The Baby Race (18 page)

"When did you find out?"

"My mom died while I was in college. After
the funeral I found out that Amelia Reed was supporting her, had
paid all the debts, and was paying my way through school. Instead
of being grateful, I was enraged. Being one of the Reed's charity
cases didn't sit well with me. Too much pride and not enough sense.
I took my anger out on Colin. Threw his love back at him. Swore to
him that I pay back every cent."

"How awful for you."

"I was a brat. Which Colin didn't hesitate to
point out. We barely spoke for years."

"How did he convince you to marry him?"
Claire couldn't resist asking.

"He told me his business was in trouble. That
he needed Grandmere's marriage bonus money. I liked the idea of
coming to his rescue. It wasn't until he gave me the check that I
realized he still loved me and I loved him.

"We still have some issues to settle between
us, but things are going to work out." Her mouth tight with
determination, she covered her belly in a protective gesture. "I'll
make sure they do. No child of mine is going to grow up in a broken
home. Enough about my problems. Let's figure out how you can get
that hunky cowboy of yours back into your bed."

*****

The day of the Winter Festival dawned clear
and bright. Fresh snow had fallen the day before and the weather
was perfect, cold enough to allow for every imaginable winter
sport, yet not so bitter as to chase people inside.

Claire struggled across the town green, or at
this moment, the town white, toward the bandstand where the chamber
of commerce had set up to serve coffee and hot chocolate. Nearby a
vendor sold steaming hotdogs, while another sold roasted peanuts.
Snow crunched beneath her as she sank to her knees in an unexpected
drift. She should have gone around, but the tantalizing aromas of
chocolate, roasting peanuts and steaming hotdogs made her
impatient. The cleared street and sidewalk were crowded with people
playing games, building snowmen and watching an ice sculptor carve
blocks of ice with a chain saw.

As she struggled to free herself she thought
about calling for help, but the roar of the saw would drown out any
plea she might make. Besides, she could imagine the laughs her
predicament would create.

She tried pushing against the snow with her
hands, but only sank deeper into the drift. At this rate she'd be
buried alive, her body only turning up during the spring thaw.

Plop! A soft snowball smacked into the back
of her head. Cold, wet snow trickled down her neck and beneath the
collar of her coat. She turned to face her attacker and another
powdery snowball landed gently against her face. Sputtering with
indignation, she wiped away the icy flakes and looked up.

"Having a problem?" Race stood about five
feet away, tossing snowball from hand to hand.

"You wouldn't shoot a helpless target, would
you?" The humor of the situation won out over irritation.

His growing grin told her he would. "Like
shooting fish in a barrel."

Before she could turn completely away he let
fly. The loosely packed snowball hit the side of her face like a
damp powder puff. She shook the snow out of her eyes.

"I hope you know this means war," Claire
said. With her bare hands she packed together moist snow. "I
learned to snowball fight from the experts." Six months on the
Alaskan tundra had given her an appreciation for the hard life of
the Inuit people and a mean snowball arm. Twisting against the
confines of the snow bank, she took aim and threw.

The hard packed snowball hit Race square in
the chest. He went down like a rock and lay still.

"Race? Are you all right?"

He didn't answer or move.

Colder than the snow holding her prisoner,
fear chilled her blood. Why had she made her snowball so tight,
thrown it so hard, when he had pelted her with nothing more than
handfuls of loose snow? People had died from heavy blows to the
chest. She scrambled out of the snow bank and rushed to his
side.

Arms spread wide, dark hair fanned out around
his head, he lay like a fallen angel, his face still and
serene.

Afraid to touch him, she crouched awkwardly
at his side. "Race? Can you hear me? Are you hurt?"

"Hmmm."

Relief raced through her at his mumbled
reply. "What?" She leaned closer. His arms wrapped around her. In
an instant she was flat on her back as eyes alight with glee he
loomed over her.

"You faker." She squirmed under his weight
and tried to throw snow at him, but he gripped both her hands in
one of his and pinned them over her head. "You cheated."

"All's fair in love and war." He bent closer.
His face inches from hers, his warm breath bathed her skin, melting
the remaining snow that lingered there. The drops rolled down her
cheeks like icy tears.

