The New Baby

“So you’ve told me.” She gave his shoulder a final pat. “Well, I’m off for a cup of coffee. See you later.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a bottle of Southern Comfort tucked away in that employee’s lounge, now would you, honey?” Zeb arched one brow, eyes twinkling. It was a game he’d played with her since day one. Craving in jest the drink he’d given up long ago.

Amanda played along. “Nice try.” She pointed her finger in mock reprimand. “Behave yourself, now, or I’ll tell Charlie you’ve invited him out here to be your opponent.”

“Oh, don’t you do that.” Zeb shook his head, raising his hands in surrender. “I promise I’ll be good.”

Amanda laughed, then headed for the lounge. By the time she’d grabbed a cup of coffee and started back across the day room toward her office, Zeb was no longer alone.

Her chest gave a little hitch at the sight of the man seated near his elbow. She’d guess his age to be either side of thirty. His long legs, clad in faded jeans, stretched out in front of him, the toes of his work boots peeking out from beneath the table. Like Zeb, he wore a ball cap with a farm product insignia on the front. The blue denim of his shirt looked worn to the point of comfort, and his hair showed beneath the cap just enough for her to see it was a warm shade of brown. But it was his eyes that had her heart doing a funny little blip. Deep, chocolate-brown with thick, dark lashes, they studied her as though he were intent on reading her mind.

No one should look that sexy in a work shirt and John Deere cap.

Amanda forced herself to look away. “Hey, Zeb, did you find yourself a chess partner after all?” With a will of their own, her eyes darted back to focus on Zeb’s companion.

A deep chuckle rumbled in the man’s chest, and when he grinned, dimples creased his cheeks. “Not me. Papaw’s too much competition for my liking.” His southern drawl slid over her like melted butter. His statement was accompanied by a wink, not flirtatious, but one that left her feeling as though the two of them shared a secret.

“This here’s my grandson Ian,” Zeb said. “The one who gave me this.” He indicated the chess set with a wave of his hand. “Ian, meet Miss Kelly, my favorite nurse. She’s Olivia Satterfield’s granddaughter. Y’all were too far apart in age to play together back then, or you might remember her.”

Ian half rose from the chair to briefly grip her hand. His palm curled around hers, warm, callused. The hand of a working man. “Ian Bonner,” he said. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Kelly. I’m sorry I don’t remember you.”

“Amanda.” She tried not to stare. But his eyes…good Lord, talk about tall, dark and handsome. “Amanda Kelly. And it’s nice to meet you, too, Ian.”

“He brought contraband.” Zeb spoke in a stage whisper, one hand shielding the side of his mouth. With the other, he hooked his thumb in the direction of a box of doughnuts on a corner of the card table.

“So I see.” Amanda pursed her lips and squirmed as she noticed Ian’s gaze lingering on her. “But since you’re not on a restricted diet,” she went on, “I suppose we can let a box of doughnuts slip by this once.”

“If you’re gonna eat ’em, you’ll have to put your teeth in, Papaw,” Ian ribbed. Then he flipped open the lid and held the box up in offering. “Would you like one?”

The tempting scent of chocolate and powdered sugar wafted over her, but she barely gave a second thought to the proffered treats. Ian Bonner was far more distracting than bakery goodies, which meant she needed to get back to work.

“No thanks. If I eat a doughnut, I’ll end up wearing it on my hiney.”

Zeb guffawed, then gave her an approving look. “Nothing wrong with your hiney,” he teased. “I doubt a doughnut or two would hurt it.”

Embarrassment filled her as Amanda realized what her comment had evoked. Ian shifted his eyes to her hips, then looked back up at her and hid a smile with obvious effort. The expression on his face made her blush even more. “You’re a masher, Zeb,” she said. “Admit it.” She shook her finger at him once more. “And don’t forget you need to take those doughnuts to your room. No food or drink allowed in the day room.”

“Spoilsport,” Zeb said. Then to Ian, “C’mon, son. I’ve got a bottle of Jack Daniel’s hidden in my closet that’ll go real nice with these doughnuts.”

“I thought that was moonshine.” Amanda’s lips twitched.

“Nope. That I hid under my bed.” Zeb began to put away his chess set, placing the pieces inside the hinged compartment of the rosewood-and-mahogany playing board.

“It’s a shame to interrupt your game,” Ian teased. But his smile was for Amanda, and she felt her face warm all over again.

