The Late Bloomer's Baby

Maybe he’d avoided the task for other reasons. After loving a woman like Callie, dating again was difficult. But it was time to move on and he knew it.

Ethan would talk to Callie long enough to assure himself of her well-being, then he’d tell her about the papers and make arrangements for the two of them to meet with his lawyer. He’d pay for the whole shebang, and if she asked for anything he’d be generous. Callie had nothing to lose, and LeeAnn would be pleased.

He glanced in the rearview mirror, ensuring that Callie was still behind him as he drove up to the house.

Set back from the road about thirty yards, the old Blume homestead was surrounded by lush trees and bushes. Ella had cherished her privacy. Today, the house also sported a lonely pile of discards near the ditch. A floral sofa rested atop a mattress, which was piled on top of quite a few other ruined items. Ethan could imagine the destruction inside. Isabel must be very shaken.

After unfastening his seat belt, Ethan pulled his checkbook from the glove box. He could at least offer Callie’s sister some financial help. Since he wouldn’t need to fly to Denver to talk to Callie about the divorce, he could put that money to better use.

Two car doors slammed, then Ethan watched the two older children emerge from Callie’s car and race toward the house. Callie followed, lugging the youngest boy and the diaper bag.

Ethan opened the door, stepped out and slipped the checkbook into a hip pocket. It hurt to see how easily Callie balanced the smallest child on her hip. She’d wanted children—she’d ached for them. Babysitting must be tough for her.

Callie didn’t glance backward at the sound of his car door slamming, and she appeared to be in an awful hurry. She opened the storm door and the inside door for the kids, followed them inside and closed the doors behind her.

Ethan stopped in the drive. Boorish behavior was Callie’s biggest pet peeve. Perhaps she’d forgotten he was right behind her and planning to come inside.

Or maybe she didn’t want to see him.

He stepped onto the porch and knocked on the storm door. Callie couldn’t have gone far. If she didn’t answer, he was prepared to let himself in. Hell, he’d bust the door down if necessary. And he wouldn’t leave until he learned why his normally cool wife was acting crazy. In the past, she’d lost her composure only when they were arguing.

Or when they were in bed.

The memory sent a rush of want through his body, and left him standing on Isabel’s porch feeling half-turned-on.

Sweet mercy. He couldn’t think about Callie that way.

He opened the storm door and scanned the interior door for weak places to bust through. Before he could knock, however, Isabel answered. Her hair had fallen from a bun and she wore a stained sweatshirt.

After they’d greeted each other, she stood smiling at him, but she didn’t come out and she kept her body wedged in the narrow crack.

He wasn’t surprised. Apparently, Callie’s sisters thought she needed their protection. “You’re not going to ask me in, are you?”

“Uh, no.”

He pulled out his checkbook. “I’m going to help someone in this town, even if it’s just to donate money. I’d prefer it if that someone was you.”

“Oh.” Isabel blinked. “You don’t have to give me money, Ethan. I’ll be okay.”

“It’s your choice,” he said. “I’ll donate three hundred bucks to you personally, or I’ll let the Salvation Army distribute it however they see fit.”

“Oh. Well, great. I’m sure they can use the help. Thanks.” Isabel smiled.

“I’d rather help someone I know,” he said. “And if you take my money, I’ll get some of my work buddies to help with a larger donation for charity.”

Isabel still seemed unconvinced, so he raised his eyebrows and pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “A few hundred dollars might replace that sofa out there.”

She sighed heavily. “All right.”

“I need a pen.” Ethan had a pen, but he hoped this latest ploy would get him past the door.

“Just a minute.” When Isabel shut the door in his face, Ethan realized she intended to find a pen and bring it out. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. When he heard murmurs overhead, he realized that Callie and the kids must be hiding in Isabel’s attic storeroom.

That was fine. Strange, but fine. They wouldn’t stay up there long. Callie wouldn’t want the children to be frightened in the dark, stuffy space.

As he waited for Isabel, Ethan wandered into the living room. It was devoid of furniture, the carpeting had been stripped and the walls showed a dingy line of discoloration from the water. The wet wallboard would need to be replaced. The insulation, too.

