Three Boys and a Baby

“I don’t want this beauty ending up in the system, you know.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Hank. Look at her. She’s gorgeous. Do you have any idea how many couples are out there, begging to adopt newborns? Claire and Jeremy Donaldson have been trying for years to conceive. She’s a second-grade teacher at the twins’ school and her husband’s an amazing carpenter. Lately, they’ve been looking into adoption. Maybe you should take her to them?”

“Sounds like a good call, but I’m not exactly playing by the book. If I get Child Protective Services involved, everything’s going to get messy. It’d just be overall easier if you’d keep her for a few days until the birth mother is back in her right mind and comes to claim her.”

“Hank…” Ella warned. “This mother left her newborn infant in a basket on a playground. Does this really sound like the move of a responsible parent?”

“You’ve got a point. But look how clean the kid was when your boys found her. The polite note. That tells me there’s love involved. What if this girl’s young? Scared? Didn’t anyone ever give you a second chance?”

“Anyone ever call you a big softy?”

“DILLON, GUESS WHAT,” Oliver whispered into the phone, checking around the corner to make sure his mom wasn’t spying.

“What?”

“We’re keepin’ Rose.”

“No way! That’s not fair. How’d you get her?”

“Sheriff Hank just brought her over. Wanna come play? You can eat here. We’ve got tons of food.”

Dillon was quiet for a little while.

“Well?” Oliver asked. “Are you coming?”

“I don’t know. Mom’s here and Dad’s been acting weird. Wanting to play games with me and stuff. I think he wants me to hang with him. But then Mom’s wanting me with her, too. I should probably stay here.”

“Bring both of ’em. That way, they can play with Mom while we’re playing with Rose.”

“Sure it’s okay with your mom?”

“Yeah. She likes having company. Plus, she’s always wanting us to eat, so now she can feed you guys, too. It’ll be fun.”

BEHIND THE WHEEL of his SUV, Jackson killed the engine, then shot a glance in the rearview mirror at his son—engrossed in a handheld video game.

Jackson sighed, then rubbed his face with his hands.

“You all right?” Julie asked from beside him, a beribboned wine bottle on her lap.

“Sure. Long day—and night.”

“No kidding. Sorry it took me so long to get here. Judge Parker wouldn’t recess, so—”

“It’s fine. You’re here now, which is all that matters.”

She flashed him a smile and patted his thigh.

To say Jackson had been surprised by Ella’s impromptu dinner invite would’ve been the understatement of the week. His reaction had actually been more in the realm of shock. He felt badly about the way things had gone down in the woods—his getting all bent out of shape at her benign comment.

But shoot, for the most part, he felt as if even on a good day, he wasn’t exactly playing with a full emotional deck. On a day like today? When he hadn’t known if his son was alive or dead? Then Julie shows up, suddenly playing the part of concerned mom.

Let’s just say Ella had been lucky his outburst hadn’t been worse. Or maybe he was the lucky one, so that he didn’t look like even more of an insensitive jerk.

“Come on, Mom and Dad.” Dillon leaned into the front seat. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

“Sure,” Jackson said with a start, wishing the longer days of late spring didn’t also mean glaring sun at an hour when he’d have preferred the more soothing black of night.

While Jackson helped Julie from the tall vehicle, Dillon hopped from the car and raced across the yard. On the front porch that was decked out in red geraniums and white impatiens, Dillon didn’t bother ringing the doorbell, but instead, tossed open the screen door and walked right in. “Owen? Oliver? Where’s the baby?”

“Dillon?” called a female voice from inside.

Having ushered Julie onto the porch, then following, Jackson felt somewhat voyeuristic watching through the screen as Ella approached his son only to pull him into a hug. She’d changed from the jeans and T-shirt he’d last seen her in to white shorts and a pink tank. She’d washed her long hair and pulled it into a ponytail, the ends of which were still damp.

“What’re you doing here, sweetie?” she asked. “I would’ve thought you and your mom and dad would be having a special family night?”

“Nah. Owen and Oliver invited us for dinner. They said you’d be cool with it. ’Kay?”

“Um…sure, but—” She glanced outside, and Jackson lurched back. To what? Hide? “Jackson? That you?”

“Yup.” He resisted the urge to smack his forehead for not having called to confirm that the dinner invitation had been from Ella and not the twins. “And Julie.”