“No problem.” Zeb closed the board. “I was losin’ anyway.”

IAN HATED TO LEAVE Papaw. It didn’t seem right, having him here in the nursing home when the old man had spent the better part of his life in the hills, hunting, fishing, running his small tobacco farm. But a fall from his mule had put him in the hospital with a broken hip, and Shade Tree Manor was the best place for him to recover.

“I’ve got to go now, Papaw,” Ian said, rising from the chair next to his grandpa’s bed. “I’ll be by again soon.” He tried to visit Papaw as often as possible, but for the last week or so, things at the welding shop had kept him busy enough that he’d only managed to come by twice.

Papaw waved a gnarled hand in farewell, already absorbed in watching his favorite game show. Ian smiled, noting a dab of chocolate stuck to the corner of his grandpa’s bottom lip. He tossed a paper napkin in Papaw’s lap, then crumpled up the bag that had held two cartons of chocolate milk and stuffed it into the trash can. “See ya.” He gave the old man a quick hug, then walked out into the hall to the open reception area.

There she was again. The nurse that had left his stomach doing funny things that had nothing to do with too much chocolate. Amanda Kelly. He liked the way her name sounded inside his mind. She hadn’t noticed him the last time he’d been here, but he’d sure noticed her. And when she’d walked up to Papaw’s card table this morning, he’d had a hard time keeping his eyes where they belonged. He might not have recalled seeing her years ago, but her shapely curves, pretty green eyes and blond hair definitely had his attention now.

Today she wore a pale-green blouse with her white pantsuit uniform. The blouse brought out the color in her eyes, and Ian wondered how close she was in age to his own thirty-two years. From Papaw’s earlier comment, he concluded she must be somewhat younger, certainly not older. She had her back to him at the moment, and though her jacket hid a good deal of her figure, he was sure Papaw was right. There was nothing wrong with the way she was shaped. Nothing at all.

She stood inside the nurses’ station, bent over the computer with another woman who sat at the keyboard. They talked and Amanda nodded, then picked up a stack of papers and made her way into the reception area. She glanced up at him and smiled, then averted her gaze and walked on by. He started to say something, anything that would make her stop and talk to him, but before he got the chance, one of the sheets of paper she carried slid out of her grasp and fluttered to the tile floor.

He would’ve picked it up for her, had he reached her sooner. As it was, he was but a couple of steps shy of doing so when the glass doors of the front entrance swung open and a young man and woman hurried into the building. Ian recognized the guy as Danny Taylor, who worked at the auto parts store in town. Danny’s wife, barely more than a girl, carried a baby in her arms, wrapped in a pink afghan. Laughing and talking, neither of them paid attention to where they walked, and as Amanda bent to retrieve the paper from the floor, Danny nearly bumped into her.

“Look out, Danny.” His wife balanced the baby in the crook of one arm, and clutched his sleeve with her free hand, tugging him sideways.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” Danny gave Amanda an apologetic smile as she straightened, paper in hand.

“No problem.” Her lips curved in response, but her face went ghastly pale, and Ian wondered if she’d stood up too fast after bending over to reach what she’d dropped.

Her eyes locked on the baby, and the look of sadness and longing he saw there gave him a chill. Amanda’s expression closely mirrored one he knew he’d worn more than once.

How many times had he searched the faces of babies so many years ago, looking for familiarity in their features? And later, in the scout troop he occasionally supervised. Most recently, wondering where his son might be today, he caught himself watching the faces of teenagers he saw around town. The pizza delivery boy, the kid who pumped gas at the BP station…

No matter how futile the effort, Ian couldn’t stop looking.

Amanda wore that same haunted expression as she stared briefly at the baby, then turned away and quickly tried to hide what her face so clearly said she’d felt. She saw Ian watching her, and waved her fingers in a see-you-later gesture, then headed down the hall and ducked into an office, closing the door behind her. Ian mumbled a greeting to Danny and his child-wife as they passed by, his thoughts whirling. Outside, he climbed into his pickup and cranked the engine, leaning his elbow on the open window as he backed out of the parking space.

Had Amanda given up a baby when she was young? He shook off the thought, telling himself it was ridiculous to assume things about a woman he didn’t even know. Her reaction could’ve been due to any number of things. Maybe she had a half-grown kid at home and longed for the days when the child had been an infant. His cousins often complained how quickly their little ones grew up. Or maybe she wanted a baby and didn’t yet have one.

