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Another Chance for Daddy
Patricia Knoll
Marriage TiesOnce smitten, twice wed. She still loved him–but could she marry him again?When Clay Saunders finally realized that his adventurous life-style was no substitute for his ex-wife and son, it was too late. Rebecca was all set to marry the reliable new man in her life. Clay, she decided, would just have to accept that he'd lost her forever…Then she made the fatal mistake of taking him back for a spell while he recovered from an accident. Playing the perfect patient, Clay began his campaign to win her back!Six-year-old Jimmy clearly wanted his daddy to stay for good. Could Rebecca be persuaded to give him another chance, too?The four Kelleher women, bound together by family and love.


“Son, that sounds like a great idea.” (#u9b754ed1-fa75-5894-941d-4693fea7161e)Letter to Reader (#u6604af98-37a3-5eca-b13a-41186b7c3928)Title Page (#ua5316d78-430b-5ec6-a7b1-0a65ab94dc05)CHAPTER ONE (#ud8fa58f0-816e-5f67-9e58-e7d63f2ddaa0)CHAPTER TWO (#uaa00db0d-dd7a-5ec7-a31f-0991385fd982)CHAPTER THREE (#uc917c25a-485a-5080-a138-cc5741e83441)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“Son, that sounds like a great idea.”
“What does?” Becca stared at Clay in astonishment.
“For me to come live with you again,” Clay said with an air of decisiveness.
Becca held her hands up as if she was trying to stop a speeding bus. “No, Clay. No. First of all, I can’t imagine that you’d want to....”
“Then you imagined wrong. I’d love to. Thanks for the invitation.”
“No, Clay.” She hardened her voice. “We’ll find someone to take care of you, and...”
“But Mom,” Jimmy piped up, “don’t you want Dad to come stay with us?”
Becca looked down at her son’s puzzled face.
Clay reached out and drew Jimmy to him. “Yeah, Mom, don’t you want me to come stay with you?”
Dear Reader,
I’ve always been fascinated by strong women, which is one of the reasons I love romance novels. MARRIAGE TIES is a series about a family of such women: a mother, her stepdaughter and two daughters. To test their strength, I teamed them up with men who are anything but tame. The Kelleher women are strong, though they don’t always know how their strength will be tested. But then, none of us knows until it happens.
In Another Chance for Daddy, Rebecca Kelleher Saunders thinks she’s sending her six-year-old son off to spend a week with his father, Clay, but fate intervenes. Clay, the husband she thought was out of her life—the man she knew so well—is back. He’s not going anywhere, and has he ever changed!
Wedding Bells, to be published in November (#3530). and Bachelor Cowboy, due in 1999, tell the stories of Rebecca’s sisters, Brittnie and Shannon, and the men who attract these remarkable women. Late in ’99, look for Resolution: Marriage, the story of Mary Jane Kelleher, the mother to these three women, who is reunited with her high school sweetheart and must come to terms with a secret she’s kept for more than twenty-five years.
Be prepared to enjoy the strength and resourcefulness, the fun and the tears, of Rebecca, Brittnie, Shannon and Mary Jane.
Happy Reading!



Another Chance For Daddy
Patricia Knoll


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHAPTER ONE
TROUBLE was coming up Rebecca Saunders’s front walk. As she looked out the window, she pressed her hands against her stomach, took a deep breath and held it until her nerves steadied.
Trouble was her ex-husband, Clay.
He drove a midnight-blue, four-wheel-drive Ford Explorer that had scattered gravel in all directions when it swept into her driveway and parked behind her little green Honda. He had a way of stepping down from the vehicle, stretching a six foot two inch frame until every chest and shoulder muscle rippled beneath a black snap-front shirt, placing a cowboy hat on a head of deep auburn hair and examining the neighborhood through dark green eyes. She knew he had taken in everything at one glance, judged it, and probably found it wanting.
This was not the kind of neighborhood they had ever lived in together. Their apartments had all been in modern buildings lacking in uniqueness, whether they had been located in Louisiana, Texas, or Mexico.
This home and this neighborhood were unique; each house was different, from her own small three-bedroom bungalow to the Emerson’s sprawling two-story whose trim had recently been painted hot pink. This was the kind of neighborhood where she had always wanted to live, but Clay hadn’t. He had never wanted the responsibility and upkeep of a home. Besides, he had said, a house would be too hard to sell when they moved on to his next job—a statement that had always made Becca’s heart sink to her toes because she had feared his attitude would never change—and it hadn’t.
As she watched, he walked down the driveway to her front gate, then strolled along the brick sidewalk with a leisurely pace.
He looked over her yard, at the brown grass that would turn green in a few weeks, the forsythia and rosebushes that rattled dry branches against the picket fence, and the flower beds where crocuses were poking their first tentative green shoots through the rich brown soil as if sending up scouts to see if winter truly was finished.
Even as she berated herself for doing it, she searched Clay’s face for signs of approval, but saw only mild interest.
Then she studied his face because in the past it had given her so much pleasure to do so. It was a strikingly handsome face with deep-set eyes, a long, straight nose, and a rarely-seen grin. She used to love that grin. It had always seemed like a gift when it appeared. At one time it meant laughter, fun, good times. She didn’t see that grin now. In fact, she never saw it. There was nothing of laughter, fun, and good times between them now.
Becca stood behind her lace curtains, knowing that she was acting cowardly, that she should throw the door open and invite him right in. After all, he had called ahead, made all the necessary arrangements. This visit wasn’t a surprise. She had thought she was prepared; she had been up cleaning house since six that morning to work off her nervousness, but it plagued her with butterflies beating frantically inside her.
Becca had moved out almost a year and a half ago. Their divorce had been final for six months. She wondered how much longer it would be before she stopped having this physical reaction to him—this burning sensation that swept up from her stomach to her throat and then her face. True, she was still attracted to him. What red-blooded woman wouldn’t be? But that wasn’t the reaction she was having now. It almost felt like embarrassment, but she had nothing to be embarrassed about. She had done what was best for herself and Jimmy, who was then barely five years old. She had moved the two of them back to her hometown of Tarrant, Colorado.
Clay had fought the divorce, as she had known he would, but she had held her ground until the final decree had been granted and she had been free to start life again, this time as a single mother. She had family in Tarrant; her stepmother and her half-sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins. It was home, and it was safe and comfortable. She needed a secure routine and some emotional comfort after her years with Clay.
She had certainly achieved a secure routine, but little emotional comfort of any kind and she felt it anew every time she saw him now.
. There had been bitter words, hard feelings, and trouble in general between her and Clay ever since she had left him. However, when he had called a couple of weeks ago, Clay had asked for a truce. He was going to be leaving the country soon to take an engineering job in Venezuela and would be gone for several months. He wanted to have Jimmy during the youngster’s spring break from school. They were going skiing. Clay apologized for the hard time he’d given Becca since the divorce, saying that he now realized the whole situation would be much easier for Jimmy if he knew his parents were on friendly terms.
Becca had been so relieved by this overture of peace, that she had immediately agreed to the skiing trip. Now Clay was here, and she hoped she hadn’t made a terrible mistake.
She heard his boots on the front porch, then his knock on the door. Before she could prepare herself any further, or give herself a pep talk about seeing him face-to-face, a whirlwind in the form of her son whipped by her.