She shivered, but not from cold. His knees
locked against her hips and his chest hovered just above hers. Her
breasts ached, and her nipples throbbed in beat with her heart.

"And which is this? Love or war?" she asked
in a whisper.

"Why, war, of course." His breath tasting of
the rich coffee he preferred, his lips slanted across hers.

Undaunted by the snow melting beneath her
collar, desire heated her blood until she felt ablaze. While he
cupped the nape of her neck with one hand, the other encircled her
waist and pulled her close. He rolled until she lay atop him. Now
free, she curled her arms around his shoulders and held tight.

The world around them faded from existence.
Snowdrifts became white sheets. Cold wind turned to a soft summer
breeze as she lost herself in his heat.

A sloppy wet snowball hit the back of her
neck. With a startled yelp, she pulled away. Another landed on
Race's cheek. They scrambled apart as a barrage of snowballs
battered them.

"I think we're under attack." Laughing, Race
pointed at the group of children, led by Bobbie Sue, hurling
snowballs. He jumped up and held out his hand to Claire. "Think we
can take them?"

"I don't know. Bobbie Sue throws a mean
snowball. But I'll give it a shot." The sudden shift from passion
to laughter left Claire shaken, but she threw herself into the
impromptu snowball fight. In a sweet, protective gesture Race
placed her behind him and took the brunt of the attack.

Shouts and laughter, along with snow, filled
the air, until they all collapsed in a sodden heap on the trampled
square. Later when Claire regained her breath she saw Race being
dragged toward the refreshment stand by Bobbie Sue. Though she
mourned the lost opportunity, she knew it was better this way. Race
wasn't ready to from a real relationship, and she wasn't ready to
settle for less.

After running home with Bobbie Sue to change
into dry clothing, and then dropping her at a friend's house to
play, Claire headed back into town. A winter tradition, each year
the high school band played a concert for the Winter Festival.

"Any luck?"

Claire jumped at the sound of Lizzie's voice
in her ear. She whirled around. "Don't sneak up on people like
that."

"Sneak? Who can sneak?" Lizzie laughed and
patted her bulging waistline. "I lumber like an elephant. It's just
too noisy out here." The high school band played, their music
adding to the din of laughter and the roar of snowmobiles racing in
the distance. "Let's go over to Lacy's place. She's opened up her
store as a warming station for we fragile types."

With a nod, Claire followed Lizzie into the
town's bookstore. Scented with the smells of paper, ink and
potpourri, Lacy's store was crowded with people. Some sat in the
overstuffed armchairs provided, while others drank herbal tea and
browsed the well-stocked shelves. As usual, Lacy Moran held court
in the story corner, reading to a dozen wide-eyed children. Claire
smiled and waved at the woman who looked more like a fairy than a
successful bookstore owner. Without missing a word, Lacy nodded a
greeting.

"Lacy should run a day care center instead of
a bookstore. I'm surprised she doesn't have a whole passel of her
own rug rats." Lizzie pulled Claire into a secluded alcove. Housed
in the first floor of an 1800's mansion, Lacy's store boasted many
hidden nooks and corners, making it a favorite with young and
old.

Claire settled gratefully onto the alcove's
window seat and curled her legs beneath her. Frost obscured the
view out the window. Warm air from an ancient metal grate poured
over them, easing the chill of the drafty old building.

Lizzie plopped down next to her. "Well, did
our plan work?"

Heat washed up Claire's neck. "I didn't try
it," she mumbled.

"After that kiss out in the square, I thought
for sure… What are you waiting for? The man's got the hots for you.
If the two of you had generated anymore heat out there, the whole
town would be flooded."

"I'm sorry, Lizzie. Can we not talk about
this anymore? What happens or doesn't happen between Race and me
needs to stay between us. I should never have discussed our
relationship with you." How could she explain what she didn't
understand? "I hope you understand and we can still be friends."
After Lizzie's confessions, she felt surly about keeping her own
secrets, but couldn't bring herself to reveal the truth. She
couldn't risk Bobbie Sue's future.

