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“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know what’s going on.” Keaton set his hand on his hip and gazed beyond her shoulder. “If he did, he’d be at her side.”
Lark wasn’t at all convinced. “What makes you think they’re even still together?”
“My brother loves Skye. Grace is his daughter.” Keaton’s thick brows drew together. “That’s all the proof I need.”
Having had no way to reach her sister these last four years, Lark understood his frustration, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it. “Did you let him know Skye was hurt?”
Keaton’s expression shifted into stoic lines. “I’ve spoken with his assistant, but she’s refusing to forward any messages.”
“That’s quite an excuse.” Lark blew out a breath. “If he and Skye were still together I believe he’d have moved heaven and earth to be here for her and Grace. I don’t think he’s her father.”
But she wasn’t as convinced as she pretended to be. Grace had Holt eyes and bone structure. That was why Lark had resisted the DNA test for so long. Her instincts told her Grace was Jake’s daughter, but the feud that existed between the Taylors and Holts made it so hard for Lark to do the right thing. In the end Keaton’s determination and threats of legal action had worn her down.
“Then who is Grace’s father and where is he?” Keaton demanded.
Lark had no more idea what had been going on between Skye and Jake than Keaton did, and she wasn’t going to pretend any different. “I don’t have a clue. We haven’t spoken since she left Royal.” Seeing Keaton’s surprise, Lark continued. “I didn’t think running away with your brother was a good idea and told her so.”
“Because you didn’t think a Holt was good enough for her?” Keaton’s neutral tone kept his comment from sounding bitter.
Lark didn’t want to fight with Keaton. She was sick of their families being at war. “I knew my father would disown her if she left.”
Skye had always been her parents’ favorite. They understood her. Unlike Lark, she’d been pretty and popular in school. She didn’t lock herself away in books. Their parents didn’t care that Skye’s grades were good enough to keep her in the top twenty-five percent of her class; they loved the fact that she was a cheerleader and voted prom queen her senior year.
“I guess we have more in common than either of us knew.”
“Seems we do.” Tightness eased in Lark’s chest. Regret had been her constant companion for four years. It had been a lonely time. Her parents refused to talk about Skye, and Lark had been too ashamed at how she’d treated her sister to confide in any of her friends.
“Thank you for letting me do the test.” Keaton’s voice softened. “My mother desperately wants to visit her granddaughter.”
Regret swamped her at his words. Lark wished her parents had similar desires. “My parents haven’t seen Grace.” The words spilled out of her with more bitterness than she’d intended.
“But once she leaves the hospital, they can see her as much as they want.” Keaton had misinterpreted Lark’s meaning.
“The problem is they don’t want to see her.”
Despite the harm that had befallen their daughter, Tyrone and Vera Taylor hadn’t set aside their resentment over Skye’s choosing to run off with a hated Holt. Oh, they’d visited her in the beginning when she was first brought in and they acted genuinely concerned, but as the months passed and Skye didn’t wake after the medical treatment that induced her coma ceased, they’d retreated into bitterness.
“I don’t understand.”
“They still can’t forgive Skye for running off with your brother.”
“Don’t you think this thing between our families has gone on too long?”
“Maybe.” Everything she’d ever been told by her parents made her want to keep Keaton and his family as far from Grace and Skye as possible, but deep in her heart she knew that if Keaton was right and Jake was Grace’s father, the Holts deserved equal time with her. “But you can’t expect decades of mistrust to evaporate overnight.”
“Jake and Skye got the ball rolling. The rest of us have had four years to adjust.”
His challenge settled a huge weight on her shoulders. She was supposed to mistrust him, dislike him even. Since the late 1800s their families had been fighting over the ownership of two thousand acres dotted with several lakes, owned by Lark’s family, that bordered the Holts’ ranch. She’d grown up listening to her grandfather and father rant about what liars and cheats the Holts were. Never to be trusted. How they were willing to do whatever it took to take what didn’t belong to them.
Lark was sick of the feud. It had started with a bill of sale that had gone missing back in 1898. Edwin Holt claimed Titus McMann had sold him the two thousand acres in order to fund his trip to Alaska where gold had been drawing prospectors since the 1880s.
Unfortunately, Titus had died before he could leave town and when Holt’s bill of sale couldn’t be found in the town records, his brother subsequently sold the land to John Taylor. Although there was nothing overtly suspicious about Titus’s death, the fact that both the money he’d received from Edwin Holt and the bill of sale had mysteriously disappeared caused Holt to insinuate John Taylor had been up to no good.
