Stopping again, he took Shaye by the arm and looked deeply into her eyes. “You’re a single woman. You have a career. Do you want to be a mother to Timmy?”

This was the moment where she had to make everything she said matter. Aware of Dylan’s hand on her arm and the magnetic pull of his gaze, her curiosity about him was growing. She tamped it down.

“I want to be Timmy’s mother with all my heart and soul. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he grows up to be a man Julia would be proud of.”

Dylan’s jaw set as he studied her and analyzed her words. The white of his breath seemed to mingle with the puff of hers as a bond formed. It was a bond that she knew she didn’t want…yet couldn’t break.

With a slight nod, he broke eye contact and dropped his hand to his side. “Let’s go back.”

She knew there was no going back. And that truth scared her as much as her visceral reaction to Dylan Malloy.

“You need to go to your apartment and get some sleep,” Walter Ludlow warned Dylan later that night.

Dylan paced the lawyer’s home office. His friend was a widower now and lived in one of the brick row homes not far from the center of town.

“I’m going back to the hospital,” he said resolutely.

“You’re not going to do that baby any good if you run yourself into the ground.”

Dylan hadn’t even been back to his apartment yet, hadn’t been there for six months. His luggage, laptop and camera gear were still in the trunk of the rental car he’d secured at the airport so he could drive to the hospital in a hurry.

After his walk with Shaye, he’d spent an hour with her sitting by Timmy’s bed. She’d finally left to get something to eat and when she’d returned, he’d come to Walter’s.

“I’m used to sleeping on sofas or cots or on the ground. Camping out in a chair in a waiting room isn’t going to kill me. Timmy’s in crisis right now and every hour matters. I have to do this for Julia.”

“You have to take care of yourself for Julia. She’d want that.”

Dylan’s adrenaline was pumping full-speed. He stopped pacing and made himself sit on the edge of a leather chair in front of Walter’s desk. “I thought I knew my sister inside and out, but this will of hers— Maybe I should find a PI and have him run a report on Shaye Bartholomew.”

“Don’t waste your money,” Walter advised him. “I’ve known Shaye’s family all my life. Carson Bartholomew has never been the best father. He’s a cardiac surgeon, so you can imagine the hours he keeps. He never saw much of his kids before his wife died, let alone after.”

“How did Shaye’s mother die?”

“A brain aneurysm she never knew she had. She just fell asleep one night and didn’t wake up again. After that, Carson saw to the kids’ physical needs but not much else. Although he hired a housekeeper, Shaye did the mothering, the cooking, the shopping and anything else that needed to be done. That’s what made her become a social worker, and a damn good one. I’ve been involved in some of the cases she’s handled. So don’t think a PI’s report is going to give you any more than I can tell you. She’s a good woman, Dylan. She was a good friend to Julia, and I think your sister knew what she was doing.”

Dylan’s head jerked up as his eyes met Walter’s. “You don’t think I deserve custody?”

“This isn’t a matter of deserving, boy. Julia loved you. She wanted the best life for you. She knows your blood’s in your work. Why would she want to saddle you with a baby? On the other hand, if Timmy’s with Shaye, you can be involved in his life as much as you want to be when you’re here. I’m sure she wouldn’t turn you away. That’s not Shaye, and Julia knew it.”

“I feel as if I have a responsibility—”

Walter cut him off. “You fulfilled your responsibility when you took Julia in and cared for her. Don’t be a martyr.”

Walter had never pulled punches with him and now, for the first time all day, Dylan relaxed into the chair, realizing how tired he was. Looking down at his clothes, he imagined the sight he made, needing a shave and a haircut. More than that, he needed a shower and a couple of hours of sound sleep. Maybe he could catch a few winks at the hospital.

He wasn’t a martyr, but he did care.

Standing, he zippered his jacket. “I’m going to run by my apartment to make sure everything’s still in one piece and take a shower. But if you want me, I’ll be at the hospital.”

“You always were stubborn,” Walter muttered.

“I’ve had to be.” Crossing to the door of Walter’s den, Dylan said, “Thanks for everything you’ve done. I’ll keep you informed.”