“I’ll get it. It’s Dad. I saw him from my window,” Jimmy shouted as if his mother had suddenly been struck with deafness.
Excitedly, he wrestled the door open, then leaped straight into the air and into his father’s outstretched arms, shouting, “Daddy, you came. I knew you’d come.”
“Hey, I wouldn’t let my guy down. You know that.” Clay’s deep voice was muffled as he buried his face against Jimmy’s neck.
Standing in her living room and watching the tender scene in the doorway, all Becca could see was the top of Clay’s black Stetson. It obscured Jimmy’s head, too, so that the only things visible were his little back and his short, jeans-clad legs. Clay’s arms were wrapped tightly around his waist.
Becca’s eyes filled with tears and she turned her head away as she blinked them back. Clay and Jimmy had always been close. Even though he’d never been around an infant before his son’s birth, Clay had never balked at the diaper-changing and floor-walking associated with a baby—and Jimmy had been a sick, fussy baby. She wanted to see that closeness continue even though it meant that she would have extended contact with Clay herself.
When Clay pulled away from Jimmy and lifted his head, Becca braced herself. In spite of his request for a truce, she expected to see censure in his eyes as she had for the past two years. Instead, they were cool and guarded, as was his smile.
“Hello, Becca. How are you?” he asked as his gaze traveled over her, taking her in, from her long chocolate-brown hair, which was pulled back into a neat French braid, to the steady look in her aquamarine eyes, to the set of her full lips and the angle of her narrow chin.
As he examined her, Becca was glad that she had foregone her usual loafers, jeans, and sweater for her dressy boots and a calf-length dress of soft sky-blue flannel. It helped to know that she looked her best.
“I’m fine, Clay,” she answered, and was quite pleased with the cool confidence in her tone. “Come on in,” she invited with a sweep of her hand. “Jimmy’s been up since the crack of dawn, watching for you.”
Clay’s right eyebrow rose a fraction. “I’m here exactly when I said I would be.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” she said hastily. “It’s just that he doesn’t tell time very well yet. He’s only in the first grade, you know.” She was not going to mention the number of times that work had made him break promises to Jimmy, or to her. Nor would she let him think that she had been speaking badly about him to his son. “I told him you would be on time, but he didn’t really understand when ten o’clock would arrive.” Becca stopped suddenly, realizing that she was babbling.
She stepped back and her hand fluttered out. “Why don’t you sit down for a few minutes? Jimmy just learned to read his first book on his own and his teacher let him keep it over spring break so he could read it to you.” She glanced down at her son, who was now clinging to his father’s leg. “Honey, why don’t you go get your book now? Since it belongs to the school library, you can’t take it on your trip with you, but you can read it to your dad before you go.”
Jimmy grinned up at her, showing a gap where his new front teeth were coming in. His hair and eyes were so much like Clay’s that sometimes it hurt. He occasionally had Clay’s stubbornness, too, but today he was all smiles. “I’ll bring my gear, too.”
Jimmy turned and ran off, taking with him the whirlwind of excitement that followed him everywhere.
Becca gestured for Clay to sit on the sofa. See? she told herself. This could be easy if they both worked at it. Their meetings didn’t have to degenerate into the hot words or cold silences of the past. Those silences had been her greatest frustration in their marriage. She came from a family that talked out, even yelled out, their problems. Except in moments of passion, Clay had never shown his deepest emotions.
Becca gave herself a mental shake. She didn’t know why she was thinking about Clay and moments of passion. In fact, she didn’t know why she was going over any of this now, except that every time she saw him, the unresolved feelings surfaced.
Becca forced a smile. “Jimmy’s packed and repacked his duffel bag six times,” she said. “There’s no telling what you’re going to find when you open it.”
“Just so he has his ski clothes and boots.”
“He does.”
Clay sat after he had removed his hat and placed it upside down on the coffee table. He stretched his long legs out, extended his arm along the back of the sofa, and relaxed. Becca perched nervously on the chair opposite, wishing she could be at ease the way he was. After all, this was her house, the kind she had always wanted when they were married. The living room was comfortable with its deep, overstuffed sofa and chairs upholstered in blue and cream checked fabric, the big window swagged with lace and muslin, and the touches of country charm that decorated the walls, bookcase, and tables. She’d had one of her cousins, a carpenter, build plate rails and shelves along the top of the wall in the dining room to display her collection of pre-Depression glassware.
Becca cleared her throat and gave him a bright smile. In spite of her best efforts she knew it looked as fake as a three dollar bill. “I’m quite pleased with Jimmy’s teacher this year. She puts a real emphasis on reading and math. He’s doing very well.”
Again, Clay gave her that steady look, which was beginning to unnerve her. “Yeah, I figured that out from the copy you sent of his report card.”
“Oh, oh, of course.” Becca’s heart sank. This was harder than wading through cold molasses.
She turned her head and looked out the window at the clear March sky. There had been a time when conversation between them had flowed easily and naturally. They had been able to talk about anything—or so she had thought. She realized now that their conversations had never really dealt with the overwhelming differences between them—his need for adventure and hers for safety and security. Their conversations had certainly never touched that secret place that Clay had always kept locked away from her.
Clay, a mining engineer, had been working on a short-term contract for an oil and gas company. The company’s owner had taken Clay to discuss a possible easement for a gas line. across her father’s, Hal Kelleher, property. She had been there, too, that day, picking up her youngest sister, Brittnie, for a trip to the orthodontist’s in Durango. She had almost missed Brittnie’s appointment because once Clay had arrived, she had lingered at the ranch, intrigued and yet terrified by the impact of meeting him.
He had sought her out that night, locating her at her job, managing the local movie theater. He had taken her out and they had talked until nearly dawn, then they’d been together every free minute after that. They had fallen immediately into lust and married after a three-week courtship. At the time, she had thought it was like a fairy tale. She realized now that their speedy marriage had possessed exactly as much substance as a fairy tale.
Even after all this time, the memory of their meeting still brought her intense joy, followed by sorrow. How could they have known things would go so wrong?
Determined to get through this short visit with as much civility as possible, Becca bought her attention back to Clay and discovered that he was studying her with the clear-eyed intensity he brought to everything he did. She met his eyes for a fleeting instant and saw sharp emotion there, but it was gone before she could identify it. His face went blank, as if he was expecting her to make the next gesture. Becca sighed inwardly. She had made all the gestures so far. She had to admit that this was better than fighting with him, but she didn’t know what he was thinking. At least when they had fought, she had known what was going on in his mind—somewhat.
Did he feel the same regrets she did? She had no idea and that was basically what had lain at the root of all their problems when they had been married.
“Can I offer you some coffee, Clay?” she asked, and wished her voice sounded less strained.
“Sure,” he said. “Thanks.”
Relieved to be doing something, Becca hopped up and headed for the kitchen, but was distressed to glance back and discover that he was following close behind her.
“I’ll bring it out here, Clay,” she said, giving him a fleeting smile over her shoulder.
He answered with a steady look. “You don’t have to treat me like a guest, Becca. I can drink coffee in the kitchen.”
“All right,” she agreed, but she felt an edge of irritation. Why couldn’t he make such a simple thing easy? “Won’t you sit down?”
She already had the coffeemaker set up, so she flipped the switch to start it brewing, then began getting cups from the cabinet and cream from the refrigerator. When she had fiddled with the preparations as long as she could, she finally turned around, folded her arms across her waist, and wished she could think of something to say.
