”

  Rafe laughed. “Because you’re a Kendrick. You teethed on saddle leather and cowhide. I’m probably worth more now than I was when I left.”

  “Yes, and you owe me a two-year vacation.”

  “Give me a month to get buffed out, and it’s yours to take, if you want to. Now that I’ve made the decision, I’m anxious to smell cow manure again.”

  “That’s good. I may rub your nose in it.”

  Rafe was still chuckling when he hung up the phone. The smile was short-lived. As he turned toward the waiting area, he saw Dr. Hammish walking down the hall, and her expression conveyed that something was wrong.

  Rafe’s heart bounced in his chest like a tennis ball, and he picked up his pace to reach her. “Is Maggie all right?”

  She nodded, but her pallor told him otherwise. “We have a wrinkle.” She lifted her hands, flashing him a stricken look. “One of our aides found Maggie’s driver’s license in the pocket of her jeans. Because she’d been brought in unconscious, he took the license to the admittance desk. Technically, he was following procedure. He had no idea Maggie didn’t want her family contacted.”

  “Oh, damn.”

  The doctor gave him a commiserating look. “I never meant for this to happen, but one of the receptionists called the police, and they contacted her family. The officer spoke with her stepfather, a man named Lonnie Boyle.”

  Rafe groaned and passed a hand over his eyes. “Fantastic.”

  “Do you think this Boyle is the man who beat her up?”

  Rafe considered the question. “I think it’s a damned good possibility.”

  “I feel terrible about this. The policeman said Mr. Boyle sounded very concerned and plans to drive straight here. If he’s the man who hurt her—well, normally I’d apprise the police of my suspicions. Her name didn’t seem to set off any red lights with them, but I imagine a lot of names go across an officer’s desk in a day’s time. What if she is in some kind of trouble? I’m afraid to call back about Boyle for fear I’ll only complicate matters.”

  The doctor had a point. Until he could pry more information out of Maggie, Rafe was reluctant to involve the police any further as well. “If her stepfather is the one who beat her up, there’s nothing he can do to her here.”

  ??
?That’s true.”

  “Let’s play it by ear. If he causes trouble and things get out of hand, we’ll have no choice but to call the police. Until then, though, I’d rather hold off.”

  The doctor gnawed her lower lip. She glanced at the baby in Rafe’s arms. “Mr. Boyle may insist that Jaimie be turned over into his care.”

  Rafe stared down the hall for a long moment. “That’ll be up to Maggie. If she trusts the man, then I will. If she doesn’t—” He broke off and shook his head. “He’ll play hell laying a finger on this child, I can tell you that.”

  Dr. Hammish gave him a thoughtful look and smiled. “I called your bank, by the way.”

  “And?”

  “The teller said the check was well covered.” She arched an eyebrow. “I told her we were negotiating a real estate transaction and that the check was for three hundred and fifty thousand.”

  “Satisfied?”

  She nodded bemusedly. “I know it’s a bold question, but how much money do you have, exactly?”

  “Enough. As long as you’re assured I have the means to take care of Maggie and Jaimie, the amount doesn’t really matter, does it?”

  “No,” she admitted. “Do you think Maggie knows how lucky she is that you’re in her corner?”

  Rafe gave the doctor a wink and slow grin. “Not yet.”

  “Have you told her you’re a man of considerable means?”

  His grin broadened. “Not in so many words.”

  “Hmmm.” She narrowed an eye. “This should be interesting.”

  At that, Rafe chuckled, waking Jaimie a second time. The baby refused to go back to sleep until he was fed and changed. The doctor left Rafe to handle it when she got a whiff of the odor emanating from Jaimie’s sleeper.

  “You did say you were assuming responsibility,” she reminded him.

  Angling his head off to one side, Rafe did his best to keep his mouth closed as he replied. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

  Rafe Kendrick was a man of his word, messy diapers notwithstanding.

  Maggie had been moved to a private room. She lay staring at the ceiling, the muted ticking of the wall clock marking off the seconds. Considering the daily rates for a hospital stay, she wondered how much this was costing her per minute. The IV shunt in the back of her right hand made her feel as if she were on a leash. If not for that, she would have asked the doctor to write her a prescription, located her clothes, and walked out of here.

  She couldn’t believe she’d fainted. She might have laughed if it hadn’t been so awful. Why now, of all times? She needed to be on her way. She had to send for Heidi, and she needed to get settled to take care of Jaimie. Now, to top everything off, she’d have hospital bills up to her eyebrows.

  No matter, she assured herself. She’d manage somehow. The doctor said she was really sick, so she didn’t have much of a choice about staying here until she got back on her feet. Once she was released, she’d have to work two jobs for a while. That was all. She’d done it before; she could do it again. Child care might prove to be a problem, but she’d find someone trustworthy to watch after Jaimie. Everything would work out. She had to believe that.

  Maybe if she really concentrated, she could conjure up a fairy godmother who’d wave her wand and make all her troubles go away.

  She closed her eyes, so sick and exhausted that contemplation of anything beyond the moment was too taxing. So, instead, she surrendered her mind to the whimsical. If there really were such a thing as magic and fairy godmothers, what would she wish for? Nothing so silly as a pumpkin coach and a glass slipper, that was for sure. No, if she were going to wish for anything, she’d set her sights on more practical things, like a really good job and a chance to get a better education. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her. She could do a fine job of that by herself. More earning power would definitely be nice, though…

  Rafe tapped the toe of his boot on the lobby carpet, his gaze flickering to the information desk where an elderly female volunteer commandeered the telephone and gave visitors directions. Shrunken with age, she put him in mind of a cheerful elf with her silvery white hair and jolly pink uniform. She had promised to let him know the moment Maggie was settled in her room. It seemed as if he’d been waiting an eternity.

