First Came Baby

Almost a year, to be exact.

“Oops.” She disengaged Jamie’s fingers and tugged, but the fabric was bunched beneath his wriggling little body. “Here.” And without thinking, she pulled the baby off her and held him out to Boone.

The expression on Boone’s face shifted from naked lust to stark terror in the space of a heartbeat.

“I...” His gaze bounced from her face, to her chest, to Jamie, then back to her face. “How do I...?”

Whoa. He had told her he didn’t have a lot of experience with babies, but given the tight lines in his face, she had a strong suspicion that he’d been underreporting.

“Have you never held a baby?”

His eyes closed. His lips thinned, like he was trying to hold in a grimace. “I have,” he said slowly. “But it’s been a long time.”

Time alone couldn’t account for the way his hands suddenly seemed plastered to his thighs.

Something inside Kate contracted in empathy.

Boone had never given her more than the basics about his childhood. She knew that the only thing his father had given him was twenty-three chromosomes and that it probably would have been better if his mother’s role had stopped about there, as well. She knew that there had been indifferent relatives and foster care and periodic reunions with his mother that seemed to always stop just short of physical abuse. She knew that as far as Boone was concerned, his life hadn’t really begun until he’d met up with the MacPhersons and gone to Peru.

None of that explained why the mention of holding a baby—holding their baby—left him looking like he’d been dropped into a pit of snakes.

Kate closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing for a second. Then she put Jamie on her hip, pulled her sweater into position—no point in adding another level of challenge to the situation—and marched over to Boone. “Stick out your arms.”

“Here?” He looked around, his gaze lingering once more on the tub, the sink, the tile floor. “Everything is solid. Hard. What if I drop him?”

“You won’t. I won’t let you,” she added when panic filled his eyes. She switched to teacher mode. “Come on. Arms out. That’s right, bent at the elbows. Now, I’m going to put him up against your shoulder. You’re going to put your left hand under his little bum. Your right hand goes across his back. Got it?”

He took a step back.

Oh, no. No way was she letting him run away from this.

“Boone. Whatever has you worried, you can forget about it. I’m right here. Don’t you want to hold your son?”

His nod was slow in coming, but at least he was affirming.

“He moves a lot, so you’ll need to keep your grip secure. But not too tight.”

“Are you sure this is a good—”

She pushed the baby toward him before he could get any more freaked out. As she’d expected, his arms closed around Jamie—tentatively at first, then tight enough that she felt good about letting go and stepping back.

“There,” she said softly. “Jameson Boone, meet Jackson Boone. But he thinks Jackson is a preppy name, so don’t call him that. Which you won’t anyway, because he’s your father.”

Jamie leaned back and stared at Boone. Boone stared rigidly back.

Too late, she wished she had her phone or a camera nearby. But since she didn’t—and there was no way she was going to ruin the moment by running off—she focused instead on soaking up every possible detail so she could carry them in her memory.

Two cleft chins. Two sets of wide-spaced blue eyes. Two slightly upturned noses and two heads of light brown hair and two matching expressions of misgiving.

Her throat tightened, swiftly and unexpectedly.

Daddy. I should have said, “He’s your daddy.”

At last, Boone cracked a smile. “Hey, buddy.”

Jamie’s response was to open his mouth and let out a wail that could have punched a hole in the ceiling.

Oh, no. “It’s okay,” she said to Boone, to Jamie, to herself as she reached and grabbed. “He just doesn’t know you, that’s all. Give him a couple of days to warm up and he’ll be fine.”

“Sure,” Boone said in a hollow sort of voice. “Totally understandable.”

“I’ll take him downstairs. Change his diaper while you have a shower.” A joke might help. “Don’t worry, we won’t have the diaper lesson until tomorrow.”

“Probably a good plan,” Boone said, and grabbed a towel from the closet.

Kate backed out of the bathroom and hurried down the stairs. She shouldn’t have pushed it. Damn it, she was an early childhood educator. She was well aware that even a father who had been present from a kid’s first breath could sometimes be rejected in favor of the mom, and vice versa. She should never have forced this, especially when it was so obvious that Boone had been on the edge about it.