Clay had pulled out one of the four chairs that went with her oak table and sat now with his long legs stretched out before him and his strong miner’s hands resting casually on the polished wood. Glancing at the centerpiece of dried prairie grasses in a squat terra-cotta jug, then at the tabletop beneath his hands, he said, “This is new.”
“Yes, it is.” She brought their cups to the table, handed him his with just the amount of cream he liked stirred into it, then sat down opposite him. “It’s new to me at least. Mary Jane found it in the barn after Dad died. It was my grandmother’s. I had it refinished.” She wasn’t sure why she added that last bit. It wasn’t as though he cared. Heirlooms such as her grandmother’s table had never meant much to him.
He nodded. “In fact, it looks like you’ve finally got the place you always wanted.”
She listened for censure in his tone, but hearing none, she glanced around at her lovely little home and said, “Yes, I do.”
“So things are all set for you, then?”
There was something in his deep voice that made her shift uncomfortably in her chair, then hide her discomfort behind a sip of coffee. “Jimmy has made friends here in the neighborhood and at school. Things are going fine. How about you? When did this job in Venezuela come up?”
“A few weeks ago. George Cisneros called, said they needed me for some preliminary work on a mine they’re opening down there.” He shrugged. “And now there’s no reason for me not to go.”
There was no accusation or self-pity in his tone. He was matter-of-fact, but she felt a twist of guilt knowing that their divorce was the reason he was now free to take a job in South America. He’d wanted to years ago, saying the cultural changes would be good for them. Since they both spoke some Spanish, living in South America wouldn’t be hard for them. Becca had fought the move, reluctant to be so far from her family for such a long time. Mexico had been a great enough distance for her.
Before she could respond, Jimmy struggled into the room, pulling his overstuffed duffel bag with one hand, and clutching his book with the other. The tip of his tongue peeked from the corner of his mouth and a lock of dark hair flopped over his forehead. Clay started to his feet to help the boy out, but when Jimmy had the bag two inches inside the kitchen, he abandoned it in the doorway and rushed to climb into Clay’s lap.
Clay grunted when Jimmy’s elbow connected with his stomach. Rubbing the tender spot, he looked at the book’s cover, then gave Becca a questioning glance. “Gems and minerals?” he asked.
“I admit the book’s a little thin on plot, but most of it is written at his level, and it’s his favorite subject,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “He must have inherited it from you.”
Clay grinned, the first natural smile she’d seen from him since he had arrived, and she relaxed against the back of her chair. Since she had read, and heard, the book several times already, she sipped her coffee and watched Clay as he helped their son with such words as “feldspar” and “sandstone.” She wasn’t sure how much of the book Jimmy actually understood, but he loved rocks of all types, was a fount of information about them, and could be counted on to volunteer interesting tidbits at any given moment.
When he finished, Jimmy gave a satisfied sigh, jumped down from his father’s lap and dashed away to put the book back in his room.
“His teacher said he’s the only child to check that book out of the school library in two years. He’s kept rechecking it every week for a month. He should have it memorized by now.”
Clay nodded, then smiled at her with such pride in his son, that Becca felt tears clog her throat. This is the way it should always be between them, sharing in their son’s accomplishments.
“We went up to the old Lucy Belle mine a few weeks ago,” she continued when she knew she’d conquered the tears. “He was convinced he could find gold there, even thought it was a silver mine. He had on a pair of sweatpants with big pockets that he filled so full of rock samples the seat hung down past his knees. He walked around all day with his feet wide apart to keep his pants from falling down. He looked as if he was saddle sore, but he couldn’t bear to leave even one rock behind. He was sure they were pure gold.”
Clay smiled again, then his face grew thoughtful. “You two didn’t go up there by yourselves, did you? Those old mines are pretty dangerous, rotting timbers, standing water....”
“We weren’t alone,” Becca broke in hastily, then busied herself picking up her coffee cup and carrying it to the sink. “We were with Barry,” she added in a tone that she hoped sounded casual. “Would you like more coffee?” She had the feeling, though, that she resembled someone who, when meeting a bear in the woods, throws a decoy in one direction and runs in the other praying for a distraction while hotfooting it toward safety.
“Barry Whelker? Your boss?” Clay’s tone was deceptively soft. “Is he interested in abandoned mines?”
Becca turned to face him, her back to the sink and her hands behind her, gripping the edge of the ceramic tile counter. “Not very much. But he knows Jimmy is.”
“Why should he care?”
“He’s a nice man,” she said carefully.
Clay’s mouth firmed into a straight line. “So you’ve said, but why does he care about Jimmy’s interests?”
Her eyes darted away, then back to meet his. Her chin came up. “You see, Clay, Barry and I have been dating.”
“Dating?”
His voice had dropped to a low rumble. Becca swallowed hard and told herself she wasn’t afraid of him, or of his reaction. Her social life really wasn’t any of his business. “Yes, you remember dating, don’t you? It’s that getting-to-know-you activity we didn’t do enough of before we got married.”
“I see, and you’re taking my son along on these dates?” Clay rose from his chair and leaned forward, the tips of his fingers resting on the tabletop. His eyes had gone as dark as the sea before a storm.
“Occasionally, if it’s a family activity....”
“But not on the private activities between the two of you?”
Anger flushed Becca’s face red, brought her hands to her waist and her chin higher into the air. “Just exactly what are you implying, Clay?”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m asking if you’re being careful around Jimmy.”
“We’re certainly not doing anything wrong, Clay, and furthermore, I don’t see why you would think it was any of....”
The back door flew open and banged against the wall, startling them both. They whirled around to see Becca’s youngest sister, Brittnie struggling into the room. Her arms were full of a large scrapbook and several photograph albums. A small baker’s box rode precariously on top. Her face was turned away as she steadied the box against her cheek.
“Hi, Sis,” she huffed, reaching behind her with her foot to shut the door against the March breeze, and at the same time, making a grab for the sliding box. “I picked up the stuff you wanted from Dan’s Bakery. His wedding cakes are the best in town. He sent a photo album of his best cakes and a sample of the lemon one. I had the chocolate one last year at Brenda Luna’s reception. It was wonderful. I think you and Barry will be happy with any of them.” Abandoning her struggle with the door, she turned around and said, “Hey, can you help me out here? I’ve got my hands full, you know, and you’re just standing there like your shoes are nailed to the...” Her eyes widened and her voice trailed off when she spotted Clay. “Floor,” she finished in a sinking tone. She darted a quick glance at Becca, licked her lips and said meekly, “Hi, Clay.”
“Hello, Brittnie.” He straightened away from the table and moved toward her with a smooth, gliding stride that made Becca think of a stalking panther. “What did you say you’ve got there?”
Brittnie, whom Becca had always considered to be the fast thinker in the family, whipped around, dumped the articles on the counter behind her sister, then stood shoulder to shoulder with her and gave her former brother-in-law a big, empty-headed smile. “Oh, nothing, just some...Oh, nothing.”
Clay stood before the two of them and tried to peek over their shoulders. “What was all the talk about wedding cakes?”
“Dad, I put my book away,” Jimmy shouted from the living room. His pounding feet were fast approaching the kitchen. “Can we go now?”
