Baby in His Arms (11 page)

“No smoking in the house. Okay?”

Her mother sniffed. “When did you get so high and mighty?”

“The baby.”

“I smoked around you all your life and you’re fine.”

“Just do it, Mona. For once, do what I ask.”

“Well, all right.” She grabbed Haley’s hand and frowned. “You need a manicure. Those nails are pitiful. What have you been doing to them?”

Haley didn’t bother to answer. Mona would criticize her hair and her nails, her house and her food. That was her mother.

Haley unlocked the door with her pitifully unkempt hands and went inside. “What do you really want, Mona? We haven’t spoken a word in months. Where’s Mike or Matt or whoever you were living with the last time we talked? You said he was everything you ever wanted, including rich.”

Tears welled up in Mona’s blue eyes. She was still pretty, though dark roots showed through her bleached-blond hair and her acrylic nails needed a refill, signs that she was broke and without a man to pay the way. Even with the hard life she’d lived, she attracted men. Just not the right kind.

“He was nothing but a loser and liar. Like all the rest. His wife had the money, not him. The jerk. Remember what I tell you, baby doll. Men are fun to play with, but don’t depend on any of them. They’ll always let you down.”

A sad statement that pretty well summed up Mona’s life. And Haley’s.

Mona was between men. So she’d driven eight hundred miles to share her misery with her only child, the one who’d bolted at sixteen but could never quite shake the stench of her upbringing.

Mona was here and she would stay until a better offer came along.

Wearily, Haley asked, “What do you want for lunch?”

* * *

Creed’s knees were shaking as he left the doctor’s office. The test results were in. He held them in his hand.

“Thank you, Jesus,” he said, a comment that earned a look from the passerby on the sidewalk.

He wanted to hug the woman, to dance her in a circle and shout. Whatever was going on inside his body was not diabetes and shouldn’t ground him. Thank God.

With a bounce to his step, he jogged to his Jeep, eager to share the news. First with Dad, then with Haley.

“A virus, Dad. He thinks the high blood sugar was caused by some kind of random virus.”

“I didn’t know a virus could cause high blood sugar.”

“Me, neither, but Dr. Ron says it’s not unusual at all. Now that I think about it, he told me that in the first place, but all I heard was diabetes.”

“Reasonable. You were afraid of losing your pilot’s license. I still think you should pursue your medical history in case something like this happens again. Now that the issue is resolved let me tell your mother. She’s fretting about you.”

“Whatever you think, Dad. And Dad?”

“Yes, son?”

“Thanks for being my dad.” The next words thickened his throat. “I love you.”

A beat of silence, followed by a husky, “I love you, too, son.”

“I know. I always knew.”

As soon as he hung up, his heart light and happy, he headed for Haley’s house. He wanted to celebrate. He wanted to hug her and call her his hippie girl and kiss her. Rose, too, only on the forehead.

He laughed aloud for the sheer relief flowing through every capillary in his body. Doc was running more tests to pinpoint the mysterious virus, but he predicted the illness had run its course and wouldn’t cause any more issues.

Creed took him at his word. He was fine. He was well. He wanted some of Mom’s Mississippi mud.

“Praise You, God!” he shouted.

As he rounded the bend leading toward the small acreage and the sunny old house, he noticed a strange car parked in Haley’s driveway.

A little of his energy fizzled. Haley had company. Not Brent Henderson, the landlord who seemed to show up about once a month and overstay his welcome. Not Cassie or any of Haley’s other friends that he knew about. Not even the social worker, thankfully.

Then the worst thought ever struck him. What if an adoptive couple had come to see Rose? Was that the way an adoption worked? Did prospective parents try out a baby like they would a new car? Had Mom and Dad done that and found him worthy to be their son?

By the time he reached the front door, he was panting. Sweat bathed his forehead.

Haley must have heard his Jeep because she appeared from the side of the house, blue floral skirt swishing the grass and a basket of dark green onions and pale green lettuce on her hip.

“Where’s Rose?”

She gave him a curious stare. “In the house. How did you know she was sick?”

“She’s sick?”

Haley frowned. “Isn’t that what you were asking about?”

“No, I thought—” He stopped, put his hands on his hips and tried again. “Whose car is that in the drive?”

Shoulders drooping, she set the basket on the ground and closed her eyes. After a long, weary sigh, she said, “Don’t judge me by her. We’re not alike.”

“Who?”