A hard headed, unforgiving man, John Taylor hadn’t appreciated the trouble Holt’s allegations caused his family and did everything in his power to ruin his neighbor’s business and reputation.
Lark hated that her parents continued to be obsessed with the ancient land dispute. They couldn’t just let it go. It would be one thing if they’d been the ones who’d lost the land, but they’d won and couldn’t rise above their hostility. And she was ashamed that she’d let their spiteful rhetoric poison her against her own sister, something she’d give anything to fix. If only Skye would wake up.
“I heard they’re going to release Grace in the next few days,” he continued.
“I know.” The news that her niece was healthy enough to leave the hospital brought with it both excitement and panic.
“Are you planning on taking her home?”
Something about the intensity in Keaton’s manner warned Lark that this wasn’t just an innocent question. “Yes.”
“She’s just as much my responsibility as yours.”
“You don’t know that. If you did, you wouldn’t have asked for a DNA test to prove she’s your brother’s daughter.”
“The test isn’t for me,” Keaton assured her. “I trust that Jake and Skye are together and want everyone else to know it too.”
“What makes you so sure?” Lark asked, wanting him to reassure her.
“Your sister loves my brother. She’d never leave him.”
Then why had Skye been returning to Royal and where was Jake?
“I have to start work in forty-five minutes,” Lark said. “I really want to go spend some time with Grace before that happens.”
“What are your plans for her care while you’re working?” Keaton’s blunt question caught her unprepared.
Lark usually worked four twelve-hour shifts in a row and then had six days off. She liked the schedule, but it was going to make being Grace’s primary caretaker a little challenging. Lark had no intention of putting the tiny baby in day care and she didn’t like the idea of a stranger watching her while Lark was at work. She’d hoped her mother might be willing to watch her grandchild, but thanks to Skye’s estrangement from the Taylor family, Lark was pretty sure the answer would be no.
“I haven’t finalized anything.”
“Good.”
“Why good?”
“Because I intend to be involved.”
* * *
Keaton saw immediately that Lark didn’t like what he had to say.
“Involved how?”
“I’m going to take care of her while you’re working.”
“You, personally?” She shook her head. “What do you know about babies?”
“What I don’t know I can learn.”
“Don’t you have enough going on with rebuilding your ranch?”
When the tornado had torn through in October, the Holt ranch house had been demolished along with several of the outbuildings. Fortunately Keaton’s parents had been out of town and most of the ranch hands had been miles away checking the fence line for breaks.
Keaton and a few of his employees hadn’t been so lucky. Most of the men working nearby had made it to shelter before the tornado hit, but Keaton and his foreman had been in the barn. Jeb had suffered a minor concussion and Keaton’s shoulder had been dislocated by flying debris.
Because of the number of people injured by the tornado, Lark had been working in the ER when Keaton drove himself and three other injured men to the hospital. He recalled the way his spirits had lifted at the briefest flash of awareness that had sparked between them as her eyes first met his. A second later she’d blinked and became all business as she sorted out the extent of their injuries.
The fleeting connection reminded him of simpler days when they’d been kids and he found her both appealing and a curiosity. The three-year difference in their ages and the feud between their families had given him plenty of reasons to give her a wide berth. But it hadn’t stopped him from wondering about her.
“My foreman can supervise when I’m not there and call me if something needs my immediate attention.” He was determined to protect his brother’s paternal rights. “I’m not negotiating with you, Lark.”
A mulish expression settled over her features. “Do you even have a place you can care for her? Where are you living while your ranch house is being rebuilt?”
“A hunting cabin.”
“A cabin?” Lark crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t think so. A preemie’s lungs are delicate. She needs to be in a clean, warm environment free from drafts and damp.”
“My parents are staying with friends in Pine Valley. I could bring her there on the days you work.” He made the suggestion knowing it would never fly.
“That would be a terrible imposition on your parents’ friends.”
“Then I’ll watch her at your house.”
Lark’s eyes widened. Her mouth popped open, but she must have recognized the determination on his face, because whatever refusal she’d been about to utter didn’t come. Her facial muscles shifted into unhappy lines.
“I don’t really think...” she began before turning toward the door to the NICU. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to take care of a baby?”
“Some.”