“Oh—hi. What a nice surprise. Come in.” She tried opening the screen, but it didn’t budge.

“You have to lift and then kick,” Dillon pointed out, nudging her aside to complete the task himself. “It’s almost, but not quite, broken, just like at our house.”

“Thanks,” she said, ruffling Dillon’s hair. “Sometimes I forget.”

“Ours is broken?” Julie asked.

“I’m on it,” Jackson said, marveling at the woman’s gall to call his home ours.

“Come on, Dad. Owen and Oliver said there’s lots of good food.”

“I’m sorry,” Jackson said to Ella. “Dillon said you’d invited us, but clearly he must’ve misunderstood.”

“Dillon!” Oliver said, cautiously maneuvering the front staircase, the baby in his arms. “Look how pretty she is in her little dress. The ladies at the hospital gave it to her.”

Ella turned. “Be careful with her, Oliver.”

“Awww…” Dillon raced in that direction. “She’s so cute.”

“She’s amazing,” Julie crooned. “Dillon, I don’t remember you ever being this tiny.”

“You might as well stay,” Ella said. “The neighbors were crazy generous with food.”

“They’re good folk,” Jackson said. “They did a lot for me after…”

My wife took off.

Ella, still holding open the door, cleared her throat and stepped aside. “Come on in. I’ll get out the plate of cold cuts and some bread.”

Jackson followed the two women to the kitchen. He didn’t want to be here. Forced into making small talk with a neighbor he hardly knew and the ex he more often than not wished he’d never known.

“Mayo or mustard?” Ella asked in front of the fridge.

“Both,” Jackson said.

“Nothing for me,” Julie said.

“Hey, Dad!” Dillon hollered, rushing into the room, the baby in his arms. “Guess what?”

“You need to slow down.” Jackson gestured to the pink bundle. “The, ah, well, baby’s fragile.”

“Duh, Dad. And her name is Rose. We named her after the flower.”

“Here, Mom—” Grasping the infant under her arms, Dillon gingerly handed her to Julie.

Julie tucked the baby against her chest and began to coo. “Aren’t you a sweetie pie? Yes, you are…”

“She likes you,” Ella said to Julie. “That’s a good sign that you make her feel loved and safe.”

Loved and safe? Ha! It took everything Jackson had in him not to snort. How about the emotional number she’d pulled on their son?

Still, watching Julie with Rose sent him back to when Dillon had been a baby. To when he and Julie had been overwhelmed with the enormity not just of the logistics of bathing, diapering and keeping up a steady supply of mushy carrots and peas, but love. The love they’d both felt holding their infant son in their arms, or lying in bed with him early mornings, wondering what went on behind his enormous brown eyes.

Jackson glanced up to find Ella staring his way. He cast her a faint smile. They shared a kinship of sorts, as they both belonged to the cheating spouse club. Granted, Julie’s lover had been her job, but it’d destroyed their marriage all the same.

Ella smiled back, making him feel even more lousy for the way he’d acted that afternoon.

The three boys each snagged a sandwich from a plate of them Ella had already made, then dashed out the back door. A few years earlier, Ella’s ex-husband, Todd, had installed a wooden swing, slide and clubhouse combo. The guy was a jackass for having cheated on Ella, but apparently, the neighborhood kids still got a kick out of his handiwork.

“She does like you.” Ella leaned against the counter.

“Thanks,” Julie said. “I’d forgotten how wonderful babies are. Like a fresh start in human form.”

“I’ve never heard it put quite that way,” Ella said, “but sure, you’re right.”

The back screen door creaked open, and in ran Oliver. Face flushed, he asked, “Is it all right if we take Rose to show her to Whitney? She doesn’t believe we have a baby.”

“I suppose it’s fine. But I don’t want you leaving our street.”

“May I have her?” Oliver asked Julie.

“Um, sure.” Before handing her over, she kissed the top of Rose’s head. It was a fleeting thing. Barely even noticeable if Jackson hadn’t been staring right at her. But curious all the same. Parental instinct kicking in?

“Thanks. Bye!” Oliver was off.

“Slow down!” Ella called after her son.

“Whew,” Julie said, fanning her face. “Being responsible for that tiny life for even a few minutes was exhausting. Remember, Jackson, how tough it was with Dillon when he was a baby?”

“Sure.”

“And, Ella, I can’t imagine how difficult it must’ve been for you—with twins.”

