Three Boys And A Baby (American Romance) Page 3

  “Just me?” Trailing beside him, her red-rimmed eyes were trusting, yet at the same time, wary.

  “Well…” He squeezed her hand. “Obviously, we’re both going. I’ve got my cell should there be any news.”

  “Good news,” she said.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Because that’s the only kind we’ll accept, right?”

  Lord, how Jackson missed the days back when he used to be filled with hope. When he used to believe prayer really worked. Back before Julie had left for greener pastures. He’d already lost his marriage. If he ended up losing his son, as well…

  “Right, Jackson? Good news is all we’ll take?”

  He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Uh-huh.”

  “HOW DID YOU EVER find this?” Ella whispered, oddly afraid to speak in her full voice, almost as if the wondrous place’s spell might be broken.

  “Accident,” Jackson said with a shrug. “Long story short, we were working a three-car pile-up alongside the highway, and I needed to take a leak.”

  The answer was so unexpectedly honest—not to mention inappropriate—that she burst out laughing.

  “What?”

  “You. You’re not exactly brimming with social graces, are you?”

  “That a problem?”

  “Considering what we’re going through, not at all. However, once our boys are safely home, and we’re back to our old routines, if you ever get a hankering to ask out Deputy Heidi, you may wish to bone up on your suave skills.”

  At that, he was the one laughing. “Thanks. It’s been years since I’ve had that good a laugh.”

  “Let me guess. You’ve never exactly been brimming with suaveness, either?”

  “Ding, ding, ding. You win the prize.” He lifted a pine bough for her to step under.

  No, judging by the present view, they’d both won.

  They’d walked maybe a mile to where the small town faded to forest. To where historic brick homes eventually led the way to thousands of acres of farmland and sky. But here, in a secret glade time had forgotten, Ella stood gaping at the ghostly form of a paddle wheeler. Though the decades hadn’t been kind, the iron behemoth was still elegant in its sea of stately oaks and pine. Listing slightly to the right, as if weary, like her.

  “Jackson…It’s amazing. Why…? How?”

  “You mean what’s it doing here?” he asked, flashing her a sad half grin. “A buddy of mine who’s a history buff said back before the river was diverted, it used to run through this little valley. There’s been talk of somehow salvaging her—turning her into a museum, but the amount of cash involved would be…” He whistled.

  “Still—to think this has been here all this time. There should at least be a proper path leading to it.”

  He shrugged. “Probably that’d only encourage teens coming out here to drink and do miscellaneous other dirty deeds.”

  “Yeah…You’re probably right.”

  For a few moments they quieted, absorbing the forest’s tranquility. A woodpecker hammered a nearby tree, breaking the stillness.

  “Why’d you bring me here?” Ella asked.

  He crammed his hands in his pockets, looking away.

  “When my wife—well, when she asked for a divorce…”

  “This place brought you solace? You thought it might do the same for me?”

  He glanced down, then up. His dark eyes were wet.

  He didn’t deny her assumption.

  Many times, when Julie and Jackson had struggled to save their marriage, Dillon had stayed with Ella, Todd and the twins. Ella’s had been the shoulder Dillon had cried upon, meaning she knew far more about the end of Jackson’s marriage than he would probably feel comfortable with.

  “Thanks,” he said quietly, taking a seat on a moss-covered fallen tree.

  “For what?” She approached the boat, staring up in wonder.

  “Being there. For Dillon.” He cleared his throat. “That kind of hostile environment. I’m sure you know it’s no place for a kid. He was just a little guy back then.”

  “He still is,” she said, stepping up beside the shell of a man Jackson had become. She had few memories of him from before his divorce. A couple of neighborhood picnics with Dillon riding on his shoulders and Julie trailing behind, chatting on her cell. Upon ending her call, she’d run laughing to catch up, taking Jackson’s hand, grinning up at him with what Ella had always assumed was love. They’d had their differences, but from the outside it had seemed like a sweet family.