“But I want him to love you,” she whispered to Jamie as she placed him on the changing table. “I want him to know that you are the most miraculous little thing on the whole planet. I want him to hate every minute he has to be away from you. I want him to be in your life. Not because he has to be, but because he wants to be.”

It didn’t feel like too much to ask. And it wasn’t. Not from anyone else.

She just didn’t know if Boone could do it.

CHAPTER THREE

BOONE WOKE THE next morning to the smell of coffee and the sound of music.

He fumbled for his phone, squinted at the time and fell back against the pillow. It was barely five thirty. How the hell could Kate be doing the Julie Andrews thing at this hour?

But even as he lay there, he admitted that even though it was early, it wasn’t all bad. He’d almost fallen asleep over dinner last night. Thirty-six hours of travel with no more than a nap did tend to take a toll.

It wasn’t until just now, waking up a lot more refreshed and a lot less cramped, that he realized Kate had probably pulled off a similar marathon of wakefulness more than once since Jamie’s birth.

God, Boone, could you be any more clueless?

As soon as the words crossed his mind he stopped himself from piling on any more guilt. Not because it wasn’t true. He was clueless sometimes. But the words in his head had been a straight echo of his mother’s voice. He’d learned a long time ago that anything that sounded like her wasn’t something that should be indulged.

“Go downstairs,” he ordered himself. “Ask how you can help. And for the love of God, don’t freak if Jamie doesn’t want anything to do with you. You read the books. It’s just gonna take time.”

Time, and a whole lot of guts he wasn’t sure he had. Which Kate had probably figured out the moment he froze at the mention of holding Jamie.

He’d thought he was ready. After all the time he’d spent giving himself pep talks, he’d thought he’d convinced himself the mistakes he’d made as a kid were simply that, and not a guarantee history would be repeated. But when Kate had pushed Jamie toward him, all he could see was the unrelenting surfaces of porcelain and tile. All he could feel was little limbs slipping from his grasp. All he could hear was cries of pain.

He wanted to be a good father. He might not be an always-around one, but he still could be a dad who tickled his kid and changed diapers with ease and even tossed him in the air. But it was obviously going to take a lot more determination than he’d expected.

Remembering that one second when Jamie had first settled in his arms and looked up at him told him that it would be worth it.

Remembering the confusion on Kate’s face told him that he needed to let her know why this was gonna take work.

With his marching orders clear, he pulled on sweatpants and followed his nose to the kitchen.

Kate sat at the kitchen table with Jamie on her lap. He squealed and bobbed and dove like a prize fighter. The spoon in her hand hovered just out of Jamie’s grasp, like she was waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in and shove food in his mouth. Or maybe she was waiting for the right moment in the song she was singing—something about wheels and a bus and beep, beep, beep. Boone was torn between fear that Jamie would slide right off the slippery little robe Kate wore, and admiration at how easy she made it look.

She glanced his way with a faint smile. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

He could say the same. Except for her, even with her hair askew and glasses instead of contacts, it would be true.

“Hope we didn’t wake you,” she continued. “Somebody decided that five was the new eight.”

“I guarantee you, he didn’t inherit that from me.”

She waved toward the counter. “Coffee’s ready. Help yourself.”

A couple of minutes later, coffee appropriately doctored and that first life-altering sip working its way down his throat, he pulled out a chair on the other side of Jamie. “Safe to sit here?”

“Should be. We haven’t started finger food yet, so he doesn’t have anything to throw.”

Boone peered into the bowl that sat on the table just out of Jamie’s reach, assessing the contents while wondering how to start the conversation he knew was needed. “Do I want to know what that is?”

“Rice cereal. This is his first solid food, so we’re still figuring it out.” As she spoke, she slipped the minuscule spoon between Jamie’s lips.

“It looks like there’s more coming out of him than staying in.”

“That’s okay. He’s getting the hang of it, aren’t you, Jamiekins?” She buried a yawn in her upraised arm. “Sorry. Rough night.”

The guilt devil shoved a pitchfork in Boone’s conscience. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Some. I’ve had worse.”

Jab, jab.

She spooned up more slop and took aim, but stopped before the spoon made it to Jamie’s mouth. She sat a little straighter, took a deep breath, then turned to Boone with the spoon extended.

