Montana Dreaming. Karen Rose Smith
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sound weird, but this is the first time she hasn’t really been a part of me. And it will make me feel better if you stayed.”
He nodded. “You try to get some sleep. If she cries, I’ll wake you.”
Juliet chuckled. “If she cries, I have a feeling I’ll hear her.”
“Maybe so. But just in case, I’ll stick around.”
She stroked the little girl’s cheek, then looked at Mark. “Can you lay her in the bed?”
What?
Hold her?
Well, he supposed it would be tough for Juliet to maneuver. And maybe she wasn’t allowed out of bed. “Okay.”
Juliet handed him the tiny bundle. The sleeping baby, still warm from her mother’s embrace, felt like a bit of nothing in his arms. An empty bundle of flannel.
He tried not to spend too much time fawning over her, marveling over the healthy pink color and the way her mouth made little kissing movements, but it wasn’t easy. He actually had to make himself place her in the bed.
Then, without thinking, he brushed a kiss across Juliet’s brow, an affectionate gesture he hadn’t planned.
It didn’t seem to bother her, which he supposed was good.
“Don’t worry,” he told her.
“I won’t.” She smiled, then nestled her head into the pillow and closed her eyes.
He watched her for a while, saw her grow easy and suspected she’d fallen asleep. He’d promised to watch over her and the little one.
And he would.
He just hoped to God that he’d been right when he told her not to worry. That nothing would go wrong.
Especially on his watch.
Chapter Seven
Juliet sat up in the hospital bed, a tray of breakfast before her. Mark, bless his heart, had gone to the cafeteria. But he’d stayed with her the entire night.
He had to be exhausted, because each time she’d wakened for a feeding, he’d handed the baby to her.
She couldn’t believe how helpful he’d been, how supportive. Nor could she believe how much she’d grown to appreciate having him near. Or how his smile could make her feel as though she didn’t have a worry in the world when that wasn’t the case. Her finances were still shaky, especially since she would need to hire a sitter after her disability ran out.
The baby whimpered, and Juliet turned to see her daughter scrunch her sweet face. Throughout the night, Mark had called her Sweet Pea, referring to the crawling infant in a Popeye cartoon. But the little girl needed a real name.
Over the past few months, Juliet had tossed around some ideas. At one time, while contemplating girls’ names, she’d thought about calling the baby Manuela, after her brother. Or maybe Maria Elena, after her abuelita. But before making a final decision, she’d decided to wait until her daughter arrived.
It seemed logical to make sure the baby looked like a Manuela or a Maria before dubbing her with a name that would stick for the rest of her life. And now that Juliet had seen the baby and fallen in love with her, neither seemed to fit.
But around two o’clock in the morning, she’d gotten another idea. Something that felt more appropriate and more fitting.
The door swung open, as Mark entered the room. He carried a newspaper and a disposable cup she assumed was coffee.
“Looks like Sweet Pea is giving you a chance to eat breakfast in peace,” he said.
Juliet smiled and glanced at the precious little one lying in the bassinette. “So far so good, but I think she’s starting to wake up now.”
He made his way to the baby’s bedside and studied her while she squirmed. “What are you going to call her?”
Juliet didn’t respond until his gaze caught hers. “I’d like to name her after you, Mark. What do you think of Marissa?”
His eyes widened, and his lips parted. “You’re going to name her after me?”
He seemed genuinely touched, and she was glad. “I’m not sure how I would have managed without you this past week.”
Before he could respond further, a blond candy striper popped her head in the door. “Are you finished with breakfast?”
“Yes,” Juliet said, taking one last sip of milk.
The bright-eyed teen crossed the room with a spring in her step and picked up Juliet’s tray. “Did you hear the news?”
Mark, who’d managed to doff the sentiment from his expression the minute the candy striper entered the room, slipped into reporter mode. “What news?”
“A couple of guys hunting for gold near Turner Grade found several large nuggets. They showed the E.R. staff, and everyone said they were the biggest ones yet.” The teenager smiled, revealing a set of rainbow-colored braces. “My grandpa left us a piece of property that used to be a gold mine in the olden days. And my dad is going to get a second mortgage on our house so he can buy the equipment and hire a crew to start working it again.”
Juliet glanced at Mark, knowing what he was thinking—that the poor candy striper’s father was wasting his time, as well as risking the family’s financial security.
Mark didn’t comment, didn’t deflate the young woman’s hope, which was good. And Juliet, who always tried to keep a positive outlook, was glad he’d held his tongue. But she had to admit even she found the man’s enthusiasm a bit scary. After all, Mark had been right about something. Most of the gold hunters would end up empty-handed.
“What were the prospectors doing in the E.R.?” Mark asked.
“Apparently, they’d been celebrating their find at The Hitching Post last night. On the way to the parking lot, one of them tripped and cut his hand on a bottle of beer he’d been holding. So he came in for stitches.”
“Crazy fools.” Mark glanced at Juliet, with a see-what-I-mean look in his eye, which silently pointed out the downside of the gold rush.
It was amazing. Juliet and Mark had actually communicated in a look, a glance. Just like married couples seemed to do.
For a moment, she wondered what had happened between them in the past week. What had changed? Had they forged some kind of a bond? And if so, what direction would their friendship take?
But rather than get carried away, she shrugged off her question, deciding to take one day at a time.
“The E.R. gets a lot of gold-rush related injuries,” Mark said.
“They sure do.” The candy striper grinned. “Just this morning, someone came in with a gunshot wound.”
“That’s a lot more serious than a cut or broken bone,” Mark said. “Was it another prospector?”
“Uh-huh. My friend is a nurse’s aide, and she told me it was a property dispute or something like that.” The teenager lifted Juliet’s tray. “Well, I’d better get back to work.” Then she left the room and went on her way.
Juliet glanced at Mark, saw his furrowed brow.
Was he contemplating the value of the candy striper’s gossip? Or the importance of the land dispute?
“It looks like your story is taking off without you,” Juliet said. “Marissa and I are doing okay. Why don’t you take some time to yourself?”
“Maybe I will.” He glanced at the baby, watched her squirm and fuss. “Mind if I pick her up? I think she’s hungry.”
Juliet could just as easily take care of the baby herself, but she had a feeling Mark liked being helpful.