Or maybe he was nuts, thinking and worrying over a stranger and what her life might involve. But he couldn’t help it. The sorrow he’d seen in Amanda had hit him right in the stomach. And the way she’d tried to hide her emotions before anyone noticed left him wanting to go back inside the building and ask her what was wrong. Tell her he’d sit and listen if she needed an ear to bend or a shoulder to lean on. Because he’d been there.

He’d felt pain as deep as that in Amanda’s eyes on a cloudy day sixteen years ago.

A day when he’d signed his newborn son away to a pair of total strangers.

CHAPTER TWO

IAN PULLED OFF HIS welding gloves and laid them on the workbench next to the horse trailer he’d been working on for the better part of the afternoon. Bought at a bargain, it needed new feeder racks, tack compartment dividers and metal hooks for halters and ropes. The customer who owned it was a regular, always finding something or other for Ian to weld or repair.

Hot and tired, he set his hood on the welder and removed his welding sleeves. Despite the day’s accomplishments, he still felt an empty hunger no amount of hard work ever seemed to erase. He hadn’t been able to get Amanda Kelly off his mind these last few days, no matter how many customers came to his shop to chat and bring him things to do.

He thought back to the conversation he’d had with Papaw the other morning while they ate the doughnuts he’d brought.

“I couldn’t help but notice the way you looked at Miss Kelly,” Papaw said. His sharp blue eyes had studied Ian.

“Sure, and who wouldn’t?” Ian couldn’t help grinning. Papaw still had an eye for the ladies, and probably would until the day they laid him to rest. “She’s a good-looking woman.”

“Won’t get no argument from me on that,” Papaw said. “But I reckon I saw more to the way you watched her than that.”

“What do you mean?”

The old man grunted. “You know what.” He shook one finger at Ian. “You’re a workaholic, boy. When was the last time you took a woman out?”

“On a date?”

“No, on a fishing trip.” Zeb gave him a playful punch in the arm, his aim as good as it ever was. “’Course I mean on a date.”

Ian shrugged. “I don’t know.” He pondered the question. “Last Valentine’s Day, when Billy Ray’s sister Sheryl was in town?”

“That’s just what I’m saying.” Papaw shook his head in a gesture of hopelessness. “You need to get out more.”

“I can’t ask Amanda out,” Ian protested. “She doesn’t even know me.”

“Can’t never did anything. Go on and ask her. I’d do it myself, if I were ten years younger.”

Ian laughed and Papaw gave him a sly grin, made wider than normal by his dentures. Then he grew serious. “How’re you ever gonna make a family of your own if you’re alone all the time?”

How indeed? The thought ate at him now as Ian closed the shop door, locked it and headed for the barn. Banjo, Papaw’s buckskin mule, brayed at him from the connected paddock, wanting a treat. Ian gave him some sweet feed, then walked up the hill to the house he’d called home for the better part of his life. The worn porch steps creaked as he climbed them, and Cuddles, the Rottweiler he’d had since she was a pup, rose from her place near the steps and wagged her stubby tail. He patted her and fed her from a sack of dog food he kept on the enclosed back porch before going inside the house.

The kitchen was way too quiet without Papaw here. He’d lived with Ian ever since Mamaw passed away a year ago. But then he broke his hip, and all that had ended. At least for a while. From the fridge, Ian grabbed a can of beer, popping the top as he walked into the living room. Maybe his grandpa was right. He really didn’t have much of a social life, and couldn’t remember the last time a woman who wasn’t a relative had entered this house.

The men on the Bonner side of the family seemed to outlive their women more often than not. His mom had succumbed to cancer long ago, and his dad now lived in Virginia, close to three of his own sisters and their grandkids. With Ian an only child, Matthew Bonner had probably given up on ever having grandchildren of his own. Ian often wondered if his dad regretted having taken part in convincing him to give up his son all those years ago.

Sinking into his favorite chair, he propped his booted feet on the ottoman and looked around, trying to view the room the way a stranger might see it. What would Amanda Kelly think of this place if he were to invite her over? The living room was clean but cluttered, the windows bare of curtains. With neighbors no closer than a mile away, and the house sitting up on a hill some distance off the road, there was no need to worry anyone would look in. Like most other homes outside Boone’s Crossing, the place was surrounded by woods, with a grove of trees in the yard, the pasture spreading out beyond.

