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Buck pondered that thought all the way home, and it gave him a spring to his step as he trotted up the guesthouse stairs, trying to stay ahead of the rain that was starting to fall. People changed. Maybe even him.
Just before he touched the door handle, he saw a movement on the far side of the porch.
Gina. Rocking gently on the porch swing, pulling a blanket over her shoulder, probably to shield Bobby from the sound of Buck’s footsteps and the flash of lightning.
He walked quietly toward them, mindful of what Dion had said. He wanted to watch how she handled Bobby with Dion’s questions in mind. If Gina was in trouble, he wanted to help her somehow. He couldn’t push her away, no matter how disturbing it was to be around her. She could be in real danger.
“Hey,” he said, keeping his concerns out of his tone. “You made it back okay? Vehicle’s running well?”
She nodded. “Yes, and Lacey said we can stay one more night. Only one, though. Then we have to be on our way.” She sounded sad.
“Do you...want to stay more?”
She adjusted Bobby with a tender care and private, loving smile. Then she looked out at the rainy twilight. “I like it here, and it feels safe. Like a good place to get my bearings.”
“That’s the town’s history and reputation,” he said. “Rescue River’s always opened its arms to those in need.”
“It feels welcoming.” She shot him a glance. “Well, mostly.”
Buck decided to be honest. “I feel for your situation, but...” He trailed off as she adjusted Bobby again, and he realized exactly what she was doing.
She was nursing him.
He stood up quickly. “Whoa, I’m sorry to intrude. I didn’t realize...”
“It’s okay,” she said, chuckling. “It’s a natural thing and I know how to cover up. I’ve fed Bobby in all kinds of places.”
“That’s...pretty cool.” He’d never been one of those guys who was turned off by nursing or pregnancy or childbirth. Just the opposite, in fact. He’d never loved Ivana more, never felt closer to her, than when she was in the height and glory of womanhood, pregnant with his child or feeding little Mia from her own body. The whole thing amazed him. God’s creativity in action.
Rain was pounding hard now, bringing with it a fresh, clean-washed smell and cooler air.
He felt himself looking at Gina in a new light. His heart warmed toward her in a visceral way: that ancient male reaction to a mother and child in need. Yes, having her here was disturbing, but he thought he could handle it, at least for a short time.
And after all, he wouldn’t be here for long himself. He was putting every penny he had into making restitution, repaying money he’d borrowed, getting back on his feet. Living here with Lacey rent-free in exchange for his renovation work. He didn’t have the means to leave town, not yet, but he would soon.
“I like it here, Buck,” Gina said. “I think God may have sent me and Bobby here for a reason. I’m thinking, maybe, I’d like to stay.”
His ambivalence must have shown on his face, because she cocked her head to one side and spoke. “That bothers you, doesn’t it? How come? Is it about my resemblance to your wife?”
“Somewhat.” Actually, he was starting to wonder how he’d ever mistaken her for Ivana. She had a plucky strength and determination, a set to her chin, a way of holding herself that were completely her own. Still, he had questions.
She frowned and looked down at Bobby, who was starting to show signs of being done nursing. She turned a little away and wiped his mouth.
“Want me to burp him?” he asked before he could stop himself.
She quirked an eyebrow. “Can you?”
“Sure.” He leaned down and picked up the baby boy and held him against his shoulder. He was sturdier than Mia had been. Gina had mentioned that Bobby was ten months. Mia had made it only eight.
But propping a baby with one hand, flipping the burp cloth over his shoulder, patting the baby’s back, that all came right back to him. Like riding a bike. You didn’t forget.
He pulled Bobby a little closer, breathing him in, cherishing the feel of the baby, pretending he was Mia. Pretending his little daughter was still alive and well and happy. That he hadn’t driven Ivana from their home in a moment of anger and desperation.
If only none of it had happened.
“Look,” she said, “I’m sorry if I bring up memories for you. Maybe I’ll get on my feet quickly and be able to get out of here. But meanwhile...”
