Baby in His Arms. Линда Гуднайт
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mole on her cheek. She had a pretty smile. “Could be both. But tonight I’m making neither. Will you settle for green tea? I could use a cup myself.”
Green tea? Creed fought a grimace but knew he’d failed when Haley laughed.
“Water, perhaps?” she asked.
“The perfect drink. I’ll get it.” He escaped to the kitchen, finding Thomas there.
The boy swigged the last of his milk and backhanded his mouth. “I had fun.”
He’d said that already. About a dozen times.
“Great.” Creed didn’t know much about little kids, but he remembered being a boy. A sometimes lonely boy. Not that his life was hard like Thomas’s, but an only child living in the country spent a lot of time alone with only his imagination for company.
“Will you come back? Maybe next time we can make a box kite. I read about them at school today. The teacher has this big book about different kites.”
Creed started to refuse, to make an excuse of all the reasons he didn’t want to hang around flakey Haley or get involved with a baby that wasn’t his or a foster child with an uncertain future, but the expression in Thomas’s eyes stopped him cold.
“That’s up to Haley.”
“She won’t care.”
Creed didn’t quite agree. He ruffled Thomas’s hair. “We’ll see. Okay?”
Thomas hitched one shoulder. “Okay.”
But Creed knew the boy was disappointed. Wrestling with his conscience, he scored two glasses of water and headed back to the living room and Haley. “Here you go.”
Haley shook her head. “Put mine on the table. I’m going to change Rose Petal and lay her down. We had hours of rocking last night and my arms are sore. I’ll be back in a minute.”
She took Rose Petal down a hall and went into a room he couldn’t see from here.
Thomas appeared in the opposite doorway. “Want to play UNO?” he asked hopefully.
Man. He really needed to get out of here. He’d come to fly a kite with Thomas and check on Rose Petal. That was all. Time to leave. “I should probably hit the road.”
“Oh.” Thomas’s body sagged. He turned back toward the kitchen.
The quiet acceptance hit Creed squarely in the cardiac muscle. “Maybe one game?”
The boy whipped around so fast that his cowlick waved like a wind sock. “Really?”
“If Haley says it’s okay.”
“She won’t care. She gets bored of playing games.” With a hop in his step, Thomas rushed out of the room, presumably to score the UNO cards.
From down the hall, Creed heard a baby’s cry followed by Haley’s soft murmurs. He couldn’t tell what she was saying but the crying ceased. He swigged his water and swallowed hard, wondering what it would be like to drift down the hall and peek inside that room, to watch while Haley settled Rose Petal for the night.
Feeling itchy again, he rotated the damp glass between his fingers. One game of UNO and he was out of here.
Haley returned, rolling her head as if her shoulders and neck ached. He wondered who massaged her sore muscles, who she leaned on, who cared for her while she was caring for someone else’s children. Did Haley have a boyfriend?
Creed mentally shook himself. Where were these random thoughts coming from?
“I hope she sleeps better tonight.” She rubbed at her right shoulder.
“Bad night last night?” What a stupid question. Fatigue rimmed Haley’s eyes. The woman was dead-tired.
“She doesn’t have a routine yet, but she’ll get one eventually. I was up every hour or two.”
“Brutal.”
“Tell me about it. After a while I gave up trying to sleep and went to work.” She took the glass of water from a scratched coffee table and drank deeply. Her throat flexed. The pale, smooth column looked soft and touchable.
Creed pried his eyes away. “You worked last night? Where?”
“I didn’t run off and leave Thomas and Rose Petal alone, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said a bit hotly. “I work at home. I’m a folk artist. Gourd art mostly.”
Were those the odd-looking fruits he’d seen in the kitchen?
“Gourds.” Unable to formulate a more coherent reply, he sipped at his water. What did an artist do with gourds? And how did he ask that question without getting kicked out of her house? The neon “flakey Haley” sign flashed in his head.
“Thomas asked me to play UNO,” he said instead. “Does that work for you?”
If she was surprised by his change of subjects, she didn’t let on. “You’ll be his hero and maybe mine. If I never play another game of colors and numbers I’ll die happy.”
“See?” Thomas said, coming into the room. “I told you.”
Haley gave him a mock scowl. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
The boy’s slender shoulder arched. “I already knew.”
Thomas plopped down in front of the coffee table and began doling out cards. “We each get seven. You know how to play, don’t you?”
“Sure. In the military, we played all kinds of card games.”
“Even UNO? I thought it was a kids’ game.”
“What?” Creed cried, pretending amazement. “No way.”
Being a helicopter pilot for the army was one part boredom and the rest pure adrenaline. They played any kind of game they could get their hands on.
He gathered his cards, sorted the colors and pairs. “You go first.”
With a sly grin, Thomas slapped down a draw four card and the game was on.
“He’s an ace at UNO, Creed. Watch your back.”
“I see that.” In truth, UNO was a simple game that required minimal concentration but Thomas played well. “When I was a kid I drove my dad nuts wanting him to play games with me.”
“Did he?” Haley asked. She’d taken the chair adjacent to the couch and curled her feet beneath her.
“Yeah. He was great. Well, he still is, but I don’t bug him to play as much as I used to.” He grinned.
“He sounds like a good dad.” There was something wistful in her voice.
“The best.” He added a blue seven to the pile. Thomas groaned and drew a card. “What about you?”
“No dad. Just a mom.” Again that wistful sound that had him wondering.
“Does she live in Whisper Falls?”
“Last time I heard from her, she was in Michigan. Before that Virginia. She moves around a lot.” Haley took one of the bright throw pillows and hugged it to her chest. “I’ve lived in more places than most people can name.”
Maybe that explained the free-spirit element. “How long have you lived in Whisper Falls?”
“A long time for me.” She looked upward, calculating. “Nearly seven years. What about you? Is Whisper Falls your hometown?”
Thomas played a lose-a-turn card. Creed’s hard-eyed scowl earned a giggle.
“Lived here all my life.” Well, most of his life. The only home he’d ever known was three miles out of town nestled in a grove of trees with a view of Blackberry Mountain. “Mom and Dad have lived in the same house for nearly