The Child She Always Wanted

At some time earlier Kane had taken her keys from the kitchen counter where she’d dropped them. Before leaving for the boat, he must have brought to the porch the bouncing exerciser that resembled a car, an infant swing, and several boxes filled with baby clothing and blankets.

Rachel left all of it there, certain no one would take anything. The late-afternoon air carried a pleasant warmth. Hours ago the sun had burned away the mist off the Atlantic Ocean.

She pushed Heather’s navy-colored stroller with its blue-and-white-striped canopy across the street and strolled along the cliff walk that traveled parallel with the water. She took in the rocky cliffs, the water crowded with boats sparkling beneath the sunlight. Everything from the smell of the salt-scented breeze to the sight of the deserted, weathered wood shacks made her feel at home. A gentle breeze whipped through her hair. Several gulls trailed a boat, skimmed the water for food.

Little had changed in the sixteen years since she’d left Hubbard Bay. It had maintained its small-town appearance. Generations of families lived in the town. Store owners passed businesses on to their children. Progress and expensive condos for summer tourists sprang up at more picturesque towns.

Hubbard Bay beckoned the tourist who wanted to see authentic New England, yearned for the feel of the ocean on the skin, viewed the weathered clapboard houses as quaint, instead of shabby. She’d spent years in Texas, longing for the smell of the ocean and wondered now how she would ever leave it again.

For the next hour she browsed along the part of Main Street’s string of cottages that were used for businesses, mostly antique shops, though intermingled between them stood an insurance company, a baby store, a clothing boutique and several souvenir shops.

Feeling more content, more at peace than she had in ages, she strolled into the grocery store for formula. Though groceries were needed, she wanted to talk to Kane first about his food preferences. That Velma wasn’t working made her feel as if she’d gotten a reprieve from the woman’s interrogation.

In a good mood, she took a different route back to the house. She’d breathed a sigh of relief too soon, she realized. She was almost at the walkway of the house when she spotted Velma. Politeness forced Rachel to stop, but she eyed the house, wondering how to make a quick escape.

“Nice to see you again, Rachel. Did you get settled in?”

“Yes, I—”

“Guess you found Kane Riley since you’re staying there,” she said with a backhand wave at the house.

“Guess so,” Rachel responded, not surprised that where she was staying was public knowledge.

Bending slightly forward, Velma scrutinized Heather’s carriage with the removable infant seat. “Newfangled-type thing.” The lines in the woman’s face deepened. “Will your husband be coming?”

Rachel knew her answer, an honest one, would travel over the gossip grapevine faster than the speed of light. “I’m not married.” She should have clarified everything, told Velma that the baby was Marnie’s, but she wasn’t in a mood for explanations.

“I see,” was all the woman said.

Rachel took a step toward the house. She could make a mad dash for it, but that seemed silly. “I need to go in now, Velma. It’s almost time for Heather’s bottle.”

“He got that house, got everything of Charlie Greer’s after the old man died, you know,” Velma said before she’d taken another step. “Of course, that was Kane Riley’s fault.” Rachel didn’t miss the slight shift in the woman’s mouth as if she’d just sniffed something disdainful. “What’s that thing on the porch? One of those things the baby bounces in?”

Frowning at her words, Rachel traced the woman’s stare to the bright-yellow car on the porch. “Yes.”

Velma’s scowl deepened. “Little young for that, isn’t she?”

“It was given as a shower gift for later.” Rachel couldn’t stop herself. “What’s his fault?” she asked in regard to Velma’s previous quip about Kane.

“Old Charlie’s death. Shouldn’t have happened.”

Rachel checked herself from delving deeper. Was the woman really talking about something that had happened years ago? Anything Velma said might be only gossip, old gossip, she decided.

“You should know the truth. People hold Charlie’s death against him. They—” Velma’s voice died as she looked past her.

With an askance glance, Rachel saw Kane’s truck. She swung back to tell Velma that she’d talk with her tomorrow. The woman was gone, scurrying down the path toward the town square.