“Meanwhile what?” He was holding her baby in the rainy twilight, looking at her and finding her beautiful, and feeling like he might be stepping into the biggest mess of his life.
And then, as he adjusted the sweet little bundle in his arms, Bobby’s pajama leg came up and he saw it.
A bruise the size of a beer coaster. Or a man’s fist.
“If it were just me, I’d leave for your sake,” she said. “But this looks like the perfect safe place for Bobby, and I have to put him first.”
He concealed his reaction to the bruise and stroked the baby’s downy hair, his heart pounding. “Of course you do.”
“But I don’t know why I’m even talking to you about it. Your sister’s the one who’s determined to get rid of me.” She was looking up at him with troubled eyes as the wind blew a strand of hair in front of her face. “I don’t know what to do.”
He could see that it cost her to admit that, to ask for advice. She’d do it, though, for her son. He could already tell she was that kind of woman.
He didn’t think she could possibly have injured Bobby, which meant that someone else had done it. Someone she was running from?
And if so, what right did he have to push her away? Especially if it resulted in this little one being hurt again?
He patted Bobby’s back until a loud burp made them both laugh. Then he sat down in the rocker across from the porch swing, still holding Bobby.
“Want to tell me about Bobby’s father?”
She drew in a breath and let it out again, slowly, seeming to consider. Finally, she spoke. “Hank was...smart and handsome. And rich.”
He smiled. “Bodes well for Bobby.”
“Yes. I just hope he doesn’t inherit a couple of the other genes.”
“Like?”
“Like the addiction-prone one.”
“Oh.” Buck looked away, feeling ashamed. Addiction was considered genetic by some, but more of a character flaw by most. And it was a flaw he shared. “Did your husband ever do AA or anything like that?”
“He was more into cocaine,” she said, “but sure, he did NA. Plenty of times.”
“It never took?” That was discouraging. “You’re talking about him in the past tense. Is he dead?”
“He died not long after Bobby was born. Ski accident.”
“Drugs?”
She nodded. “Yes. He was high, skiing one of the most dangerous double black diamond slopes in California. He didn’t have a chance.”
“I’m sorry.” Why did a guy do drugs when he had a wife and baby who needed him?
Then again, why did any addict do what he did?
“So that’s not who you’re running from.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s...my in-laws.”
“Your husband’s family? What’s the problem there?”
She sighed. “Abuse, if you must know. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Buck’s pulse rate shot up. There it was. He’d like to get his hands on those people. “If they abused you or Bobby, they should go to prison.”
“They should, but they won’t,” she said with complete certainty.
“They’re that powerful?”
“They’re that powerful.”
The sky was black velvet now, the air cooling more. She huddled under the blanket she’d been using as a nursing cover. She looked so pretty. So vulnerable. So in need of protection.
As was the little baby now sleeping in his arms.
He wasn’t going to let anything happen between him and Gina, no way, but he had to let her stay. Dion had asked him to, and he had a lot to report to the police chief. And maybe, just maybe, it was a way for him to get over Ivana, move on. Maybe this was part of the restitution he was trying to practice in his recovery.
He was to make amends for wrongs he had done. Well, he was doing that with bar owners around town, with friends he’d borrowed from. With Lacey, who’d had to put up with a lot from him during his two-year drinking spree.
But the people he’d wronged the most were dead.
Could he make restitution through Gina and Bobby? Give something to them, and that way right the balance with his wife and child, who were beyond earthly help?
And once he’d made his restitution and saved up a little money, he’d leave. Leave, with a clean slate, and start over somewhere where nobody knew his past. It was what he wanted. All he wanted. All he was working for.
The wind blew the cool farm air toward the house, fragrant with fresh-plowed earth. Crickets sang out in a chorus. Streetlights flickered on down the block, where the shops were.
He slid one hand away from the baby and into his pocket where he carried his recovery coin. Six months sober. He could handle this new challenge.