When he skidded to a halt in the doorway, Becca looked at his expectant face, then threw a frantically pleading glance at Brittnie, who leaped away from the counter and swooped toward her nephew.
“Hey, Sport,” she said cheerily. “Your mom and dad need to have a little talk. Why don’t you show me your rock collection?” Over his loud protests, she swept him into her arms.
“You already saw my rock collection,” he insisted, arching away from her and giving his parents ah anxious look. “Are Mom and Dad gonna have a fight?”
“No, no, of course not,” Brittnie assured him though her voice had an edge that said she didn’t believe that, either.
“’Cause I don’t like it when they fight.”
“They won’t fight,” she reassured him as she hustled him away.
In the kitchen, Becca stared at Clay, as fascinated as a cobra held fast by a mongoose. Bit by bit, the polite but cool expression he had worn for the past half hour crumbled away as if a stone mask was being chipped off.
His eyes darkened, his thick brows drew together like gathering thunderclouds and his jaw tightened. “Wedding cakes, Becca?” he asked in a silky tone. “Now just why would you be interested in wedding cakes? And why would Barry be interested in wedding cakes right along with you?”
Becca felt as if her heart had dropped to her stomach, then bounced back up again. Now it was stuck behind her esophagus, cutting off her air. She cleared her throat and opened her dry mouth to speak, but it was a moment before anything came out.
“We...uh, we...he...’re getting mar...married,” she wheezed, stretching the words out, then could have kicked herself for reacting as if she’d been caught doing something wrong.
“Married?” he asked, moving to stand towering over her. “You and Barry?”
“That’s...that’s right.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it, Becca. In fact, I just learned five minutes ago that you two are dating.”
“Well, well, we are,” she bluffed, holding her chin at such an exaggerated angle that she feared her jaw would crack. “I’ve been dating Barry for three months now.”
“And now you’re going to many him?”
“That’s right. We...we just made the decision a few days ago.” Finally, her fear of his reaction began to fade and her natural stubbornness kicked in. “And frankly, I don’t see that this is really any of your business, Clay.”
“The hell it isn’t. Anything that affects my son is my business and your remarriage will definitely affect him. What does he think of this, by the way?”
Becca glanced away. “He likes Barry.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” Clay reached out, snagged her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her to look at him. “What does Jimmy think about having Barry for a stepfather?”
Although the rough callouses on his thumb chaffed her skin, Becca didn’t pull away. She met his eyes steadily.
After a moment, Clay’s eyes widened in shock, his hand dropped to his side and he said, “I’ll be damned. You haven’t told him yet, have you?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
Now she was losing her defensiveness and getting angry, too. “Don’t swear at me, Clay. I haven’t told him yet because I was waiting for the right moment.”
Clay’s hands rose slowly to his waist and his jaw thrust forward belligerently. “And just when would that be? Five minutes before you walked down the aisle?”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t tell him yet because I didn’t want to spoil his skiing vacation with you.” Immediately, she knew she had said the wrong thing, but she couldn’t backtrack now.
Clay jumped on her mistake like a cat landing on a mouse. “Are you listening to yourself?” he asked in a scoffing tone. “If news of your marriage would spoil his vacation, then it must not be good news.”
Becca’s hands dropped and curled into fists. “I meant that he would be thinking about it a great deal and not enjoying his time with you.” Finally, she just shut her mouth, knowing she was doing nothing but making things worse. She took a deep breath. “Listen, this isn’t getting us anywhere. Why don’t you go on your skiing trip and have a good time? When you get back, we’ll sit down together with Jimmy and explain everything.”
Clay stared at her. “Fat chance.”
“You said yourself that his reaction to our divorce would be much easier for him if he thinks we’re on friendly terms.”
“I wasn’t talking about this! Besides, why would he think we would be on friendly terms about you marrying again, Bec? We haven’t been on friendly terms about much of anything in two years.”
“Then it’s time we started,” Becca snapped.
She longed for him to leave, to let her sit down, rub away the headache that was beginning to pound in her temples and figure out how she had made such a mess of this when she’d had it so carefully planned.
Clay drew away, his hands dropped to his sides where they opened and closed a couple of times as he said, “This isn’t the end of this, Becca. You have no right to spring something like this on Jimmy—or on me, for that matter.”
He turned and strode from the room, snatching up Jimmy’s duffel bag and calling his name as he went. Becca was left to slump against the counter and try to catch her breath.
“Stupid, stupid,” she muttered fiercely, thumping the heel of her hand against her forehead. She had to do a better job of handling things like this or her life would continue to be a battleground even after she married Barry, and Jimmy would always be caught in the middle.
When she felt a little steadier, she pulled herself up straight, smoothed her dress, and walked into the living room. Jimmy was giving Brittnie a goodbye hug, but when he saw Becca, he broke away and rushed toward her, anxious to be reassured that everything was okay between his mom and dad, have the goodbyes over, and be on his way.
Quietly, she reassured him that she and Clay had finished their discussion and things were fine. Becca hugged him tightly and kissed him until he wiggled away. “Mom, that’s enough kissing,” he said, holding her off. “I gotta go. Dad’s waiting.”
At last, Becca looked up and met Clay’s eyes. They were still full of fire laced with accusation that was aimed at her. He had picked his hat up from the coffee table and was slapping it against his leg, his gestures so controlled she knew he was still seething.
From nowhere, guilt washed over her. This time, she couldn’t convince herself that she had done nothing wrong.
“Are you okay to drive, Clay?”
He gave her a look that asked if she was kidding and said, “We’ll be back Saturday night.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a slip of paper. “Here’s the number where you can reach us.”
She took it from him. “All...all right. Thank you.”
Becca looked at him as Jimmy opened the front door and began dragging his duffel bag onto the porch and Brittnie slipped away to the kitchen. Probably to see if it was still standing, Becca thought.
This is the place where, in the past, she would have thrown herself into Clay’s arms and clung to him, hating the weakness in her that seemed to demand that everything be smoothed out between them before he left. This is when he would have kissed her until she was breathless and promised to be home as soon as possible.
They couldn’t do that now. They were divorced so such displays were out of the question. Also, there were too many bad things crowding out whatever good had been between them.
She clasped her hands in front of her and rocked on her boot heels as she broke eye contact with him. “Well, I’ll be seeing you on Saturday, then, Clay.”
With a nod, he placed his hat on his head and strode outside. She followed, watching as he stowed Jimmy’s bag in the back of the Explorer, then buckled their son’s seat belt securely and climbed in behind the wheel. Jimmy waved excitedly as they backed out. Her answering wave was as cheerful as she could make it. She mouthed “I love you’s” to him.
Clay lifted his head suddenly, his eyes locking with hers as the Explorer rolled into the street. He was looking at her, at the way she addressed her love to their son, and that’s why he didn’t see Joey Emerson’s Monte Carlo as it broke over the top of the hill and raced down the street toward them.
CHAPTER TWO
THE hospital waiting room doors flew open and Becca looked up to see Mary Jane and Shannon Kelleher rushing toward her, anxiety in their faces. Relieved, but shaking, she stood to be folded in her stepmother’s arms. Although Mary Jane was only thirteen years older than she, Becca, who couldn’t even remember the woman who had given birth to her, had always thought of her as her true mother, and her best friend. Her half-sister, Shannon, crowded close. She was taller than the other two women. She put her arms around them both so that the three of them were held tightly together.
