Baby Love (9 page)

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, taking heart when he didn't hear Jaimie start to fuss. That had to mean her milk was coming down, and that could only be a good sign.

He closed his eyes, trying to blank out his thoughts. While caring for her, he'd gotten an eyeful a few times. He felt guilty about that, but in all fairness to himself, he hadn't been able to help it. He'd tried not to look, but not seeing what was right in front of his nose was damned near impossible.

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All afternoon and evening, one question had been circling in his mind. Who? While her guard had been down, he'd been so tempted to ask her questions, specifically who had beaten her up. His sense of fair play had forced him to bite his tongue.

Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose. Why pry into her personal life when he had no intention of hanging around? Come morning, he was out of here. He'd take twenty-five bucks from the money he'd gotten for his ring, give Maggie the rest, and hit the road, his first stop the liquor store. He wanted no part of a woman and baby. Didn't want to care about them, and damned well wouldn't.

The soft suckling sounds continued. He wished he had turned on the radio. Anything to drown it out. He knew every tug of the baby's mouth had to cause Maggie pain, that if he turned and looked, he'd see tears trailing down her pale cheeks.

He rubbed a hand over his face and blinked, trying not to think about how it must be hurting her. He took a deep breath. "Given the lack of complaint from the diaper section, I take it your milk is coming down?"

After a moment's silence, she replied in a thin voice. "Yes. "

Rafe swallowed, his throat closing around a pocket of air like a tight fist. "I know it must hurt like the very devil to nurse him. As soon as he's done, I'll bring you a cup of instant soup. I've got water heating on the hot plate. "

"A hot plate? Did it come with the room?"

"No, I bought a few things while I was out. I needed a way to heat water and do a little cooking. Nothing fancy. Soup and stuff like that. "

"You bought a hot plate?" There was a ring of what sounded like panic in her voice. "Oh, Mr. Kendrick, you've spent enough on us as it is. I've told you and told you, there's no way I can pay you back. "

Evidently her life experience had taught her that men

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couldn't be trusted not to feel proprietary if a woman accepted help. In fact, judging by the edge of panic in her tone, he suspected some man had gotten ugly with her about it.

"I don't expect you to pay me back, Maggie.

"A hot plate must have been expensive. "

For some reason, that made him want to laugh. He could remember a time when a fifty-dollar bill had been small change to him. "It's just a cheap one, and we needed it. What choice did I have?"

"How much was it, exactly?"

Rafe worked his throat to swallow again. "Forty something. Don't worry about it. I've got plenty of money left. "

"Where'd you get that much money? You didn't steal

it, did you?"

Rafe smiled in spite of himself. He could see how she

might think that. "No, I didn't steal it. I hocked a ring. " "A ring? It must have been quite some ring. "

"Yeah, " he replied huskily, "it was quite some ring. "

"Jaimie's done, " she said softly.

As he came about, he found himself impaled by those beautiful brown eyes. His heart caught at the shimmer of tears he saw in them.

Her mouth quivered as she searched his face. "Have you ever been so indebted to someone you couldn't even think how to thank him?" she asked in a shaky voice. "I know it irritates you. But I can't help but worry. I'm in the habit of making my own way, and I'll never be able to repay you for all this. "

The lump was back in Rafe's throat. Making her own way? She could barely walk.

"No paybacks. Remember? Just knowing I've helped a little is all the thanks I need. "

He approached the bed, intending to take the baby from her and put him back in his makeshift bed. But once there, he sat beside her, his gaze locked on her

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sweet face. Dark smudges underlined her eyes, and her soft mouth was almost colorless. He cupped her cheek, trailing his thumb along her cheekbone, which felt frighteningly fragile.

Noting the prideful way she held her head and the stubborn thrust of her small chin, he struggled to sort his emotions. Down for the count, flat broke, and fresh out of luck—that was Maggie. Yet she still clung to her pride. He couldn't help but admire that about her. On the other hand, though, it made for rough going when a man was trying to help her.

"Maggie, I know you feel uncomfortable about telling me too much, but I've got to ask. Who beat you up?

And why?"

She lowered her gaze, a sign to Rafe that she didn't intend to answer him.

"Was it Jaimie's father?" He lightly touched her tousled hair. The sable tendrils were as soft as silk, an incongruous contrast to her mutinous expression, which, for reasons beyond him, made him want to smile.

"Surely you can tell me that much. "

She raised her chin higher. "Jaimie has no father. "

Rafe's heart caught, for there was a wealth of pain in those four words. "Everyone has a father, honey. "

"No. "

Just that one word: no. The way she said it, her voice laced with stubborn denial, made him yearn to hug her. Though he knew she had to be in her early twenties, she seemed so very young right then and so horribly alone.