Ella chuckled. “Difficult is an understatement. There were times Todd and I wished we could send them back. But now,” her expression turned wistful, “I wouldn’t trade them for the world.”

“I feel the same,” Jackson said. “About Dillon.”

Had Ella imagined it, or had the man’s statement been loaded with animosity? Ella had many times wondered how Todd could’ve left their boys, happily trotting off to start a new family. She could never even conceive of such a thing. Yet in a sense, Julie had done the same.

“Where, ah, is your restroom?” Julie asked.

Ella directed her to the powder room tucked beneath the front stairs.

Though she’d been exasperated with Jackson that afternoon, Ella now softened. Jackson might be a bear on the outside, but on the inside, she suspected he was a spooked puppy, growling at what most scared him. And at the moment, what scared him more than anything in the world was love. Kindness of any kind. With Julie, he’d been happy. Complete. Then, like Todd, Julie had shattered that happiness, yanking the rug out from beneath him. Whether he knew it or not, strictly from a professional point of view, she suspected the man was emotionally floundering.

Not that Ella was one to talk, seeing how since the divorce, her ice cream addiction had resulted in twenty extra pounds.

“Tell me something,” she said after Julie had left.

“What?” Jackson sat at the kitchen table.

“Earlier today, in the woods, when you got all huffy with me. What about the phrase, for better or worse—aside from the obvious broken wedding vow connection—set you off?”

Jaw clenched, hands fisted, he said, “Unless you’re deliberately trying to set me off again, kindly drop it.”

Chapter Four

“No,” Ella said, chin raised, hands on her hips. “I’m not going to just drop it. Jackson, you need to—”

“Don’t tell me what I need to do, when—”

“Ah, that’s better,” Julie said in a breezy tone, sailing into the kitchen. “Seems like the older I get, the more time I spend in the loo.” Snatching a carrot from a veggie plate, she eyed Jackson, then Ella. “Did I miss something?”

“No,” Ella said, turning toward the sink, thankful to no longer be in the line of Jackson’s challenging stare. What had gotten into her even to care what his problem was? Obviously, the guy had a chip on his shoulder the size of Montana in regard to his ex.

“I like what you’ve done with the kitchen,” Julie said, suddenly alongside her, reaching for the dishtowel to lend Ella a hand. “I’ve always loved a yellow kitchen. It somehow makes everything feel better.”

“Do you own a home in Kansas City?” Ella asked, more out of a wish to be polite than because she honestly cared. For what the woman had so selfishly put Dillon through, Ella didn’t think she’d ever consider Julie Tate a friend.

“Not yet. But lately, I’ve been thinking about it. The condo I rent is gorgeous, but bland. Very beige. I miss putting my own decorative touch on things.”

“Sure,” Ella said, reaching for one of the boys’ dirtied salad bowls. One of these days, she really had to get around to buying a dishwasher.

“With our house here, Jackson and I used to do projects every weekend. Remember, hon? That time we tiled the master bath floor, we got all the way through before we noticed the pattern was crooked.”

From his seat at the kitchen table, Jackson grunted.

Was Julie hurting him with her trip down memory lane?

“Anyway,” Julie continued, “as big a pain as that was, in the end, the floor looked gorgeous. I miss that bathroom. The tall windows. My master bath in K.C. doesn’t have even one window. Makes me crazy not being able to see outside.”

“I don’t blame you,” Ella said, handing her guest a freshly rinsed salad bowl to dry.

Jackson asked, “Should I check on the boys?”

“Why don’t I do it?” Julie set the dishtowel on the counter. “I’d like to spend as much time as possible with Dillon while I’m in town.”

A few minutes after she’d left, Jackson cleared his throat. “That was fun.”

“Sorry,” Ella said, not sure what else to say. “For what it’s worth, I feel your pain in suddenly finding yourself stuck with your ex. Todd and his blushing bride came in the clinic the other day with Ben.”

“Is that their little boy?”

“Yep.” Fighting past the lump in her throat, Ella returned to her dishes. Maybe it was a good thing she hadn’t gone dishwasher shopping. Scrubbing gave her something to do other than dwell on personal problems. “He was due for his one-year checkup. Todd never once went to one of the boys’ doctor appointments, yet that day, with Dawn, he was the very embodiment of fatherly perfection.”

“Wow.” Jackson rubbed his jaw. “And here I thought I had it rough hearing my ex recalling home-improvement hell like it was time spent skipping through daisies.”