Becca gave her sister a welcoming look. She had recently begun a new job with the county government’s soil conservation office and she had a very tough boss. Becca was grateful her sister had been able to get away.
“Brittnie called,” Mary Jane said, pulling away to look into Becca’s pale face and tear-bright eyes. She touched her stepdaughter’s cold cheek. “She told us everything. How is Jimmy? And Clay? And the Emerson boy?”
Becca took a trembling breath, beginning to feel steadier now that her family had arrived. “Jimmy bumped his head on the door. He’s got a lump above his right eye and he’s shaken up, but he’ll be fine. Dr. Kress is keeping him here overnight to watch him. They’re getting him settled in his room, which is why I’m out here. And Joey Emerson wasn’t even scratched. I don’t know how that happened. Clay is hurt the worst because Joey’s car hit directly on his side. He seems to have a concussion and his left leg is broken, but we won’t know how badly either of those injuries is until the X rays are finished.” She looked around vaguely. “It should be pretty soon.”
Mary Jane put her hand on Becca’s arm and gently drew her back to the sofa. Becca went willingly, grateful for her mother’s calm efficiency. Nothing much seemed to rattle her. Becca had realized years ago that Mary Jane had a core of strength she could only hope to equal someday.
“Have you called Barry?” Mary Jane asked.
“He’s out of town today,” Becca answered as she sat. “In Denver on family business.” She wished he was here. His steady presence and rational thoughtfulness were exactly what she needed right now.
Mary Jane gave her another quick hug. “Maybe you can get in touch with him later. We’ll wait with you. Where’s Brittnie, by the way?”
“Gone for coffee.”
Shannon shuddered as she sat down. “That should bring back some unpleasant memories,” she commented with a touch of irony. She tossed her long black hair back over her shoulders and looked at her sister with sympathy in her dark eyes. “It’s the worst coffee in the world, but we drank gallons of it when Dad was in here.”
“How well I remember,” Becca agreed quietly. Her hands fell to rest loosely in her lap as she stared morosely at the floor.
Hal Kelleher had died of cancer three years ago in this very hospital. In many ways it had torn his family apart even as it had drawn them closer together. They had all gone on with their lives. Mary Jane stubbornly clung to their ranch, working it alone, with the occasional help of her daughters, a few members of her extended family, and any good hand she could hire. Both Brittnie and Shannon had finished college and Becca....
Thinking of her firm, no-nonsense father, Becca was fully aware of what he would say if he knew her marriage had broken up. He had adored Jimmy and would have been incensed at the potential harm the divorce might cause the boy. He’d thought the world of Clay, though the two men couldn’t have been more different. Hal had been a man with no guile and few secrets. Everyone knew where they stood with him. He had always said that once a person started something, that person had to keep on until it was finished. He wouldn’t have approved of the way she had given up on her marriage. And he really wouldn’t have approved the argument she’d had with Clay just before he’d pulled out of her driveway.
Mary Jane sat beside her and lightly rubbed her shoulders as Becca propped her elbow on the arm of the uncomfortable sofa and put her forehead in her palm as she relived the horror of the moment when she’d seen the Monte Carlo heading straight for Clay. She had thrown her front door open and sped down the walk before the two vehicles had even made contact, frantically yelling Clay’s and Jimmy’s names. Brittnie had heard her and run from the kitchen.
The instant the accident was over, Brittnie had phoned for the police and paramedics while Becca had wrestled Jimmy’s door open to find him crying and disoriented. She had checked the cut on his head, then climbed in beside him to examine Clay, who had been unconscious, his side of the windshield crumpled into his lap and the water from the Monte Carlo’s radiator shooting like a fountain into the air, soaking them both through the broken window. Inanely, she noticed his beloved Stetson lying on the floor of the vehicle. It was crushed, soaked, and probably ruined.
Becca looked down at the stains of water and engine coolant that still marked her dress, wondering vaguely if they could ever be washed out. Not that it mattered when she thought about the injuries Clay had suffered.
For an unspeakable moment, she’d thought Clay was dead, and a welter of emotions had blasted through her terror before she had found his pulse, then bone-melting relief when she had realized he was alive, followed by tenderness when he had groggily awakened, rolled his head against her supporting arm, smiled, and said, “Hi, babe. What’s the matter?” Then he’d passed out again.
Clay had drifted in and out as the neighbors had rushed from their homes, Joey Emerson had stumbled, unhurt, from his car, and the emergency vehicles had arrived with sirens blaring and lights flashing.
That had been more than an hour ago and this was the first moment she had found to think about the full impact of what had happened and what could have happened to her son and husband. Ex-husband, she reminded herself, realizing that it was an easy label to pin on Clay, but it wasn’t nearly as easy to hang that label on her feelings for him—especially after today’s trauma.
Becca looked up as she heard Brittnie bustling back into the room, grateful for the interruption of her troubled and confusing thoughts.
“Hi, Mom, Shannon,” she greeted them as she set two cups of coffee on the low table that stood in front of the sofa. “Here, Becca. Try some of this coffee. I know it looks like axle grease, but it might help perk you up.”
“Either that, or she’ll be awake all night,” Shannon responded, eyeing the black stuff.
“She will be anyway,” Brittnie pointed out.
She sat beside Shannon. With her dark blonde hair and lively gray eyes, she looked like the smaller, sunnier version of their father. She liked short skirts, music and dancing and fun of all types. If there was any fun to be had, Brittnie would be in the center of it. She had recently graduated from college with a degree in library science, but she certainly didn’t fit the stereotype of a librarian. She was far more likely to be the one making noise than the one quieting the noisemakers.
Becca took a sip from the foam cup. It tasted as bad as she remembered, but at least it gave her something to do with her hands. At the sound of footsteps, she looked up to see Dr. Kress approaching. Setting the cup down shakily, she stood to meet him.
Frank Kress was a tall, affable man in his fifties. He had a warm manner, but when he was worried about a patient, he became brisk and blunt. Becca braced herself and searched his face to see if it betrayed his mood. She remembered the staccato rap of his voice when he’d told them Hal Kelleher couldn’t live through the night—and the tears in his eyes when he spoke the words.
“Ah, Becca, there you are,” he said, spying her.
She felt herself relax when he gave her a slight smile and sat down in one of the chairs. He flexed his shoulders, rolled his head from side to side and gave a great sigh. “Well, honey, your menfolk have been mighty lucky. Jimmy’s going to have a headache for a couple of days and will probably whine about it the whole time. Clay has a concussion that needs to be watched carefully for at least a week and his leg is broken in two places. I’ve casted it, but he’d better take care of it or risk permanent injury. He’s got to stay here for a few days, then he can go home.”
Becca stared at him. “Home?” Clay had no home. He’d given up the apartment he had in Boulder. His furniture had been put in storage, the few belongings he carried with him from job to job had no doubt been packed and shipped to Venezuela. She knew exactly what arrangements had been made because she had been part of such moves for five years.
Becca shot a quick glance at her mother and sisters whose concerned expressions matched her own.
“Yes, home,” Dr. Kress continued gruffly. “I don’t know where that is for him, and I’ve already told you my opinion of this damned divorce. If your dad was alive he’d probably tan both your hides.”