When Isabel returned, she acted surprised to discover him inside. “Oh! Ethan, you’re in here,” she said in a loud voice that bounced off the bare walls.

He’d been announced, and he didn’t care. He frowned at Isabel and waved a hand at the room’s mess. “I’m sorry about all this, Izzy.”

“It’s hard to look at, isn’t it? Anything below three feet was ruined by the water, including every single thing in the basement. Mom’s old textbooks, the boxes of Christmas things.” She smiled sadly. “Remember that old cedar chest?”

Yes, he did. Ella had refused to tell Callie and her sisters about the old piece, so they believed it had belonged to their father. “Sure I do,” he said.

Isabel shrugged. “It came unglued. The pieces floated everywhere.”

Ethan took her hand briefly, offering a consoling squeeze. “Save the pieces,” he said. “It could probably be repaired.”

She offered him the pen. “Maybe.”

As he wrote, he asked, “What are you working on now?”

Isabel sighed. “We’re ready to tear out the wallboard and hire a crew to replace it.”

At least she was on the right track. “You have people helping you, then?”

“I have plenty of help.”

Isabel shot a glance at the ceiling, and Ethan knew Callie was behind her odd behavior. The Blume sisters stuck together no matter what. If he wanted to talk to Callie, he was going to have to entice her from the attic. Isabel wasn’t likely to help.

Ethan ripped out the check and handed it to Callie’s sister. “Excuse me, Izzy,” he said, moving into the hallway.

“Callie, come down,” he shouted toward the ceiling. “I know you’re in the attic and I’m not leaving until we talk.”

Silence. He returned his attention to the blushing Isabel, then crossed the hall to stare up the narrow stairway. “Callie, you’re being ridiculous.”

Silence. He rested a foot on the bottom step. “I can climb the confounded stairs, Cal.”

He heard the hiss of whispering voices, then the girl and boy came down, followed by Callie with the baby. She stopped at the bottom of the steps, ignoring Ethan and bouncing the little boy in her arms as if she was soothing him.

But the baby was already chortling. While Callie scowled.

Hoping to distract her, he gave the little boy a huge smile that prompted one in response. “Cute kid,” he said.

Callie’s eyes widened, then she glanced at the baby’s face and nodded.

Ethan sighed. He couldn’t talk to Callie if they spent the day admiring some baby.

“May I?” When he reached out to take the little boy, Callie held on tight.

“Aw, come on,” Ethan said, smiling at Isabel. “Would your boyfriend mind if I held the little tyke for a minute?”

“I doubt it.” Isabel shot a worried glance at Callie. “It’s okay,” she said, lifting her brows. “Ethan can hold the baby.”

Gray eyes turbulent, Callie handed the kid across.

Ethan talked softly to the baby as he crossed the room with Callie on his heels. He handed the little boy to Isabel, then whipped around and grabbed Callie’s wrist. “Let’s go somewhere to talk.”

She yanked her arm free, then turned around and walked out the front door.

After Ethan had followed his furious, sputtering wife out to the porch, he realized that her thin cotton T-shirt would do little to protect her from the chill.

She’d always been absentminded about dressing for the weather. He’d always enjoyed taking care of her. “Don’t you have a jacket?” he asked.

“No.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “Let’s make this quick. I’m freezing.”

He was tempted to offer her his shirt, even if that meant going bare-chested. Undressing in front of her might be a problem, though. If she looked at him in a certain way, he might wonder what she was thinking. Hell, he might hope she was thinking about sex. Seeing her in his shirt might not help, either. She’d worn his shirts after sex when they were together. Sometimes during sex.

He had to keep his mind on his goal—which was to tell her about the divorce.

He couldn’t do that yet.

He’d thought he could greet Callie and her sisters as if they were no more than old friends, but reality had reminded him of some complicated feelings—protectiveness, desire, affection.

Rather than callously dropping his news, he wanted to let her get used to seeing him again. Apparently, he could use a little adjustment time himself.

He would tell her, though. Very soon.

Right now, he wanted to find out why she’d insisted on coming here to Isabel’s house with him when she was so set on avoiding him. “What’s going on, Callie?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t want me here at all, do you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She glared at him. “We shouldn’t be around each other at all. Not even to talk privately.”