  Not that Jackson and Dillon weren’t still a family, but not nearly as idyllic. As happy.

  When Jackson remained silent, she gave him a slight nudge. “He’s still just a little boy, Jackson.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” His voice was hoarse.

  “Hey,” she said, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder, “I didn’t mean that as a critique of your parenting skills. It was just an observation. At times—when Dillon thinks no one’s looking—he seems…I don’t know—crushingly lonely.”

  “Yeah, well, aren’t we all?” Pushing to his feet, Jackson said, “I’m heading back. Stay as long as you like, and if I hear anything, I’ll—”

  “I’m coming with you.” She was on her feet, as well.

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Of course, I do. For better or worse, we’re in this together and—”

  “Don’t…ever…say…that.” Though he didn’t turn to face her, he squared his shoulders as if readying for a fight.

  “Say what? We’re in this together?”

  He took off walking. His long-legged stride was tough to keep up with, but not impossible.

  “Damn you,” she said, snagging the sleeve of his navy polo.

  “What’s the matter with you? You act like a walking shell. You can’t just throw something like that out there without—”

  Jackson’s cell rang.

  Chapter Three

  “What’ve you got?” Jackson asked, pulse raging upon seeing Hank’s number on his cell’s Caller ID.

  “Great news. We’ve found ’em. All four tired and dirty, but safe and sound.”

  Relief made Jackson fall to his knees.

  “Jackson?” Ella demanded, kneeling beside him. “What is it? Are they hurt?”

  Tears he never indulged in flowed.

  He pulled her into a hug, burying his face in her hair. “They’re safe. Dillon, your boys—even this mystery baby. All safe.”

  He’d started to release her, but now she was crying, quivering, so he held on for dear life. Celebrating life. The lives of their sons. His own life which had miraculously been returned.

  “I can’t believe it,” she said, pulling away slightly, her happy, teary smile making her face glow. “I mean, I can. I knew they’d be safe—wanted to hope. But the fear, it took over.”

  He nodded. “I know. Wanna go get them? Hank took them to the station. No doubt loading them with candy bars and cookies.”

  “Hmm…” she teased, already rising, laughter crinkling the corners of her eyes as she held out her hand to help him. “With all those sweets in them, maybe we should leave them there till they come down from the sugar high?”

  OLIVER DIDN’T WANT TO CRY when he first saw his mom running with Dillon’s dad toward him and Dillon and Owen, but as hard as he tried being big, being in charge of two kids and a baby for all that time had taken a lot out of him.

  “Mommy!” Owen said, changing to his baby voice, like when he was scared of storms. He got to her first, throwing his arms around her waist. “I missed you so bad. I was starving and Oliver was mean and—”

  “I wasn’t mean. I even gave you the last bite of that granola bar and—”

  “Did not!” Owen complained. “And anyway, get back. I’m mad at you.”

  “You get back! And quit hogging Mom.” Oliver nudged his creepy twin out of the way, grabbing hold of her himself. Squeezing really hard, he closed his eyes and sighed. Man, she smelled nice. L
ike those good-smelling dryer-sheet thingies she used.

  “I missed you so much,” she said, hugging them both.

  “Yeah, but you missed me more, right?” Owen pushed in closer. Geez, he was a spoiled brat.

  “I’m oldest, so she missed me more, since she’s had me around longest.”

  “Hey,” Mom said, scrunching down so she was the same height as them. “I missed both of you more than I can ever say.” She was crying and wiped at her eyes. Oliver hated seeing her cry. He especially hated that him and Owen had been the cause. But they’d had to protect the baby. “That said, I’ve never been more furious with you both. What were you thinking? Running off like that?”

  Ella stood, hands on her hips. “You should be ashamed. How many times have I told you that if you have a problem, always to come to me?”

  “It was his idea!” both boys said at once, pointing to each other.

