The Late Bloomer's Baby

“We’re all working so hard at getting my sister back into her house.”

Callie paused, took a deep breath and then said, “I can’t take the time to meet with you and your attorney this week. I hope you understand.”

“Sure I do. I’ll cancel the appointment,” Ethan replied, and added in a low voice, “You can just sign the papers and mail them, Cal. No problem.”

There would be a problem, though—a huge one. With a couple of stamps and a signature or two, she could vastly increase her chance of losing her little boy, Luke.

“I think we probably do need to sit down with an attorney to make sure everything’s in order,” Callie said quickly. “Can it wait awhile, though?”

Until she’d had time to escape to Colorado…and then until she moved, leaving no forwarding address.

Dear Reader,

When I was developing the idea for this story, I figured that my reader letter would include a huge thank-you to the many people who helped south-central Kansans after the November 1998 floods. I still want to thank those people, and I also want to apologize to the fine folks of Augusta. Please note that I haven’t flooded your town again. I simply rewrote history, moving the 1998 flood to the present time.

As my own family sat in our west Augusta home the night the floodwaters rushed in, we had no idea about the magnitude of the struggle we were beginning. But we began to solve problems immediately. With our cars destroyed by the water, we had to find affordable transportation quickly. Several dear friends and family members helped with that. Next we had to find temporary housing. Again, a family member came through for us. Our list of difficulties was long, but we discovered that no problem was unsolvable. Eventually we recovered fully. (Although my husband is still cleaning tools.)

I think any marriage reaches a point where struggles begin to overtake the good times, but if the couple tackles those issues one by one, they can make it through to a stronger relationship. Is a story about a married couple romantic? I think so. What could be more romantic than a couple sharing a kiss at their fiftieth wedding anniversary? You just know that they must have weathered so many storms. My hero, Ethan, is stouthearted and gregarious—a type of person I’ve always enjoyed. And Callie is like so many of us. She recognizes truth deep in her heart, but sometimes she listens harder to those deeply ingrained falsehoods.

Enjoy their happy ending. I’d love to hear from you. Contact me through my Web site at www.kaitlynrice.com.

Kaitlyn Rice

The Late Bloomer’s Baby

Kaitlyn Rice

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To my editors, Beverley Sotolov, Paula Eykelhof and Kathleen Scheibling, for your guidance and expert advice.

To Cathy C, for sharing your story about your journey toward motherhood. Especially for helping with details about the IVF process.

And to the many people who helped our family recover from the real Augusta flood in November of 1998: Mom Marianne, Mom Genny, Jamie and Jane, Billy, Jim, Mila, Kim and Lud, Connie, the Wilkersons, the Boyds, Randy’s Linda, the Boeing workers, the Red Cross, the Salvation Army, the National Guard and the folks at the First Baptist Church, the First Methodist Church, Robinson School and the Augusta Animal Clinic.

In memory of Randy Qualls and Donna Foulke.

To anyone who helped in any way, thank you. You helped us make it through.

Books by Kaitlyn Rice

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

972—TEN ACRES AND TWINS

1012—THE RENEGADE

1051—TABLE FOR FIVE

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Prologue

A ringing woke Callie Taylor, and she reached for the alarm switch on her bedside clock. When she realized the sound had come from her phone, she groaned and lifted her head from the pillow to check the time.

Who would be calling at five-twenty in the morning?

It was probably a wrong number. Since she used her machine to screen calls, she’d set it to answer after one ring. She could sleep for a while and check for a message later.

But the timing of the call nagged her until she shoved her covers aside and padded from her bedroom. Pausing at the nursery doorway, she peered inside. Fortunately, the noise hadn’t disturbed Luke. Her eleven-month-old son lay flat on his back with his arms and legs flung across the mattress. Callie grinned as she continued toward the phone. Asleep or awake, her dark-haired sweetheart embraced life vigorously.

He was so much like his father.