“Here you go, Daddy. Your turn.”

It was so obvious she was forcing herself to do this that his gut twisted.

Mierda.

He took the spoon and set it gently on the table, then leaned forward in his chair, arms braced along his thighs, hands clasped. “Kate, I need to explain something.”

She tipped her head but stayed silent.

“Last night, when I was so...weird...about holding Jamie, it wasn’t anything to do with him, okay? It’s because...” Damn. This was harder than he’d expected. “When I was twelve, I was in a foster home with a bunch of other kids. There was a baby. Tristan. He was...maybe a year old? I can’t remember exactly, though I know he was older than Jamie.”

Actually, what he remembered the most was the weight of Tristan in his arms, more solid and bulky than Jamie. Though since Boone had still been just a preadolescent himself at the time, it was hard to compare.

“Anyway, one night Tristan was sick. I don’t know what was wrong exactly. I just remember I was the only other kid home, and the mom was out of medicine and Tristan was asleep, so she asked me to keep an eye on him while she ran to the store. Ten minutes, tops.”

Which had been true. What had turned out to be false was the assurance that Tristan would sleep through her entire absence.

“As soon as she was out of the driveway and around the corner, he woke up. And I could tell something was wrong. He was shaking. Hard. His arms and legs were jerking and he kept tossing his head back and forth while he made this weird sound.”

Kate lowered her free hand, which she had cupped over her mouth as soon as he launched into the description. “A febrile seizure?” she whispered.

He wasn’t at all surprised that she knew what had happened even without seeing it. “Yeah. That’s what it was. The thing is, I had no idea what the hell was happening. For a minute there I thought...well... You can imagine all the things I figured might be happening.”

“Boone, you were twelve. Nobody would expect you to—”

“I know. The thing was, I also didn’t know what to do about it. And so instead of leaving him in his crib and calling for help, I picked him up and tried to hold him.”

Kate’s quick inhalation told him that she’d figured out what had happened faster even than it had played out in real life.

“It was so fast. One minute I was putting him up on my shoulder, and then he twisted and threw himself backward.” Boone glanced up at the ceiling to steady himself. Even now, twenty years later, he could still feel his hands trying to grip Tristan as he arched and flew back. “He, um, hit the floor. Hard.”

Kate probably had no idea that she was clutching Jamie tight to her chest. “Oh, God. Boone. You... He... What...”

“Broken leg. Concussion. Hairline fracture of the collarbone.”

Kate’s death grip on Jamie eased slightly. “Oh, that poor sweet bunny. But at least... I mean, those are all things that can be fixed.”

“Yeah.” Not that that had been much consolation at the time. Boone would never forget the cold rush of panic that had raced through him when Tristan’s moans had become high-pitched howls of pain.

“I guess that explains why you were a little freaked at the thought of holding Jamie.”

Kate’s soft words pulled Boone back from the past trap. He focused on Jamie’s wary eyes, the hideous cupboards, the hum of the refrigerator. Here. Now. This was what mattered. History was just that. He couldn’t change it but he could learn from it.

And he could damned well make sure it didn’t ruin the moment.

“So. I guess we kept Jamie waiting long enough.” He made himself smile as he reached for the spoon. “Shall I?”

It was ridiculous to be so warmed by the pride in Kate’s eyes, but there it was.

“Absolutely.” She pushed the bowl in his direction. “Just put a little on there, and slip it in gently.”

He could do this. He would do this.

Jamie’s eyes followed his movements as Boone scooped up a hummingbird-sized portion of slop and aimed for the target. But his son was no dummy. At the last second, he turned his face so the food ended up smeared across his cheek.

“Crap.” Boone caught Kate’s eye. “Wait. Am I allowed to say that in front of him?”

She tapped her finger against the end of her nose. “Well,” she said after a moment, “the other day, I dropped a hammer on my foot and let loose with some words that I’m pretty sure were never spoken in Nana’s house before. So trust me. He’s heard far worse.”

That was a relief.

“And by the way,” she added softly, “the first time I gave him cereal, I made it too thick and gave him too much and he choked on it. For a few seconds I thought I was going to have to do the baby Heimlich on him.”

