The Baby Race (20 page)

Though more familiar with African tribal
dances than ballroom dancing, Claire found it easy to follow Race's
simple movements. She floated in his arms.

It would be too easy to forget everything and
just live for the moment. If it were she alone she'd cast her fate
into Race's hands and worry about the future later. But she refused
to repeat her parents' mistakes. She had to consider Bobbie Sue and
this baby's lives as well. They deserved – she deserved - a home
and a family to call their own. Not a makeshift family of
convenience.

She pulled back to look at Race and stumbled.
He tightened his hold and guided her steps until she regained her
balance.

"You said something about owing me an
apology," she prompted him.

"Yeah, well, I – ah," he mumbled. "Could we
go someplace private to talk? There's too many big ears and mouths
around here," he whispered.

Claire glanced around. Lizzie winked at her
as she and Colin danced by. Cindy smiled. A few feet away seated
regally alongside the dance floor, Grandmere nodded her approval.
Other people watched them, some with idle curiosity, some with an
eye toward gossip.

Heat surged up Claire's neck. "Does everyone
know we had a fight?"

Race chuckled. "You probably gave them a clue
when you stormed into the hall without me and cut me dead every
time I've approached you all evening. Oh, and telling old man
Morley I was an insensitive oaf who belonged in a barn wasn't the
most subtle way to hide our disagreement."

Claire's blush burned hotter. Their short
drive to the country club hadn't cooled her rage. Once there, she'd
vented her anger at Race on whoever lent a willing ear. Of course,
she hadn't mentioned what the fight was about. But small town life,
being what it was people listened eagerly. Lizzie often laughed and
called it the Council Falls' version of a soap opera.

How had she forgotten?

"Maybe I'm the one who owes you an apology,"
she forced herself to look at Race. "I had no reason to act like a
child and drag our difficulties out for everyone to see. I'm
sorry."

"Me too. I said some pretty insensitive
things. Things I didn't mean. We need to talk." He looked around at
the curious faces trying to watch them without being obvious. "But
let's go home and do it. Okay?"

"Okay." Claire smiled up at him. Something
about his shy smile and tentative tone gave her hope. Maybe they
could find their way through this situation. Maybe when their
marriage ended they could remain friends. That would be the ideal
solution. The thought left her feeling sad and lonely.

"Go sit down for a minute while I get our
coats and the truck."

They drove home in silence, each lost in
their own thoughts. The truck's headlights formed twin beacons to
light the way through the softly drifting snow.

In the green glow of the dash lights Claire
studied Race's profile. Her gaze went from his broad forehead with
its sharp widow's peak of black hair down his hawk-like nose and
high cheekbones to his lips. A tremor of longing ran through her.
Though they looked hard she knew how soft and persuasive they could
be. Did he feel something for her beyond normal male lust for a
woman?

Due to circumstances this wild male animal
was her husband. But like a wild animal he struggled against any
restraints on his freedom. When their mutual needs were filled
would she be able to hold him? Did she want to? Though they shared
the baby growing under her heart Claire knew she couldn't use that
innocent life to keep Race if he wanted to be free. No father would
be better than an angry, reluctant one.

The thought of her life without Race left her
feeling empty, but determined. She had Bobbie Sue and little Whosit
to fill up the hole Race would leave. But who would fill the empty
places in his heart?

"We're home."

Race's voice shook her from her musings. She
looked up at the farmhouse.

In the snowy darkness the porch light glowed
a cheery welcome. A thin blanket of white softened the dreary,
end-of-winter landscape.

This is home. The home she'd always dreamed
of. How could she bear to leave? Like the flowers she'd planted,
her roots had buried themselves deep into the soil of this place.
But how could she stay? Without Race's love she'd wither away like
a flower without the sun.

He pulled the truck up to the front porch.
She started to open her door.

"Wait," he commanded and before she could
protest further he got out and came around to help her.

She reached out her hand then gasped in
surprise as he swept her into his arms. "Put me down! I can walk."
She wiggled to get free.