Giving him a doubtful frown, Lark motioned for him to follow her. Her stiff posture demonstrated she wasn’t happy with his determination to be involved with Grace. Too bad. As her uncle, he had as much right to be with the infant as Lark.
In silence they walked down the row of incubators to the crib that held Grace. The anxious burn in Keaton’s chest whenever he visited his niece had faded. Born ten weeks premature at two pounds, two ounces, the baby girl had gained almost three pounds since then and was now free of all sensors, IVs, pressurized oxygen and the feeding tube.
Acting as if Keaton had ceased to exist for her, Lark carefully picked up Grace and settled her into the crook of her left arm. “Hello, beautiful. How are you doing today?”
“She’s doing great,” said Ginger. The nurse on duty was a plump woman in her midforties with keen brown eyes and an engaging smile. “Ready to go home in a few days.”
“I’m really excited about that,” Lark said, adjusting Grace’s pink hat embroidered with the word Miracle.
“Are you ready?”
“I have tomorrow off. I’m going to go shopping for everything.”
“We’re going shopping,” Keaton corrected her, drawing Ginger’s gaze. “Grace is my niece, as well. I’m going to be involved with taking care of her.”
Ginger’s eyes brightened. “That’s wonderful. Grace is going to need a lot more care than the average baby. I’m glad you’re going to be helping Lark out.” The NICU nurse gave his arm a pat as she moved off to check on another infant.
“It’s premature to talk about your involvement,” Lark muttered as soon as the other nurse was out of earshot. “Grace’s paternity has not yet been determined.”
“Today or tomorrow we’ll have the results and you’ll see she’s my niece as much as yours.” Seeing the way Lark’s mouth tightened, Keaton continued. “I intend to share the responsibility.”
“A lot of men wouldn’t want the responsibility of a preemie.”
“I know Jake would expect me to take care of his daughter.”
He wasn’t surprised when she didn’t respond. Lark had always struck him as the ultimate wallflower. Quiet and reserved, she watched more than participated. Why had he noticed her at all? Probably because he had similar tendencies. He kept to himself, enjoying the solitude of his cabin beside the small five-acre lake after a hectic day spent managing the ranch.
Her preoccupation with the baby gave him a chance to study her at length. Dressed in pale green scrubs, her wavy blond hair cut in a short bob, she gave off an ignore me vibe. She might have gone unnoticed if she wasn’t so tall. At five feet ten inches, she would have made a great basketball or volleyball player, but she’d been more of a bookworm than an athlete. She and Jake had been classmates, but despite the fact that he’d been secretly dating her sister all through high school, Lark had never been part of the same crowd.
Three years older than Lark, the single year they’d attended the same in high school, Keaton hadn’t had any contact with her, but she’d been extremely intelligent and that intrigued him. With a perfect score on her ACTs and could have had her pick of colleges if she’d wanted to venture out of Texas.
“Can you hold Grace for a second?”
Keaton blinked himself out of his thoughts. “Excuse me?”
“Can you hold Grace?”
“Why?”
Lark’s long lashes fluttered upward as she glanced at him in confusion. “Because she needs to be changed and I need to go get some wipes. This is out.” She pointed to a box on a nearby shelf.
Keaton stared down at Grace with his hands at his sides. She was so tiny. And he was a big guy more accustomed to wrestling with querulous calves than handling fragile things like a five-pound baby.
Lark stood and held Grace out to him with an impatient “here.”
Alarm flashed through him. Keaton took an involuntary step backward. Still staring at Grace’s precious face with its soft, perfect skin, he clasped his hands behind his back, feeling the rough scrape of calluses. It wouldn’t be right to touch her delicate skin with anything so abrasive.
“Keaton?” Lark’s tone had softened. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s really small.” He paused. “And...”
“You’re afraid to hold her.”
“No.”
“How do you expect to help me take care of her when you aren’t comfortable enough to hold her?”
He let a breath hiss out from between his clenched teeth before replying, “I’m going to be fine. I just need a little time to get used to her.”
“No time like the present.” Lark moved into his space, her manner determined. “Give me your left arm.”
He resisted her imperious tone for only as long as it took her to lift her gaze to his. She had the greenest eyes, like spring grass after a week of rain. How had he never noticed how beautiful they were? She raised her eyebrows at him. Moving slowly, giving her plenty of time to change her mind, Keaton let his arm swing forward.
She took ahold of his wrist and placed his arm against his abdomen. Her fingers were warm and light against his skin. His heart shifted off its rhythm.