  “You are sooo lying!” Owen said. “Just trying to get me in trouble.”

  “You’re trying to get me in trouble,” Oliver said.

  “I don’t care which of you came up with the bright idea to run off,” Ella said. “I’m equally furious with you both.” Still, she couldn’t resist pulling them into another group hug, planting kisses atop their grungy heads. She loved them so much. An impossible-to-calculate much only a mother could understand.

  But then she looked across the crowded police station to Jackson standing with Dillon in his arms. Looks like dads understood love, too. The boy rested his head on his father’s strong shoulder and was sucking his thumb. Dillon hadn’t done that in at least a year. The fact that he’d reverted to the old habit spoke volumes for how scared he must’ve been out on the run.

  Though the station was a flurry of activity of National Guardsmen packing up equipment, and police slapping each other on their backs for a job well done, Jackson and his son had formed an island of serenity in a frenzied storm.

  In all the years Ella had known the man, never had she seen him look more at peace. Well, obviously aside from when he and Julie had still been a couple. But that was a long time ago. He’d been a different man. Just as back then, still with Todd, she’d been a different woman.

  “Mommy?” Owen tugged on her shirt. “Can we go home?”

  “What about the baby?” Oliver asked. “We can’t just leave her here.”

  “She’s at the hospital with Dr. Shepherd,” Ella explained.

  “But I thought you’re a baby doctor.”

  “I am, sweetie, but Sheriff Hank figured I’d probably want to spend time with my own babies tonight.”

  “I’m not a baby,” Oliver pointed out.

  “I am,” Owen said. “I’m never running—Hey, look! There’s Dillon’s mom. And she’s crying and hugging his dad. They getting married again?”

  The polite thing to do would be to grant them privacy, so how come Ella felt riveted to the sight of Jackson and his ex?

  “WANT ICE CREAM for dinner?” Jackson asked his son. The light at the intersection of King and Pine turned yellow. Easing to a stop, he added, “Banana split. Hot-fudge sundae. You name it.”

  Dillon shook his head.

  “What’s up, bud?” The light turned green, and Jackson accelerated. “You sick?” He reached across the SUV’s front seat to feel his son’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever. Stomach ache?”

  “Nah. I just miss Mom. And the baby. Think she’s okay?”

  “Mom? Or the baby?”

  “The baby. I know Mom’s okay, ’cause she said she’d be home when we get there.”

  Swell.

  “The baby’s fine. Hank said they’re going to keep her at the hospital nursery until someone claims her.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Comes to pick her up. Hank’s hoping maybe her mom or dad will have second thoughts about leaving her.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “What?”

  “Well, if her parents left her in a basket on the merry-go-round, do they deserve to get her back?”

  Jackson sighed. “Good question.” Guilt rumbled through him at his own less-than-stellar parenting skills since Julie left.

  “Dad?”

  “Yeah?” Jackson pulled the car into their driveway, glad to be home. Gladder still for his son to be safely home, for this second chance to prove how much he loved him.

  “Do you think maybe we could keep her?”

  “The baby?” He killed the engine.

  “I’d take care of her. You’d hardly even know she was here.”

  Laughing, ruffling his boy’s dirty hair, Jackson said, “If she’s half as noisy as you were when you were a baby, trust me, the whole neighborhood would know she’s here.”

  Dillon made a face.

  Jackson made one right back.

  He’d only been teasing with his son, but the scowl settling around his lips as Julie pulled her silver Mercedes convertible into the single-lane drive was the real deal.

  “I DON’T KNOW, HANK…” On the phone, Ella looked to her boys—finally clean and not bickering, seated at the kitchen table eating salad swimming in ranch dressing. While they’d been playing with their action figures in the tub, she’d cleaned away the remnants of having a house full of concerned neighbors. Claire, from a few houses down, had offered to help with the dishes, but Ella had politely refused. Call her crazy, but it felt good doing something homey and domestic. “I’ve just gotten this place feeling back to normal. What am I going to do with a—”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Just a minute,” she said, “someone’s ringing the bell.”