At that moment, a well-tanned bleached blonde in tight short shorts and a halter top slammed out the front door carrying a crying Rose. “She’s bawling again. How am I supposed to get any sleep?”

Haley sighed again, this time with a slight growl for emphasis as she crossed the lush lawn and took Rose into her arms. The baby settled instantly. “Creed, meet my mother, Mona Placer.”

Her mother? The woman didn’t look old enough to be Haley’s mother. She also didn’t seem the motherly type. They looked nothing alike. Mona was petite and...uh, well-enhanced...with big blue eyes and a pouty mouth. And massively long fingernails. If she’d ever grown so much as a radish, he’d be surprised. How could his fresh-faced hippie girl come from this Kewpie doll with the whiny voice and sulky expression?

But Creed said all the right things before turning his attention to Rose. Haley’s mother disappeared inside the house and Haley’s troubled look followed her.

Curious, but with other things on his mind, Creed took the baby. “What’s wrong with the princess? Does she need to see Dr. Ron?”

“I don’t think so. She spit up yesterday in church. Now she’s crying and wants to be held all the time.” She placed a motherly hand to Rose’s forehead. “But that describes half the babies in town.”

“I see your point. Okay. Good.” He kissed Rose’s forehead and then dug in his cargo pockets for the lab results. He couldn’t hold back a grin. “I stopped by Dr. Ron’s myself a few minutes ago.”

Haley grinned in response. “You’re okay?”

“It appears so. The blood work was clear, other than a few elevated antibodies. Doc thinks I picked up some kind of virus. No diabetes. Which means I can fly.” His grin broadened. “I can fly, Haley.”

Haley threw her arms around him in a surprise display of affection. With baby Rose trapped between them, her hug was fierce. “I am so relieved.”

She was? But she hated his helicopter.

“Me, too. I’m ready to fire up the chopper and rock. Want to go up with me? Celebrate a little?”

“Shut up.” She stepped away. Flying had become a kind of half-serious joke between them. He asked. She told him to shut up.

“One of these days you’ll say yes.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

Creed grinned.

“Haley, I need some Diet Cokes.” The whining female voice interrupted a perfectly pleasant interchange. “Why are you out of Diet Cokes?”

Back turned to her mother, Haley glanced at Creed and rolled her eyes. He felt the tension in her body, which made him wonder what kind of mother Mona Placer was.

Chapter Eleven

T
he Tress and Tan Salon hummed with conversation and hair dryers. Because Mona had whined about her nails until she’d relented, Haley now sat at a table with her hands in soapy water and her lungs full of salon smells, that peculiar mix of hair spray, perfumes and drying hair. This extravagance was costing her more money than she could spare, but she’d do anything to stop her mother’s complaints. Except wear three-inch acrylic nails and bleach her hair. Wasn’t happening. A simple manicure was enough, though there was little the tech could do with the short, chipped nails that had spent more time in a garden than a salon.

The Tress and Tan was small as salons go, with three stations, a single manicure table and a scattering of zebra-upholstered waiting chairs. However, the shop was full-service right down to the eyebrow wax and the glossy posters of gorgeous models with perfect, even glossier hair. Through a doorway in the back, customers could bronze themselves in one of three tanning beds.

“Where’s that adorable baby, Haley?” Cassie Blackwell, Haley’s best friend and co-owner of the salon, was touching up Mona’s roots.

“Mom’s day out at the church.” She peeked at the big round clock hanging behind Louise, the manicurist and Cassie’s business partner. “I’ve never left her before.”

Cassie arched a perfectly waxed eyebrow. The stylist was feisty and pretty with enormous green eyes, white skin and coal-black hair she wore straight and sleek. Her lipstick was shocking scarlet, her shoes three-inch heels and her lashes longer than a granddaddy spider. Haley didn’t know anyone who disliked Cassie. Inquisitive, talkative and friendly as a puppy, her heart was gold. Cassie had been one of the first people to bring a gift to baby Rose Petal.

“Peg will care for her like her own.” Cassie pulled a strand of Mona’s hair through her nimble fingers.

Her mother, who had said little thus far, a blessing but also a curiosity, piped up. “Where does a girl go around here for some fun?”

Leave it to Mona to turn the conversation to herself.

Haley cringed, but Cassie, bless her, took the question in stride. Cassie knew Haley’s background, but no one in Whisper Falls had ever been subjected to Mona in the flesh. All Haley could do was hope and pray she didn’t lose friends because of her mother.