“I’ll talk to Lacey,” he said gruffly. “Try to get her to let you stay awhile. And you can work on the renovation with me.”
Chapter Four (#u33fc0a0e-9e06-5298-b48e-cb2d1d60b816)
Later that night, Gina had just closed her eyes when her phone buzzed. She grabbed it, not wanting to risk waking Bobby.
When she saw it was her friend Haley, back in California, she sat upright. “Hang on,” she whispered and slipped a robe over her lightweight tank top and shorts.
Grabbing her phone, she hurried down to the small alcove on the landing of the stairs. It was one of the few public areas in the guesthouse that was finished, with lace curtains and a braided rug. She settled into the window seat, pulled her feet up underneath her and leaned back against comfortable cushions. She could see the half-open door of her room at the top of the stairs, so she’d notice if Bobby stirred.
“Okay, I can talk,” she said quietly. “How are you? I miss you so much!” Ever since she and Haley had shared a room on the maternity floor, their babies born within hours of one another, they’d been close friends. Haley was the only person in whom Gina had confided about her plans to leave town.
“I miss you, too, but that’s not why I called.”
“Are the dogs okay?”
Haley laughed. “They’re bad, and spoiled, but you know I love them. No, that’s not the problem.”
“Did you find anything out?” She was hoping, though not expecting, that Haley had figured out a way she could gain access to some of the money she should have inherited as Hank’s widow.
“It’s not good news.” Haley cleared her throat and went into business mode, not a problem for her since she worked in a bank. “I’ve been nosing around, and it sounds like assets in probate can be tangled up for a year, eighteen months if the estate is complicated.”
“Which it is.” Hank’s parents, seeing the mess Hank had made of his life after Bobby was born, had put most of his inheritance in trust. Gina even suspected that they’d gotten Hank to sign some CDs over to them when he was high.
“I talked to my manager—in confidence, didn’t identify you—and she said that because there wasn’t a will, there’s no way around this long process. I’m so mad Hank didn’t protect you and Bobby!”
“I know.” Gina’s chest ached, as it always did when she thought of Hank. He’d been so much fun when they’d first met; he’d swept her off her feet, had loved her madly. In the first two years of their marriage she’d realized his partying went further than it should—sometimes much further—but they’d still had a base of love and care for each other.
Bobby’s arrival had changed everything. The responsibility of fatherhood had overwhelmed Hank, and Gina, sleep deprived and cranky, hadn’t been as understanding as before. He’d gone off the deep end, dug into his bad habits and made the leap from recreational drug user to addict.
“He wasn’t thinking straight,” she said to Haley and left it at that.
“The good news is, within a few years, when it’s all straightened out, you and Bobby should be okay.” Haley’s voice didn’t sound all that reassuring, though.
“It sounds like there’s a but in there somewhere.”
“There is.” Haley’s voice sounded shaky. “Gina, there’s a big problem.”
“What? Tell me.” Gina’s heart felt like a stone. She wanted to start a new life, for herself but even more, for Bobby. But right now, it seemed like she’d never get free.
“It’s your in-laws. When I saw Hank’s cousin this morning, she told me they’re going to report your car as stolen.”
“What?” From the downstairs kitchen, Gina heard what sounded like an argument and lowered her voice. “That car’s mine! Hank gave it to me!”
“But is the title in your name?”
Gina squeezed her eyes shut as if she could block out this unwelcome news. “No. It was in Hank’s name.”
“And since the estate’s stuck in probate...”
Gina leaned her head back against the window, staring up at the ceiling. If they’d reported the car stolen, she was essentially a common criminal.
“Gina? Honey?”
Gina blew out a breath. “I’ll be tracked down for sure, then, because the police department here has my vehicle information. What am I going to do?” Her voice broke on the last couple of words, and she swallowed hard, determined to maintain control.
“I’ve already thought about that. You’ve got to give it back, that’s all.”