"Jaimie is my baby, " she whispered. "Nobody's but mine. On his birth certificate, I listed his father as 'unknown, ' and that's the way it's going to stay. "

Rafe sighed. "Someday he'll ask about his dad, you know. Is that what you're going to tell him, that his father is unknown?"

"Yes. "

"That won't reflect very well on you, " he pointed out.

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"Better that he believe his mother was promiscuous than to learn the truth about—" She gulped and closed her eyes. "He has no father, end of subject. Please don't ask me about it again. "

Of all the women he had ever met, she was the least likely to have been promiscuous. Rafe had a host of flaws, but being a poor judge of character wasn't one of them. The first time he'd ever looked into Maggie's eyes, he'd sensed her innocence, and discovering that she'd given birth to an illegitimate child hadn't altered that impression. He didn't know how she'd wound up pregnant, or why she so vehemently denied Jaimie's father's existence. But he would have bet his life on the fact that she hadn't slept around.

Realizing that there was little point in pursuing the subject further, Rafe took the sleeping baby from her arms and pushed to his feet. As he stood there gazing down at her, he once again noted how very young and defenseless she looked. Her narrow shoulders barely took up half the pillow behind her, and above the blankets she clutched to her bare chest, he could see the delicate structure of her breast and collarbone.

For an instant, his gaze locked on the ugly purple bruises that marred her ivory skin.

Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she desperately needed someone to take care of her. En route to the dresser drawer he'd fashioned into a bed for the baby, he found himself entertaining the thought of filling that role himself. And if that wasn't a damn-fool notion, he didn't know what was.

As he laid Jaimie in the cocoon of downy receiving blankets he'd bought, Rafe gave himself a hard mental shake. Like he was in any position to help someone else? Get real. His life was a mess. Even now, his hands trembled in need of a drink. No question about it; she needed help. But not from a hapless drifter whose one goal in life was to buy the next bottle.

Come morning, he'd do them both a favor and get the

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hell out of here. She wouldn't be alone for long, he assured himself. With those eyes and that sweet face of hers, some other man would take one look at her and be putty in her hands.

Sometime around midnight, people rented the cottage next to theirs, and the commotion of slamming doors, raised voices, and thumping luggage startled Maggie awake. Gasping at the pain in her ribs, she shot upright in bed and grabbed the first thing at hand to defend herself, one of the pillows.

Rafe glanced up from tending Jaimie to see her clutching the sheet to her chest, her terrified gaze fixed on the door, the pillow raised as if she meant to clobber the first thing that moved. Given the fact that in her befuddled state she'd chosen what could only be considered a pitifully ineffectual weapon, he nearly smiled.

"You expecting company?" he asked.

"Maybe. "

The moment she spoke, she winced, as if regretting

her candor.

"I see. And what's the plan, to smother him or bludgeon him to death?"

She rubbed at her eyes. "Very funny. "

As he applied himself to the task of snapping Jaimie's sleeper, he said, "There's no need to be jumpy, Maggie. If anyone tries to come in, he'll have to go through me to get to you, and I'm not going to let that happen. "

"I know, " she said softly.

The response caught him by surprise, and it meant more to him than he could say.

'So

BABY LOVE 8t

She cast him a shamefaced look and lay the pillow aside. "Reflex reaction. I was dreaming, and the noise startled me. "

Rafe could see by the taut set of her mouth that the dream still held her in its grip. Still crouched by the dresser drawer he had commandeered to serve as Jaimie's bed, he tossed a soiled wipe in the wastebasket, then rested his loosely crossed arms on an upraised knee. "A nightmare, I take it?"

She nodded.

"Care to talk about it?"

Her response to that was a negative shake of her head.

Seeing how upset she was, Rafe wished he could comfort her. But how? Even though she seemed to be starting to trust him a little, he'd still never met anyone who so stubbornly resisted accepting help. When left with no choice, she acquiesced, but he had a feeling she wouldn't, even then, if not for the sake of her baby.

"I have more than my fair share of bad dreams myself, " he admitted, "so if you're feeling embarrassed about it, don't. "

"You have bad dreams?" She fixed him with that lovely, brown-eyed gaze, her expression conveying relief that the conversation had shifted from her to him. "What do you dream about?"

Rafe's throat went tight. "My family, mostly. "

She bent her head and tugged at the corner of the pillowcase. "The car wreck?"

He'd never talked with anyone about that night, but there was something about Maggie—an indefinable something—that made him consider doing so now.
Kin-dred souls.
On the surface, it might appear that her wounds were mostly physical, but one look into her beautiful eyes told him she'd been emotionally battered as well. Shadows lurked there. Dark, shifting shadows— and a wariness of him that tugged at his heart. It didn't take a mind reader to determine that she had suffered, in her own way, nearly as much as he had.

