A Child Under His Tree Read online

Small arms suddenly wrapped around her waist from behind. “Don’t yell at my mom!”

  Dismayed, Kelly whirled around and picked up Tyler. “It’s okay, baby. He’s not yelling.”

  “Yes, he is. And he’s got a mad face.” Tyler’s expression was fierce and, to her distress, an exact replica of Caleb’s. His arms circled tight around her neck. “I don’t wanna play with Bingo no more,” he said.

  Kelly’s chest ached. This wasn’t what she’d wanted. She rubbed his back. He was so young. So impressionable. “Mommy and Da—” Dear God. “Mommy and Caleb are just having a disagreement. That’s all. It’s going to be fine. We’ll work it out.” She looked up at Caleb.

  His lips were tight. His expression pained.

  “We’ll work it out,” she said again. Pointedly. “Isn’t that right, Caleb?”

  “Yeah.” His voice was rough. Low. “We’ll work something out.”

  Tyler wasn’t having any of it, though. His arms and legs squeezed even more tightly around her. His cast felt like a block digging into her spine. “I wanna go.”

  “We’re going to go,” she assured him. “Right now.” She carried him over to the chair where his coloring book and markers were scattered. Bending down to gather them up was hugely awkward with him hanging on to her the way he was. She’d only succeeded in grasping a few pens in her free hand when Caleb crouched next to her.

  “I’ve got ’em,” he said gruffly.

  Tyler’s arms tightened again.

  She swallowed and straightened. Any mother who’d ever thought she needed a gym for working out just needed to do a few deep knee bends while carrying around a strapping five-year-old boy instead.

  It took only a few seconds for Caleb to stuff the bag of pens and the coloring book into the purse hanging off her shoulder.

  “Thank you.” Her voice was stiff, but she’d be an example of politeness for Tyler if it choked her.

  “I’m coming by your place tonight. Be there.”

  In other words: Don’t bolt back to Idaho.

  Her lips tightened. But she nodded once.

  And then she carried their son away.

  * * *

  His parents were staring at him, speechless.

  Caleb sat on a chair in the living room where he’d grown up and rubbed the back of his aching neck. “Tyler’s my son,” he said again. “And I don’t know what to do about it.”

  His mother finally looked at his father. “Cage?”

  “What do you want to do, son?”

  “I want to be his father!”

  “And Kelly?”

  He shook his head. Clenched his hands together. “She’s his mother. What about her?”

  He saw the look passing between his mom and dad.

  “Are you sure that’s all she is to you?” Belle’s voice was gentle.

  Since Kelly had told him about Tyler, he’d stopped being certain about anything. “There’s too much water under that bridge. Too many hurts to get over.”

  His dad closed his hand over his mom’s. They shared another look. “Don’t be so sure about that,” he said.

  They were talking about ancient history. When Cage Buchanan had had ample reason to hate Belle Day and her family. Before he’d ended up marrying her.

  “That was different,” Caleb dismissed.

  “Forgiveness is forgiveness,” Belle said simply. “You know that. You just have to give yourself a minute to remember.”

  “She should have told me.” He pushed off the chair to pace. “Just because I couldn’t locate her doesn’t mean she didn’t know how to locate me. She could have reached out to anyone here in Weaver to find me if she’d wanted.”

  “You tried to locate her?”

  His mother’s eyebrows had risen slightly, and he damned his tongue. “Once,” he said grudgingly, looking away only to encounter his father’s steady gaze. “Okay, more than once,” he admitted. “But I gave up a long time ago. Georgette told me to my face that Kelly’d gotten married. She didn’t give away squat besides that and the fact that they were living in Idaho. You know how little that is to go on? I even trawled all the social media sites. Only thing I found was that you can’t find someone on the internet if they’re not on the internet!” He realized he was yelling and linked his fingers behind his neck. He exhaled. “Kelly wants to settle this in court? We’ll settle it, all right.”

  “Oh, Caleb,” Belle sighed. “Surely you can avoid that. Kelly told you the truth, after all. It’s plain as day to me that you still care about her.”

  “If she’d cared about me, she would have told me before he was born!”

  His mother’s lips formed a firm line. She pushed to her feet and propped her hands on her hips. “Now you sound like you’re ten years old and in a snit. Put yourself in her shoes for a moment, Caleb. That girl never had one single thing handed to her. She didn’t have the opportunities you had. She certainly didn’t have a family who stood behind her no matter what. You broke her heart when you were twenty years old!”

  “She wasn’t twenty when she got pregnant with Tyler,” he said through his teeth. “Damn sure her heart wasn’t broken then.”

  “You’re saying she did it deliberately? Seduced you? Got pregnant for the express purpose of telling you years later?” His mother raised her eyebrows again.

  That hadn’t been what happened six years ago. He knew it. But he didn’t appreciate having his mother point it out to him.

  His neck felt hot.

  His father wasn’t any help. He just sat there looking vaguely amused. Like he got a kick out of his wife putting a pin in Caleb’s righteousness.

  Belle’s expression softened. She touched his cheek. “You’re a good man, Caleb. You’ve wanted to heal everyone’s hurts since you were a little boy. You’ll find your way through this, too.”

