The Late Bloomer's Baby

“But there are eight thousand people living here!”

Callie nodded, then smiled at her sister. “When I was waiting to turn in the paperwork, I got the strangest feeling. Everyone in the waiting area looked overworked, maybe a little lost. For once, I felt like one of them.”

“I guess if there’s an upside to this flood, it’s that we Blumes are just a part of the crowd,” Isabel said. “And of course that we get to spend time together. I miss having you around, Cal.”

Their reclusive mother hadn’t trusted school officials, and had taught Callie and her sisters at home from kindergarten through high school graduation. For the most part, she had kept them at home, isolated from a world she considered evil. They’d felt like three against the world. Sometimes, they still did.

“I miss you and Josie, too.” Callie studied her youngest sister’s colorful kitchen. “You’ll be okay with money, I think. I’ll help with the bigger expenses until your funds come through, and Josie can help you refinish the inside of the house without it costing too much. We’re lucky to have an interior designer as a sister.”

As Isabel nodded her agreement, a loud scream sounded from the bedroom. Both women winced, and Luke’s wiggles grew more vigorous. “I hope Josie doesn’t mind having kids in her apartment,” Isabel said. “Or us cramping her space.”

“She’ll get over it.”

Roger’s children raced into the kitchen, and Roger Junior interrupted the conversation to ask if he and his bird-brained sister could watch television. Then the children continued their squabbling in loud whispers that made Luke giggle.

Had the entire world become bad mannered, or only the people in Augusta? Callie caught her sister’s eye and shook her head. Then she glared at the kids until they quieted.

“Well, Isabel, as you were saying, I’m here now,” Callie said, hoping to send a clear message that interruptions would not be tolerated. “You can go on over to the house.”

After Isabel had disappeared into Josie’s bedroom to get ready, Callie narrowed her gaze at Roger Junior. “One hour of television. Nothing lewd or violent.”

She followed them into the living room, where they flopped onto the carpet in front of the TV. When Roger Junior got up to grab a bag of chips from the top of Josie’s refrigerator, Callie stopped him. “No snacks in the living room,” she said, and ignored his complaints.

She left Luke on the living-room floor and waited for her sister to appear from the bedroom. “Will Roger’s kids eat lunch here?” she asked as Isabel carried a box of plastic gloves and some bottled cleaners to the front door.

“Roger should arrive to get them any minute,” Isabel said. “If he doesn’t, there’s peanut butter in the pantry.”

After Isabel left, Callie latched a baby gate across the kitchen entrance, shut the bathroom and bedroom doors and tossed a soft ball on the floor for Luke to chase around.

“You kids help me keep the baby safe, would you?” she bellowed over the noise of some cartoon. “If you open this gate, close it behind you. Doors, too.”

Roger Junior pressed the mute button on the TV remote control and glanced up. “Sure, ma’am.”

Callie noticed the change. With Isabel gone, the boy had become more respectful. Callie would guess that he took his cues from his father.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes?”

“Are you really a doctor?”

Grateful for his belated show of manners, Callie smiled. “Yes. I’m not an M.D., though. I’m a research scientist.”

“You look at human brain cells in petri dishes?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

The boy stuck his thumb up between them and scrunched his entire face into a smile. “Call me R.J.,” he said before he turned up the sound and returned his attention to the cartoon.

Callie chuckled, suspecting she’d just been given a supreme compliment.

“Can I pway wif your baby?” Angie asked.

Callie showed her how to roll the ball to Luke, and kept watching until all three kids were occupied. Then she climbed over the baby gate to search Luke’s diaper bag for a bottle.

Someone rang the doorbell. Must be the kids’ dad. Callie decided she’d offer to babysit for a while longer so Roger could hightail it to the house to help his girlfriend.

“R.J., answer the door, please,” she hollered, as she crossed to the kitchen sink to fill the bottle with water. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

Callie heard the door open, then an extended silence. She poked her head around the corner just in time to watch a tall, dark-haired man close the door behind himself.

But it wasn’t Roger.

It was Ethan.

The only man Callie had ever loved or trusted, and the only man who could hurt her.

Then. Now.

Forever.

