The Baby Race (6 page)

Flustered by his unwavering gaze, she
sputtered, "Well...you've been busy and I...."

His fingers tightened on her shoulders. "No,
don't make excuses for me. I haven't done my part. I've avoided
you, the house and poor little Bobbie Sue. From now on I promise to
do better. When that social worker arrives she'll be convinced that
we're the perfect family, that there's nowhere else on earth Bobbie
Sue should be." He grinned down at her.

Somehow her answering smile lacked true
warmth. Why, now that he'd agreed to play his part in their
charade, did she suddenly want more? His gratitude for her help and
living up to his obligation left her feeling let down and
empty.

She stared up at him and his smile faded. The
air around them grew thick. Her lids felt heavy. His head bent
toward her. He was going to kiss her and despite all the reasons
she knew she shouldn't let him, she didn't try and evade him. Her
eyes closed on a sigh.

The first brush of his lips against hers was
surprisingly soft and gentle. Somehow she'd thought his lips would
be as hard as the muscles cording his lean body.

Though a good foot of space separated them,
the scent of sunshine and warm male rose on his body heat and
surrounded her. Of their own volition, her hands clutched the
well-worn flannel of his shirt in a desperate grip. Her bones went
liquid and she swayed toward him. Though she felt him smile, reason
and conscious thought were forgotten in her rush of unfamiliar
desire. Her heart urged her to accept his unspoken offer of
physical paradise, but common sense told her to flee.

"Claire!"

Claire wasn't sure what decision she would
have made if Bobbie Sue's yell from outside hadn't broken the
sensual spell Race wove. Ignoring the questions in his eyes, she
slipped out from under his hands.

Race watched with mixed emotions as Claire
retreated behind his desk. For the last two weeks he'd done his
level best to avoid being in her company, but now he found her
retreat from his kiss annoying. She felt right in his arms.

When she wasn't aware, he'd watched her,
admiring her energy and enthusiasm in fixing up his house. Not
since he'd lived with his father and Cindy had he felt so
comfortable. Claire and Bobbie Sue made his house into a home.

Late in the evening after everyone else had
long retired to bed, the aroma of Claire's cooking lingered in the
air, drawing him into the kitchen to sample her latest creation. An
excellent and inventive cook, Claire's skill amazed him. Even the
normally antisocial War was often found at Claire's dinner table,
along with Vicki and the volunteers who helped run the ranch.

Something akin to fear kept Race from joining
the crowd that gathered there. The homey smells and cheerful
laughter reminded him that he didn't belong, that he was forever
the outsider excluded from the magic circle called family. Long
ago, he'd put aside longing for what could never be his. But
somehow Claire and Bobbie Sue resurrected illusions and dreams his
mother had crushed when he was a child.

He didn't thank them for the renewal. It
hurt. He felt the lack of family more keenly for never having
experienced it. His brief time with his father and Cindy had
tantalized and tempted him to shed his hard protective shell, but
he'd learned too well the pain of trusting. So instead of embracing
them he'd pushed them away, refusing to open himself to the kind of
hurt a so called loved one could inflict. Wiser to remain aloof and
apart than to risk betrayal again.

Deep inside he admitted it wasn't wisdom that
kept him from accepting the love the Reed family offered, but
fear.

Where did Claire find the courage?

"Claire!"

Bobbie Sue's second shout pulled Race from
his thoughts. He turned in time to catch the girl's shoulders and
keep her from cannonballing into his back. Wisps of straw clung to
her damp rosy cheeks and stuck out of her tousled hair. Dirt
smudged her once white t-shirt and streaked her bare arms and legs.
A scab decorated one knee. This tomboy was a far cry from the neat
little girl he'd first met.

Bobbie Sue took to farm life like a horse to
oats. Try as he had, he'd been unable to avoid her. After a short
time, he'd stopped trying. Like a small sunny shadow she followed
him around the farm, a stream of questions, comments and
suggestions bubbling out of her. On the few occasions she was
someplace else, Race found he missed her.

"Race. Claire. You've gotta come see. Mitsi's
having her kitties. She's got three orange ones and a funny colored
one." Bobbie Sue grabbed his hand and started tugging him toward
the door. Her small, warm, sticky fingers stirred long buried
emotions.