When Dylan left his friend’s house, wind buffeted him as pictures of Julia played in his mind—how happy she’d been when she’d come to live with him, how she’d cooked for him, how she’d chewed the end of her pencil as she’d solved math problems. He hadn’t come home this Christmas. He’d planned his schedule to take a break when his nephew was born.

Dylan’s eyes burned. He was just too damned tired.

As he climbed into the rental vehicle, in spite of his worry over Timmy, he saw Shaye’s face as she’d lifted it to the snowflakes. Switching on the ignition, he blanked out the image, needing to keep on an even keel, needing to forget that when he’d touched Shaye Bartholomew, everything inside him had gone on alert.

She’s just another woman.

But then he thought about his sister’s fondness for Shaye and her decision to leave her child to her friend. In turmoil, in spite of Walter Ludlow’s words, Dylan knew the next few days would be crucial in making his decision on whether to stay in Wild Horse Junction or go back to the life he’d come to love.

Chapter Two

As Dylan carried the last of his gear into his apartment, the space definitely had the feel of a bachelor pad not lived in for six months. Situated on the second floor of a rambling old farmhouse on the outskirts of town, Dylan kept it for when he returned to the area. The retired farmer who lived on the first floor kept watch for him and sent someone in to clean once a month when he wasn’t home. It had always suited his purposes just fine.

Yet now the place held so many memories of Julia and her years with him that he felt bombarded. Although he could now indulge in a bit of luxury if he wanted to, he hadn’t. Practically furnished when Julia had lived here, he’d replaced the second-hand sofa with a more contemporary comfortable one. The TV and sound system sitting on pine shelves were utilitarian, too, rather than up to date. Julia had bought the setup for him one Christmas after she and Will were married. His small kitchen with its bar and stools was functional, and he still slept in the thrift-shop bed he’d bought after he’d landed his first job. The second bedroom, which had been his sister’s, was now filled with file cabinets that stored transparencies and negatives. Cartons of photographic equipment were stacked in any spare space. A third bedroom was occupied with state-of-the-art equipment—computer, scanner, two printers and a fax machine. Julia had often shaken her head with a smile and told him he should invest in drapes rather than update his computer. But he never had.

In spite of the memories, the unlived-in feel of the apartment bothered him now, when it never had before. Because he’d lost Julia and she’d never be calling to chat with him again while he worked? She’d never be testing out a new recipe on him when he was home? She’d never be—

The thoughts tightened his chest and made breathing difficult.

After Dylan turned up the heat, he stripped off his clothes and showered, letting the sluicing hot water splash away images that were just too painful.

He’d found a pair of clean jeans and was pulling on a tan-colored, long-sleeved flannel shirt when his cell phone beeped. He’d placed it in the charger on the bedroom dresser. He picked it up, bracing himself as he switched it on.

“Mr. Malloy? It’s Dr. Carrera.”

Dylan’s heart hammered faster. “Yes, Doctor.”

“What’s your blood type?”

“AB positive.”

“Good. Timmy is anemic and we think a transfusion will help. Fortunately he’s AB positive, too. Would you be willing to give blood? Or should we go to the blood bank?”

“Of course, I’ll give blood. I’ll be there in five minutes.” Something about giving his life force to his nephew seemed right.

“Careful on the roads, Mr. Malloy. Snow’s making them slick and we don’t want any further tragedies.”

Further tragedies. Such a generic way of putting it. The words didn’t begin to cover what Dylan was feeling.

“Is Miss Bartholomew still there?” he asked before the doctor hung up.

“Yes, she is. She also wanted to volunteer for a transfusion but she’s not a match.”

A picture of Shaye was beginning to form in his mind; a picture of a woman who was a caregiver. He hadn’t known many women like that in his life and neither had Julia. Maybe that’s why his sister had gravitated toward Shaye.

Thinking first and foremost about the transfusion he was going to give Timmy, Dylan grabbed his jacket, wallet and keys and headed for the hospital.

When Dylan met Dr. Carrera in the emergency room, he asked, “Is this really going to help?”

“I’m hoping it will. Nothing in medicine is a certainty.”

“Nothing in life is a certainty,” Dylan muttered.

The staff was pleasant and friendly, but Dylan wished he was anywhere but here.