  Covering the mouthpiece of her cordless phone, she jogged to the living room. Pushing at the front screen door—in muggy weather it tended to stick—she frowned at her first glimpse of the man standing on her porch.

  She pressed the phone’s off button.

  “Don’t tell me,” she said, taking the pink-swaddled baby from Hank’s outstretched arms. “The hospital’s nursery was full?”

  “Damnedest thing,” Hank said, hefting two huge sacks of baby gear inside. “Three gals gave birth this afternoon. The place is swamped. Anyway, I really could use your help, Ella. Odds are, whoever this cutie belongs to, she’s not far away, and we’re quietly checking into things.”

  “What does that have to do with me?” Ella asked, gingerly taking a seat on the couch.

  “I don’t want this beauty ending up in the system, you know.”

  Ella rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Hank. Look at her. She’s gorgeous. Do you have any idea how many couples are out there, begging to adopt newborns? Claire and Jeremy Donaldson have been trying for years to conceive. She’s a second-grade teacher at the twins’ school and her husband’s an amazing carpenter. Lately, they’ve been looking into adoption. Maybe you should take her to them?”

  “Sounds like a good call, but I’m not exactly playing by the book. If I get Child Protective Services involved, everything’s going to get messy. It’d just be overall easier if you’d keep her for a few days until the birth mother is back in her right mind and comes to claim her.”

  “Hank…” Ella warned. “This mother left her newborn infant in a basket on a playground. Does this really sound like the move of a responsible parent?”

  “You’ve got a point. But look how clean the kid was when your boys found her. The polite note. That tells me there’s love involved. What if this girl’s young? Scared? Didn’t anyone ever give you a second chance?”

  “Anyone ever call you a big softy?”

  “DILLON, GUESS WHAT,” Oliver whispered into the phone, checking around the corner to make sure his mom wasn’t spying.

  “What?”

  “We’re keepin’ Rose.”

  “No way! That’s not fair. How’d you get her?”

  “Sheriff Hank just brought her over. Wanna come play? You can eat here. We’ve got tons of food.”

  Dillon was quiet for a little while.

  “Well?”
Oliver asked. “Are you coming?”

  “I don’t know. Mom’s here and Dad’s been acting weird. Wanting to play games with me and stuff. I think he wants me to hang with him. But then Mom’s wanting me with her, too. I should probably stay here.”

  “Bring both of ’em. That way, they can play with Mom while we’re playing with Rose.”

  “Sure it’s okay with your mom?”

  “Yeah. She likes having company. Plus, she’s always wanting us to eat, so now she can feed you guys, too. It’ll be fun.”

  BEHIND THE WHEEL of his SUV, Jackson killed the engine, then shot a glance in the rearview mirror at his son—engrossed in a handheld video game.

  Jackson sighed, then rubbed his face with his hands.

  “You all right?” Julie asked from beside him, a beribboned wine bottle on her lap.

  “Sure. Long day—and night.”

  “No kidding. Sorry it took me so long to get here. Judge Parker wouldn’t recess, so—”

  “It’s fine. You’re here now, which is all that matters.”

  She flashed him a smile and patted his thigh.

  To say Jackson had been surprised by Ella’s impromptu dinner invite would’ve been the understatement of the week. His reaction had actually been more in the realm of shock. He felt badly about the way things had gone down in the woods—his getting all bent out of shape at her benign comment.

  But shoot, for the most part, he felt as if even on a good day, he wasn’t exactly playing with a full emotional deck. On a day like today? When he hadn’t known if his son was alive or dead? Then Julie shows up, suddenly playing the part of concerned mom.

  Let’s just say Ella had been lucky his outburst hadn’t been worse. Or maybe he was the lucky one, so that he didn’t look like even more of an insensitive jerk.