Callie lost her smile at that thought, but shrugged off her regret. If anyone could revive the ignorant hopes of a newlywed bride, it wasn’t Callie. She excelled at science, not men.

After entering her great room, she heard her younger sister finishing a message and grabbed the phone. “Hey, Isabel. What’s going on? It’s not even six here in Denver.”

“Sorry about the early call. I…well, I needed to talk to you.”

Her hesitancy alerted Callie to trouble. She sank onto the sofa and tucked her bare legs beneath her nightgown. “What happened, hon?”

“The house flooded, Cal. Pretty bad. I’m calling from a church shelter.”

A sense of powerlessness socked Callie in the gut. Her sister lived five hundred and thirty miles away in Augusta, their south-central Kansas hometown. She might as well be across a sea.

“Lord, Izzy! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. So far, everyone is safe and accounted for.”

“Thank God.”

“I was home in bed when it happened, though.” Isabel’s voice vibrated as if she was trembling. “I heard a noise around three-thirty. Something like a crack or a pop. I got up to look around—for some reason the lights worked—and watched the basement fill as if it were a giant bathtub.” She laughed nervously. “I think the sound was a window breaking.”

Callie sat forward, hugging her knees as she began to shiver, too. “Did you leave then?”

“Well, no. The water was almost to the top of the porch. I couldn’t drive out so I called the Augusta police. A National Guard boat picked me up twenty-five minutes later. They took me to a big truck where other evacuees were waiting, and later they brought us all here to the church.”

Callie pictured her sister standing in the doorway of their childhood home, awaiting a middle-of-the-night rescue by strangers. She imagined her now, shaking and striving for bravery.

A thought struck then, and Callie pressed a palm against the growing knot in her stomach. Isabel had said that everyone was safe. That she was at a shelter. Apparently, more than just Isabel’s house had flooded.

Callie’s youngest sister also lived in Augusta. The Blume home was outside city limits to the south. Josie rented an apartment right in town. “Have you heard from Josie?” she asked.

“She’s fine. She said neighborhoods northeast of the middle school weren’t affected.”

Callie drew in a deep breath.

“The sirens woke her, though. She turned on the news and heard we were flooding. She tried to get to the house but the roads were impassable. She’d just returned when I called a minute ago. She’s on her way here to pick me up.”

Good. Her sisters were safe. They’d have each other until Callie arrived. “I’ll make arrangements and fly into Wichita today,” she said. “I can rent a car at the airport so we’ll have another vehicle to use, and we’ll—”

“Oh, no,” Isabel butted in, her voice firm. “I wanted you to know that Josie and I were safe, but you don’t need to come. You’ve got your work to think about, and, well, everything would be too difficult, wouldn’t it?”

“Are you kidding? I’ll take a leave of absence from BioLabs. My assistants can continue the trials. I need to be with my little sisters.”

“But you also have a baby to worry about,” Isabel said. “I don’t expect you to bring Luke. For the obvious reasons.”

Callie frowned through her sister’s patient explanation. Yes, her child would complicate this trip, and not simply because he was an infant.

Luke’s father lived in Wichita again now—just twenty miles west of Augusta. Ethan didn’t know—couldn’t know—of his son’s existence.

“I have no choice but to bring Luke,” Callie said, then heard a muffled male voice in the background, followed by Isabel’s response. Someone had lured her sister away from their conversation.

Seconds later, she came on the line again. “Sorry. People are waiting for the phone.” Isabel lowered her voice. “I did hear you, though. Are you sure you want to take the chance? Josie and I can handle things here, you know.”

That was right. Isabel had always been content to piggyback her emotions on the well-being of others, hadn’t she? It wasn’t that she didn’t feel her own feelings, but she derived such joy from her interactions with others. Such energy from their happiness. Even through this trauma, she’d appreciate Josie’s spunk. She would be fine. Maybe Callie could stay here in Denver, where she could keep Luke safe.

The man interrupted again. While her sister spoke to him, Callie considered taking the easy out.