"Nope." He tightened his hold and hitched her
higher against his chest. "The path is icy. Wouldn't want you to
slip. Might hurt yourself or little Whosit."

"What if you slip and land on top of us?" she
couldn't resist asking.

"Won't happen."

The cocksure grin in his voice made her smile
in return. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned her head on
his shoulder, relaxed, and let herself enjoy the short ride. His
warmth eased the chill from her body.

Even pregnant, Claire's slight weight felt
right in Race's arms. Once inside the house he let her slide down
to her feet. She stepped away quickly. His arms felt as empty as he
knew this house and his heart would feel when she, Bobbie Sue and
little Whosit left.

But that's the way he wanted it. Wasn't it?
"Claire?"

She stared up at him, waiting, he knew for
the apology he'd promised, but he couldn't find the words to
explain why he kept pushing her away from him. Hope lit her warm
brown eyes, a beacon of love he couldn't, wouldn't follow.

"I'm not cut out to be a father or a husband.
I'll provide for your physical needs, but being responsible for
another person's emotional wellbeing is beyond my ability. Like my
mother, every time I try I fail. You'll be better off without me to
screw up your lives."

An awkward silence fell over them. The light
in her eyes faded and she said, "Oh, Race, you're so wrong. You
have so much to offer, but instead you keep it all locked inside.
You claim you aren't capable of love, but everything you say and do
with the horses, with Bobbie Sue makes a liar out of you. Don't let
fear keep you from trying."

When he didn't say anything, she added, "In
spite of everything, it was a lovely evening. Good night." She
started up the stairs.

"Claire, I…"

She turned suddenly and lost her balance.
With a startled cry she fell. Race jumped forward and caught her.
Beneath his palms her heart pounded in fright. Or at least he
thought it was fright until their eyes met and her fingertips
tightened around his biceps. Her gaze reflected his soul deep
hunger.

"Race," she breathed as her eyelids
dipped.

With a muffled oath he swung her into his
arms and took the stairs two at a time. He wanted her. She wanted
him. He might not be able to say the words she wanted to hear, but
he could tell her nonetheless. Actions spoke louder than words.

He laid her gently on the bed and sat back.
Pink tinged her cheeks. Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath the
soft wool of her dress, her breath escaping through moist, parted
lips. Innocent, yet seductive she was his for the taking, yet he
hesitated. "Look at me," he commanded.

Her eyes fluttered open. She gazed up at him
in confusion. Passion darkened her chocolate brown eyes to midnight
black.

He touched her cheek with his fingertips.
Trustingly, she turned her face into his palm. Her skin felt softer
than a horse's muzzle.

"You need to say the words," Race said. "Tell
me you want this. That you want me. There can't be any
misunderstandings about what's going to happen between us tonight.
I can't make any promises. I won't lie to you."

Sorrow washed over Claire. He lied without
realizing it. But it didn't matter. For too long she'd let life
pass her by while she held out for an impossible dream. For once
she was going to take a page from her parents' book and reach out
and grab what was offered. If it weren't enough, she'd deal with
the pain latter.

At her hesitation, Race started to move away.
"I understand…."

"Sh-h-h," she whispered and traced her
fingertips across his lips. "I want you. Make love with me."

Hours later, sated and content, Claire curled
against Race's warm frame. Asleep, he looked younger, the lines
bracketing his mouth and spidering out from the corners of his eyes
softened. She ran her hand gently over the strong planes of his
cheek, lips and jaw. His moist breath bathed her fingertips. A
shaft of renewed desire surged through her. Though he didn't move,
the sheet covering him from the waist down lifted.

She grinned at the evidence of his wakeful
state. Her fingers skimmed down his neck and across his broad chest
to toy with his nipples. He made a low warning noise, half groan
and half growl. Her smile widened as she continued to explore his
arms and chest then slipped her hand under the sheet.

She yelped in surprise as he came alive and
flipped her onto her back.

"Did you want something, lady?" he asked.

"I don't know. What do you have?" she
teased.

"Oh, you want to play games, do you?" His
hips pressed against hers and all thought of games vanished.