That was especially so a half hour later when Shaye peeked into the cubicle. “How are you doing?” she asked.

They’d just removed the paraphernalia needed to withdraw his blood. He was glad Shaye hadn’t stopped in five minutes sooner when he’d been flat on his back. He didn’t like the idea of her seeing him as anything but strong.

“I’m fine. The toughest part of this is signing all the paperwork,” he joked. “There’s more red tape in giving blood than in applying for a visa.”

Coming into the room, she shrugged. “I wouldn’t know about that. I’ve never been out of the U.S.”

Rolling down the sleeve of his flannel shirt, he buttoned the cuff. “Did you ever want to see the rest of the world?”

“Not really.” She came a few steps closer. “I went to a conference in New York City once and hated it. Too much hustle and bustle. I’ve also been to California, and that was okay. There’s some pretty scenery there, especially around Big Sur. But I love the mountains and the plains and the hot springs, the cactus and sage. I love the old-fashioned flavor of this town and its history.” She shrugged again. “I’m happy here.”

Her hair brushing against her cheek distracted Dylan. So did the pretty amber of her eyes. “I guess that’s the difference between us. I was never happy here. I always wanted more. I wanted to run free, stopping when I pleased, moving on when I liked.”

“Like the wild mustangs,” she remarked softly.

A nurse bustled in, bringing Dylan a glass of juice. He drank it quickly, handing the glass back with a thank-you.

She’d disappeared when Shaye said, “Julia didn’t feel like that at all. She didn’t want to wander, either. Maybe it’s a woman thing. I’ve met other men who seem to be searching for something.”

The way she said it, wandering was a dirty word. “I don’t think needing space and wanting to travel has anything to do with being male or female,” he protested, reading an underlying message in what Shaye had said…a possible story in her background.

As he stood, he felt almost exhausted.

She was by his side in an instant. “You’re looking kind of gray. Are you okay?”

“Just tired. I’m going to bunk on the sofa upstairs in the waiting room.”

Still gazing at him with those beautiful, soft, golden-brown eyes, she asked, “When was the last time you ate?”

Before he could answer, a tall, husky, bearded man in a parka appeared in the doorway. “I could ask you the same question.”

Shaye turned at the sound of an obviously familiar voice. “Randall! What are you doing here?”

“Barb sent me. She said I should hogtie you if I had to and drag you back to our place for a decent meal. You can’t live here twenty-four hours a day. Those are her words and mine. What are you doing down here, anyway? One of the nurses pointed me in this direction.”

As Shaye studied the older of her two brothers, she realized he looked as if he should work in a logging camp. Instead, he was an X-ray technician and had probably just gotten off duty.

Turning to Dylan, Shaye said, “Dylan, this is my brother, Randall. Randall, this is Julia’s brother, Dylan Malloy. He just gave blood for Timmy.”

“I see.” After he extended his condolences and Dylan thanked him, Randall glanced at Shaye thoughtfully, then back at Dylan. “You are looking a bit gray around the gills. Why don’t you come along with us? My wife always has a refrigerator full of leftovers.”

“I’ll grab something in the cafeteria,” Dylan answered, looking uncomfortable.

“The cafeteria is closed,” Shaye told him. “You’d have to get one of those dry sandwiches out of the vending machines. Come with us. We don’t have to be gone long. You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten.”

As soon as Shaye said the words, she knew they weren’t true. Nothing could help the way Dylan was feeling. But the food would help keep his body strong…and hers, too.

Dylan mulled over her advice. “I want to go upstairs first and talk to Dr. Carrera.”

“We can do that. Randall, if you don’t want to wait, I can drive us over.”

“I want to know how Timmy’s doing, too. I can wait, then I can drive you back.”

Unsettled by her reaction to Julia’s brother, Shaye watched him carefully as they all got into the elevator and went upstairs, grateful Randall was along. With a chaperone of sorts, she didn’t have to worry so much about the increase of her pulse or the excitement that tingled through her when she was close to Dylan. However, when Randall gave her an interested glance, she knew that might not be true. In the close quarters of the elevator, she could feel a pull toward Dylan that shocked her. If she had to admit it, she’d felt that same pull at Julia’s graduation when she’d met him, and had run from it.