"Hurry! War says I can have one for my very
own if it's okay with you and Claire. Rachel's gonna be green." She
spun toward Claire. "Please say it's okay. Please." Without waiting
for a reply she dashed out the door, yanking Race behind her.

"Slow down." Laughing, Claire followed.

In the mid-afternoon sun the June air flowed
gently over Race as he jogged behind Bobbie Sue into the barn.
Familiar smells of horse and hay greeted him.

"Up here." Bobbie Sue clambered like a monkey
up into the hayloft.

Race waited until Claire reached his side and
started up the steep ladder. His gaze lingered on her denim-clad
backside and the smooth tanned skin of her legs as she climbed.
When she reached the top, she leaned over the edge and peered down
at him.

"Are you coming?"

Her innocently provocative question made him
swallow. He went up the ladder and followed her over to where
Bobbie Sue crouched in the hay.

"Aren't they beautiful." Bobbie Sue held up a
tiny marmalade bit of fur. The kitten wiggled and mewed while
Bobbie Sue cooed and rubbed her cheek against its head.

A concerned frown creased Claire's face.
"Maybe you shouldn't handle them. Mitsi might not like it."

"Mitsi trusts me," Bobbie Sue said.

"But..." Claire started.

"It's all right," Race reassured her. "Mitsi
doesn't seem to mind." The mother cat merely raised her head and
blinked, then went back to the business at hand – giving birth to
her kittens. "In fact," Race continued. "Kittens that are handled
gently early and often tend to bond easier with people and are
generally more sociable."

Claire nodded. "Like children they respond to
love and learn to love in return."

"And what happens to the ones who are
neglected and abused?" Race mused softly.

Unwilling to accept Claire's look of
tenderness over what he'd inadvertently revealed, he yanked his
attention back to the animals.

With a soft squeak another orange kitten slid
into the world. Mitsi quickly and efficiently licked the newcomer
clean then nudged it in line with the others.

Bobbie Sue put the kitten she was holding
down and looked up at Claire. "Can I have one? Please? It can be my
birthday present." She'd be seven soon. Race hadn't missed her
constant chatter about the approaching event. "I won't ask for
another thing. Please?"

Claire hesitated.

Race could almost hear her unspoken concerns
about the future. At the end of this year would they have a place
to keep a cat? But how could she resist the longing in the little
girl's voice. "Every farmhouse needs an inside cat as well as barn
cats."

"You're sure having a kitten underfoot won't
be an inconvenience?"

"No. It'll Bobbie Sue's job to train the
kitten to stay in the house and take care of its needs." He turned
to the girl. "Think you can do everything required? Feed, water,
clean the litter pan and of course provide the kitten with lots of
love?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! And yes!" Bobbie Sue launched
herself into his arms and rained kisses on his face. Her slight
weight pressed against him melted a layer of ice around his
heart.

Mitsi hissed in protest at the commotion and
curled protectively around her brood.

"Easy there, kitten, you're upsetting Mama."
The nickname fit, Bobbie Sue was much like a newborn kitten, small
and helpless, yet bold and feisty. "Claire still has to say yes,
too."

Bobbie Sue slid out of his arms and looked at
Claire.

The answer was written on Claire's face as
she accepted Bobbie Sue's hugs and kisses. "Which one do you want?"
They all looked at the four identical orange kittens nursing
greedily.

"I want the funny colored one. She's got
orange and red and brown and white spots. Her name's Princess
Cassandra. Where is she? She's not here," Bobbie Sue wailed.

Claire leaned closer. "She's probably buried
under all this orange fur."

"Oh, no!" Bobbie Sue lifted the calico kitten
from the straw several feet away from Mitsi. Tears streamed down
her cheeks as she held the lifeless kitten out to Race. "She's
dead."

Smaller than its siblings, it lay motionless
in her hand, bits of hay clinging to its stiff fur.

"Let me see," Race said.

Bobbie Sue handed him the limp kitten. Seeing
the look on her face, his heart sank. The kitten wasn't
breathing.

"You'll have to choose another kitten. This
one didn't make it." He laid it down on the hay.

