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The Late Bloomer's Baby
Kaitlyn Rice
Better Late Than NeverCallie Taylor's infertility treatments had finally paid off–after she and her husband split up. Now it's time to sign the divorce papers, and she's racked by guilt. How long will it be before Ethan notices the toddler she's been passing off as her nephew looks suspiciously like him?Meeting her ex again, after coming back to Kansas to help a sister, is a painful reminder of all the reasons she first fell for the big-hearted police officer–the man who made her bloom as a woman. And especially hard now that he's in a new relationship and Callie's second thoughts are two years too late.She's faced with two choices: either she lets another woman raise her baby–or she gives up a father for her son. Ethan, however, has a third choice in mind….
“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 (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
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 (#uc63ad831-3fcf-5799-9f5d-dce6ecc712d3)
Chapter One (#uf2a6de9d-c313-53dd-99ae-2a8e7654c3ce)
Chapter Two (#u39f51708-b7cf-5836-b0ab-e1a569cd586c)
Chapter Three (#uccd38b3d-1b9b-5530-88ce-4736687eb81d)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
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.