She’d known what Dylan Malloy did for a living and she’d wanted no part of an involvement with a man like him.

A half hour later Dylan found himself seated at Barb and Randall Bartholomew’s kitchen table, enjoying a dinner of warmed-up barbecued back ribs, parsley potatoes and green beans. Shaye was daintily cutting meat off her ribs with a knife and fork while he just picked up a portion. Maybe he’d become less civilized in his travels, not in tune with the needs of humans but rather in tune with the animals he photographed.

“We’re ready for bed, Mommy,” came a childish girl’s voice from the upstairs of the old Victorian house. Dylan had met Barb and Randall’s kids briefly when he’d come in. They were six and seven, and as soon as they’d found out he photographed animals, they’d been full of questions until Randall had shooed them off to get ready for bed.

“I’ll be up in a minute,” Barb called.

“I’ll go with you.” Randall pointed to the chocolate-chip brownies sitting on a dish on the counter. “Help yourselves,” he said with a wink as he and Barb left the kitchen and went to put their kids to bed.

Left alone with Shaye, uncomfortable silence fell between them. “They’re nice people,” Dylan commented.

“My brother used to be a real bug when we were growing up. He pushed the limits as far as he could to see if I could handle him or if I had to bring Dad in on it. But he’s mellowing with age.”

“Or maybe you are,” Dylan responded, recognizing changes in himself…in his way of thinking as he’d gotten older.

She gave a little laugh. “I guess that’s true.”

After Dylan finished his potatoes, he kept the conversation rolling, not only to fill the silence but because he wanted to know more about Shaye. “Randall mentioned he’s an X-ray technician.”

She set her fork beside her plate. “Yes, he is. He didn’t want to be a rancher or to run a small business. He liked the medical field but he certainly didn’t want the hours our father put in. He and Barb met in high school, so he didn’t want to spend too many years studying, either. Becoming an X-ray technician seemed to be a good compromise.”

“Does Barb work?”

“No, she’s always been available for the kids, helping out at the school. But…”

“But?”

“She’s volunteered to take care of Timmy for me once he’s out of the hospital…once I go back to work.”

“You’re making plans.” Dylan’s voice was low as he realized how Shaye’s life was going to change.

“I have to. I have to believe everything will work out. I don’t know how long Timmy will be in the hospital. After he comes home I’ll take a couple of months off and then go back about thirty hours a week for a while.”

Suddenly he thought about Timmy’s inheritance and what that could mean to Shaye. “Timmy will inherit everything of Julia’s and Will’s.” He watched her carefully to gauge her reaction.

“Yes, he will. But all of that will go into an account for his education. I don’t want to touch it.”

After Dylan thought that over, he asked, “Has Will’s mother been to the hospital to see Timmy? I know her arthritis limits her mobility.”

“She was in this morning, but it’s so painful for her to look at him. She remembers everything she’s lost. She’ll be returning to Nebraska right after the service. I promised her I’d call her often to let her know how Timmy is doing.”

Dylan knew he had to bring up what he’d been thinking and feeling. “I don’t know if it’s right for me to let you do this. I’m Timmy’s uncle and he should be my responsibility.”

Shaye’s face went pale. “A child has to be more than a responsibility, and I think Julia knew that. She also knew I love children and I’d cherish one of my own—not just feel responsible. Eventually, I’m going to file for adoption, but not until Timmy’s healthy and everything’s on an even keel. I want to be Timmy’s mother.”

Something else had been bothering Dylan. “Are you involved with anyone?” He didn’t care if the question sounded blunt because he needed to know. A beautiful woman like Shaye certainly didn’t sit alone on her free nights.

“No, I’m not,” she answered easily. “I can give all my time and attention to Timmy. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I wasn’t worried. I was more concerned your significant other wouldn’t be able to accept a child not his flesh and blood.” He couldn’t bear to leave Timmy in a situation like that.

“I’m not involved with anyone,” she said again.

“Surely, you date.”

“Actually, I don’t very much. My work takes up a lot of my time…at least, it did before Timmy. And I socialize with my good friends on weekends, or with my family. I have a full life, Dylan. I don’t need a man in it.”

