The Child She Always Wanted. Jennifer Mikels
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not going to be easy, she decided as she shut the door. He was fascinating and annoying. One moment he came across as thoughtful and considerate, the next he bordered on brusque, almost unpleasant. He’d always been mysterious to her. He’d been a brooding, quiet boy who’d smiled rarely and usually only at his sister. But he’d warmed Rachel all the way down to her toes with that smile.
Grinning over her own thought, she set the pizza on the counter. Unable to resist, she peeked at it with a deep inhalation. It smelled heavenly. She swiped a piece of sausage from one slice, reclosed the box, then made her way to the bedroom to check on Heather.
Fortunately she snoozed, undisturbed by the weather and her surroundings. Shadows danced on the walls. The wind whistled through the old house, wiggled doors, banged shutters. Rachel decided that only an ungrateful fool wouldn’t appreciate what Kane was doing.
While waiting for him, she moved the infant seat and oversize diaper bag to make a spot for the crib. A soft bang, a muttered oath made her look up. Rain plastered his hair. Glossy, dark strands flared out in unruly curls below his ears. Raindrops beaded his face. “I appreciate your help.” She noticed that he’d shrugged out of his rain gear somewhere on his way to her.
“You don’t have to keep thanking me.” He snapped open a side of the collapsed crib, then un-clipped the other side of the bed. “Hell, you’re the one who’s been put out.” He pressed on the rail of the crib as if testing its steadiness. “I’ll get you sheets for your bed.”
He was acting more pleasant. Rachel hoped this was a new phase, one that would last for a while. While he was gone, she dug a crib sheet for the crib out of a suitcase and made up a bed for Heather. Though sleeping, her mouth puckered, made sucking noises as Rachel shifted her from the big bed to the smaller one. “You’re getting hungry, aren’t you?” she cooed. Peripherally she caught movement and looked up to see Kane set snow-white sheets on the top of a badly scratched walnut dresser.
“Does she ever answer?”
Had that actually been humor? “No, but eventually she will.”
His eyes strayed to the crib. He looked baffled. “She’s sleeping again?”
Rachel veiled a smile. Until that moment she hadn’t thought he’d looked at Heather. That he was showing some interest in his niece meant progress. “Infants do a lot of that. That and eating.” She thought better about mentioning the dozens of diaper changes.
“If you say so.”
The sudden coolness surprised her. Had he drummed it up because he thought he was showing too much interest in Heather? Who knew what he was thinking. He wasn’t an easy man to understand. She usually preferred men who willingly carried on conversations, showed some sensitivity, weren’t so difficult to read. He really wasn’t her type, she acknowledged. Of course he wasn’t, but that didn’t stop her from staring at how his jeans snugly hugged his tight backside.
“If you’re hungry, there’s pizza.”
Fortunately she managed to stop staring before he turned around. “I’m starving. I didn’t have much breakfast before coming here.” Her stomach churning in anticipation now, she followed him to the kitchen. While he opened the refrigerator, she moved the carton to the center of the table. “I’m glad you thought of this.”
“I knew there wasn’t anything in the house.”
She’d nearly said the same thing but thought he might believe she was insulting him.
With the refrigerator door open, he held out a can of soda. “This or beer or—”
“This is fine.” Rachel took the can of soda. “I thought everything would look different here, but not much has changed,” she said to encourage him to talk.
He swung toward her, shutting the refrigerator door with his forearm. “People like it that way.”
Rachel looked down and yanked the tab on the can of soda. “I know.” When he straddled a chair, she joined him at the table. “It was always such a wonderful town. I’m glad it hasn’t changed.” Rachel glanced toward the window as lightning flashed again and brightened the darkness outside. She drew in one of those long breaths that was meant to calm a person.
Across the table from her, he gave her a long, searching look. “The storm bothers you.”
She hated to make the admittance. She was a grown-up, not six years old. “Sometimes. You must be busy as captain of two boats,” she said, searching for something that would keep conversation flowing. “Do you have a crew?”
“A small one. Lonnie Culhern’s my first mate.”
“I know who that is,” Rachel said as she recalled Lonnie, a blond Adonis type. Good-looking and muscular, he attracted women with little effort. “The girls liked him.”
Balancing a slice of pizza on his fingertips, he took a bite before answering. “Skirt chasing only ranks second behind fishing in his life.”
Rachel smiled. Despite the quip, his voice had carried a note of fondness. “You like him a lot.”
“He’s been around a long while,” he said, instead of commenting about what she’d said.
Did that mean he was close with him or not? Puzzled, Rachel concentrated on the pizza. Was there no bond between them, or was he one of those people who never allowed himself to admit that he cared about someone? Worry for Heather skittered through her. How would she fare with a man who so tightly guarded his emotions?
The scrape of chair legs on the linoleum made her look up. From a kitchen drawer he removed a candle and matches.
“Do you expect the power to go off?”
He didn’t need to answer. Lights flickered once more. The room went black. She heard the strike of a match then. When he turned with a candle in his hand, it cast an eerie glow over his face.
“Sit still,” he said, setting the candle in the middle of the table.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Unaccustomed to where furniture was in the house, she thought it would be dumb to move around and bump into things.
The beam of a flashlight suddenly swept the room. “Here.” He offered one to her.
As Rachel reached for it, his fingers lightly brushed hers. The contact was nothing, but unexpected warmth shot through her. She pulled back her hand. “Thank you.” The reaction seemed silly, but, a little space from him, a little time to think clearly wouldn’t do any harm. “I’d better check on Heather before I go to bed.”
Aiming the flashlight, she ventured down the dark hallway to the bathroom. It had been so long since she’d thought about any man in any way except as a friend. Perhaps that’s why she’d felt something. She’d probably overreacted.
In the darkness she bent over Heather and gathered her in her arms. Listening to the raging storm, she perched on the edge of the bed, and soothingly skimmed a hand over Heather’s soft, dark hair until her eyes closed. Possibly what she’d felt with Kane had been about old feelings.
Though she was tempted to keep holding Heather, she lowered her to her crib. Every time she cuddled the baby, her defenses weakened. Wasn’t this what worried her brother most? He knew her soft heart. He knew how easily she could let Heather into her heart if she wasn’t careful. But she was careful now. During one year of her life she’d endured a lifetime of pain and losses. She’d vowed then—never again.
For a moment Rachel peered out the window at the branches swaying beneath a violent wind. Before she spooked herself, she made up the bed, then changed into a pale-peach, silky nightshirt and climbed beneath the sheet. She didn’t need to keep herself awake all night with imaginary fear. She had plenty of real problems to face tomorrow, like how to make a home here for Heather.
Crazy. His whole world had tipped and gone crazy, Kane decided the next morning as he stood on the deck of the Maggie Lee.