  He grimaced. “That’s your grandson she’s going to take back to Idaho after she has the auction next week.”

  “Idaho isn’t the end of the earth. It’s one state away. Nor does it have to be permanent. And who knows what you can accomplish before next week if you put your mind to finding a solution that works for you both.”

  Her words were still hanging inside his head when he stood beneath the bare bulb lighting Kelly’s doorstep later that evening.

  He’d deliberately waited until a time when he figured Tyler would be long asleep. He had some ground to make up with him, and it would be easier once he and Kelly came to an agreement.

  Late as it was, though, he only had to knock once before the door creaked open. Kelly leaned her cheek against the edge of the door, looking up at him.

  “Are you going to let me in?”

  Her lashes lowered for a minute, hiding her brown gaze. “Are you going to threaten taking my son away from me?”

  “You know I wouldn’t really do that.”

  She looked up again. “Really? Just how would I know that, Caleb?”

  He exhaled, counting silently to ten.

  She exhaled, too, and stepped back, opening the door wider in invitation. “I put Tyler to bed hours ago.”

  “Good.” He stepped across the threshold and followed her into the living room. Unlike the last time he’d been there, the room now seemed nearly bare. Stripped down to only old furnishings and a few toys that were obviously Tyler’s. “There’s a simple solution to all of this.”

  She stood in the middle of the room, hugging her arms around her waist. “What?”

  “Marry me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Kelly winced.

  They were exactly the words she’d once longed to hear.

  And ever since that stick had turned blue six years ago, they were exactly the words she still dreaded.

  “No,” she said. “That�
��s not a solution at all.”

  He gave her an annoyed look. “Of course it is.”

  “Look. I’ll—” She moistened her lips. “I’ll consider...consider,” she repeated for emphasis, “staying in Weaver.” She’d been thinking of nothing else since running into him at the hospital. Since seeing him rocking that infant. “Because whether I like it or...or not, you are Tyler’s father. And I don’t want to deprive him of that. He should have a father.”

  “Big of you.”

  Her lips tightened. “Comments like that aren’t inclined to make me want to stay here. You should want my cooperation. Otherwise you’ll have to go to the trouble of proving paternity.”

  “You think I wouldn’t?”

  She sighed wearily and sank down on the corner of the lumpy couch. Because, of course, she knew that Caleb would do whatever it took. “I’m not marrying you.”

  “Why the hell not? We have a son together!”

  “Mommy?”

  Horrified, she bolted off the couch, turning to see Tyler—his hair sticking up like a rooster’s tail—standing in the kitchen doorway.

  “I woke up. My stomach was growly.”

  She quickly rounded the couch, going over to him. Maybe he hadn’t heard. She was going to need to tell him, but not like this. She crouched down next to him. “Would you like some milk?”

  The boy’s gaze was locked on Caleb. He shook his head, so serious and solemn in his robot-patterned pajamas. “Are you my dad?”

  Her heart sank through the floor. She’d never felt so helpless. Not even when she’d held a dying man’s hand. “Tyler—”

  “I am,” Caleb said. His voice sounded impossibly deep. But it was calm. And the look he was giving Tyler was steady. “I didn’t know that until last night, though.”

  “How come?”

  Caleb’s eyes met hers. “Because I wasn’t around for your mommy to tell me.”

  A knot filled her throat.

  “But I know now,” he added, focusing on Tyler once more. “And that’s what counts.”

  Tyler leaned against Kelly’s shoulder. “I don’t want a dad,” he said.

  She caught him in a hug. “Yes, you do,” she said thickly. It was her fault this was happening. Her fault that her sweet, protective boy was even thinking such a thing. “It’s just a lot to take in right now. But you want a father.” Every child who didn’t have one did. She knew that from personal experience. “And your father wants you,” she said huskily, her eyes burning. She couldn’t bear to look at Caleb as she kissed Tyler’s forehead. “But it’s very late and you should be asleep. Do you want some milk?”

  He nodded wordlessly and looped his arms around her shoulders in a sure sign that he wanted to be carried.

  She obliged, lifting him as she straightened.

  She set Tyler on the counter in the kitchen and poured him a small glass of milk.

  “Is he gonna stay?”

  She didn’t need to look to know that Caleb had followed them from the living room. “No.”

  “Yes,” Caleb countered. He pulled one of the kitchen chairs out from the table and sat.

  Her nerves jangled. But she contained the immediate knee-jerk reaction to argue. That could wait until Tyler was out of earshot. So she waited for him to finish drinking his milk and tried not to show any impatience when the process took about three times longer than it usually did.

  But finally, he was handing her back the empty glass.

  She rinsed it and left it in the sink, then lifted him off the counter and carried him up the narrow stairs.

  At the top, she turned toward her old bedroom. Tyler buried his head against her neck. “I don’t want Dr. C as a dad,” he said.

  “Shush,” she whispered. “I know you don’t really mean that. You like Dr. C. You like him a whole lot. You told me so yourself. You’re just upset right now. But you’re going to get over that, the same way you get over it whenever you and Gunnar fight about whose turn it is to pitch when you’re playing baseball.” She lowered him onto the bed.

