скачать книгу бесплатно
Susie closed her eyes and, he suspected, her ears, to block out his words. “I can’t do it, Mack. Please don’t hate me, but I can’t.”
Mack wasn’t sure what to say. Susie had always been more certain about parenthood than he was. It had been her dream and, because he loved her so blasted deeply, he’d wanted to give her that, no matter how the child came into their lives. He could accept her decision and move on, but he knew in his heart the day would come when she’d regret it. Maybe he needed to accept her decision for now, then bring this up again when this latest wound wasn’t so fresh.
She glanced his way. “Have you heard from Sam? How’s he coping with losing his sister?”
“He’s doing okay, I think,” Mack said, relieved to have her show an interest in something, even if she was only doing it to change the subject. “The accident came as a terrible shock, but there’s more. He’s reeling, in fact.”
Real interest sparked in her eyes. “Why? What else happened?”
“His sister and brother-in-law named him guardian of their son, a six-year-old boy.”
Shock spread across her face. “Sam’s a dad? Just like that?”
Mack hesitated, sensing that the news had stirred envy as much as surprise. He should have considered that and kept quiet, but it was out there now.
“It was a shock to him, too,” Mack reported. “He said he’d tell me more when he got back to town. I think he was hoping to make it by last night. I imagine he’ll check in later today. I told him to take as long as he needs. We can manage okay at the paper for another week, if he needs that long to deal with the situation. Even longer, if need be.”
That vacant stare returned to Susie’s eyes. “Sam has a son,” she murmured. “Of all people.”
“Hey,” Mack protested. “Sam’s a good guy.”
“I suppose so. He’s a talented web designer, for sure, and a tech genius to hear you tell it, but come on, Mack, do you really see him as dad material?”
“I’m the last person to ask about that. I don’t know what it takes to be a good father.”
“Reliability’s a good place to start,” she said.
“Sam is reliable.”
“He left you in the lurch right after he started on the job,” she said, a critical note in her voice.
“Babe, his sister and brother-in-law were killed. Did you expect him not to attend the funeral?”
“Well, he hasn’t exactly settled down, has he? He’s still living at the inn.”
Mack suspected she was uttering these judgments for a reason, one he didn’t particularly like. “He’d only been here a couple of weeks, hardly enough time to find a house or even an apartment,” he said, defending Sam. “Where are you going with this, Suze?”
“How many jobs has he held over the past few years? Three? Four? What kind of man does that?” she asked without responding to his question about her motives.
“Someone who’s talented and very much in demand in a new field,” Mack replied, not sure why he was so ardently defending a man he barely knew himself, but having the feeling that he needed to make his position clear. Susie seemed to be heading in a worrisome direction. She’d liked Sam well enough when they’d had him over for dinner. This had to be about the boy, though Mack hoped he was wrong about that.
“We should go over to the inn and see how they’re doing,” she said out of the blue, standing up and proving that Mack’s instincts had been right on target.
“This morning? You haven’t slept a wink. You need rest more than you need to be running around paying social calls.”
She frowned at him. “I want to see for myself how Sam’s coping with a child to care for.”
Since Mack had been praying for a distraction for Susie, even one as misguided as he was sure this one was, he told himself he could control the situation and gave in.
“While you take a shower, I’ll call Jess to see if he’s back. If he is, we’ll go when you’re dressed,” he said.
“Why wait?” she asked, giving him a bewildered look.
“Because you’ve been wearing that same robe for the past two days. You can’t go anywhere in that.”
She glanced down as if surprised by the reminder. “I won’t take long,” she promised. “I know you need to get to work. Go ahead, if you want to. I can stop by on my own.”
“Not a chance. I’m going with you,” Mack said. He needed to see for himself if his wife intended something more than a kindhearted visit to an employee who’d just suffered a terrible loss.
Susie leveled a knowing gaze straight at him. “I’m not jumping off the deep end,” she told him. “I know I can’t go swooping in and take a little boy away from Sam, no matter how desperate I might be feeling.”
Mack was relieved to hear her express his exact concern. “I’m glad to hear that’s not what you were thinking.”
She touched his cheek. “I love you for caring so much and for worrying about me. I’m sad, but I’m not crazy.”
He pulled her into his arms. “I never, for even a second, thought you were.”
A faint smile tugged at her lips. “It crossed your mind, Mack Franklin. Don’t you dare try to deny it. I honestly can’t blame you. I have been sitting around here wallowing ever since Connor told us we weren’t going to get our baby. I’ll probably wallow some more before I’m done.”
He rested his chin on the top of her head and held her close. “Take all the time you need. And if checking on Sam and his nephew will reassure you somehow, I’m all for it. I imagine he’ll appreciate the gesture. He must be freaking out about now.”
“I hope not,” she said, her expression turning wistful. “I hope he’s on his knees thanking God for the gift he’s been given.”