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She needed a friend, perhaps desperately, and, he supposed, so did he. But before either of them could reach that point, they had to lower their guards. How could he expect her to trust him enough to reveal her secrets if he didn't have the guts to share some of his own?

"Yeah, " he said, his voice reminding him of a whetstone rubbing over a knife blade. "I dream about the wreck. It was my fault, and ever since, I've had to live with that knowledge. During the day, I can hold the thoughts at bay, but when I'm sleeping, the memories haunt me. "

In the amber glow of the bedside lamp, her eyes were luminous, and a golden nimbus shimmered around her tousled dark curls, making her look for all the world like an angel perched there. "Were you drinking when it happened?" she asked tremulously.

Rafe gave a humorless huff of laughter. He could see how she might think that. "I didn't start drinking a lot until after the accident. Booze, my panacea. " He felt suddenly embarrassed and ran a hand over his face. "No, I wasn't drinking. I almost wish I had been. Then maybe I could live with the decisions I made that night. " Blinking to bring the room back into focus, he said, "It happened the first part of October, just a little over two years ago. "

She curled her legs beneath her, leaned more heavily against the headboard, and tugged the sheet higher.

The droop of her thick eyelashes was a telltale sign of fatigue, yet he could still detect a certain tension in her posture that told him she wasn't ready to fall asleep just yet.

"Is that why you looked so sad last night when you realized it's almost Halloween?"

"Yeah, " he said gruffly. "Right before he died, my little boy Keefer got his first pumpkin. Susan helped him carve it. This time of year—it's tough. "

He batted at the open lid of the disposable diaper box that sat on the rug next to Jaimie's bed. When he real-BABY LOVE 83

ized what he was doing, he pressed the flaps closed.

"Were you the one driving?" she asked.

"No. God, how I wish I had been. " He raked his hand over the nap of the rug, watching the limp tufts of yarn stand and then fall. "In my other life, I was a rancher in eastern Oregon. " He forced a stiff smile.

"Shaved and showered every day. Went to council meetings, five-star restaurants, and church on Sunday.

Looking at me now, I guess it's probably hard for you to believe I was respectable once. "

A ghost of a smile touched her mouth. As it faded, she rubbed her temple as if her head were aching. "Not all that hard. Was it a cattle ranch you owned?"

He nodded. "We raised and trained quarter horses on the side, but cattle were our main stock in trade.

That fall, my brother and I had arranged to buy another stud and a brood mare, and we were scheduled to make a trip up north to pick them up. We'd been gone a lot that spring and summer, riding the rodeo circuit, and I hadn't been able to spend much time with Susan and the kids, so I decided to take them with us. "

"Susan... " she echoed softly. "When you say her name—well, I can tell you really loved her a lot. "

"She was an extraordinary person. Smart, witty, fun to be with, and so beautiful she took my breath away.

" Rafe shrugged. "I've never seen a better mother, and, oh, God, I loved it when she laughed. She was an incurable optimist, and she always put other people first. She understood me—sometimes better than I understood myself. When she died, I felt as if my heart had been cut out. We fell in love in high school.

She was so much a part of me, I didn't know how to go on without her. "

Rafe fell silent, letting his mind drift back to that fateful autumn night.

"We had a great time that weekend. Perfect weather, perfect everything. But as we headed home, we ran into a bad storm. Freezing rain that turned to hail the size of marbles. "

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"Eastern Oregon must be a bit like northern Idaho, unpredictable when it comes to the weather. "

"You've got that right. We weren't expecting any hail, that's for sure, or we would have laid over until morning. I was in the station wagon with Susan and the kids. My brother and a hired hand were in the truck ahead of us, pulling the horse trailer. The sound of the hail hitting the roof of the trailer frightened the stallion, and I could see him rearing up. I was afraid he might bust a leg. "

She shifted lower in the bed to rest her cheek on the double stack of pillows. Watching her, Rafe couldn't help but note her pallor.

"You're exhausted. I should let you go back to

sleep. "

"No, please. I want to hear this. " She rubbed her eyes again. "I doubt I could go back to sleep right now, anyway. Listening to you talk is helping me to relax. "

Rafe couldn't remember what he'd been about to say. "Where was I?"

"The stallion was rearing, and you were worried about it getting hurt. Was it a really expensive horse?"

"Yeah, but that wasn't my main concern. Plain and simple, I loved horses. They were a passion of mine back then, always had been. I couldn't bear the thought of the stallion breaking a leg and possibly having to be put down. So I got on the radio and suggested to my brother Ryan that we ride in the trailer to keep the animals calm. Susan was an excellent driver, and she'd been raised in eastern Oregon, so she was used to snow and ice. It never occurred to me that she—" He broke off and swallowed. "About two miles up the road, she lost control in a curve.