“We’re still married, Cal. Why not talk?”

“We have a certificate. We’re not exactly married,” she said. “You walked out on me, remember?”

Okay, that was true. But they were still married. Their strange situation had entered his thoughts at odd times over the past two years, causing near panic. He wasn’t the type to leave things undone.

He didn’t want to have this conversation on Isabel’s front porch, but he could at least start them talking. “I walked out on a failing relationship.”

“There you go.”

Callie didn’t meet his eyes. Ethan stepped nearer and realized she was watching someone park a battered pickup behind the little white Mazda she was driving.

A redheaded man got out and walked up the drive. At first, Ethan had the blinding thought that the slightly plump man was Callie’s boyfriend, and the cause of her irrational behavior.

But then the guy said, “Hi, Callie. No one was home at Josie’s apartment. Did Isabel bring my kids here?”

“They’re in the house,” Callie said.

Aha! The redhead was Isabel’s boyfriend. Ethan wondered at his sense of relief. He still cared about Callie and always would, but he didn’t expect her to live the life of a hermit.

He didn’t intend to do that. He had LeeAnn, who had made her readiness for romance quite apparent. His marriage had failed. He should move on, and be happy for Callie.

“Wait there for one minute until I’m finished here, and I’ll go get the kids,” Callie hollered at the other man. Then she shot a glance at Ethan and added, “All of them.”

Man, she’d sounded bossy. Isabel’s friend stopped immediately and stood perusing the pile of junk at the end of the drive.

Callie returned her attention to Ethan, her eyes huge. “Okay, you win,” she said, speaking quickly. “I’ll meet you somewhere later and we can talk.”

“I could come in and help.”

“No. You have to go now.”

For whatever reason, she was rushing him off. Ethan liked the idea of meeting her later, though. He could use the time to think about how to approach the subject of divorce. That shouldn’t be hard after a two-year separation, but it was. Apparently, on both sides.

“Tonight at, say, ten o’clock, I’ll meet you at Mary’s Bar,” she said. “You know the place, out off Ohio Street?”

How could he forget it? Before they were married, he and Callie had spent hours making out in the bar’s back parking lot. “All right. Mary’s at ten.”

Callie paused and frowned as if she intended to say more, but then she just tugged on his sleeve. “Come on.”

“What are we doing?”

She started down the drive. “Walking to your car.”

He laughed. Did she expect her boyfriend to show up? Maybe she didn’t want to explain Ethan’s presence to her new love interest. Come to think of it, maybe the guy didn’t know she’d been married.

As much as the thought bothered him, Ethan knew he was probably right. A jealous boyfriend would explain her bizarre behavior. “All right, but you’d better show up,” he said as he opened his car door and sank inside. “I know where to find you if you don’t.”

“I’ll be there.”

Ethan was much happier to hear those words than he should have been.

Chapter Three

Callie stepped inside the door of Mary’s and allowed her senses to adjust. The sharp smell of cigarette smoke made her want to pinch her nose, and the crowded darkness invited trouble. The bar was small and shabby, but it fulfilled a purpose. Local citizens kept the business going because they preferred to drink and mingle without having to drive the extra few miles to a more upscale place.

Since she valued logic over social approval, Callie didn’t mind admitting that she preferred clean smells and daylight. She’d never frequented Mary’s or any other bar, but she’d wanted a good place to talk to Ethan tonight.

The crowd added safety, yet unless something happened, folks would be uninterested in her and Ethan’s conversation. Besides, she’d wanted to meet Ethan late, so she could leave Luke at Josie’s apartment without burdening her overworked sisters with his care. He’d been asleep for an hour already, and he’d likely sleep through until morning.

Ethan was here, somewhere. She’d seen his car in the lot. She scanned the space and located him sitting at a table just yards in front of her with his back to the door. Surrounded by four pretty women, he was entertaining them with an anecdote that must be enthralling.

The ladies were all pitched forward in their seats, eyes wide, heads nodding and lips pursed. Suddenly, all four women opened those pouty lips to gasp.

Callie swallowed a lump of jealousy. Ethan had always liked people. All people, not just women. He was probably passing the time, expecting her to be late, as usual. In any case, his behavior was none of her business.