Ella couldn’t help but laugh. “Daisies?”

“You know what I mean.” Getting up from the table, he snatched the dishtowel and dried the plate she’d just rinsed. “The woman makes me crazy. She’s the one who ended our marriage, yet it seems like every time she blows into town to see Dillon, she’s filled with nothing but happy memories. She wears blinders when it comes to our last year. The hell she put all of us through.”

“Not that it’s any of my business—” Ella said, draining the suds from the sink, then rinsing “—and, please, feel free to tell me to butt out, but why couldn’t she practice law here?”

He snorted. “Said it was boring. She wasn’t being challenged.”

“I suppose for her field of criminal law, defending the occasional jaywalker or underage drinker would get dull.”

“But what about me and Dillon? Were we dull?”

“Jackson…” Ella hefted herself onto the counter, letting her legs swing. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but did you ever think of moving to Kansas City to be with her? I mean, they do have firemen there, don’t they?”

He exhaled sharply, then looked away.

“What’s wrong? Another sore subject?”

Posture defeated, he shook his head. “Don’t think I didn’t suggest the same thing. But she turned me down. Fed me some nonsense about how if we were with her, she’d feel honor bound to spend time with us instead of working her way up the proverbial ladder. Can you imagine?”

Ouch. Todd had at least left her and the boys for lust. But to be abandoned for work?

Ella pressed her lips tight, hopping off the counter to give Jackson a hug. “I’m so sorry. You deserve better.”

“We both do,” he murmured into her hair.

Ella had meant the hug to be comforting. Purely platonic. But something about the warmth of Jackson’s breath on her neck made her insides quiver. Awareness flooded her. A hypersensitivity to his size. His all-male smell. The way his hold wrapped her like a blanket—which was madness. She already had more than enough quilts in the upstairs linen closet, thank you very much. After Todd had left, she’d promised herself never again to turn to a man for emotional support. Sure, she might one day be in another relationship, but never again all the way. Heart and soul. Todd’s infidelity had come damn near close to destroying her, and for the boys’ sake, she had to learn to depend on herself.

Releasing Jackson, she turned her back to him, straightened the flyaways in her hair while willing her pounding heart to still.

It had just been a hug.

So what if her stomach had somersaulted?

Obviously, judging by their earlier conversation, Jackson still had feelings for his ex-wife. Meaning? Simply that when Ella finally felt comfortable enough in her own skin to rejoin the dating scene, Jackson would be a lousy first candidate.

“Thanks,” he said.

“For what?” Her mouth had become the Sahara.

“Listening. Being here. For always having been such a good friend to Dillon, and now me.”

She shrugged, not trusting herself to meet his gaze. “No biggie.”

“Yeah, well, it is to us.” Landing a playful slug to her right shoulder, he added, “You’re a good gal.”

A good gal? Nice. Way to make me feel like a desirable woman. Not that that’s what she expected him to think of her, just that he certainly had a knack for making her feel decidedly undesirable.

Hand clamped to her forehead, she said, “I’m, ah, really tired. How about we track down our respective kids and call it a night?”

“We good?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t we be?” She gave him a bright smile.

“Hey…” Hand warmly clamped to her shoulder he said, “Even I know that’s not your real smile.”

“How would you know that?”

“Because at the exact moment we found out the boys were safe, I was privy to the real deal.” Flashing a heart-tugging grin all his own, he winked. “I like that one much better.” After squeezing her shoulder, he tucked his hands in his jeans pockets, then whistled his way to the back door. “Once I find our crew, I’ll send yours home.”

“THAT WAS NICE,” Julie said while Dillon, still hyped up on the thirty-eight cookies he’d apparently downed at Whitney’s house, jumped in front of the stuck screen door.

“You should fix that, Dad,” his kid said, still jumping and not even breaking a sweat.

“I’ll get right on it,” Jackson said, giving the stupid thing a hard enough yank to pop off the bottom hinge, too.

“Honey,” Julie complained, while he hefted the screen door out of the way, leaning it against the side of the house.

“Look what you did. If you’d just let me do it, it wouldn’t have broken. All you had to do was lift and jiggle.”

Jackson took a deep breath and counted to ten.

She brushed him aside, then slid her key into the main door’s lock. It irked him to no end that she even had a key.

Dillon shot by. “I’m gonna go play with my Xbox, ’kay?”

