Sun-Kissed Baby

He had met Gina in college, when he was attending Florida State to get a degree in agriculture. She was two years younger and studying to be a teacher, but when his father passed away right before Nick graduated, she bluntly said she wanted to marry him, quit school and help him with the family business. He was not resistant to the idea. Gina was pretty, and the sex was great. His mother had died a few years earlier, and he had not looked forward to going home to live alone.

But there was an obstacle—a painful, embarrassing secret he had kept to himself till the time he felt he should tell Gina. The sad news was that he could not father a child. Childhood mumps had left him sterile. But she said it didn’t matter. They could always adopt.

And so they had married and everything had been fine—for a couple of years. Then Gina began to complain about living in a rural area. She didn’t like the family home and complained it wasn’t modern enough. Nick’s grandfather had built it more than fifty years ago, and though it had withstood savage winds from several hurricanes, Nick agreed that maybe it was somewhat old-fashioned. So he’d given her free rein to redecorate, and she’d spent a fortune doing so, even putting in a swimming pool.

But it hadn’t been enough. She was still miserable and began spending more and more time in Orlando, shopping, she said, with girlfriends from college days.

Then when they had been married about four years, Gina dropped a bombshell. She had been having an affair, had fallen in love with the man and wanted a divorce so she could marry him. Fool that he was, Nick asked her to reconsider, suggesting they go to a marriage counselor and try to work things out. Nick was not the sort of man to take marriage vows lightly.

Gina quickly dashed all his hopes and smashed his heart into little bits and pieces with the news that she was pregnant. To twist the knife, she cruelly reminded him that all the marriage counseling in the world couldn’t change the fact he couldn’t father a child.

At least he could be grateful Gina had not taken him to the cleaners financially. Florida was a no-fault divorce state, and, ordinarily, she would have been entitled to half of everything. But all of his assets had been premarital. They owned nothing jointly, so there had been nothing to divide. Still, she had asked for a mind-staggering sum of alimony. But when it was revealed that she was pregnant by another man, the judge had denied her.

Nick swiveled in his chair to look out the window at the rows of orange trees stretching as far as the eye could see. Perfectly straight lines like soldiers at attention.

Maybe he was a fool, but he just hadn’t felt right about Gina leaving with nothing when he had so much. So he had written her a generous check, which she had snatched from his hand and walked out without a word. He hadn’t heard from her or seen her since.

He had thrown himself into his work, and there had been plenty of it. Once in a while, he dated but never let things go too far. Never again did he want to feel the crushing humiliation of having a woman cut him down because of his sterility. So he tended the groves, went deep-sea fishing in his boat now and then, read a lot and told himself he was content with his life.

After all, being lonely was better than having another woman make him feel like less of a man.

Chapter Three

By the time Scotty’s things were loaded into the Jeep, there was scarcely enough room for Carlee’s few belongings. Alicia had worked almost up to her due date to make enough money to buy him everything she thought a baby might need. The crib had to be left behind in favor of the easier-to-pack portable crib, along with the playpen, but Carlee managed to cram in the bouncing swing he loved, along with the high chair.

She only hoped Elaine Streeter had not been exaggerating about Starke Groves’ facilities for their migrant workers being so nice. It made her cringe to think of some of the conditions she had heard about—outdoor plumbing, windows with no screens, broken-down furniture and sparse appliances. Mr. Burns made a special effort to make his workers comfortable, but even he did not provide day care with an LPN in charge. That sounded too good to be true, especially when she found it hard to believe Nick Starke cared about children in general. Knowing that he had been aware of Alicia’s pregnancy all along filled Carlee with so much anger and resentment she wondered how she could even be civil to the man.

But she would manage, of course. After all, Scotty’s welfare, as well as his future, was at stake here, and for his sake, she wouldn’t blow it.

Give the man the benefit of the doubt, a part of her argued. Get to know him before forming an opinion.

Yeah, right, another side fired back. He was just one more selfish, self-centered man with the morals of a tomcat, possessing the same lack of conscience as her father and Alicia’s father had. And, Carlee grimaced, her ex-husband, as well.

With Scotty sleeping soundly in his car seat, she headed north up Interstate 95 to Titusville, then west to the sleepy little town of Snow Hill near Lake Harney. The trip took about an hour. Very convenient for Nick Starke to drive down to Cocoa Beach to see Alicia. Had she not gotten pregnant, he’d probably still be seeing her and making her think he was still having a difficult time getting a divorce.

Several times she started to turn back, afraid she was wasting her time. After all, a man who had done what Nick Starke had was, in all likelihood, not going to turn out to be the answer to her problems. But she had nowhere else to go and couldn’t have stayed where she was, not when she was being evicted. At least now she would have a job and a good place to leave Scotty while she worked.

But most of all, it was just something she felt driven to do, because she hated to see another man walk away from his moral and financial obligations.

