Always Dakota (32 page)

“Surgery?” The word exploded from Dennis.

“Dr. Leggatt will explain everything as soon as he’s finished. We have a small waiting area here.” She nodded toward a few chairs grouped around a low table. “It shouldn’t be much longer now.”

Looking defeated and broken, Dennis slumped into a chair and leaned forward, his arms braced against his knees, hands dangling.

Calla found a chair as far away from him as possible. It would have helped had there been other people in the waiting area. There weren’t. Every minute claimed more of Calla’s composure. The longer they were required to wait, the more certain she was that something had gone wrong. She could see Dennis had reached the same conclusion. His face was tortured with the pain of not knowing.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he finally asked, hurling the words as if he couldn’t keep from asking.

“I…Mom phoned, telling me she needed a ride into Grand Forks.”

“She didn’t fall or anything?”

Calla shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“She didn’t mention what brought on labor?”

“No, only that she was afraid of losing the baby.”

At this, Dennis ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled harshly. “Did they tell you why the surgery’s necessary?”

“No.”

He was silent again for several minutes, then started to pace, his movemnnts full of frantic compulsion. Past the table, around the chairs, back to the table, again and again. He didn’t look at Calla and she didn’t look at him. At least she tried not to, but soon found it impossible. Dennis loved her mother, loved his unborn child, too.

“She wanted to wait for you, but the nurse told her to get to the hospital right away,” Calla told him.

Dennis stopped abruptly and glanced at Calla, as though surprised she’d spoken. He swallowed visibly, then said, “I’m thankful you were there.”

Calla nodded, no less thankful.

“I realize there’s no love lost between us,” she said, and heaved in a deep breath, “but I can tell that you care about my mother.”

“She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved.” He sank back into the chair.

“I don’t hate you, you know.”

He raised his head. From the expression on his face, she guessed he was sorely tempted to call her a liar.

“I don’t hate you anymore,” she amended.

Dennis waited for her to continue.

“I’ve been a…a jerk the last couple of years and, well, I guess I wanted my mother to love me more than she did you. What I did was create a tug of war between the two of us.”

“Your mother loves you, Calla.”

“I know, but that wasn’t enough for me. I didn’t want her to love anyone else. I understand now that I was asking the impossible.” She squared her shoulders, and figured this was as good a time as any to make the necessary amends. “I’ve said and done things that I’m not proud of, and I was thinking…hoping…you might be willing to forgive me.”

He studied her as though to gauge her sincerity.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you decided not to, but I’m hoping that’s not the case.” She should’ve known Dennis wouldn’t make this easy, but then why should he? She’d gone out of her way to make his life miserable for a very long time.

“You don’t have to like me,” she whispered.

“Why the change of heart?” he demanded.

“Why?” Calla wasn’t entirely sure when it had come about. Sometime after she’d argued with Dennis. She’d been furious, looking for people to take her side against him. Since then, she’d had long talks with people she respected. Maddy and Jeb were two of the first. Although her aunt and uncle weren’t overtly critical of her, Calla could see they felt she was in the wrong.

Her grandfather and Hassie were more inclined to state their unvarnished opinions, and neither felt any compunction about bruising her ego. Still, Calla had been able to shake off their warnings and admonitions. But Kevin’s letter had reached her in a way no one else could. Although it hadn’t seemed like that at first read, and although he hadn’t said it in so many words, he’d told her to grow up. It was time she made peace with Dennis, his letter said, and the sooner she acknowledged her own contribution to the problems, the sooner she’d have her family back. Despite everything she claimed, Calla had missed her mother. She’d found their estrangement increasingly difficult.

“Why the change of heart?” Dennis repeated.

Calla told him, and when she finished she held out her hand for him to shake. Dennis looked at her and then slowly, cautiously, a smile appeared.

“Just get one thing straight,” Calla said, feeling close to tears. “I’m not calling you dad.”

“You don’t have to,” he assured her.

They both stopped talking when Dr. Leggatt approached, his face solemn. Calla and Dennis met him halfway. Calla’s heart thudded hard against her ribs.

“Congratulations, you have a son.”

“A son,” Dennis repeated, his voice barely audible. “What about Sarah? Is she all right? What about the baby? How is he?”

“Unfortunately by the time your wife got here, the baby was in distress and so was she. We did what we could to stop the labor, but couldn’t. In the end we were forced to perform an emergency caesarean. No fear, your wife did beautifully.”

“And the baby?” Dennis asked nervously.

“Small. Three pounds, ten ounces. Our main concern isn’t so much his size as his lung development. We have him in the neonatal intensive care unit now. You’ll be able to see him soon, but I don’t want you to be alarmed by the tubes and needles.”