They both jumped at the sound of someone
pounding on the front door.

"Race!" War shouted from outside.

Naked, Race jumped out of bed. He threw open
the window and leaned out. "What?"

Claire wrapped the sheet around her and went
to stand behind him.

Like a shadow of coming doom War stood in the
porch light. Worry overlaid his typical scowl.

"Melody's in trouble. Her foal's coming too
early. The vet's on call. But Annie's on an emergency other side of
the county. It'll be a while before she can get here. Vicki's
sitting with the mare."

"I'll be right out," Race said. Gone was the
gentle promise in his gaze. Eyes dark with concern for the
distressed mare, he threw on some clothes.

"Can I help?" Claire followed him to the
door.

"No. Stay here. You'd just get in the
way."

His curt words stopped her in her tracks. In
the way. Was that all she'd ever be in Race's life? Though she'd
known the truth since the beginning, deep inside she'd always
nurtured the hope that someday, somehow he'd be able to open his
heart to her. Now she knew that other than for his horses his heart
was closed and locked.

Race hurried to the barn, but his thoughts
remained with Claire. Cold air and worry for the mare couldn't
distract him. Once more he'd crossed the line he'd drawn himself.
But his guilt couldn't compete with the sense of rightness he felt.
He and Claire belonged together. Whatever it took he had to
convince her that she, Bobbie Sue, little Whosit and him were a
family. The first family he could call his own.

A sharp whinny of pain sliced through the
quiet night. His gut tightened as his feet crunched across the
snow-covered ground. Inside the barn, hay scented warmth and light
wrapped around him. The familiar smells helped him focus on the
task at hand.

He stepped into Melody's stall. Vicki looked
up from where she crouched next to the thrashing mare. Straw stuck
to Melody's sweat soaked hide. Her eyes rolled in her head and her
nostrils flared wide as she struggled to push the resisting foal
from her body.

When the mare had come to them two months
ago, pregnant, starved and beaten there hadn't been much hope she'd
make it through the night. But the stubborn little mare surprised
them all. With tender care and good food, she'd rallied around.
Once she was back on her feet, she gained weight and displayed a
playful personality. She'd soon become a favorite with all the
volunteers. Now this.

Her legs churned the once fresh, but now
bloody straw. Vicki crooned and stroked the mare's head, while
keeping clear of her sharp hooves.

"Has the foal presented yet?" Race asked as
he scrubbed his arms past his elbows.

"It's breech. I tried to turn it, but I don't
have the strength and War's hands and arms are too big. Without a
cesarean it's hopeless. If Annie doesn't get here soon we're going
to lose them both." Defeated anger vibrated in Vicki's teary voice.
Her goal when she graduated from high school was to go on to become
a veterinarian. Every minute she wasn't helping out on the ranch,
she was trailing behind Annie.

"Let me try." After scrubbing his hands and
arms, Race knelt behind the mare. He moved her bloody tail aside,
and practically lying on the stall floor, he slipped his arm into
the birth canal. Melody's rear legs kicked weakly in protest. A
vise-like contraction squeezed his arm, cutting the circulation
until his fingers went nearly numb. Between contractions he reached
further.

A tiny hoof met his questing fingers. He
pulled it toward him and searched for another. Longer and stronger
than Vicki's, yet slimmer than War's, Race's hand and arm succeeded
where theirs had failed. His face resting against the mare's
sweat-soaked flank, his arm buried to the shoulder, he struggled to
maneuver the foal into position.

He knew he had to hurry. Each of Melody's
contractions held less strength and they came further and further
apart. Blood gushed from her, indicating an internal hemorrhage. If
the foal wasn't born soon, it might drown in its mother's own
blood.

Fingers clenched tight around the foal's
front hooves, Race pulled. "Come on, Melody. You've got to help out
here." He pushed against the mare's swollen belly.

With a low grunt Melody's body gave one final
contraction then went still. The foal slid lifelessly into Race's
arms.

"No! Damn it!" he swore. "I'm not going to
lose both of you!"