Heavens, he looked good. The sight of his broad shoulders and muscled arms made her wish for things she shouldn’t. Ethan had made her feel sexy and soft, instead of just smart. No couple could have had a more romantic beginning. None. Just like the ladies at his table now, she’d brightened in his company.

She’d be tempted to repeat every trial of their marriage, just to relive one of those early days.

If that were possible, however, she’d be wishing Luke right out of her life.

She couldn’t do that. Luke was her life.

Her deep, crazy wishes hardly mattered, anyway. Ethan had made it clear that he was finished with her. He’d tired of her, just as her mother had predicted.

An outbreak of wild female giggles nearly brought tears to Callie’s eyes. She knew her envy didn’t make sense. She wasn’t supposed to care. She was supposed to be over him, vanishing into her separate life while he vanished into his.

Unfortunately, when it came to Ethan, Callie’s emotions often overtook her rational thoughts.

She’d have to be very careful.

She approached the table, stopping at Ethan’s side. “I’m here,” she said.

Ethan said goodbye to the ladies, then grabbed his bottle of beer and stood. “I couldn’t find an empty table a few minutes ago, but we can hunt for one together.”

They surveyed the area. Most of the crowd had gathered around the pool tables or the bar. All five tables in the larger room were occupied, but Ethan put a hand at Callie’s waist to guide her in that direction.

A single guy sat alone at a table, ogling a petite blonde waiting to order at the bar. Ethan approached, offering the guy a nod in greeting. “Pretty girl,” he said. “Interested?”

“Sure as taxes,” the man said.

Ethan handed him a bill. “I saw her eyeing you earlier. She’s receptive. Go offer to buy her a drink.”

“Wow. Thanks, man.”

“We’ll be taking your table, though.”

“No problem.”

Callie smiled as they sat down. Ethan was in a friendly mood. Maybe they could talk without getting into an argument. She’d always felt so out of control during their clashes, and she feared that she’d say something she’d forever regret.

Could she convince Ethan that he should simply vanish again, without discussing a divorce?

“You want something to drink?” he asked. “I’m sure they have something nonalcoholic.”

She eyed his bottle of beer. She’d never been much of a drinker, but at the moment she wanted something to steady her nerves. “I’d drink one of those.”

“Really?”

She nodded.

He raised his eyebrows, then got up and went to the bar. Soon, he returned with two open beers—a fresh one for himself and one for her.

She tipped the bottle to her mouth, wrinkling her nose at the first taste, then took a longer drink. The beer’s cold bitterness soothed her dry throat. After another drink, she set the bottle on the table and gazed at him. “It’s been nice to see you, Ethan. But after we talk tonight, you should go home and forget about me and my sisters.”

He scowled, but he didn’t say anything.

“Our relationship is over,” Callie added. “I can’t think of a single reason for us to spend time together.”

“You’re serious.”

“Absolutely.”

“You must have a jealous boyfriend.”

Callie stared at him. She hadn’t thought of lying about an involvement, but his presumption could be lucky. “Well, I have gone on with my life,” she said.

“Then I guess this is a good time to talk,” he said. “I’ve also been dating. The woman’s name is LeeAnn Chambers, and she works as a secretary and moonlights as a fiddle player for the River’s Bend music group. You heard of them?”

Oh, Lord. He had a girlfriend? Callie didn’t want to hear a name, and she most certainly didn’t want details. “No, I haven’t,” she said. She picked up her drink, realized her fingers were shaking and gripped the bottle more firmly. After another long swig, she glared at Ethan as he continued to talk about LeeAnn.

Plunking the drink on the table, Callie looped her hair behind her ears and fixed a stare past his head. Maybe an act of disinterest would make him stop rattling on about this woman.

He did stop.

And he grabbed Callie’s left hand. “You’re still wearing your wedding ring?” he asked, his expression incredulous.

Damn. She’d forgotten about the ring.

She wore it mostly for convenience. Whenever she took Luke out in public, people approached her to comment on her baby’s dimpled grin or thick hair or bright eyes. She wanted those folks to picture him with a perfect home life, with parents devoted to each other and to him.

The way she’d imagined her life with Ethan.