“What you’re going to do,” Julie shouted after him as he dashed up the stairs, “is get in the tub, then head straight to bed. Tomorrow’s a school day.”

“Aw, man…”

“Do it,” Julie said, presumably in the same scary, I-mean-business tone she used on her new hardened-felon friends.

Jackson tossed his keys on the entry-hall side table, releasing a sigh. “Jules…You can’t just waltz in here—”

“You called me Jules,” she said, nestling her designer purse alongside his keys before sliding her arms around his waist and resting her cheek on his chest. “It’s been a long time since you’ve called me that.”

“Don’t read anything into it. It’s been an endless day, and I’m tired.”

“I know what would make you feel better…” Easing her hands under his shirt’s hem, she palmed his abs. There had been a time when her lightest touch instantly had him hard. Now? It didn’t faze him. “Mmm…I see you’ve been working out.”

“Okay,” he said, royally ticked she’d pull this kind of stunt. Lightly grasping her wrists, he pushed her away. “I’ve officially had all I can stomach of whatever twisted game you’re playing. First, you waltz in here, acting like you’re our kid’s mom when—”

“I am, and always will be, his mother.”

“You gave him up, remember?” Along with me.

“Stop. You’re not being fair.”

“Fair? Julie, you freakin’ walked out on us both. It’s been three weeks since you’ve even called Dillon to say hi, yet now you actually care whether or not he has a bath? Give me a break.”

“No, you give me a break. Just because I—”

“Mom? Dad?” Jackson had been so engrossed with telling off his ex, he hadn’t noticed his son sneaking up alongside them. Make no mistake—Dillon was his son. “I thought you weren’t going to fight anymore.”

Running his hands through his hair, not having a clue what to say to his little boy, Jackson headed for the kitchen.

“That’s real mature!” Julie shouted after him. “Just walk away when our son is crying out for help!”

Oh—now she wanted to play the maturity game? With everything in him, Jackson wanted to tell this woman—this destroyer of their lives—just what he truly thought of her. But then he caught sight of Dillon. The way his lower lip trembled. Heart aching, Jackson went to his kid, easily lifting him into his arms.

“I love you,” he said quietly in Dillon’s ear. “Everything’s going to be all right. Promise.”

Dillon squirmed and bucked against him. “Put me down. I want Mommy.”

Jackson did put Dillon down, silently watching while Dillon ran to Julie for a hug. But whereas he’d have fully expected Julie’s expression to be triumphant, the gaze she shot over their son’s shoulder was remorseful and threatening tears.

Tears? Was such a thing even possible from the woman he’d secretly dubbed the Ice Queen?

“Hey, bud,” Jackson said, clearing his throat when his voice came out hoarse. “You need to get on with that bath.”

“I will, Dad, but first, you have to promise not to fight anymore with Mommy.”

Jaw tight, Jackson nodded.

“And, Mommy,” Dillon said, eyes wide and shining, “you have to come be with us more, okay?”

“I will, angel.” She kissed the crown of his head.

Once again, Dillon was off. This time, accompanied by the groan of the upstairs bathroom pipes when the tub water was turned on.

“I’m sorry,” Julie said, sitting on the staircase’s third step.

“No apology necessary. Let’s just leave the past in the past.”

“No,” she said with a firm shake of her head. “When you told me Dillon was missing…I swear to God, my life flashed before my eyes. I mean, I know this will sound clichéd, but in that instant, everything faded except what’s important—real. Dillon. You.”

Tilting his head back in what he assumed would be a futile attempt to work the kinks from his aching neck, Jackson ignored the last part of Julie’s speech. How many times when the ink had still been wet on their divorce papers had he prayed to hear those very words? But that had been a long time ago. He wasn’t the same man. She’d emotionally destroyed him, and it would take a lot more than pretty words to put him back together.

“Well?” She gazed up at him with the same big brown eyes as their son. In the entry hall’s dim overhead light, she’d never looked more beautiful, or, at the same time, more treacherous. Like quicksand, exploration would be foolish. “Aren’t you going to say anything? Haven’t you missed me?”

“Sure, but—”

“When I saw you tonight with Rose in your arms, it took me back to when Dillon was a baby. You were such a great dad, Jackson—always a way better parent than me. But when it came to my turn to hold Rose, it dawned on me that maybe this was a wake-up call. Maybe we should try again. Have another baby and remember the way things used to be before—”