“You don’t need a man in it, or you don’t want a man in it?” Now his interest was piqued. Was Shaye just a typical modern woman who could find happiness on her own? Or was there a reason behind her independence?

She pushed her plate back and crossed her arms in front of her on the table. “You’re fishing. What do you want to know?”

In spite of himself, Dylan had to smile. He liked Shaye’s up-front attitude. “I’m wondering if you had a bad experience that made you create your life the way it is.”

When she tucked her silky hair behind one ear, the wave of it curled on her shoulder. “I was involved with someone when I was in college. It didn’t end well.”

If he wasn’t careful, he knew she’d clam up and not tell him more. “When you were an undergrad?” he asked.

“No, when I was working on my master’s degree. He was a guest lecturer—an archeologist.”

Sensing Shaye wouldn’t go on unless he poked a bit, he did. “He wanted you to leave Wild Horse Junction with him, but you wanted to stay here.”

“Not exactly. I loved him. I thought we were building something important. I would have gone with him if he had asked. But he didn’t ask. He received a grant for a dig in India, and he didn’t even consider taking me with him.”

“Maybe he guessed you wouldn’t be happy.”

“I never had a chance to find out…because apparently his feelings for me weren’t as deep as mine were for him.”

Although Shaye had recounted her story as if it were old history, Dylan could hear the refrain of betrayal that ran through it—the pain that had never completely gone away.

“How about you?” she asked.

He’d left himself wide open for that one. “My life hasn’t been conducive to serious involvement.”

“But it is to non-serious involvement?”

The hint of disapproval in the question had him watching how he answered. “Even a wanderer needs company besides his camera now and then.” Though truth be told, that kind of company wore thin and he’d rather be alone or trekking after a photograph he’d never taken before.

As if his answer disturbed her, Shaye restlessly rearranged her silverware, stood and picked up the plate of brownies on the counter. When she brought them over to the table, she set them in front of him.

“Not interested?” he asked with a half-smile.

“I don’t give in to chocolate cravings often because I know it’s habit-forming.”

“I admire your willpower.”

“I’m not sure willpower has anything to do with it.” She smiled back. “I’m just vain.”

“I doubt that.”

She looked up at him, surprised. “Why would you say that?”

“Because selfish people are vain, and I already know that you’re not selfish.”

Her cheeks took on some color. Leaning away from him and their conversation, she began to clear the table. “We’d better get back to Timmy. I don’t want to be gone too long.”

“Neither do I.” Timmy was the only essence of Julia he had left. Seeing him made losing Julia even more real. But seeing him also reminded Dylan the baby was an essential part of his sister that he could hold on to.

Dylan’s deep, heartfelt words turned Shaye to face him once again. Their gazes locked and held. A vision of holding Shaye in his sleeping bag under the stars was so incredibly real, he ached to do it. His physical response was so strong that he set his brownie back on the plate. It seemed the pain he was experiencing over the loss of his sister was rebounding into an attraction to Shaye.

Breaking eye contact, he muttered, “I think I’ll skip dessert, too.” She obviously knew what was good for her. Dylan reminded himself what was good for him. While he was in Wild Horse Junction, Timmy was his main concern…his only concern.

Dylan stood in the NICU, looking down at his nephew. He’d let Shaye visit first since he needed a little time to prepare. He wasn’t sure what he’d prepared for because the sight of the tiny baby on the ventilator to help him breathe was heartbreaking. All Dylan could do was wish Timmy life, wish him good health, wish Timmy could have known his mother and father. Dylan had long ago stopped praying, stopped believing that someone had a master plan.

After losing his parents, after losing Julia to the foster care system for a while, he’d known a man created his own destiny. If he didn’t take control of it, others would. Now, standing beside Timmy’s bed, he wished he could believe that prayer could make a difference. He wished he could believe that one day he’d see his parents and Julia again.

After his visiting time with Timmy was up, he went to the waiting room. Shaye wasn’t there, though her coat hung beside his on the rack. By the time he crossed to the window to look down on the lamplit street, Shaye came through the door, her arms full of pillows and blankets.

<1 2 3 >

На страницу:

Перейти

2 из 3