But part of her reason, too, was that she hadn’t found the heart to remove it. The impossibility of a reconciliation didn’t keep her from clinging to that old dream, as if it were a long-comatose loved one on life support.

She couldn’t tell Ethan any of this.

“I don’t think about it,” she said, shrugging. “But I’ve always thought it was pretty.”

“Your boyfriend doesn’t mind?”

Callie held Ethan’s gaze for an endless time. When the floor didn’t swallow her up, chair, beer and all, she decided she’d have to keep talking to him.

She couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

Ethan tipped up his beer, finishing it, then said, “You don’t have a boyfriend at all, do you?”

She shrugged.

“You’re trying to evade men’s interest,” he said. “You’re using the ring as protection.”

He wasn’t too far off target, and his words hurt because he knew her so well.

He knew her so well, yet he’d left her.

“It’s none of your business, is it?” she said. “It’s my ring. Go away and let me live my life.”

Callie got up and wound her way through the crowd. As soon as she’d left the bar, she broke into a jog. She’d almost made it to the car when he caught her elbow.

“Let go of me, Ethan.”

He did, and she turned around. She hoped he’d attribute her flush to anger rather than humiliation. Women who were over their exes didn’t wear the man’s ring, did they? Her mother hadn’t worn her father’s. Here Callie was, the woman Ethan had left, wearing his wedding ring two years later. He’d suggested that she wore it to hide from other men, but he might also wonder if she was pining away for him. She could hardly explain that she wore it for their baby’s sake, damn it.

“I just want to know why,” he said. His attention traveled from her eyes to her mouth to her neck.

Her blush flowed downward, until she was hot everywhere.

“Why, Callie?”

Sweet heaven, she couldn’t think when he looked at her that way.

She didn’t want to think.

She had so much to lose if she got involved with him again. Why not kiss him one last time—really kiss him—while she had the chance?

She grabbed his T-shirt and tugged him nearer.

Before his chiseled lips touched hers, he parted them. He tasted sexy, like cold beer and hot, wild seduction. As his warm breath flowed into Callie’s mouth, the reminder of their lusty early days hit her, hard.

Her knees wobbled. Her breasts ached. Her womb opened.

She wanted nothing more than for Ethan to touch her, long and lovingly, everywhere she ached.

That could never happen again.

Still, she didn’t move away from him. The unaccustomed alcohol in her system had probably made her reckless. It also didn’t help that they were standing in the same parking lot where she’d first learned how to love a boy in every way. His hands settled low on her hips, and she leaned into him. She’d always loved it when he pulled her to him and flaunted his body’s need for her.

But this time, he propelled her backward.

His expression showed confusion, but Callie could still feel his passion down to her bones. She could still see it in the flash of his eyes and in his quick, deep breaths.

Man, she’d missed that look.

In the end, when they were battling over everything from laundry duties to where they should live, she’d stopped seeing any signs he wanted her. She’d thought his desire was gone forever.

It needed to be gone forever.

And Callie needed to think her way through this situation. Of course, their reunion reminded her of the good things. Ethan had made Callie feel beautiful, once.

He’d made her feel alive.

As much as she’d missed him—as much as it tore her heart out to let this man go again, even for a moment—she couldn’t forget the reason for the separation.

Leaving had been his choice. A thousand wishes hadn’t brought him home, and now Callie had a baby she couldn’t fathom losing.

A baby whose identity she couldn’t risk revealing.

Fisting her hands to keep them from trembling, Callie perched them against her hips and said, “What would your fiddle player think if she realized we still have that level of heat between us?”

He scowled.

“That’s why, Ethan. That’s why you have to go away and leave me alone.”

“I wanted to talk to you about unfinished business tonight, Callie. About our marriage. I didn’t intend to start anything else.” He shook his head. “Maybe we need a chaperone.”

She glanced around. They were alone out here, but someone might come or go at any time. “We aren’t going to discuss anything in Mary’s parking lot.”

“I didn’t plan to have the discussion out here.”

“You followed me out.”

His jaw tensed. “You get your way, don’t you, Cal?”

She didn’t think so. She might have maneuvered her way out of a conversation tonight—she hoped so—but she for damn sure hadn’t gotten her way.