Breathless (8 page)

Emma stared at the last load of furniture and boxes that had just been brought through the door.

She helped, right along with the men, placing the furniture where it was to go. They dragged and moved every last piece until all that was left was the boxes.

She eyed them with distaste. Heck, she hated unpacking. The boxes, the paper, the mess.

The deliveryman nodded. “That’s the last of it, ma’am. Everything that you shipped.”

Emma bit her lip hard and kept her eyes on the man. She didn’t want to look at the boxes while the men were still here. Most cartons would be fine. They contained things she’d been waiting for, but a couple of them held items she couldn’t bear parting with, objects that she couldn’t have an audience for when she opened the boxes and saw them again.

“Thank you.” She held out a few dollars. This tipping thing was taking longer to get used to than she’d thought it would.

She closed the door, waiting to hear the sound of the diesel engine before she braved looking at the boxes in her hall.

There weren’t all that many, if she was honest. Maybe a dozen. Not much to show for her twenty-nine years on this planet. Not much at all.

Two large boxes of slightly different composition with vibrant pink daisies painted on the tops caught her attention.

There they are.

She walked carefully toward them. Nausea and nerves swamped her the closer she got. It had been so long since she’d looked at the contents of those particular boxes. They’d been packed up a couple of years ago.

Longing ate at her. She ached to look in those cartons, to hold some of the items, but at the same time, a cold sweat broke out on her skin at the thought.

She stopped in front of one and reached out a shaking hand.

Her fingertip found the pink daisy and traced its outline. Daisies. So very pretty, but so fleeting in life.

Tears pricked the backs of her eyes.

No.

She wouldn’t think like that. Couldn’t. She’d come here for a new beginning, one without all the baggage from before. Some things would never be resolved, she understood that, but others, well, avoidance was a wonderful thing.

Unopened boxes with pink daisies fell into the latter category.

Her traitorous fingers found the edge of the packaging tape and began picking at it, lifting the end. Unable to help herself, Emma drew back the tape—carefully, slowly.

The tape released with a tiny snap of sound. It sprang up and wrapped itself around her fingers, curling back on itself.

She stumbled back from the carton, suddenly anxious.

She couldn’t do this, not yet.

Fanning her face, Emma stepped back from the box and spun around to find a different one to open.

Easy things first.

Box after box lay untaped and flattened, stacked in a pile by the front door. Emma wiped a hand over her sweaty face and sighed.

Almost done.

It was well into the night. The crickets chirping happily outside relieved a little of her tension. All the items in the boxes she’d unpacked had been put away. Her house now looked like it had a human living there.

Her gaze fell on the two large boxes left.

She wrapped her arms around her waist and moved to the kitchen.

Food was on the menu, plus a strong coffee if she was to tackle those particular items.

She took her time, making a toasted sandwich and pot of strong coffee. She sat in the kitchen and picked at the food, only half-aware of eating it.

Looking around, she shuddered. The shadows seemed full of ghosts, the bright puddles of light making the darkness surrounding them seem even blacker.

Emma jumped up and hurried through the house, turning on all the lights she could find. She hated the dark. Even in her bedroom she kept the windows clear of curtains or blinds, preferring the moonlight to stream through.

Alex had hated that.

Her favorite time of month was when the moon was full. There were no shadows then. Her room in this house had such huge floor-to-ceiling bay windows. They lit up the room like nothing she’d seen before. It was perfect. In truth, those beautiful big windows were the reason she’d picked this house, regardless of the work the house itself had needed.

With no more lights left to turn on, she moved slowly back to the hall where the two last boxes sat.

Pink daisies on their tops mocked her.

Annoyed with herself for being scared of two pathetic-looking brown boxes, Emma stalked over to them and purposefully yanked the cardboard flaps open. Scent overwhelmed her, enveloped her with memory and promise.

Baby powder and sandalwood.

She’d had the powder custom-made by a small, old-fashioned apothecary shop in her home city.

Visions assailed her, grabbing her heart and squeezing tightly. She gritted her teeth, refusing to be cowed by a simple scent, and shoved her hand into the box.

Soft.

Her fingers grasped at it and she pulled it from the box.

Pulled into the dim light of her hall from the depths of the box was a small pink-and-white reindeer. The scarf around its neck held painstakingly hand-embroidered words.

Sasha’s First Christmas.

A huge, fat, warm drop fell and splashed onto her hand. Emma wiped at her face, surprised to find it was a tear.

She brought the incredibly soft, fleecy stuffed toy to her face and inhaled.

Baby powder and sandalwood—Sasha’s special blend.

Emma’s knees gave way and she dropped to the floor, her face buried in the toy. This was why she’d never opened the boxes once she’d closed them. This was why nothing in these boxes would see the light of day again, perhaps except for the reindeer now in her arms. She couldn’t find it in her heart to part with the items, but she couldn’t bear looking at them either.

Great sobs welled up as she rocked, holding the toy tightly in her arms. Her slight body shook with the effort of spilling the tears so long held back.

The boxes would go in the attic, where she wouldn’t have to see them and be reminded on a daily basis. Not that she could ever forget her cherished daughter. She’d wanted a baby for so long—and now Sasha was gone.

The boxes contained books, toys and clothes. All precious, but all impossible to look at.

Here, in her arms, was the reason for her move to America. This stuffed toy that smelled of baby powder. And sandalwood.

Chapter Ten

“We’re here.”

Darby’s cheerful announcement had Emma’s stomach twisting like pretzels. “Here” was Gabe’s farm. Cattle grazed on lush grass behind a fence a few hundred feet away, the sight sending shivers spiking down her spine.