Becca did, indeed, know his opinion. He’d expressed it in great detail when he’d treated her for bronchitis in January, then again when she’d had her annual physical last week.
“Don’t worry, Frank,” Mary Jane said, stepping forward and touching his shoulder. “We’ll take care of it.”
The doctor stood and gave a satisfied nod. “Good,” he said. “I was hoping I could depend on you. You can see Clay in a little while.”
After Dr. Kress had left, Becca gave her mother and sisters a despairing look, then sat down heavily on the sofa. “Clay can’t go back to Boulder. He gave up his apartment. He has no family to take care of him while he recovers. He is due to leave for Venezuela at the end of next week.”
“Doesn’t sound like he’s going to make his flight,” Brittnie said in a dry tone.
Mary Jane looked at all three of her daughters, then focused on Becca. “He can come out to the ranch. I’ll take care of him.”
Becca stared at her. “Absolutely not You’re right in the middle of calving, soon you’ll be moving the herd... There’s no way you could take on a patient—and believe me, Clay is not the best of patients.”
“Yes,” Shannon broke in. “I remember the time he sprained his wrist. He couldn’t drive, work, or even cut his own meat.”
All four women winced in unison. They remembered all too well because it had happened on a visit home to the ranch. They had all suffered his bad temper together. They had understood that his surliness was due to his reluctance to be dependent on anyone, but that hadn’t made it easier to bear.
Before they could continue the discussion, a nurse approached and said Becca’s son was asking for her. With a quick wave to her family and a promise that she would come for them when they could see Jimmy, she hurried off to the pediatrics ward of the small hospital.
In his room, Jimmy sat up in bed, looking about with a frightened expression and tear-filled eyes. When he saw Becca, he started crying. She folded him into her arms and murmured reassurances. After a few minutes he calmed down so she eased him back against the pillow and kissed him.
“Where’s my daddy?” he asked as Becca stroked his dark hair away from his face.
“He’s in another room.”
“Well, tell him to come here. I wanna see him,” her son insisted in a petulant tone.
“He was hurt in the accident, too, remember? He has to stay in his bed.”
Jimmy moved restlessly. “I wanna go see him in his room.”
“Jimmy, honey, I haven’t even seen him myself yet.”
“Is he dead?”
“No, no, of course not.” Becca knew that her son still had vague memories of his grandfather’s death and even though he didn’t know exactly what death meant, he knew he didn’t like the way it made him feel when someone died.
“You and me can go see him.”
Becca sighed. She knew he wouldn’t rest until he had seen Clay and been reassured that he was all right. “I’ll go see if he feels like talking to us, but first I’ll get Grandma and Shannon and Brittnie to come in here with you.”
“Okay,” he agreed. At last, he lay against the pillows and closed his eyes. Becca hurried off to summon her mother and sisters, and while they sat with Jimmy as he began to drift off to sleep, she went in search of Clay’s room.
She found him in another wing of the hospital. He was asleep. There was a bandage across the cut on his forehead and his right eye was swollen. The cast on his leg came up to his thigh and was propped up in a sling over the bed to relieve pressure on his hip.
Becca paused in the doorway, then entered slowly, her gaze fixed on him. For some reason, her mind insisted on conjuring up the image of a fallen warrior, which was ridiculous. He was a mining engineer, not a soldier. Still, the image lingered in her mind.
Becca was glad to see that the other bed in his room was empty and she wouldn’t be disturbing anyone else by pulling up a chair and sitting for a few minutes while she waited for him to wake.
Wearily, she sank into the chair and stretched her feet out in front of her. It was such a relief to sit calmly after the fright and worry of the past two hours and to know that both Clay and Jimmy were going to be all right. She didn’t know what they were going to do about finding a place for Clay to recover. As she had reminded her family, he had no one else. He’d never known his father and had been abandoned by his mother before his tenth birthday to be raised in a series of foster homes. After he’d reached adulthood, he’d made no effort to locate his mother or any member of her family.
- When Jimmy was a baby, she had tried to convince Clay to contact his mother, but he had refused. He wanted nothing to do with her. Becca had been very disturbed by his adamant denial that his mother had any rights to know her grandson. He’d refused to discuss his reasons or listen to her arguments.
That had been only one of the many things wrong with their marriage, she thought sadly. They hadn’t discussed things. When a problem arose, Clay either took care of it on his own or clammed up about it. She was accustomed to a family who talked things over—often at loud volume—and he was used to handling everything himself. Neither of them had been able to change.
She knew when he woke up, he was going to be difficult. When they had been married, he had rarely been sick and if he was, he had wanted only to be left alone. He hated being dependent on anyone, especially her, now that they were divorced.
Watching him in his helplessness, she felt a flurry of emotions she couldn’t quite sort out. She had long ago come to accept the reality that a small part of her would always love him. After all, he was the father of her son. Jimmy’s self-confidence and perseverance were traits he had inherited from Clay.
Jimmy had always been the kind of child who liked to do things for himself. In fact, his first words had been “By myself.” Clay was the same way—complete unto himself.
She often worried that the closeness she now shared with Jimmy would change over the years until he was closed off to her as Clay was. She dreaded that day.
Along with the love she still felt for Clay, she experienced sorrow and regret, but overriding it all was relief that their battles were over. She had a new life now and soon she would be sharing it with calm, predictable Barry in a permanent home of her own.
She cast Clay a guilty glance. She knew she should have told him about her engagement to Barry, and she certainly should have told Jimmy. It was pure cowardice on her part that she hadn’t done so, but she hadn’t wanted to argue with him again. They’d argued anyway, and look what had come of it.
Becca started when the phone rang and she grabbed it quickly so it wouldn’t wake Clay. He stirred, though, and she picked up the phone and moved as far from him as possible. Cupping the receiver close to her mouth, she answered in a near whisper. “Hello?”
“Rebecca?” Barry Whelker’s voice came over the line.
“Barry,” she said in relief. “I’m so glad you called. How did you know where to find me?”
“I couldn’t get you at your house, and there was no answer at your mother’s, so I got your neighbor’s number from directory assistance. They told me what had happened. How are Jimmy and Clay?”
Becca smiled, feeling steadied by the even tone of his voice. Trust Barry to show his resourcefulness in tracking her down and his thoughtfulness by calling her right away. Such thoughtfulness was one of the things she found most appealing about him, both as a boss and a fiancé.
“They’re going to be all right,” she said. While Barry listened and made concerned sounds, she rapidly ran through a description of Jimmy’s and Clay’s injuries.
Immediately, Barry offered to come home and help out, but Becca convinced him that her mother and sisters were on hand. There was no need for him to cut short his visit to his family and return before Monday.
“But you’ll need my help,” he said.
“No, really, Barry,” she said, casting a glance at Clay. She could just imagine what her ex-husband would have to say if her fiancé showed up to help her and her family care for him. “It might be better if I don’t see you until I’ve decided what I’m going to do. Clay will need someone to take care of him for a few days at least, and I don’t know where that’s going to be....”
“But he won’t want me around,” Barry finished for her.
“Yes, I’m sorry, but it’s true,” she admitted. “Clay isn’t the easiest of men,” she said, dropping her voice even more, though her ex-husband still showed no sign of waking up.
“Which is why you’re marrying me.”
Barry’s tone wasn’t smug, or triumphant, merely matter-of-fact, which bothered Becca somehow. “Yes, well, that’s true,” she answered. “But it’s not the only reason I’m marrying you.”