Lord. In all the commotion, she’d forgotten her all-important plan. She wasn’t supposed to answer doorbells when she and Luke were alone. She should have thought harder about who might be standing on the other side of that door.

Luke sat facing the front door and smiling with the golden-brown eyes and dimpled cheeks that made him the spitting image of his daddy.

Rethinking her plan wasn’t an option. Callie barely remembered to keep her legs under her body. She propped a hand against the baby gate and watched as Ethan surveyed the children sprawled around Josie’s living room.

Did his eyes linger when they passed over his son, or was that Callie’s imagination?

Ethan’s gaze sailed across the space to meet hers. “Hello, Callie,” he said. As he stepped farther into the room, his eyes darkened to a serious brown.

He’d reacted to seeing her, not the baby, she realized.

Lucky thing. Callie’s secret was safe for the moment.

Still, her pulse pounded so furiously in her ears that she had the crazy notion Ethan could hear it, too. Her throat was dry, and her muscles were wobbly.

She needed to sit down.

No, she needed to grab her baby and make a run for it. But Luke was very near his father, which would mean that Callie would have to dash right past Ethan on her way out.

Right past the solid chest that had caught a million of her tears. Right past those muscular arms, and that passionate mouth.

That damn sexy, passionate mouth.

When her stomach flipped, Callie had the panicky thought that her raging feelings didn’t stem from fear alone. Ethan was achingly handsome, and she’d missed him.

Desire assaulted her so hard she almost forgot she had a secret to protect. She wanted nothing more than to cross the room to touch Ethan, just to feel the crackle and comfort of a sensuality she’d never experienced with anyone else.

It had been too long since she’d seen her husband.

Paradoxically, it hadn’t been nearly long enough.

Chapter Two

Ignoring her body’s idiotic fight-or-flight response, Callie stepped over the baby gate to enter Josie’s living room. “Hello,” she said coolly, as if Ethan was an acquaintance she hadn’t seen in a while. She sat on the sofa, propped the bottle against the cushion next to her and crossed her legs, as if she had nowhere to go and nothing to lose.

Ethan shook his head. “Is Josie dating a man with kids, or are you running a child care center?”

The presence of Roger’s kids was fortunate. Callie wouldn’t have to strain her temporarily useless brain cells. Obviously, Ethan had assumed that Luke belonged with the other two children.

She studied the two redheaded kids, then Luke. The baby’s hair was almost black. Except for the curls at his neck that Callie adored too much to snip off just yet, it was thick and straight—just like Ethan’s.

Her lively boy shrieked and threw the ball straight at Angie’s face, bonking the little girl on the nose. A mischievous little brother would do such a thing, wouldn’t he? Callie could use the situation to her advantage.

“Isabel’s got the boyfriend with kids, not Josie,” she mumbled, hoping the children wouldn’t notice her error of omission. “Why are you here?”

He didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the kids, then caught the ball as it rocketed toward the baby’s face. He bounced it on his palm a couple of times, then tossed it to Callie.

“No face shots,” she said as she returned the ball to Angie. “The little guy doesn’t have good motor control yet. He didn’t mean to hit you.”

Callie looked at Ethan and wished she had the ball back. She wanted to bonk his nose and shock that warm expression from his eyes.

“I came to check on Isabel, but no one was home when I went by her house a few minutes ago,” Ethan said.

“She just left to head out there. You must have passed her on the road.”

“I’ll give her a few minutes and try again.” He claimed the chair by the door, which happened to be the one nearest his son—who threw back his head and cackled exactly the way Ethan did when he was tickled.

Someone was going to notice the resemblance.

Callie swooped across the room and grabbed Luke, then returned to sit on the sofa and offer him the bottle of water.

Everyone in the room stared at her.

“It’s time for his nap,” she announced, ignoring her baby’s struggle to escape her arms.

Of course, Ethan would check on her sister. In her heart of hearts, Callie had expected him to, hadn’t she? As many times as she’d told herself not to worry, that he might not come, she wasn’t surprised. Ethan didn’t have ties to Augusta anymore, but he’d always had a compulsion to rescue anyone in distress. That was what had attracted him to police work.

To her, as well. She was sure of it now.