Mack tucked a finger under her chin. “Suze, if he’s not there just yet, it doesn’t mean he won’t get there. Look how long it’s taken me to believe I could be a decent parent. After growing up with poor examples in my life, I had more doubts than anyone could imagine, but you believed in me. So did your family. Sam needs our support, not somebody waiting in the wings to snatch that child away at the first sign of a misstep.”
“I know that,” she said, indignation in her voice, even as she was careful to avoid his gaze.
Mack wished she were half as convincing as she’d obviously intended to be. Instead, he feared what might happen if she seized on the situation to fill the empty space in her heart. The past few days of despair would seem like a picnic compared to the heartache in store if that happened.
4 (#ulink_6a9783df-0faf-58ec-b8f2-eec73a7582d1)
With Susie still very much on her mind, Carrie walked the few blocks to the house that had been converted into Noah’s medical offices on the ground floor. The upstairs had been turned into a cozy apartment for him, Cait and the baby. Once Cait was finished with her medical training and home for good, it would probably be much too small for a growing family, but for now Grandpa Mick had converted it into a warm, welcoming home. It was too bad, Carrie thought, that her twin was rarely here to enjoy it or her family.
Carrie used her key to the side entrance to the offices and found Noah’s nurse, Wendy Kaine, already there, bustling around in the brightly painted examining rooms, getting ready for another busy day.
“You here to pick up the little man?” Wendy asked with a grin as a wail carried all the way from upstairs. “Good luck. He seems to be expressing himself quite clearly today. He is not a happy little boy.”
Carrie winced at the sound. Noah, who prided himself on soothing even his most difficult young patients, must be at his wit’s end about now. “I could hide out down here till his daddy gets him calmed down,” she whispered to Wendy.
“Coward,” the nurse accused. “March right on up there and show the two of them who’s boss.”
“Noah’s probably trying to make him eat more of that boring baby cereal again,” Carrie said. “Jackson really hates that stuff. I guess I should go up and save him.”
“Him who? Jackson or Noah?” Wendy asked. “I’m sure the baby will appreciate it. Noah, too. I know I will.”
Carrie hurried up the steps, tapped on the door to the living quarters—not that it could likely be heard over the baby’s noisy sobs—and went inside.
Sure enough, Noah had a spoon in his hand, a frustrated expression on his face, and far more cereal on his shirt than could possibly be in the little boy who was waving his fists and had big, fat tears rolling down his chubby cheeks.
Jackson spotted Carrie and immediately held out his arms. A drooling smile lit up his face.
She grinned at Noah, then passed him and picked up the eight-month-old. “That’s right, sweetie. Aunt Carrie is here to save you from having to eat that nasty old cereal.”
Noah frowned at her. “You’ve been telling me he eats it for you.”
She leaned closer, the baby clinging tightly to her. “Want to know my secret?”
“Please,” he said, sounding a little desperate.
“I mix in a little applesauce. He loves applesauce.”
Noah closed his eyes. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because you probably never tasted the cereal yourself and had no idea how awful it is. I believe peaches were the fruit of choice for Cait and me. And in the interest of full disclosure, I didn’t dream this up on my own. Mom gave me the tip after I’d spent a week washing cereal out of my hair.”
Noah laughed then. “I feel a whole lot better now.” His expression sobered. “You say this worked for you and Cait?”
Carrie nodded.
“Hmm. She never suggested it, either. I’m thinking my wife deliberately omitted a few helpful tips when she left me in charge.”
“Could be,” Carrie agreed. “She does like to feel superior. Now, go. Change shirts and get to work. I have things under control here. As soon as I have Jackson fed and cleaned up, we’ll head on over to my house so peace should reign here for you and your patients.”
“Thank you,” Noah said, his tone heartfelt. “I mean it, Carrie. I don’t know what we’d do without you. The first couple of months, when Jackson was with Cait in Baltimore so she could breast-feed him, I had no idea of what she must be going through, even with help. I was so sure it would be easier for me here, with family all around. I’m a doctor. I deal with sick kids on a daily basis. They’re not usually in the best mood, but they’re mostly saints compared to my own son.”
“Jackson is a sweet little angel,” she corrected.
Noah smiled. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re smitten. Otherwise I’d be up a creek. Thanks again for pitching in.” His expression turned serious. “I want you to let me know if it gets to be too much for you, if we’re taking advantage.”
“Not to worry. I love having Jackson with me,” she assured her brother-in-law.
“But it doesn’t leave much time for...” His voice trailed off.
“For what?” she asked, forcing a smile. “My busy schedule of watching the grass grow? My nonexistent social life? Pursuing my exciting career path?”
At her undisguised bitter tone, worry immediately spread across his face. “Carrie, are you okay? Seriously? Do you want to talk about any of this? I can make time.”
“Absolutely not. I think one of the things I love most about watching the baby is that he doesn’t ask questions I can’t answer. I have Grandpa Mick doing enough of that. And Mom. Even Cait gets in a shot from time to time.”