"I don't want another kitten. I want
Cassandra." Tears sprang into Bobbie Sue's eyes. "You fix the
horses. Fix her." Her voice rose with each word. Tears left clean
tracks down her grubby cheeks.

He looked to Claire for help, but saw Bobbie
Sue's trust and hope reflected in her eyes.

Still, Claire said, "Race can't fix
everything. Sometimes animals die and there's nothing we can do.
Even Mitsi knew her kitten was gone. We've talked about death and
what it means."

"Cassandra's my kitten and she can't die. I
won't let her!" Bobbie Sue snatched up the kitten and shoved it
back into Race's hands. "Do something," she demanded.

The kitten barely filled the hollow of one
hand, the poor, unwanted runt of the litter. Race felt a tiny
vibration as the kitten twitched. Jostled by the handling, its
little lungs struggled to suck in air.

Using the tail of his shirt, Race cleared the
kitten's nose and mouth and gently massaged warmth into its body.
With a shudder, the kitten took a deep breath and let out a
plaintiff cry.

Mitsi's head came up at the sound.

"You did it." Claire's smile lit up the
loft.

He shrugged. "I didn't do anything."

"Let me see." Bobbie Sue pulled on his
arm.

Keeping the kitten well wrapped in the warmth
of his shirt, Race let Bobbie Sue peek.

"You saved her. I knew you could. Thank you."
The awe in Bobbie Sue's voice touched a cord deep in Race's heart.
Being the object of such worship was scary, at some point he was
bound to fail her, but he wouldn't change this moment for
anything.

"She's not out of the woods yet," Race
warned. "Let's see if Mitsi will accept her."

"Of course she will. She's Cassandra's
momma."

If only that were true. Not all mothers
possessed the maternal instinct, if there was such a thing.

But it wasn't Mitsi's acceptance that proved
their undoing.

Race put the kitten down between her
siblings. Mitsi sniffed and licked the now squirming kitten. Half
their size, the kitten was quickly pushed aside. He tried again and
the same thing happened. Then he tried holding the other kittens to
one side until the runt found a nipple, but Mitsi objected,
decorating his hand with three crimson lines.

"I'm sorry, Kitten." He picked up the crying
kitten. "This isn't going to work."

"It's gotta work. If she doesn't eat, she'll
die."

"Are you willing to take on a difficult, time
consuming job?"

"Will it save her?"

"I can't promise, but it just might."

"Yes." Bobbie Sue gave a vigorous nod.

"Come on then. There's more than one way to
skin, or in this case, feed a kitten."

Race led the way into the kitchen. Once there
he wrapped the kitten in a clean dish towel and handed her to
Bobbie Sue. The kitten's cries were becoming more frantic and
demanding.

"Heat a pan of water." Claire followed his
directions without question. She mixed and heated the ingredients
for substitute cat's milk, while he dug out the small animal
nursing kit from the back of the cupboard. While they worked, he
explained everything Bobbie Sue would have to do to become
Cassandra's surrogate mother. She listened intently, laboriously
making notes and asking questions.

"Remember, even if you do everything right,
there's no guarantee the kitten will live. She's undersized," he
warned Bobbie Sue, but knew she didn't actually hear him. He also
knew he'd do whatever it took to keep that scrawny little cat
alive.

Soon she was settled in a chair feeding a
contented kitten. The large armchair in the living room dwarfed the
two of them. At the sight, another layer of ice around Race's heart
melted.

Claire touched his arm. "Let me clean up
those scratches."

"They aren't deep," he protested, but
followed her into the upstairs bathroom.

Sitting him on the edge of the tub, she
caught her lower lip between her teeth, knelt between his spread
knees, and bent over his hand. With a gentle touch she washed away
the blood and dirt from the shallow scratches.

"Thank you for what you did."

"For Bobbie Sue's sake, I'm glad the kitten
lived, but I didn't do anything. It was just luck it survived."

"I wasn't talking about reviving Cassandra, I
meant your kindness and patience with Bobbie Sue. You've given her
a precious gift."

"What, a scrawny cat that's more likely to
die than live. So what did I give her? Future heartache?

"No. Love and hope. The chance to try. To
make a difference in life. No one can protect a child from loss.
All they can do is give that child the skills to cope."