The strength of her reaction to him had startled her, though, as had her impulse to smile and ask if he found their son amazing.

God. She could never do that. Ethan had made his choice. He’d returned to Kansas without her. In doing so, he’d forced her to abandon one dream and focus on another.

As Luke’s fussy whimper escalated to a lusty bawl, she stood and carried him toward the kitchen.

Ethan spoke over the noise. “I’ve been listening to flood reports all week. I was off duty the night the water broke through the levee, but my patrol buddies made a few passes and told me about it.”

It sounded as if he was following her. Callie stepped over the baby gate and turned around.

He was standing just on the other side. The flimsy plastic slats separating her husband from his fussing child couldn’t possibly be tall or thick enough. Callie bounced Luke, trying to soothe him and think at the same time.

She didn’t want Ethan’s attention on the baby, so she put Luke down and hoped he’d crawl in the other direction.

The ornery little guy sat peering up at his daddy, then hiccupped a few times as his cries subsided.

Ethan chuckled. “I guess the little tyke isn’t sleepy after all,” he said, and lowered his voice. “Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of babysitting. It just takes hands-on experience.”

Callie ignored the comment. “You’re still in west Wichita, then?”

“I would have told you if I’d moved.” He inched forward, until they were separated by only the slats and about a foot of space. But at least he focused on her instead of Luke. “I needed time to put our problems into perspective, but I wouldn’t lose track of you.”

She wondered if that were true, but she couldn’t pursue the subject with Luke at her feet and Roger’s big-eared, big-mouthed children nearby.

Ethan’s ignorance about Luke was crucial.

It would save her son the heartache of growing up with warring parents or living a divided life.

It would save her from having to battle her husband on any front.

And it would save them all from Ethan’s unfortunate tendency to do the heroic thing at any cost.

During their courtship, she and Ethan had spent a lot of time discussing her childhood. Callie’s father had left when her mother was pregnant with Josie. Despite a fierce independence, Ella Blume had struggled to raise three daughters alone. She’d always insisted that the girls’ father was worthless, and that she’d never known an honorable man.

Ethan had wanted to prove Ella wrong, and Callie and Ethan had each wanted to prove they could make their marriage work.

Maybe her mother had been right about some things. Maybe men weren’t built for forever. Maybe they did mistake lust for love.

Maybe Ethan had felt only chemistry, a challenge to prove himself and sympathy for a shy young woman who’d had to be taught just about everything.

Callie didn’t want to be his project anymore. She certainly didn’t want to be the woman he returned to because of a child. She’d loved him deeply. She’d probably always love him—from a distance.

At this moment, Callie wanted to convince Ethan to abandon his thoughts of seeing Isabel, and leave. But how?

She stalled for time by checking Luke’s diaper, and when she glanced up she almost groaned at the gleam in Ethan’s eye. He was watching her in that way. She had to do something, fast.

She’d pick a fight, but keep it low-key. She didn’t want to upset Luke again or draw the older kids’ attention away from the television—which, she realized in that instant, was silent.

Callie glanced toward the living room. Roger’s kids were standing just beyond the sofa, gawking at her and Ethan. Had the hushed adult conversation caught their attention, or were the children expecting a fight? Whichever it was, apparently she and Ethan were more interesting than the latest hit Japanese cartoon.

Smiling at Angie, Callie said, “Josie has Popsicle treats. Want one?” Without waiting for an answer, she opened the freezer and pulled out two red ones—she had neither the energy nor the wits to referee a brawl right now—then she hurdled the gate and strode past Ethan to hand them to the kids. “Eat in here,” she commanded. “And watch anything you want on TV.”

The markedly confused kids plunked down in their previous places, clicked the television on again and peeled the paper from their treats.

Callie reclaimed her spot on the kitchen side of the gate. “Go away, Ethan. We have too much bad history. Your being here would…” Her voice trailed off when she noted her husband’s scowl.

He stepped over the gate, rushed past Callie and caught the diaper bag just before Luke pulled it onto his head. “You have to watch babies this age,” Ethan said as he set the bag in the middle of the table. “Some of my friends have them, and they can get into a lot of trouble.”