“I’m happy to listen, though,” Noah said. “Being an outsider, I might be able to give you a different perspective.”
“Noah, I love you for wanting to help, but we’re talking about the O’Briens. I have so many perspectives about my life, my head is spinning. I’ll figure it out, even if it’s not on their timetable.”
“Of course you will,” he said with confidence. “I’ll be by to get Jackson later.”
“Or I can bring him back,” she offered. “Whichever’s easiest for you. Just let me know.”
As soon as Noah had gone, she sat the baby back down, mixed some applesauce into his cereal and spooned it into his mouth at a steady clip. He gave her a toothless smile that always warmed her heart.
Today, thinking of Susie’s longing to have a child and her own fantasy about a family, that smile made her heart ache. When would it be Susie’s turn? Or hers?
* * *
First thing in the morning, with Bobby up and eager for the promised pancakes, Sam dug out some wrinkled but clean clothes for his nephew, then took him down to the inn’s dining room. To his surprise he found Mack and Susie Franklin in the foyer. Susie’s gaze immediately locked on Bobby and a smile spread across her face.
“You must be the young man I’ve been hearing so much about,” she told Bobby.
Bobby regarded her shyly, then hid behind Sam. Sam knelt down and drew the boy up beside him. “Bobby, this is Mack Franklin. He’s my boss at the newspaper. And this is his wife, Mrs. Franklin.”
“Call me Susie, please,” she said, her gaze never leaving Bobby.
“When I called this morning to see if you’d made it back, Jess told me you got in last night,” Mack said. “Did the trip go okay?”
“It was smooth enough. I should have let you know we’d made it back to town,” Sam apologized.
“Absolutely not. You had a lot to do to get settled, I’m sure,” Mack said. “In fact, Susie insisted on coming over right away to see what she could do to help out.” He gave Sam a reassuring look. “Things must feel pretty overwhelming about now, but you’re not in this alone, okay? I want to make sure you know that. We all want to help.”
“I appreciate that,” Sam said, beginning to see what Carrie had been talking about. Even though he was new to town people were willing to pitch in. He hated that one of them happened to be his boss, a man he respected and wanted to impress. He couldn’t help wondering what Mack thought of the chaos that had suddenly become his life.
“I’m not entirely sure where to start,” Sam admitted candidly, then grinned at Bobby’s impatient tug on his jeans. “Except to get some pancakes into my boy here.”
“Yeah!” Bobby said.
“Well, I can definitely help with that,” Susie said. “I’ll go in the kitchen and speak to the chef myself.”
Bobby regarded her hopefully. “Can I come, too? I want to see where they make the pancakes. When I get big, I want to make them myself.”
“Absolutely,” Susie agreed and held out her hand. She turned to Mack. “Why don’t you grab a table by the window so we can see the water?”
As she and Bobby left, Mack watched them go with a surprisingly worried expression.
“Something wrong?” Sam asked him as they made their way to a table.
Mack shook off whatever was troubling him and forced a smile. “No, nothing for you to worry about. Do you need more time off? Like I told you when you called the other day, I can manage for another week. I might not have the creative-design expertise you have, and I definitely don’t have your tech skills, but I can post stories and pictures.” He regarded Sam with concern. “You must have a list a mile long of things you need to do to adjust to having custody of your nephew.”
“You have no idea,” Sam said. “Thank goodness my sister and brother-in-law had the foresight to have a will. Too many young couples think they’re immortal, according to the lawyer. He says it’s critical to plan ahead when there are children to consider. They even had a small life-insurance policy that will be set aside for Bobby’s education.”
He shook his head. “It’s hard to imagine my sister being quite so organized. Neither one of us thought much beyond our next meal when we were kids.”
“Maybe that’s why,” Mack suggested. “Kids who grew up in a chaotic household often feel the greatest need for a sense of stability. And, in case you’re wondering, I know that from experience.” He gave Sam a rueful look. “Of course, I had to go through a playboy stage and a career crisis before I figured out what I really needed and got my life on track.”
Maybe Sam was more like Mack than he’d realized. He certainly hadn’t changed dramatically from his early days of wanting to seize whatever adventure came along next. Now, though? He needed to figure out how to do the whole stable thing in a hurry for Bobby’s sake.
“Maybe that explains it,” he said, though he was still skeptical. She might have bossed him around like a mature adult, but she’d had her own wild moments before she’d married. “I think it was probably Robert’s doing. Laurel’s husband was a real steady guy. Money in the bank every week for the future, oil changed in the car, tires rotated or replaced right on schedule. It was ironic, really, that it was a faulty tire blowing that caused their car to spin out of control on a busy highway.”
“That just shows that we can’t always plan for every curve life might throw at us,” Mack said. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”
Sam nodded, unexpected tears once more threatening. “Me, too,” he said, his voice choked. He sighed heavily, then added, “All I know about the future is that I need to enroll Bobby in school this morning. After that, I don’t have a real plan.”