Ian closed his eyes and pictured walking up the front steps with Amanda, inviting her in for a cold drink. Probably sweet tea or Coke. She didn’t look like a woman who drank beer. Maybe wine. Not his thing. But then what did he know? As Papaw had pointed out, he didn’t make much time for dating, and overall, women were a mystery to him.

Still, he’d managed to do his share of tomcatting in his younger days, which had gotten him in trouble to begin with. His high school sweetheart, Jolene Bradford, had taken his heart, his class ring and his virginity, all in short order. Getting Jolene pregnant during their sophomore year hadn’t been the smartest thing he’d ever done. Giving up their baby boy had seemed a step in the right direction toward growing up and making responsible decisions. Or at least, it did at the time.

But as the years went by, the regret of not knowing what had become of his own child had worn on him. He’d lost himself in work, starting with after-school jobs and helping Papaw at the welding shop and with putting up the tobacco they used to raise. One day seemed to fold into the next, one year into another, until he now owned the shop and Papaw was in the nursing home.

What did he really have to show for his life? He’d always thought he’d have a family by now. A couple of kids and a wife to come home to…even if coming home only required walking up the hill. Though he had searched time and again, he’d never found his son, and the pain of that stayed with him.

Shaking off the melancholy thoughts, Ian let his mind wander back to Amanda. Maybe he ought to come right out and ask her on a date. He could take her to supper or something. Dancing maybe. Nope. He shook his head. He hadn’t danced in so long, he’d likely make a fool of himself by stepping on her toes. It would have to be supper. Someplace nice but not too romantic. Dinner. That’s what she’d probably call it. Just thinking about her western accent made him smile. It was hard to understand at times, but he liked the sound of it—the way the words rolled off her tongue. Though they barely knew each other, he hoped she’d accept his invitation, if for no other reason than the fact that their grandparents had been friends.

Would a woman like Amanda find a lifestyle like his worthy? She was a nurse, probably used to fancy things and men who worked white-collar jobs.

“You’re getting way ahead of yourself, Bonner,” he muttered out loud. But there wasn’t any harm in getting to know her. He could hear Papaw’s voice inside his head, as sure as if he were sitting right there beside him.

Can’t never did anything, son.

Papaw was right.

At the door, Cuddles scratched and whined to come in. Rising from his chair, Ian abandoned his half-empty beer to open the screen for her. “Some watch-dog you are,” he said, as she bounded inside and rolled over on the braided throw rug. Her paws in the air, she begged for a tummy rub. Ian laughed and scratched her belly. “Big baby.”

Maybe Amanda liked dogs.

Maybe he’d find out, the next time he visited Papaw.

TO IAN’S DISAPPOINTMENT, Amanda wasn’t working at Shade Tree Manor when he stopped by there Wednesday morning. But Papaw told him she lived at her granny’s cabin, and that Saturday was also her day off. He’d therefore planned to drive out to the old Satterfield place as soon as he finished a few odd jobs at the shop. Instead, he found himself in charge of the group of kids he’d volunteered to look after on a once-a-month basis. The Cumberland Cubs, a scout troop of a dozen boys under the age of twelve.

He shouldn’t have answered the phone.

Oh, he liked taking the boys camping well enough. But last Saturday had been his weekend with the Cubs, and he hadn’t planned to act as scout leader this weekend, too. Yet he never seemed to be able to say no to someone in need.

He now stood, dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved khaki shirt and hiking boots, next to a commercial-sized van that belonged to the head scoutmaster—his best friend, Neil.

“I sure appreciate this, buddy,” Neil said after giving the troop one more round of last minute instructions. “Having Peggy and the girls down with this cruddy spring flu, and my other two scout leaders sick, I didn’t know who else to call. And I hated to disappoint the boys. They love camping out at ’Livia Satterfield’s old place.”

“The Satterfield place?” Ian’s ears perked. “That’s where you were planning to take them?” They rotated locations on their monthly overnight outings.

Neil looked at him as if he’d grown an extra eye. “Yeah. You know we generally go there at least every other month.” Olivia Satterfield had loved the woods almost as much as she loved kids, and she’d let the Cubs camp on the back of her ten acres anytime they wanted. But Ian had assumed that was all in the past, now that Amanda lived there.