No. Despite the risk, she had to go. At twenty-nine, Callie was the oldest of the Blumes. Now that their mother was gone, she felt protective of her sisters. Although Josie and Isabel were each smart and capable, they could surely use an extra brain and pair of hands.

“I’m coming,” she insisted when Isabel returned. “I’ll call Josie’s cell number when I know details about my arrival. We can talk then.”

After she hung up, Callie sat on the sofa for a moment, organizing her morning. She’d rush a shower, then pack for two. Later she’d call a travel agency. If she left Luke at the lab’s on-site day care for an hour, she could outline a task list for her assistants.

She’d be fine. She probably wouldn’t run into Ethan. If she did, she’d control her reaction.

When she caught herself toying with her wedding band and allowing her mind to wander, Callie sighed and rubbed her fingertips across her tired eyes.

She had no choice, really. She was headed home.

Chapter One

Three mornings had passed since heavy rains had caused the Walnut and Whitewater rivers to overflow. The flood-waters had receded now, but hundreds of homes had been abandoned. The muddy devastation at Isabel’s house had been tough to see. Turbid water had not only filled the basement, but had risen three feet onto the main floor.

Yesterday, a van load of volunteers had helped her sister cart much of the wreckage to the curb, but the pungent smells and endless mud would be harder to remove. Isabel wouldn’t even be allowed to live in the house until the damaged walls and systems had been repaired and inspected.

She’d need all the help she could get. Callie knew she’d been right to come. In spite of the necessity for plans and contingency plans.

In spite of her turmoil.

For the past hour, she’d been in the Hilltop Church gymnasium. After completing financial aid applications for Isabel, she’d joined dozens of others awaiting counsel from relief workers. The molded plastic seats were sticky, the area smelled like a neglected clothes hamper and folks were plainly too weary for small talk.

Callie had alternated between wondering about Luke’s welfare down a corridor in the nursery, and imagining Ethan appearing through the gym’s open double doors.

If he did, she’d be fine. He wouldn’t see her with Luke. She’d only have to deal with the trauma of seeing him again. However, as soon as possible, she intended to get her baby boy and escape to a place less public.

Good thing Ethan was from Wichita. He’d spent time in Augusta with Callie while they were dating, but he didn’t know many people here and vice versa. Chances were good that no one would talk to Ethan about her or her baby.

When her number was called, Callie clutched the clipboard to her chest and strode to the opposite end of the gym, where various relief agencies had set up temporary workstations.

“Let’s have a look, Miz Blume.” The worker met Callie’s gaze briefly as he took the paperwork, then he waved her into a chair across the table from him.

Callie wasn’t a Blume anymore, of course, but she didn’t bother to correct him. He looked vaguely familiar. He must remember her from her youth.

She hadn’t really considered herself a married woman for almost two years, anyway. Not since the day Ethan had abandoned their marriage and her life.

The man knit his brow as he read the application, then clicked his pen top once against the table as he turned the page. When he flipped the paper back, his scowl deepened.

Callie leaned forward in her chair, trying to see if she’d neglected to answer some question. When the man turned the page again with a heavy sigh, she reminded herself to be patient. She had no reason to worry. She’d analyzed every response as if it were test data.

The worker tossed the forms on top of his sizable stack, and Callie waited for him to speak. No matter whom he was helping, he should offer some instruction now, as well as a few kind words. But he didn’t. He sighed again and sat back in his seat, glaring past her head at the waiting crowd.

When Callie didn’t automatically vacate her chair, he repeatedly clicked his pen against the table. “‘Bout six weeks,” he said, then he clicked two more times before calling the next number.

Callie hadn’t been dismissed so rudely in a long time. She realized she was holding her limbs stiff, bracing herself against bitter memories. Of her mother, chasing outsiders from the yard with a pellet gun. Of the whispers she’d heard during her family’s rare visits to town. To the folks in Augusta, she would probably always be one of those Blume girls—a little pitiable, a bit mysterious and different enough to be feared.