Another calamity averted, by quick-moving Ethan. Callie wasn’t usually so slow, except she was distracted. By Ethan, darn him. After crossing the kitchen, Callie stuck her hand in the diaper bag. She located Luke’s favorite plastic blocks and tossed them onto the kitchen floor.

Luke ignored them, choosing instead to grasp the knees of Ethan’s jeans to pull himself up. The little devil stood on sturdy legs, opened his mouth, looked at Callie and said, “Mum-mum.”

Not Mama exactly, but almost.

Callie opened the freezer door and grabbed another red Popsicle. She unwrapped it and handed it to Luke, who plopped his well-padded bottom onto the floor to examine this new kind of food.

As her little boy began to create a colossal mess on his face, hands and clothes, Callie returned her attention to Ethan. “As I was saying, we can’t be around each other.”

“I think we’d do all right.”

Callie shook her head. “The flood put my sister’s life in turmoil. Our bickering would make things worse. Just go.”

“I have no intention of fighting with you, Callie.”

“Believe me, we’d fight.” Callie caught a motion out of the corner of her eye and looked down.

Luke was banging his goopy snack against Ethan’s shoe.

Ethan looked, too, but he didn’t react. “Are you still that upset with me?” he asked, and offered Callie one charming dimple.

She sighed. Her feelings for Ethan were overwhelming, especially with him just inches away, gazing at her through eyes that warmed her faster than any form of external heat.

But anger was still somewhere in the mix.

She nodded.

Ethan eased his foot away from Luke. “Will you be in Kansas for a while or do you have to get back to your job?”

“I took a leave of absence.”

“You did?”

“Josie and I are all the family Isabel has, Ethan. I’m not so detached that I’d stay in Denver while she’s going through something like this.”

He nodded. “All right. Then I’ll concede for now,” he said. “I’ll try Isabel’s house again. I want to at least offer her my best wishes.”

Callie hesitated. If Ethan went to the house alone, Isabel would refuse to talk to him. She’d follow the plan.

But if Ethan mentioned that he’d been inside Josie’s apartment—that he’d spoken to Callie or watched the children playing—Isabel might not know how to react.

Callie stood up straighter, as if to add oomph to her words by speaking them from a higher plane. “She’s probably at the house by now, but she’s working hard. Let’s not disturb her.”

Ethan pulled paper towels from Josie’s countertop holder and wiped red slush from his shoe. “If she’s busy I’ll stay only a minute.”

Callie extended her open palm. After Ethan had deposited the towel there, she held his gaze and tried to look stern. “You can’t go to the house.”

“Sure I can.”

“Ethaa-nn!”

“Callie!”

She broke the stare and walked toward the sink, intending to toss the towel into Josie’s wastebasket. On the way, she stepped in one of Luke’s slush puddles, slid on one foot and almost landed on her bottom. She gripped the counter and turned to glower at Ethan, whose expression held a glint of laughter.

She could slap him silly.

Or kiss him.

Lord. How could she even think that? She should have learned her lesson when Ethan had left her.

She had learned her lesson.

Apparently, recognizing the wrongness of something didn’t stop her from wanting it. But she could resist. Ella Blume had raised strong daughters. And smart ones. Callie could handle this.

Wiping her sneaker with the same paper towel Ethan had used, she scrambled to think of some indisputable reason for him to return to Wichita without seeing her sister.

He spoke first. “Look at the bright side. This way, you won’t have to deal with me a minute longer. But you and I should talk before you head back to Colorado.”

She tossed the towel on the counter and eyed him. “About what?”

“The marriage,” he said, his face impassive. “We are still married.”

Yes, they were. If Callie didn’t have an irresistibly cute, diaper-clad reason for shying away from legal proceedings, she would have divorced Ethan a long time ago. But she’d never wanted to draw his attention to her life. She’d done some checking soon after Luke’s birth, and had learned that a discussion of children showed up on most divorce documents. A couple either had minor children or didn’t, and filed papers accordingly.

Even if she’d lied, stating that she and Ethan had no children, she’d feared that Ethan would show up in Denver for one last talk and get the surprise of his life. Now Callie resisted an urge to check on Luke, who had crawled beyond the table and chairs where she couldn’t see him.