“I know, but—is the new owner okay with it?”

Neil shrugged. “Olivia left the place to her daughter, Bridget. And when I talked to her after the funeral, Bridget said ’Livia wrote it up in the will that the Cubs were to keep camping there for as long as the place remains in the family. I thought I’d told you that?”

“If you did, I didn’t hear you,” Ian said, trying not to smile. Perfect. “I guess we’ll find out if her granddaughter feels the same way.”

“Won’t matter. Like I said, it’s in the will.” Neil cupped his hands around his mouth. “Okay, troop, let’s load up! Pronto!”

The boys piled into the minivan, and Ian climbed behind the wheel, feeling like a kid himself. A kid with a crush.

“Hey, Ian.” One of the youngsters leaned over the seat and tapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks for taking us camping.”

His conscience gave a mental blush. He shouldn’t be happy they were headed for Amanda’s place just so he could see her. He loved kids, and the Cubs came first. The purpose of this camping trip was to be sure they had a good time.

“You’re more than welcome, Jeffrey.” Ian wondered how it would feel to drive a van full of children of his own. Maybe he’d find out someday. If he could ever find someone to be their mother.

He waited while the boys settled in place with all doors shut. “Is everybody buckled up?”

“Yeah!” they chorused.

“And is everyone ready to have some fun?”

“Yeah!” Their voices were louder this time, full of enthusiasm.

Ian’s lips twitched. He was already having a good time. “And is everybody ready to kiss some girls?”

“No!”

“Yuck.”

“I’m not going if we have to do that.”

He let out a hearty laugh. “Okay, no girl kissin’. How about catching frogs?”

“Yeah!”

A grin plastered on his face, Ian waved at Neil and drove away.

AMANDA SANK INTO the steaming tub of bubbles. From the headphones of her portable CD player, the sounds of nature helped her relax, as did the scent of the aromatherapy candles lining the vanity. Closing her eyes, she dozed and awoke a short time later. The headphones were silent but she could hear the faint chatter of birds. Laughing at herself, Amanda sat up straight in the tub. She had all the nature sounds she wanted right outside her window.

Discarding the headphones, she leaned forward and turned on the hot water to bring the tub’s temperature up to a comfort level once more. Then she rose and flipped open the latch on the window. Hands slick, she pushed upward on the sliding pane of frosted glass and very nearly lost her balance. Creaky with lack of use, the window stuck a moment, then slid abruptly to a wide-open position. Through the screen, she heard the running creek, and the birds, louder now, singing in the trees…

And the voices of children.

Kids? Out here? Frowning, Amanda turned off the water and peered over the edge of the windowsill. She didn’t see anyone. Her nearest neighbors lived some distance down the road in either direction. So where were the sounds coming from? Head cocked, she strained to listen. For a moment, she heard nothing and wondered if she’d imagined the whole thing. Then a burst of laughter rang through the air, followed by a shout and a man’s voice.

Hastily, Amanda closed the curtains and climbed from the tub. She dried off haphazardly with an oversized bath towel, doused the candles, then wrapped herself in a terry-cloth robe. Who on earth was out in the woods behind her house? Belting the robe at her waist, Amanda stepped into the kitchen and let out a startled gasp.

A boy, who looked about nine or ten, stood in front of her sink. Chubby with sandy hair and freckles, he stared at her, eyes wide, candy-stained mouth open. A plastic cup of water slipped out of his grasp, landing on the floor to pool across the linoleum.

“Who are you?” Amanda clutched the bathrobe against her damp skin. “And what are you doing in my kitchen?”

The poor kid clamped his mouth shut, then tried to form a sentence. “I—I…” He looked down at the water spreading around his feet, then back up at her. “You’re not Miss Rachel.”

He referred to the woman who’d been Granny Satterfield’s dear friend, and who had kept an eye on Granny’s house for the past two years. Sixty-five, Rachel Fultz lived down the road on the way to town.

“No. I’m Amanda Kelly. This used to be my Granny Satterfield’s place.”

“I’m Troy Stoakes,” he said. He bent over to pick up the plastic cup and Amanda belatedly realized he was wearing some sort of scout uniform.

Boy Scouts were supposed to be honorable, dependable, good kids, so surely this one meant no harm in entering her house. But the fact that he’d walked in without knocking was a bit unusual, even for small-town etiquette.