Barry was silent and she knew that he was thinking about what they both knew—that she didn’t love him the way she had loved Clay. She also knew he was too tactful to point that out. She could think of no reply.
Barry finally broke the silence by saying he would call again later and that he would be home in two days.
Becca hung up and sat for several minutes staring at the phone. She felt as though she had somehow disappointed him, but what she had said was true. At the best of times, Clay wasn’t an easy man. With multiple fractures and a concussion, he was going to be impossible. She and Barry would soon be sharing the “for better or for worse” of marriage. As far as she could see, there was no reason to start out “for worse.”
Quietly setting the phone on the nightstand, Becca turned to look at Clay. It seemed as though she could barely see the movement of his chest as he breathed and she thought of all the times she had worried and feared he was going to be injured on a job site. He’d never received so much as a scratch. Now he’d nearly been killed backing out of her driveway. Shakily, she sat down beside the bed and resumed her vigil.
As she watched, his eyes fluttered open, skimmed over her blankly, then closed again. After a moment, they opened again and stared at her for several seconds. A chill of fear washed through her. It was as if he didn’t recognize her, she realized as he drifted off again.
She thought suddenly of how he’d greeted her when he’d momentarily regained consciousness after the wreck. He’d called her “babe,” though he’d never been one for endearments. It touched her now and tears filled her eyes.
When he stirred again, she stood, bent over him, and rested her fingers lightly on his cheek. This time his eyelids snapped open and he focused on her with a clear and lucid gaze. Recognition leaped into his eyes, then joy such as she had never seen filled his face as he looked at her, studied her expression, then seemed to delve deeper into her eyes. Then he gazed at each of her features, lingering on her mouth, the hair loosening from her French braid and falling around her face, and then the curve of her cheek. For an instant, it was as if he had been stripped of all pretense.
The pleasure and relief on his face made her think of a time they’d gone exploring in a cave that Clay had sworn was safe. She had twisted her ankle and he’d had to carry her out. They’d both been overjoyed when they had stumbled outside and found light waiting on the other side.
Becca shivered at the memory. She didn’t know exactly why she had connected that with the look on Clay’s face just now.
Heat washed through Becca, flooding her with the same joy she saw in him.
She was reaching for his hand when something in his gaze seemed to click into place. All expression faded. His eyes swept the room and came back to her.
“Becca,” he said in a voice that cracked. He tried to clear his throat. “Can I have some water?”
“Of course.” She hurried to get him a glass of water, then eased his head up so he could sip it from a straw.
Satisfied, he turned his lips from the drink and said, “What are we doing here?”
She opened her mouth to answer him, but unexpectedly, tears filled her eyes again. Her lips trembled and the tears poured out. “I’m...I’m sorry, Clay....” She didn’t know if she was apologizing for crying or for being responsible for his injuries.
“Are those tears for me?” he asked in a faint voice. “I haven’t seen you cry since you....”
Becca’s eyes snapped to his, unexpected grief washing them. There was no need for him to go on. Either of them could have finished the thought.... “Since your last miscarriage.” Becca took a breath and looked away. This wasn’t the time to think about that.
Besides, the truth was, she had also cried plenty over Clay in the past couple of years, but she’d never let him see her at it. Even now, she willed her tears away.
Becca fought to control the tremble in her voice and lips. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been run over,” he said dryly, looking at her from beneath the edge of his bandage.
“Do you remember what happened?”
“Yeah, I was backing out,” he answered in a grim tone. “And I got hit. Did you get the number of the truck that hit me?”
She gave him a rueful look. “It wasn’t a truck. It was my neighbor’s teenage son in his Monte Carlo.”
“That settles it. We’re never letting Jimmy....” With a groan of shock, he tried to struggle up onto his elbow. “Jimmy! Where...?”
Her hands sprang out to keep him from climbing from the bed. Even with the huge cast on his leg and the supporting sling suspended above, he would have tried it. “He’s all right,” she insisted, urging him back. Quickly, she told him what Dr. Kress had said about Jimmy. “He wants to see you, though,” she concluded. “I told him he could if you felt up to it.”
Clay gave her a fierce glance. “Of course I’m up to it. He needs to be reassured.”
“I’ll go see if I can bring him here.”
It took her a while to find Dr. Kress and get him to agree to let her take Jimmy in a wheelchair to see his dad. Finally, the doctor approved the idea saying it would do Jimmy good and he might continue to rest if he wasn’t worried about his dad.
“In fact,” he suggested, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Now that I think about it, I don’t see any reason the two of them can’t share a room until Jimmy is released.”
“Share a room?” Becca asked, eyeing him warily.
“Sure. This is a small hospital, not many patients right now, we can accommodate a boy and his dad. Besides,” he added gruffly. “It’ll be easier on you than running back and forth between the two rooms.”
Becca didn’t point out that she hadn’t really intended to run back and forth. Since she was no longer Clay’s wife, she didn’t feel responsible to watch out for him. He was an independent man—boy, was he independent—and he didn’t like being coddled. She didn’t say it, though, because she knew it wouldn’t quite ring true. She had to focus on Jimmy, though. In spite of her own reluctance to move her son, she knew it would be the best thing for him.
She nodded her agreement and within a few minutes, Jimmy was being wheeled through the corridors to Clay’s room with her and her family trailing along behind. -
Mary Jane, Shannon, and Brittnie each said a few words to Clay, kissed Jimmy good-night and slipped away, leaving. Becca to settle into a chair and ponder exactly how this had come about.
“When’s Dad gonna wake up?”
Becca tried to ignore the whining tone in her son’s voice though it was beginning to annoy her greatly.
“He’ll wake up when he’s ready,” she answered for at least the tenth time.
“When can we go home?”
Dr. Kress wanted to check Jimmy once more before releasing him, but as the doctor on call at Tarrant General, he’d been summoned to deliver a baby. She didn’t feel like explaining all that to Jimmy, though, so she just said, “When your dad wakes up.”
“Mom, I need a drink,” Jimmy went on, not even pausing for breath between one demand and the next.
Becca looked at her son with a growing mixture of frustration, amusement, and despair. She knew he was playing his injuries, minor though they were, for all they were worth. She was delighted that his twenty-four hours in the hospital were almost over so she could take him home. Her only hope was that she wouldn’t be tempted to lock him in his room when she got him there and throw away the key. He had been demanding and petulant all morning, exactly the opposite of his usually sunny nature.
“You just had a drink,” she said, moving to stand beside his bed. She was exhausted, having slept very little the night before. Her family had insisted she go home and rest and Brittnie had stayed with her, but she hadn’t fallen asleep until far past midnight.
“I need another one,” Jimmy said.
She picked up the small plastic pitcher and started to pour water into a glass.
“I want orange soda.”
“No.”
Jimmy stiffened in his bed and his bottom lip popped out. “But my head hurts.”
“James Harold,” Clay spoke up from the other bed. “Stop annoying your mother. You don’t need another drink. Now be quiet.”
Becca glanced up and Jimmy subsided as he, too, looked at his father in surprise. She had thought Clay was still sleeping, as he had been most of the day—though she didn’t know how he had slept through Jimmy’s demanding bouts of whining.
She turned to him, noting the improved color of his skin and the brightness in his eyes. “Well, good afternoon,” she said, cautiously.