“He’ll be all right?”

“Every indication at this point says so.”

Dennis grinned at Calla, who battled back tears, then watched as her stepfather hugged the physician.

“A son!” he cried. “I have a son.”

“I wanted a sister,” Calla muttered, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

“Your wife is anxious to see you both,” Dr. Leggatt said, then led them to her room.

Sarah looked shockingly pale against the sheets. When she saw Dennis, she stretched out a hand, and her husband moved toward her. At another time, an earlier time, Calla might have resented seeing the love between them. Although she’d made her peace with Dennis, it still hurt to know there was someone else her mother loved, but Calla recognized that what Kevin had said was true. One day she’d marry, and leave her mother for her own life. She was wrong to begrudge Sarah happiness.

Her mother
was
happy, she realized. She stood in the background and waited.

“Calla,” Sarah whispered, reaching toward her now.

“I’m here, Mom,” she said. She stepped close to the bed.

“Thank you…” Sarah whispered.

“Hey, I got a brother out of the deal. That’s not so bad.”

“Not bad at all,” Dennis said, placing a hand on Calla’s shoulder.

Her mother noticed the change between Dennis and her right away. “You don’t need to worry, Mom, Dennis and I are square now.”

“Square?”

“Yeah, everything’s going to be all right.”

Tears sprang to Sarah’s eyes. Dennis took her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. “We’ve reached an understanding,” he said. “We both love you and little Josh. Who knows, before long we might even like each other.”

Calla had the feeling it wouldn’t take long at all.

Buffalo Bob walked over to Lily Quantrill Park and inspected the newly planted grass. The park remained roped off to prevent anyone from walking on the fresh green shoots, but that hadn’t stopped folks from stopping and taking a gander. Bob was pleased.

Right now, the park revealed little of what the town council had planned for the future. By next summer, there’d be play equipment for the kids, including swings and a slide. The Boy Scout troop that met at the church on Tuesday nights was building a huge sandbox, and there was talk of installing a wading pool in a year or two. Lily Quantrill would be proud of what they’d accomplished in such a short time. A park would draw the community together, and Bob suspected that was what she’d intended all along.

Feeling good about life in general, he wandered over to the post office to pick up the mail. Merrily was busy with her friends, who were holding a baby shower for Sarah Urlacher at the restaurant. Bob used the shower as an excuse to leave. He’d prefer not to get involved in a women’s gathering, with gossip and giggling and lots of talk about diapers and such.

He was greeted by a few friends as he headed into the post office, where he collected a handful of envelopes. Included was a statement from the attorney, and a few flyers. He’d open the bill later. He shot the breeze with Joshua McKenna and talked motorcycles for the better part of an hour.

By the time he returned to 3 OF A KIND, the baby shower had ended and the last of Merrily’s friends was leaving.

“Is it safe?” he teased. He liked claiming that these women’s get-togethers were really “weanie roasts” where no man was safe.

“Anything in the mail?”

“A bill from the California law firm.”

Merrily frowned. “I thought we paid them off last month?”

Come to think of it, she was right. Merrily disappeared into his office with the mail, and Bob went into the kitchen where the prep cook was getting ready for the dinner crowd. Within a few hours, Buffalo Bob’s would be bustling.

“Bob.”

Merrily’s voice shook, and it frightened Bob. Not understanding, he found her still in his office, her face streaked with tears. Instead of explaining, she handed him a handwritten letter.

“The attorney forwarded this to us,” she whispered.

Puzzled, Bob reached for it.

Bob read the letter a second time and his throat clogged with emotion. “Look,” Merrily whispered, and handed him a picture.

Bob examined the snapshot. At first all he felt was his own sense of loss. Anger filled his chest. How dared these people rip open a wound that had only half healed? How dared they invade his life, even with the best of intentions?

That feeling didn’t last, however, and was quickly replaced by a stronger one. Gratitude. Two strangers had reached across the miles to offer him and Merrily a feeling of closure to a difficult time in their lives.

“He…he’s grown so much,” Merrily said.

Not trusting his voice, Bob nodded.

“The letter was very generous. An act of kindness.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

“I wonder if Axel…” She stopped midsentence and when he glanced over, expecting her to complete her thought, Merrily shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s happy…I can see it in his eyes. It isn’t important if he remembers us. Not anymore.”

Later that night, after the restaurant had closed, Bob read the letter yet again. The snapshot was missing, and he suspected Merrily had taken it. Axel had adjusted; the photo told him as much. The boy had a good, loving home with these people—Jenny and Michael—and was obviously doing well.

“Bob,” his wife called from upstairs.