“I’m surprised you didn’t file for divorce,” Ethan said.

Callie shrugged. She’d had nightmares about this day. She’d blocked reality, hoping that Ethan would follow in her father’s footsteps and disappear, still legally married but uninterested in active participation. While that might have been a pipe dream, it had worked for her mother. It had worked for Callie for almost two years.

Why not forever?

Ethan jangled his keys in his pocket and stepped over the baby gate. Callie couldn’t let him go to the house alone. With Isabel’s phone out of commission, she couldn’t even call to warn her sister about the slight change in plans.

“I’ll go with you,” Callie said, searching the kitchen floor for Luke.

“Wouldn’t that defeat your goal?” Ethan said. “I thought you wanted me out of your way.”

She wanted him to leave without discussing a divorce, and if she spent much time in his company she feared the subject would come up.

She ignored his comment. “Give me a minute to change the baby,” she said. Then she grabbed sticky Luke from beside the microwave stand and the diaper bag from the table, and vaulted past Ethan. She turned off the television on her way to the bathroom.

“Kids, finish the Popsicle treats. We’re going to Isabel’s.”

“Dad says her place isn’t safe,” R.J. said as he scrambled to his feet.

Callie stepped into the bathroom and opened both sink taps. “You’ll be fine,” she hollered as she soaked a wash-rag and cleaned Luke’s face. “The floodwater has been pumped out. Just avoid anything that looks dangerous.”

“Can your baby go?” Angie called out. “Daddy says the water was combob-ulated!”

“That’s contaminated, birdbrain,” R.J. said.

But it was Angie’s little-girl sweet voice that reverberated in Callie’s mind.

Your baby, she’d said.

Not the baby.

Callie cringed, then carried Luke into the hallway to gauge Ethan’s reaction. He was standing by the front door, checking his wallet. He didn’t appear to have heard, thank heaven.

“Don’t worry about the baby,” Callie said to Angie. “And don’t worry about your safety. I’ll protect all of you.”

Roger’s kids gave her funny looks, but she ignored them and returned to the bathroom to finish getting Luke ready. Their opinions about her sanity meant very little.

Ethan’s continued cluelessness was paramount.

AS HE DROVE TOWARD the old Blume house, Ethan felt a hollowness in his gut. Officials were still speculating about why the levee had failed. Even if engineers determined a cause, affected folks would probably always fear heavy rains. Or they’d move to higher ground.

The neighborhood of small row houses at the southernmost tip of Augusta had been hit hard. Tall piles of ruined furniture lined the curbs and smaller pieces of garbage had drifted everywhere. Limbs and soggy papers dotted driveways and lawns, old tires rested on budding bushes, and some kid’s plastic play gym adorned the middle of an elaborate garden. The upturned slide matched the color of the jonquils blooming at the garden’s edge.

Those bright little beacons of hope couldn’t be cheerful enough. A lot of people had a lot of work to do. Some would have to start over entirely.

It was just as bizarre to travel the few miles out of town with Callie trailing him like a bloodhound on the scent of a fugitive. His normally cautious wife had already run one red light in her effort to keep up with him, and her eyes were glued to his car’s bumper.

She was acting very strange.

Maybe she was as affected as he was by the reunion. Sweet mercy, she was beautiful. Her long blond hair had always been pretty, but today it looked thicker. Her boyishly thin body had filled out, too. He’d always admired her legs, but the added curves made her almost too powerfully feminine.

He’d always suspected that she’d be a late bloomer.

He wondered if she had someone to confide in these days—someone other than her sisters, who held many of the same distorted beliefs that she did.

Callie was brilliant in every way but socially. She might help find a cure for cancer someday, but she couldn’t see that her mother had been wrong to bundle all men together and toss them out like last week’s newspaper.

Ethan had rescued Callie, once. He’d pulled her away from her mother’s erroneous teachings and into life. He’d relished his protective role until the stresses of energy-zapping careers, Ella’s death and carefully timed love-making had torn them apart.

During that last year, they’d hardly been friends.

The separation had probably convinced Callie that her mother had been right all along, but Ethan couldn’t worry about that any longer. His days of proving his devotion to Callie were finished.