The car plunged off a hundred-and-fifty-foot embankment. She and the kids were killed instantly. " He had to force out the next words. "I placed more importance on the safety of a horse than I did my own family. I've had to live with that ever since. " "Oh, Mr. Kendrick, I'm so sorry. "

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Her voice rang with sincerity. That helped, somehow. For once, he didn't feel so horribly alone with the pain of remembering.

"Anyway, that's what I dream about, " he said hollowly. "I saw it all happen from the back of the trailer. The car suddenly fishtailing, then skidding sideways on the ice. The way it hung there for a moment at the edge of the cliff before it went over. " A burning sensation washed over his eyes. "I swear to God, to this day I think Susan turned to look at me. Just for a split second, you know? But in my nightmares, that split second lasts an eternity. All I can see is the terror on her face and that pleading look in her eyes. And in every dream, I try to reach them, only I feel as if I'm running through hip-deep molasses, and I never get there in time. "

"How awful for you. And then to relive it, over and over, in your dreams. "

Rafe ran his fingertips along the edge of the drawer. When he touched the corner of a new receiving blanket poking up over the side, he fingered the downy softness and closed his eyes.

"You know the worst part? Over the last few months, even in my dreams, it's gotten so I can no longer see her face clearly, or the kids' either. I try my best to remember how each of them looked, and I can't. My memories of them—they're all I have left—and now I'm even losing those. "

"Has it occurred to you that maybe you're finally healing? I know you may not want to believe that. But grief does pass after a time, and we have to get on with the business of living. Once you do that, I think you'll be able to remember their faces again. Not in nightmares anymore.

Your memories will be of all the wonderful times you had together. "

Rafe recalled his recent dream about Susan. In some ways, that had been a good dream.

Remembering the fun they'd had down by the lake. Believing, if only briefly, that he was actually back there with them.

"Deep down, do you still blame yourself as much as

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you did right after the wreck?" she asked.

He took a moment to consider the question. ''Truthfully? Sometimes traitorous thoughts creep in. " Even to admit that made him feel guilty. "I'm not even sure where they come from. I get to thinking how I never meant for it to happen. That I loved them more than life itself, and that it's stupid to go on blaming myself when I know damned well that Susan wouldn't want me to. " "And thinking that way makes you feel terrible, " she

inserted.

He focused on her face. "You sound as if you've been

through this. "

She nodded. For a second, Rafe thought she meant to say nothing more, but then she gestured limply with her hand and said, "My dad. He, um... he was killed in a logging accident. "

"And you blame yourself for that?"

"Not now, but I did for a long time. And when I finally started to turn loose of the guilt, I felt like a worm. "

The description caught him by surprise, and with a low laugh, he nodded. "That describes it perfectly, a worm. Only I feel like a worm that's being fought over by two birds and torn apart. "

She nodded as well, indicating that she understood exactly what he meant. "In time, the torn feeling goes away, and you just feel lower than low. And soon after, even that feeling passes. Losing a parent doesn't compare to what happened to you. I know that. But I think the stages of grief must be pretty much the same for everyone, regardless. It seems that way, anyhow. "

Watching the expressions that crossed her face, Rafe said, "You loved your dad a lot. Didn't you?"

"We were especially close. I was devastated when he was killed, and in the ten years since, my life has never been the same. But nothing will bring him back. " She regarded the ceiling for a moment. "Now I think of all

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the good times we had, and I'm thankful to have so many wonderful memories. "

"How old were you when he died?"

"Fourteen. "

"So now you're, what, twenty-four?"

She shot him a startled look. He winked and smiled. "Gotcha. I'm relentless. I'll keep digging for information until my curiosity is satisfied. "

"Oh, well. It's not as if my age is critical information. "

Critical information?
Just the fact that she'd used that term told Rafe he hadn't misread this situation.

Given her determination to reveal so little about herself, he had to accept the fact that she might be evading the police.

Normally Rafe would have disassociated himself from anyone he believed was in trouble with the authorities, but gazing at Maggie's sweet countenance, he couldn't quite fathom her committing a crime.

No, if she was in that kind of trouble, there had to be some kind of mistake or circumstances that had been beyond her control.

He fleetingly found himself wondering if she had accidentally killed the man who beat her up. He was tempted to ask. No court in the land would hold her accountable for it, if that were the case. Hell, given what the bastard had done to her, they'd probably let her off even if it had been premeditated murder.

Gently, he steered the conversation back to her by saying, "You say your dad died in a logging accident? It seems like a stretch for a young girl to blame herself for that. "