Boone was pretty sure she’d told him about that for his benefit far more than from any need to confess.

Did that make him any less appreciative? Oh, hell, no.

“Go on,” she urged softly. “Try again.”

Boone loaded his spoon once more and leveled his gaze on Jamie, now rocking back and forth on Kate’s lap. His little arms windmilled at his sides.

“Is he trying to take off?”

“Hope not,” she said. “He doesn’t have a passport yet.”

Babies needed passports?

“That’s something I thought maybe we could take care of while you’re here,” she said. “Not that I’m planning any major adventures for the next while. I’m probably going to stick close to home for the near future.”

The satisfaction in her voice told him she didn’t have any problem with that.

“But my great-aunt Donna is in the States, in Vermont, and I know Mom would like us to visit before I go back to work in November.”

“Oh. Sure, whatever you need.” Boone squinted at Jamie. “Okay, kid. We’re going to do this. My job is to get the spoon to your mouth. Your job is to open up. Got it?”

Jamie stopped baby break-dancing and stared at Boone. It was almost possible to see him making the mental leap. Big guy...not Mom...doesn’t know how to hold me...

His mouth opened. Probably to cry, but one thing Boone knew was how to take advantage of an opportunity. Praying he wouldn’t hit something, he popped the spoon into the opening and deposited the food.

“There you go!” Kate all but applauded. It was ridiculous. Though not as ridiculous as how pleased he felt about it himself.

Jamie, of course, chose that moment to let loose with the wail that had been brewing. Kate picked him up and put him on her shoulder.

“Don’t be so fussy,” she said. “This is your daddy. And you are very, very lucky to have him.”

* * *

AN HOUR LATER, Kate zipped Jamie into his front pack, grabbed a clipboard, and headed outside to survey the property with Boone.

He was already out on the porch, walking slowly from one end to the other, carefully putting his weight on each board as he stepped.

“How’s it look?” She handed him the clipboard.

“Other than those spots you already know about, the floor is solid. A half a dozen new boards, a fresh coat of stain or paint, and it should be good. We’ll need to replace some of the railings, too.” He scribbled something on the paper. “You said you got estimates on these repairs already?”

“Right. I thought the best strategy would be to figure out what needs to be done, then balance what you and I can do ourselves against the cost of everything, and go from there.”

“Prioritize. Right.” He nodded, started to write something, then stopped and looked down at Jamie. “Sorry, buddy. I forgot to get your input.”

Jamie shoved his hand in his mouth and gnawed, but he didn’t start crying.

It was a good sign, but Kate opted against saying anything. She didn’t want Boone to feel that she was watching his every move, or judging his interactions with Jamie, especially after the mealtime revelation.

She shivered. Dear Lord, what else was Boone keeping bottled up inside him?

No, it was definitely best to let things unfold naturally. All Boone and Jamie needed was some time and togetherness.

She refused to dwell on the thought that time and togetherness were the most limited factors in this relationship.

Instead, she laughed. “You want proof that you can take a guy out of Canada but you can’t take the Canadian out of the guy? You just apologized to a baby. For something he can’t even understand yet.”

Boone’s grin was slow to appear, but when it did—in full surprised delight—it was well worth the wait. “I guess some things are too ingrained to forget.”

Kate was inclined to agree. Especially when Boone gave his jacket a tug and a pat, and she remembered the way he always did that when he got dressed. A final tug. A final pat. And then, usually, a final kiss before he headed out the door.

How many times had that last kiss turned into something more?

And how many times would she be fool enough to torture herself with memories such as that before she—

Boone looked past her to the road. “Looks like you have company.”

Kate turned. One glance at the little white hatchback turning into her driveway and her heart sank.

“Oh, God,” she said bleakly. “It’s my mother.”

Boone flinched. “She still pissed at me?”

“Yes.” There was no point in sugarcoating the truth, especially when Boone was well aware that he was high on Maggie Hebert’s hit list. “I meant to warn you, but I thought she’d give us at least a full day.”

“And lose the element of surprise?”

At least he didn’t sound too worried.