One corner of Clay’s mouth eased up. “I haven’t slept this late since the last time I had a hang....” He glanced at Jimmy. “...nail,” he finished, and Becca laughed at the unexpected silliness of his remark.
Jimmy scooted out of his bed and hurried over to get as close as possible to Clay and pepper him with questions. “How come you didn’t wake up, huh, Dad? You been sleepin’ all day.”
“Not all day, son. They keep waking me to make sure this bump on my head didn’t really hurt my thick skull. Looks like you’ve got a bump, too.”
“Yeah.” Jimmy grinned suddenly. “We’re twins.”
Clay chuckled and the sound seemed to calm Jimmy. He asked his father more questions and though Becca knew his head must be pounding with pain, Clay answered, reassuring him that they would go skiing another time. Becca wondered uncomfortably how much he remembered of their argument yesterday just before he’d been struck by Joey’s car. She didn’t relish the thought of opening that discussion again, but she knew Clay well enough to know that once he felt better, he would pursue it like a bloodhound.
Right now, though, her greatest problem was the one she’d been wrestling with since the day before. Where was Clay going to go to recover once he was ready to leave the hospital?
She walked over to the bed and gently urged Jimmy away. “Honey, Dad needs to rest. His head hurts, too, just like yours has been hurting.”
Clay looked up at her and she felt a tingle of surprise when she noted how the bandage that slanted across his brow gave him a rakish appearance. And somehow, the expression in his green eyes seemed more...relaxed.
“I actually feel pretty good,” he said, then lifted himself onto his elbow. “Ah, maybe a little weak, though.” He lay back down.
Becca stared. She’d never heard him admit to a weakness before.
He grinned at her. “I’m glad you’re here, Becca.”
Becca’s jaw sagged. “You’re kidding.”
“It’s good to see you.”
She gave him a long look. “Clay, I think you need to rest a little more.”
“I feel fine.”
He certainly looked fine, considering the shape his leg was in, not to mention his head—and the black eye that was going to be spectacular. In fact, if he wasn’t so banged up, she would think he looked better than he had in a long time. There was a light in his eyes she hadn’t seen in.... She couldn’t remember ever seeing it before, and a teasing smile tilted his mouth.
Becca felt her surprise settle into disturbing warmth that thumped down to rest in the pit of her stomach. Unconsciously, she folded her hands at her waist as if to hold it there.
Off balance, the next thing she knew, Jimmy was tugging at her skirt and saying, “Dad’s awake so we can all go home now.”
She blinked down at his happy face. “What?”
“You said we were waitin’ for Dad to wake up so we could go home. So let’s go.”
“Jimmy, I meant we were waiting so you could see him before I take you home. He can’t leave the hospital yet. He’s not well enough.”
“Oh. Then we can come back and get him tomorrow.” Jimmy scurried back to Clay’s bed and gave it a quick examination. “Are you gonna need a special bed like this when we get home?”
Clay looked at Becca’s stunned face, then back to his son. “No. I’ll be able to use a regular bed.”
“Like Mom’s?”
“Just like Mom’s.”
The little boy nodded with satisfaction. “Then we’ll come back and get you tomorrow and take you home to live with us again.”
CHAPTER THREE
“SON, that sounds like a great idea.” Clay nodded thoughtfully at Jimmy’s suggestion.
“Wha...at?” The word wheezed from Becca’s throat as she stared at him in astonishment. “What does?”
“For me to come live with you again,” Clay said, settling his back against the pillows with an air of decisiveness. How he managed that little trick as pale and weak as he was, Becca didn’t know. She did know that she was rapidly losing her grip on the situation.
She held up her hands as if she was trying to stop a speeding bus. “No, Clay. No. First of all, I can’t imagine that you’d want to....”
“Then you imagine wrong. I’d love to. Thanks for the invitation.” The devil had the nerve to wink his unblackened eye at her!
Wink? Clay? She stared at him for a second, completely losing her train of thought. She had never seen him wink. He wasn’t a winking type of man.
He grinned at her as if he was fully aware of how he’d thrown her off her argument.
Becca brought her scattered thoughts together. “No, Clay.” She hardened her voice. “We’ll find someone to take care of you, and....”
“But, Mom,” Jimmy piped up. “Don’t you want Dad to come stay with us?”
Becca looked down at her son’s puzzled face.
Clay reached out and drew Jimmy to him. “Yeah, Mom, don’t you want me to come stay with you?” He spoke to her over their son’s head and Clay’s eyes were as pitifully soulful as a basset hound’s.
Becca opened her mouth, but only a squeak came out. She was too stunned to offer explanations to her son, or to form words to put Clay in his place. In the seven years she had known him, he had never been manipulative. He had simply told her calmly and decisively how things were going to be done. Now, however, he seemed to be metamorphosing right before her eyes. Where was this appalling change coming from?
“I know you have to work,” he continued when she didn’t break her stunned silence. “But I won’t be much trouble. Once the doctor lets me have crutches, I’ll be handy to have around the house.”
“Handy?” Her voice squeaked as it shot up. “In what way?”
“I can help out.” He gave her an even look, but mischief lurked in his eyes. “Do things around the house for you.”
“On crutches.” Now her voice flattened out.
Clay shrugged. “Maybe I can learn to knit.”
“Are you kidding?”
“I could learn,” he insisted. He lifted his hands and turned them over, front to back as if offering them for her inspection. “You know I’ve always been good with my hands.”
She waved her fingers in the air as if batting his hands away. “I meant, you’ve got to be kidding about this whole idea. We can’t do this. It would never work.”
“Never more serious in my life.” His gaze was direct and steady, but now there was an edge of challenge there that she couldn’t ignore. “And there’s no reason in the world it wouldn’t work.” His gaze slid to Jimmy, who was looking back and forth from one to the other of them. “We have every reason to make it work.”
A chill ran over her. She had the feeling they were no longer talking about a temporary stay.
“Clay,” she finally managed, though she knew she was floundering and forming her arguments badly. “How serious was that bump you got on the head?”
The challenge died from his eyes and he smiled slightly. “Not so serious that my judgment is clouded. In fact, things are more clear than they’ve been in a long time.”
“That’s a matter of opinion,” Becca muttered.
Clay didn’t answer. He waited silently for the force of his will to win her agreement.
“You have no right to do this.”
“Maybe not,” he answered quietly. “But Jimmy does, and having me come stay is important to him. Can’t you see that?”
“Of course I can,” she said, with a sour look that told him she didn’t need his help in understanding Jimmy. She knew he was right, but she didn’t like the way he was handling this, using their son to manipulate her agreement out of her.
She gave her head a swift shake, rattling her good sense back into place. Reaching out, she pulled Jimmy into her arms, then knelt before him and gave his rounded cheek a light kiss. “Yes, honey, your dad can come stay with us.” Lifting her head, she looked her ex-husband right in the eye. “Until he can take care of himself.”
Clay answered with a smile of his own that had her narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
“So Jimmy has some idea that he and his dad and I are going to be a family again. With me taking care of Clay until he’s better.” Becca gave her fiancé a distressed look, which he met with calm brown eyes.
“And you hadn’t anticipated that?”
“No, of course not.” Reaching out, she lined her silverware up with the edge of the table, then folded and refolded the napkin in her lap.

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