Though she had been up before dawn, it had been almost noon before she was finally ready to leave. It felt strange not having anyone to say goodbye to. The only friend she’d had was Alicia. She did, however, take time to call Mr. Burns and let him know she was planning on returning to work for him when the season opened again. She regretted having to say she’d had to drop out of school. She told him about Scotty, and he said he understood and commended her for taking him as her own. He assured her that her old job would be waiting in the fall, and he’d also find room for her in one of his migrant cottages. She did not tell him where she was going, and he politely did not ask. There were meetings from time to time for citrus growers in the state, and he knew them all. She didn’t want to chance him saying anything to Nick Starke about her. Or worse, mention how noble he thought she was to agree to raise her girlfriend’s baby. Carlee intended to control any information given out about Scotty and her.

She did not have to ask for directions to Starke Groves. It was advertised on billboards all along the interstate and even more so as she drove across a bridge and into Snow Hill.

Once she turned off the main highway, a winding road led the way between lines of orange trees as far as the eye could see. At the end was a lovely two-story white frame house that looked like something out of Gone With the Wind, except there were towering royal palms swaying in the breeze instead of sheltering oaks.

The road curved around as she followed signs pointing the way to the office and the grove operations. Reaching a large clearing among the orange trees, she passed long, open-sided, tin-roofed structures that housed the processing belts and packing area. A paved road led in another direction, and she realized she had taken the tourists’ way in.

The gift shop caught her eye. It had a garden in front, bordered by a quaint two-foot wall made of coquina rocks with seashells embedded in concrete on top. Overhead, flowering baskets hung from a wire ceiling. There were benches and fountains, and she made mental notes to take back to Mr. Burns about how he might redecorate his shop.

She parked under a shady palm and took Scotty inside with her. Her first priority should have been reporting to the office, but she couldn’t resist checking out the gift shop first.

It was larger and better-stocked than the one where she had worked but much of the merchandise was the same—orange marmalade, honey and candies, as well as bags of fruit that customers could take with them or have shipped anywhere in the world.

Scotty saw a stuffed teddy bar holding a tiny jar of orange honey, and he reached for it. “No, no, sweetie.” She kissed his chubby little hand. “Even if I could afford it, there’s nobody around here to sell it to us. Evidently they don’t open this place when it’s off-season.”

“I’m afraid you’re right. We’re closed.”

She whipped about to see a man standing in an open doorway to the side that she hadn’t noticed. Beyond was some kind of huge storage area. Starke Groves was quite an operation, all right.

But as she focused on the man who’d spoken, everything else faded away.

He was tall and looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. His eyes were a deep greenish blue, like the ocean above its darkest depths, and they seemed to glimmer with a focused strength. His sandy-blond hair was cropped close, the bill of his cap playfully reversed. And as he appraised her, the play of a smile on his lips revealed the dimples in his cheeks.

He was wearing white shorts, and his legs were long and muscular. A tank top revealed bare arms and shoulders that showed he either worked out or did a lot of hard work. His dark tan glistened with perspiration, and as he turned to close the storage-room door, she couldn’t help noticing he had a nice behind.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But the door was unlocked, and—”

“I know. I came in to do some inventory and forgot to lock it.” He cocked his head to one side, and the smile widened, deepening the dimples she could not help finding so delightful. “Is there something I can help you with? We don’t keep the shop open this time of year, but if you want some oranges, I can fix you up with some Valencias that were just picked this morning.” He patted Scotty’s downy head. “He’s cute. How old is he?”

“Almost fourteen months. His name is Scotty.”

“He’s probably walking and getting into everything.”

“No, he’s crawling and into everything. He hasn’t started walking yet. I think it’s because he’s so chubby. He tries to stand on his fat little legs and falls down.”

“Give him time. He looks like he’s going to be a strong little fellow.” He kept looking at Scotty as he asked, “Did you want to buy some of the Valencias?”

“No, thank you. Actually I’m here to see about—” Just then Scotty’s eye caught the bear again, and he strained to get closer. She pulled him back, and he started crying.

The man laughed. “He really wants that bear.”

“Well, he can’t have it. He’d get that honey all over him.”

“Not if you don’t open it.” He took the bear from the shelf beneath the cash register where it had been displayed, obviously to entice the small fry as Mom and Dad paid for their other purchases. He untied the gold cord that held the little jar of honey in place and set it on the counter, then handed the bear to Scotty.

Scotty gave a delightful squeal, but it was nothing compared to his scream of protest when Carlee promptly took it away from him. “I’m sorry, but he can’t have it.” She had already seen the price tag and could not afford to spend twenty dollars on a toy no matter how badly he wanted it.

Scotty cried all the more loudly, kicking his legs and waving his arms in the throes of a temper tantrum. “I’m sorry,” she apologized again, embarrassed. “It’s time for his nap and he’s cranky.”

“But it’s all right. He can have it as a gift.”

She shook her head, not about to accept something from a stranger. “Thank you, but no.” She saw the clipboard he’d been carrying and brightened. “You must be Mr. Thurston. I talked to a woman in the office—Miss Streeter—and she said you all were hiring pickers, and that’s why I’m here.”

“Well, we are, but—”

“I’ve had lots of experience working in groves,” she interrupted, shifting Scotty, who had calmed down, so she could hold out her hand to shake the man’s hand and introduce herself. “Mostly I worked in the gift shop, but I’d rather be a picker, because I can make more money.

“And she also said there were nice facilities for the workers,” she rushed on, excited because he seemed so nice, but then so did everything else about Starke Groves so far.