Nasty creatures.

As soon as Darby had learned Emma was scared of cows, she insisted they head out to Gabe’s place immediately.

“You’ll see there’s nothing to be scared of. They’re too stupid to be scary.”

Emma grunted and chewed her lip. This wasn’t going to be fun.

Never mind the fact that this was
Gabe’s
place. A man who would be any woman’s dream, hers included. She’d never thought herself a particularly sensual or sexual woman but, man, did he give a new meaning to the word
fantasize
.

Sweat drenched her body when she’d woken this morning, her chest heaving, her breath curiously short. She’d even glanced around the room to look for Gabe, so sure was she that her dream had been real. She’d fallen back into the pillows, unsure whether to be relieved or disappointed that he wasn’t really there.

A long shower had been in order to calm herself down. Even hours later, her stomach clenched when remembering what he’d done to her in that dream.

“Earth to Emma? They really aren’t that scary, you know.”

Emma’s face flamed as she realized Darby was talking to her, and here she was, daydreaming about Darby’s brother. She nodded in Darby’s direction to try and pretend that the cows were what had her all flustered.

“Gabe’s probably over in the barn.” Darby pointed to the massive structure to their left. “He has his surgical suite in there.”

Emma shut the car door. Her gaze caught on the majestic vista of the Rocky Mountains rising to her left. The snow-capped peaks in the distance framed the pasture. The grazing cows completed the picture-perfect image, but she kept a wary eye on them. The pungent scent of fresh hay and cow permeated the warm air. She took a deep breath. It really wasn’t that bad a smell.

Darby’s laughter caused her to glance in her direction.

“They can’t get you from over there! Come on.” Darby grabbed her hand and pulled her through the doorway into the cool interior of the barn.

Emma stopped, stunned. Neat, clean stalls lined one wall. Only two were occupied at the far end. Huge, ceiling-high sliding doors took center stage on the other wall. What lay on the other side, she had no idea. Except maybe cows.

A loft full of hay covered a third of the ceiling space, and toward the back of the barn a series of steps and landings rose to reach it.

A double-doored room sat to the left of what appeared to be an office, the semiopaque doors reminding her of an operating theater. Beside it, two rooms with chest-high, solid-timber walls were topped by a clear Plexiglas window that ran the entire length of the rooms.
Quarantine
was written in large letters across the bottom. Gabe stood inside the closest one, looking worried. He glanced up and sent them a brief smile, waving them over.

Gabe scratched at his stubbled jaw and leaned back against the wall, shaking his head.

“What is it? Is something wrong?” Darby moved to the open half door that allowed entry to the room and leaned her arms on the top.

Gabe waved an agitated hand at the cow before him. “Jez rejected the calf.”

Emma stepped up to the wall cautiously. She clenched her hands into fists before Darby or, even worse, Gabe saw them shake. The thing couldn’t get her out here.

“What do you mean, ‘rejected’?”

He looked up, his stormy grey eyes catching hers. “It means the mother won’t accept the calf. Won’t even let it come near her. I’ve tried all night. This last time, she tried to attack it.”

Emma gasped aloud before she could stop it. “But why? It’s only a baby.”

Gabe shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know.”

From the look she gave her brother, Darby was clearly surprised. “Jezebel has never done that before. She’s usually such a good mother. I wonder what set her off?”

Gabe reached out and patted the caramel-colored head of his cow, scratching her behind the ears. Unlatching the door, he stepped out to join them.

“Where’s the baby? How can it be without the mother?” Emma asked, unsure how all this worked.

Crooking his finger at her, Gabe motioned to his right. The other quarantine room was quiet. A warm, yellow light hanging low beamed out at them. Emma peered through the clear window and gasped.

It was so small.

Sitting in the middle of the hay-strewn floor was the tiniest cow she’d ever seen. Its delicate little legs were tucked up beneath it. Its head was lying curled around on its knees, eyes closed tight.

“Oh!” She moved closer to the door, unaware that the other two were watching her intently. “That’s it? And Jezebel doesn’t like her?”

She couldn’t fathom it. It was a horrible, scary cow, but such a little one. Well, maybe not so scary, considering how tiny it was.
How could a mother reject something like that?

“Do you want to go in?” Gabe’s deep voice sounded close behind her.

Emma jumped, startled at how close he was. She could smell the scent of his aftershave, faint beneath the overlaying odors of hay and the outdoors.

He smelled good. Too good.

She shook her head at him. “Oh no. She’s sleeping. I wouldn’t want to wake her.”

Gabe pointed a finger over her shoulder. Emma peered into the room, surprised to see enormous jet-black eyes staring at her. The tiny creature struggled a moment and heaved to its feet, staggering a little until it gained balance. The slight wobble as it made its way to the door belied its young age.

“Go on. You’re safe. I’m right here.” Gabe pushed against her back, urging her into the room.

Emma bit her lip hard, curiosity overcoming her caution where this animal was concerned.

What could it do?
It was tiny. It couldn’t hurt her. She’d never actually seen a baby cow before, not in real life. Gabe wouldn’t send her into a room with a wild animal. She glanced at Darby, relieved to see her nod of encouragement.

Very slowly, she opened the door and stepped through, her heart pounding so loudly she worried it would startle the calf.

It wobbled some more, its head lifting to stretch out toward her. Emma stopped dead, fear once again overtaking her. What was she doing in there? She wasn’t an animal person. Nothing above a puppy anyway. Heck, the thing could bite her, or do something much worse.