  “He made you sad.”

  “That’s not something I want you worrying about. That’s for mommies to worry about. Not little boys.”

  “I’m a big boy.”

  “Getting bigger by the day,” she whispered. She brushed his hair away from his forehead. “Do you want me to lie down with you until you fall asleep?”

  He nodded.

  “Scoot over, then.”

  He wriggled over several inches, and she stretched out beside him.

  “Mommy?”

  “What, buddy?”

  “I wish Grandma Gette didn’t die so we didn’t have to come here.”

  She wished that, too. They’d been in Weaver a week now.

  It felt like a year.

  “Everything’s going to be okay, Tyler. I promise.”

  “I don’t like it when you’re sad.”

  “I’m not sad.” It was a lie, but she would live up to it somehow. There was no way she was going to let him feel any sort of burden like that. She kissed his forehead. “Now close your eyes. If you can’t go to sleep, just pretend you’re sleeping.” It was an old trick. But it had never failed her before.

  And that night, despite everything, it succeeded as usual. Before ten minutes had passed, he’d rolled away from her to sprawl across the mattress, snoring softly.

  She carefully inched off the bed and left the room, pulling the door nearly shut.

  Caleb was still in the kitchen when she went back down the stairs.

  He’d found the bottle of whiskey that she’d opened only days ago.

  His eyes roved over her when she sat down at the table. With one long finger, he pushed one of the two glasses he’d set on the table toward her.

  She picked it up. Studied the amber liquid through the clear glass. “I’ll marry you.”

  He gave a clear start of surprise, and she tossed back the whiskey.

  It burned all the way down. But at least it gave her something on which to blame her tears.

  “Why the change of heart?”

  It was hardly a celebratory chant on his part.

  She waited until the burning in her throat subsided enough to allow her vocal cords to work. “I don’t want Tyler thinking he has to choose between me and you.” She grabbed the bottle and poured another measure into her glass. “And don’t kid yourself. He’s my baby. He’d choose me.” She blinked hard. “But he deserves more than that. He deserves everything.” Her voice went hoarse, and she lifted the glass again to clink against his. “So cheers. You win. You’ll get your son, whom you want, and a wife that you don’t.”

  Caleb looked pained. “Kelly.”

  If she sat there any longer, she was going to be bawling like a damn baby.

  She set down the whiskey that she had no interest in drinking and pushed out of the chair. “I haven’t slept in my mother’s room since we got here, but I guess it’s time to start. If you’re actually determined to stay, the couch is yours.” She started up the stairs. “It’s got lumps.”

  * * *

  The couch did have lumps.

  They weren’t what kept Caleb awake all night, though.

  That was his conscience.

  Ripping into him for pushing Kelly into a corner.

  He withstood the lumps. And he withstood his conscience.

  He waited the next morning until he heard sounds of movement upstairs before he scrawled a note on the backside of a page he pulled from Tyler’s coloring book. He left it sitting on the kitchen table, weighted down by the bottle of whiskey that was nearly empty after he’d finished with it.

  Then he let himself out the front door of the house. A bitter wind followed him to his truck and all the way back to town.
He’d never believed in ghosts, but it felt as though Georgette herself was trying to chase him away.

  Even though it was Saturday, he still had rounds at the hospital. He went to his place and let Bingo out. While she romped around the small yard, he showered and shaved. But he still couldn’t wash off knowing he had somehow gotten what he wanted with Kelly without getting what he wanted at all.

  He fed the dog. But when he started to leave for the hospital, she gave him such a sad, accusing look that he scooped her up, along with a blanket and the few toys she kept ignoring in favor of chewing on everything else, and carried her out to his truck. Instead of going straight to the hospital, though, he stopped off at Ruby’s Café.

  Sure enough, he found Tabby sitting at one of the tables, pregnant as pregnant could get, working on her payroll and her orders for the week. She agreed easily enough to watching the puppy for a few hours for him.

  “Bingo and Beastie will keep each other entertained,” she assured him.

  So he left the puppy and her stuff in the recently fenced yard behind the restaurant, where Beastie was already romping around chasing a blowing leaf, and continued on his way to the hospital.

  Not two hours had passed since he’d left Kelly’s place when his cell phone rang.

  He’d known she would call after she saw the note he’d left.

  He stepped away from the nurses’ station where he’d been updating a patient’s chart and answered.

  “I don’t need an engagement ring,” she said without preamble.

  “You don’t want one, you mean.” Not from him. Not anymore.

  “Isn’t the wedding ring bad enough?”

  The barb hit. “I told you in the note. I’ll pick you and Tyler up this afternoon. We’re driving to the jewelry store in Braden, getting rings and a marriage license.”

  “It’s Saturday. What county clerk’s office is open on a Saturday?”

  “One that’s run by the father of one of my patients.”

  “Nice to have connections.” Her voice was tight. “So, license today? Marriage tomorrow? Is that your plan? Get it locked down tight before I try to escape with Tyler or something?”

  The conscience he was ignoring said she wasn’t far off. “When we’re done in Braden, we’ll stop and see a few properties I’ve been looking at.”