But this man’s behavior, today, didn’t matter. Callie had returned to help her family, not to change people’s minds. She forced herself to relax, then stood and headed toward the open double doors. She’d locate her son in the nursery and get out of here.

Luke had plopped down in the middle of a round rag rug where several other toddlers were exploring a scattering of toys. While Callie approached, she watched her gregarious son hand a colorful block to a cute blonde who looked about his age, then another to a bigger boy.

Some days, everything Luke did reminded her of Ethan, and she spent a lot of time yearning for those wrecked hopes, and wishing that father and son could know each other.

But the risks would be too great. Just the thought of losing Luke caused Callie’s heart to race.

She had control, she reminded herself as she breathed slowly. Her husband had had only one contact with any of the Blumes over the past twenty-two months.

Before she’d come to Denver for Christmas last year, Isabel had run into him at a Wichita department store. Despite her affection for Ethan, she had let him know that the Blume women stuck together. That he should stay out of their lives.

Ethan probably wouldn’t come.

Callie was fine.

She picked up her son and cuddled him close, chuckling when he patted her cheeks and said, “Mum-mum.”

After thanking the nursery attendants, Callie retrieved her portable stroller from the coat closet, wrangled it open and clipped her son inside. She looped the diaper-bag strap over her shoulder, then wheeled Luke into the hallway.

As she prepared to enter the chill of a mid-April morning, she crouched down to zip Luke’s tiny red jacket and lift the hood over his dark brown hair. “Ready to go to Aunt Josie’s?” she asked.

In answer, Luke stuck a finger in his grinning mouth.

Callie smiled, happy that at least he’d have two loving aunts in his life. She stood and pushed the stroller toward the parking lot. People were too busy to pay much attention, but she didn’t want to be seen often with Luke.

On her way to the rental car, Callie reminded herself that Ethan had chosen the estrangement, not her. Yet if he learned about Luke, she’d risk losing the baby.

Ethan was Luke’s biological parent.

Callie wasn’t.

Thanks to a miracle of science, Ethan had actually left before she got pregnant. The fertility treatments had failed during the previous twenty-six cycles, so she’d held little hope for that last set of appointments at the clinic. And, after all, her husband had left her six weeks before.

However, Ethan’s presence hadn’t been necessary, and Callie had needed only to prepare her body for pregnancy and undergo the procedure. She’d imagined how wonderful life would be if her husband came home to such happy news, and she’d tried one last time.

She’d gotten lucky.

A precious life had implanted itself in her womb, and she’d maintained the pregnancy. In the end, it hadn’t even mattered that she’d had to use a donor egg. Only that she carried Ethan’s child. She’d been overjoyed.

But Ethan had never returned.

Callie hadn’t been able to overcome her broken heart to seek him out and tell him. She’d been alone when she decided to keep those last appointments. She’d been alone when she nurtured herself through pregnancy and childbirth. She’d gone on with her life. Precious Luke was hers alone.

Life would be easier if she thought of Ethan as an impartial sperm donor.

By the time she’d loaded Luke into his car seat, his bottom eyelids were turning pink. He’d been a trouper through all this, but the change in routine must bother him. Maybe he’d fall asleep on the way to Josie’s place.

After buckling him in, Callie pulled his favorite teddy bear from a diaper-bag pocket. She cranked the gear on its back that would play a tinkling version of Brahms’s “Lullaby,” then handed the toy to her son before loading the rest.

As she drove away from the church, she wondered how much progress her sister had made with the cleanup. In addition to the house, Isabel had inherited Blumecrafts, their mother’s home-based quilt and handmades business. She had no choice but to recover quickly.

Minutes later, Callie parked behind Josie’s building and noticed Isabel’s used two-door under the carport. Thanks to her auto insurance coverage, she’d replaced her destroyed vehicle yesterday. Unfortunately, her homeowner’s policy didn’t cover flood damage. Either her sister had dropped by to find out what Callie had learned from the financial aid people, or something had happened.