“There’s one thing in your favor. Allie’s former fiancé moved into the Number One Scum spot when the Mounties showed up. You, at least, tried to do the right thing.” Kate waved at her mother, now walking toward them. “If we can get her talking about that, it’ll remind her that you’re a prince in comparison.”

“I’m not holding my breath,” he said, then waved as cheerfully as if Kate hadn’t just given him the equivalent of a battle plan. “Hello, Maggie!”

Kate winced. “It’s Mrs. Hebert to you,” she reminded him, but it was too late. Maggie was already scowling as she climbed the steps.

“Good morning, Katie. Good morning, sweet little Jamie.” She looked past them. “Boone.”

Kate closed her eyes against the whirlwind generated by being dragged abruptly back into adolescent embarrassment over her mother.

“Mom. Be nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

Right. According to Maggie, the fact that Boone still had testicles was proof of her magnanimity.

“What can we do for you, Mom?”

Maggie sent a cold look in Boone’s direction before turning to focus on Jamie. “Well,” she said in a much milder tone as she grabbed the tiny foot, “I came by to invite you to dinner on Sunday.” She sighed and glanced up at Boone. “All of you.”

Oh, joy.

“You could have called,” Kate said.

“I’m well aware of that, Katherine. But I was out running errands already, and I saw you outside, and this way I got to have a minute with the sweetest little guy in the whole wide world. Right, Jamiekins?”

Kate was never quite sure how her mother managed to adore everything about Jamie while claiming to be plotting revenge against the man who had fathered him. But then, there were many things about Maggie Hebert that had never made sense.

“I don’t know,” she began, only to be interrupted.

“Allie and Cash are coming, too, and there’s no one booked for the bed and breakfast that night. I thought we could have a real family meal.”

Dear Lord. If the sarcasm were any thicker, they could spread it on toast in place of peanut butter.

Something warm landed on Kate’s shoulder. Boone’s hand. He squeezed, gentle but heartening, and she got the message. They were going to have to do this eventually, and if Allie and Cash were present, there might be a buffer zone.

“Okay. We’ll be there.”

Maggie grabbed Jamie’s hands and pulled them together in an imitation of applause. “Yay! Can you say yay, sweetie? You’ll be talking soon, you smart boy.”

“Mom. He’s not going to say anything like that for a while.”

“She is such an unbeliever, isn’t she?” Maggie made a sourpuss face, drawing a giggle from Jamie. “That’s right. You know it’s the truth, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Very kind of you to invite us,” Boone said, and Kate marveled at the evenness of his voice. “What time should we get there?”

“Oh, the usual. Kate knows.”

Yes, Kate knew. She knew many things. Like how her mother had the ability to convey about twelve different messages with two tiny words.

They were going to have to talk. Soon.

“So, not to be rude, Mom, but we have a lot to get through today, and since we’re going to see you soon anyway...”

Maggie straightened and gave the house a brisk once-over. “You told him about the roof, right?”

Kate opened her mouth to answer but Boone beat her to it. “I’m going up there after we look around from the ground, but my suspicion is that it will need to be completely reshingled.”

“It will. The porch needs to be fixed first, though, before Katie goes through it.”

“Hello?” Kate waved her hand in front of Maggie’s face. “Standing right here in front of you?”

“It’s on the list.” Boone gave her shoulder another squeeze. Purely to help her stay calm, Kate knew, but at the same time, oh, it felt so good. All that heat and strength. All that promise.

All that heartache, Kate.

“Make sure you check out the basement. Katie says it’s good, but I think there’s some water seeping in at the back wall. The upstairs bathroom needs to be completely gutted. The kitchen could use an overhaul, too, but—”

“Mom.” Kate had to put an end to this. “We’ve got this, okay?”

Maggie looked between them, searching, though for what, Kate wasn’t sure. The only certainty was that when she spied Boone’s hand, she snapped to rigid uprightness so fast that it was like someone had replaced her spine with a titanium rod.

Boone left his palm exactly where it was. Which was a good thing. It kept Kate from turning and walking away in disgust.

“That’s right,” Maggie said. “You’ve got this.” And she tickled Jamie’s stomach.

God, Kate thought, please help me remember this when someone breaks Jamie’s heart someday.