Rachel wished she could ignore the woman’s words, but they bothered her. She waited on the porch for Kane while he parked. Loyalty to Marnie had made her want to defend him even though she didn’t know the facts.

“Were you warned to keep your distance?” he asked, with his approach up the walk, as if he could tell they’d been talking about him. Gossiping, actually. The stubble of an evening beard toughened his looks. What appeared to be motor oil stained the right side of his navy T-shirt near its hem.

“I told you that I’m not concerned.” As a young girl when she’d visited Marnie, she had never shied from Kane because of what others thought about him. She’d kept her distance for fear she would act like a blubbering idiot if he talked to her. Back then, sullen and distant, he’d never bothered with her. If given a choice, he’d probably do that now, too, Rachel thought.

“You’re too nice, Rachel.” Smoky-gray eyes locked on hers while he climbed the stairs. She felt herself being baited and didn’t bite. “You’d say anything to keep from repeating some dire message about the evil Kane Riley.”

“Are you boasting?”

The firm line of his mouth twitched as if he was truly tempted to smile. He didn’t, and she wondered why he held himself so aloof that he wouldn’t give in to such a simple response. “Pick up the baby, and I’ll carry that in for you,” he said, gesturing toward the carriage.

Rachel was determined to make some headway at a friendlier relationship. “Thank you for emptying the van for me,” she said to get the conversation going.

“No problem.”

She stayed near, waiting for him to collapse the buggy. “I’ll start dinner in a few minutes,” she said, though she wasn’t sure what they’d eat beyond soup and crackers.

“Not for me.”

Rachel stared at his bent head, made a face. She had to get rid of the strain between them. Even a day here with him could seem like an eternity if she didn’t. “Let’s have coffee, then.” She really did have something she needed to say. “We have to talk.”

Bent over the carriage, he didn’t look up as he collapsed it. “About a salary?”

Sensing he would only join her if he felt an obligation to, she nodded. “Yes, that and something else. Just give me a minute, though.” She hurried to the bedroom to change Heather’s diaper. She really hadn’t given money much thought, but this was a man, like his sister, full of pride, someone who’d insist on taking nothing from anyone. Maybe that was her real goal here. The better she understood him, the easier it would be for her to get through to him about Heather.

Rachel stared down at the little one. Her hair was as dark as her uncle’s. “Hello, sweetheart,” she murmured while she finished diapering her. Lightly she kissed the sole of one tiny foot before slipping it back into the leg of the pink-and-white sleeper. She was so precious, so special. She’s not yours, she reminded herself. That was something she couldn’t afford to forget. Neither was the promise she’d made to Marnie to keep her baby happy and safe.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee drifted to her by the time she approached the kitchen. She’d thought she would make the coffee. She should have known a loner, a solitary man used to fulfilling his own needs, wouldn’t wait for someone else to do something.

“Coffee’s poured,” he said, though his back was to her.

Rachel waited for him to face her. “How did you know I was near?”

“Lemon.” His gaze traveled from her mouth to her hair. “What is it? Your shampoo?”

“My—” Rachel touched her hair. No man had ever noticed something like that about her. “Yes, it is,” she said with a calm she didn’t feel.

“Nice.”

Her legs nearly buckled from shock. Had he actually said something pleasant to her?

He set the cup on the table, crossed to the window, stared up at the sky as if judging the weather. “I’m not rich. But I could come up with a sensible amount for a salary.”

Somewhat recovered, Rachel listened as he offered an amount she viewed as more than generous. “That’s fine.” Aware that he’d probably resist what she had to say, she brought up her brightest smile. “But there’s something else we need to discuss.”

When he turned back, she saw that wariness had returned to his eyes. He probably felt deluged by problems.

Rachel knew she was going to give him another one. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to search for Heather’s father.” To avoid the darkening of his stare, she moved to the counter and scooped formula into two of Heather’s bottles. He was silent for so long that she felt compelled to look at him.

“That’s not the first time I got the impression you were against looking for him.” Surprising her, he moved near her, lounged against the counter. “Why do you say that?”