  A man stepped up to the counter and muttered a question to the woman. After giving the fellow a quick once-over, Rafe lost interest. Guys just like him were a dime a dozen in the Western states. Classic small-town redneck, the kind who swilled cheap beer, believed pro wrestling was on the up-and-up, and considered himself well-read because he stumbled through a pulp-fiction paperback once a year. Scraggly, sandy-colored hair hung in oily strands to his shoulders. He wore faded jeans and a dingy white T-shirt, one sleeve rolled up over a half-smoked pack of Camel straights.

  When the man suddenly turned and looked directly at Rafe, all his senses went on alert. Lonnie Boyle? Why he felt surprised, he didn’t know. He hadn’t been expecting an upstanding citizen, after all.

  As Boyle strode toward him, Rafe took more careful inventory, noting the gold hoop he wore in his right ear. His stringy biceps sported tatoos, the one on his right arm of a naked woman with a fanged serpent coiled around her. Instinctively, Rafe held Jaimie a little closer.

  Preceded by a beer belly that protruded over the waistband of his low-slung Levi’s, Boyle swaggered cockily. As he drew up in front of the sofa, Rafe saw that he clutched some folded papers in his left hand. The man puffed out his chest, his shifty gray eyes taking Rafe’s measure and then settling on Jaimie. He had “bully” written all over him.

  “You Kendrick?”

  Rafe nodded.

  “Name’s Boyle, Lonnie Boyle. I’m Maggie’s father.”

  He extended his right hand, a large diamond ring flashing on his finger. Rafe stared at that ring for a long moment, took measure of the jutting prongs that secured the stones, and immediately wanted to kill the son of a bitch. Since they were inside a hospital, he settled for declining his handshake.

  Boyle lowered his arm, rubbing his palm on his jeans. Rafe’s gaze followed that ring.

  “I’m Jaimie’s grandpa.” He gestured at the baby. “The doc says you been takin’ care of him. I sure appreciate that. Now I’m here, though, you’re off the hook. What do I owe you for your trouble?”

  All Rafe wanted was to catch him outside. “You owe me nothing. As for Jaimie, I’ll continue to care for him until Maggie tells me differently.”

  Boyle thrust out the papers. “Well, Mr. Kendrick, you best be readin’ these then before you get yourself neck-deep in hot water. These here are adoption papers. A private arrangement. The folks who adopted the baby paid Maggie a pretty penny to cover her medical expenses, plus a handsome sum to put her through college. Maggie took the money, but then she got all motherly and ran off with the baby. Too late for that. She’s got no rights now, and I’ve come to take the kid back to his new mama and daddy.”

  “Nobody is taking Jaimie anywhere until Maggie gives her authorization.”

  Boyle’s face flushed. “Look, buster. You’re interferin’ where you got no business. That kid ain’t hers no more, and she’s got no say-so.” He tossed the papers on the sofa. “Read ’em. She signed the goddamned things of her own free will, and I’m takin’ that baby, whether you like it or not.”

  Rafe unfolded the document and quickly scanned it. The signature that was supposedly Maggie’s looked as if it had been written by an unsteady hand. There were also some dirt smudges and faint, reddish-brown smears on the papers. The notary seal looked genuine. He ran his thumb over the raised dots.

  “Were these papers even signed in an office? They’re dirty, and these stains look like blood.”

  Boyle never missed a beat. “They are blood. Maggie poked her finger with one of the staple prongs. As for the dirt?” He glanced down at his hands. “I got me a flat tire drivin’ down here. My hands was a mess. I just washed up in the men’s room a few minutes ago.”

  A poke
d finger and dirty hands, huh? The story was credible enough. Only something told Rafe that Boyle’s delivery was a little too well practiced.

  As he returned the papers to the man, he said, “No one’s touching this child until Maggie gives me the go-ahead. Clear? If you mean to take this baby anywhere, she has to authorize it.”

  Boyle’s face turned an even darker shade of red. He snatched the document from Rafe’s hand and slapped it against his thigh. “I’ll get her authorization in damned short order then! To hell with this bullshit.”

  With that, he turned and struck off across the lobby, heading for the east wing. Rafe tried to resist his urge to follow the man. He had no business interfering between Maggie and her stepfather. She was in a room near the nurses’ station. She was bound to have an emergency buzzer to press if she needed help. There was no reason for him to get in the middle of this.

  The smell jerked Maggie awake. Cigarettes and beer. Thinking it was only a bad dream, she opened her eyes. A face swam in her bleary vision.

  “Lonnie?” Her heart gave a violent leap.

  “Who else? Nobody skips out on me and gets away with it. You had to know I’d find you.”

  Struggling not to panic, Maggie groped for her buzzer. When her fingertips didn’t connect with the plastic casing, she cast a wild glance at the bed rail, searching for the thick gray cord.

  “Oops.” Lonnie braced his hands on the metal bars, effecting a trap with his arms, and leaned closer so their noses nearly touched. “Looks like it fell off the bed. Ain’t that a shame? Though I gotta say it works out real nice for me. This way, we can get this settled without nobody bargin’ in and pokin’ their nose where it don’t belong.”

  A cold resolve settled in the pit of Maggie’s stomach. He’d closed the door. If she screamed for help, she had no idea if anyone would hear her, and she’d only get one chance before he covered her mouth. She forced herself to meet his gaze, trying not to show any fear.

  “There’s nothing to settle. You forced me to sign those papers. I’ve got bruises all over me to prove it. Big mistake. You didn’t keep me home this time until the evidence faded. Give back the money, Lonnie, and cut your losses. I’m not going to give up my child.”