Callie opened the rental car’s back door and released Luke from his child seat. She chuckled when he squealed and bounced in her arms. Even after his too-short nap, he’d awakened easily and happily.

So much like his father.

Callie shuffled Luke onto a hip, grabbed the diaper bag, decided to leave the stroller in the trunk and locked the car before heading toward the building. Seconds later, she walked straight into Josie’s apartment through the open hallway door.

She found Isabel in the kitchen scrubbing grime from a sinkful of small craft tools. “Maybe you can leave the front door open at the house,” Callie said, “but you shouldn’t do that here. Anyone could come in.”

Isabel didn’t turn around. She had pulled her brown hair off her neck, emphasizing a tired droop to her shoulders. “Sorry,” she said. “The kids went out to look at my car a minute ago. They thought it was new, instead of new to me. Guess they forgot about the door.”

What kids?

Callie frowned as a tiny girl of above five and an over-weight boy maybe twice her age, each redheaded, came running into the hallway from Josie’s bedroom. The boy yelled something about the electronic game in his hand, while the girl tried to snatch it. After pausing to check out Callie and Luke, they took their noisy argument down the hallway and back to the bedroom.

“Who are they?” Callie asked, dropping Luke’s diaper bag on the kitchen table.

“Roger Junior and Angie.”

Callie had spent the past couple of days watching divorced farmer Roger Senior neglect her sister, but she hadn’t met his children until now. She frowned as the little girl’s shrieks grew louder. “Why are they here?” she asked.

“I’m babysitting.” Isabel glanced over her shoulder and smiled, which was amazing under the circumstances. She was temporarily homeless and scrubbing her fingers raw, yet once again her boyfriend was exploiting her giving nature.

And once again, Isabel was allowing it.

Callie put Luke down to crawl around on the floor, then crossed the room and put her hands on her sister’s shoulders. As she pulled them into a healthier position, she said, “You’ll strain your neck muscles. Don’t you have important things to do today?”

Isabel dropped a quilting hoop onto a towel and turned around to lean against the counter. “Yes, but Roger had some barley to check and the kids’ school is closed this week,” she said. “The kindergarten corridor got half an inch of floodwater.”

“Roger should have kept his children home,” Callie said. “They are surely old enough to be alone an hour with their dad on the property. Especially the boy.”

Isabel closed her eyes, as if trying to block the censure in Callie’s expression. “He gets more done with them gone.”

“Where’s their mom?”

“Working at the discount mart.”

As her sister listed excuses for Roger and his ex-wife, Callie lifted her brows. After a minute, she sighed. She had often told her patient sister that Isabel would go berserk if she didn’t learn to stand up for herself, but if the devastation of a flood didn’t do it, Callie didn’t know what would.

Luke crawled toward the kitchen door, clearly lured by the hooting coming from the bedroom. Callie chased after him and scooped him into her arms before he moved out of sight.

“Anyway, it’s okay,” Isabel said. “Since you’re here, I can go to the house. Do you mind watching three kids for a while?”

“Nope.” Callie intended to give her sister whatever help she needed. As she transferred Luke from one arm to the other, she realized she hadn’t told Isabel about her morning at the church. “I filed the paperwork,” she said.

“Did they tell you anything?”

“Just that you’d hear within six weeks,” Callie said. “But I did learn that some charities are offering immediate aid in smaller amounts. I’ll check that out tomorrow.”

“I need money right away,” Isabel said, her blue eyes wide. “I’ll have to hire an electrician, a plumber and a couple of carpenters. We can’t handle the more complicated repairs, and I’m already behind on Blumecrafts’ orders.”

“I know. This money is meant for toiletries and clothes.” Dropping into a chair with Luke in her arms, Callie added, “I also learned that you aren’t the only one who got caught without flood insurance, Izzy. I heard a FEMA guy say he figured that less than a hundred Augustans were covered.”