"Of course, we're still friends." Lizzie
scooted over and hugged Claire. "Forgive me for sticking my nose
where it doesn't belong. It's a failing of mine. One that Colin
doesn't hesitate to point out. But if you ever feel the need to
talk, I'm available."

Lizzie jumped up, pulling Claire along with
her. "Enough serious stuff. Let's go get some of Lacy's horrible
herbal tea and see what we can find in the stacks to read. How
'bout the Kuma Satra?"

*****

"Daddy?"

Race looked up from the saddle he was
stitching to see Bobbie Sue hovering in the doorway of his
workshop. He was grateful for the interruption. Thoughts of the
kiss he and Claire had shared a few days ago in the snow had him
making mistakes his business could ill afford.

What had possessed him to kiss her?

The sight of Bobbie Sue's puckered brow and
the way she was sucking in her lower lip made him turn off the
stitcher, and give her his undivided attention. It scared him how
deeply this little girl had burrowed into his heart. "What's
up?"

"Can I get a job?"

He leaned back on his stool. "Why would you
want to get a job?"

"There's something special I want to buy. I
can't tell you what. It's a secret."

"You get an allowance for your chores, isn't
that enough?"

She shook her head.

He sat up. "How much money are we talking
about?"

"Nearly ten dollars." She sounded ready to
cry.

"Well, I suppose I could pay you to help out
in here, sweeping up and such. $2.50 an hour. When do you want to
start?"

"How long will it take to earn ten dollars? I
need it by next week."

Race did some calculation. Valentine's Day.
With a pang of jealous protectiveness, he wondered which little boy
had caught his daughter's eye.

His daughter? Yes, despite the fact that she
wasn't his blood and his parent status was only temporary, Bobbie
Sue was his daughter.

"Come on over here and let's figure it out."
He grabbed a pencil and pad off his workbench as she came to his
side. He breathed in the smell of crisp winter air and baby shampoo
clinging to her blonde hair. The sweet scents mingled with the more
pungent odors of leather and oil, horse and pine that permeated his
workshop. He handed her the paper and pencil. "Write down ten
dollars divided by $2.50."

"Daddy, I'm only in second grade." She gave
him a disgusted look. "We haven't learned dividing stuff yet."

Apparently there was more to this daddy
business than met the eye. "What have you learned?"

"I can add stuff and subtract, but I only got
a C+ in math, so I don't do it too good yet."

"Well, then let's add." He reached into his
back pocket and pulled out his wallet, the one she'd given him for
Christmas. Though the tooling was far from perfect and the
stitching around the edges was uneven and starting to come loose,
Race cherished her gift. She had the raw talent and the
determination to be an excellent saddle maker, if that's what she
wanted.

When she caught sight of the wallet in his
hands, her eyes lit up the same way they had on Christmas morning.
None of the gifts under the tree for her had seemed to delight her
as much as his pleasure on opening her gift to him.

He pulled out eight one-dollar bills, dug
eight quarters from his pocket, and spread them out on the
worktable in four groups of two one-dollar bills and two
quarters.

Bobbie Sue's worried frown eased into a
smile. "I can do this. We learned about money. One, two, three,
four, five, six, seven, eight," she counted then added in the
quarters. "Four hours. I have to work four hours to get ten
dollars. Is that right?"

"Yep." Race grinned back at her. Smart as
well as beautiful. "You can work an hour after school for four days
starting tomorrow. Okay?"

"Thank you, Daddy. You're the bestest." She
threw her arms around his neck and planted a wet kiss on his
cheek.

Before Race had a chance to respond she
scampered off.

For a few minutes Race sat bemused then it
hit him. Valentine's Day was only a week away. He scooped up the
money, grabbed his coat and headed for his truck. He had some gifts
to buy.

Claire stared into her closet in dismay. The
Council Falls Country Club Valentine's Day dance was just hours
away and she had nothing to wear. Literally. Why hadn't she
realized that with her bulging waistline nothing in her closet
would fit? Not that she had many dresses appropriate to wear to the
social event of the Council Fall's season. The few maternity tops
and slacks she had wouldn't do. She'd have to stay home.
Disappointment stabbed her.