“Whisper Falls is known for our outdoor activities if you like to hike, fish, ride horses or ATVs or float the river.” Cassie motioned toward a rack near the door. “I have some brochures if you want to look through the display.”

“No, hon, you didn’t get my drift. I’m talking about girl fun. Where are the men in this town? Don’t you have a casino or a nightclub? Or even a pool hall?”

Haley jerked her hands from the sudsy water but kept her mouth shut. Asking her mother to tone it down was useless, anyway. Mona was unhappy and on the prowl and Haley had no doubt she’d either snag a new man or make Haley’s life miserable. Or quite possibly both.

“No, sorry,” Cassie said, easy as pie. “Did you want a new style with this, Mona, or only the new color?”

“The works, honey. My baby girl is treating her mama.” One of the few times Mona claimed her as a daughter.

Haley held back a groan. Mona thought she had money to burn, regardless of Haley’s statements to the contrary. Because she had a house, land and all those plants and art supplies, Mona thought she must be making some serious money. Thankfully, if Mona overspent, Haley could count on Cassie to let her pay out the bill as she could. But who knew when she’d have extra money again?

To add to the problem, Brent Henderson had stopped by the house a couple of days ago and stayed too long. Mona was convinced Haley should set her hooks in him before someone else did. Even the trip to the salon was partly in hopes of snagging the landlord, whom Mona believed to be rich. Haley didn’t know and didn’t care. She’d learned a valuable lesson from her needy mother—to make her own way. Haley would rather do without than live off a man.

But money
was
tight and now, with Mona to support, Haley spent more and more hours painting or planting and harvesting her herbs and vegetables in hopes of making a few extra dollars. She was glad spring was here so she could sell her wares at the farmer’s market. Art shows and town festivals were firing up, too, including the show in War Eagle next weekend. She had hoped to sell enough of her gourd art to set some money aside. Now, she’d settle for enough to stay afloat.

Creed’s offer to fly her to War Eagle popped up every time she thought of the journey across the mountains. Haley shuddered at the idea. She would drive, thank you—if she had any gas money left by the time Mona got through spending.

“I don’t think I need any polish, Louise,” she said to the manicurist. “This is enough for me.”

“Are you sure, girl? I can make those babies look good.”

“I’ll just ruin them in the garden, but thanks, anyway. Work on Mona. This is her thing.”

Mona turned a sulky look on her daughter. “Don’t be a bore. You could use some improvement.”

Before Haley could manufacture a decent reply, Cassie shot her a wink over the top of her mother’s head. The action reminded her of Creed. As if she didn’t have enough thoughts of him rattling around in her head.

“Didn’t you say you’d lived in New Orleans at one time?” her stylist friend asked Mona. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

Cassie’s well-timed question proved the perfect distracter. Mona was off and running, telling them about the beau who’d taken her to Mardi Gras, about the wild time they’d had, the dancing and beads and general craziness—with herself as the star of the show, naturally. Then she whined because Mr. Party Animal had dumped her at a truck stop outside Baton Rouge.

Haley shriveled inside. A half-dozen women occupied the salon, all of them now privy to the life she’d tried so hard to leave behind. She’d had seven peaceful years, her longest, in Whisper Falls. She’d found Jesus, made a life, hopefully made a difference to some children along the way.

Ah, well, if Mona hadn’t taught her anything else, she’d taught her this—nothing good, not even a good reputation, lasts forever.

* * *

“I’m not babysitting someone else’s kid.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Then how are you and that helicopter pilot going to have any fun?”

Haley paused in brushing her hair. “We’ll manage. Creed loves Rose Petal.”

Mona huffed. “Men don’t give a hoot about kids.”

“This one does.”

“Is he making good money flying that helicopter? Doesn’t seem like a very stable business to me, especially here. Why doesn’t he go to work for Channel 9 where he can make big money on a regular basis?”

Haley refused to discuss Creed’s business dealings with Mona. She knew the answers. He’d told her of his dreams, his struggles, none of which were Mona’s business. She wouldn’t appreciate them, anyway. “He’s happy doing what he does.”

“A girl needs to know what she’s hitching her wagon to.”

Ire began to stir inside Haley, a small tornado forming below the surface. “I’m not hitching to anyone, Mona. You taught me that. Easy come, easy go.”

“You’re getting hard, Haley. I thought Christians were supposed to be all soft and sweet.”

If that was true, she was headed for the dark side.

“Let’s not fight about Creed. I like him. We both care about Rose Petal. We enjoy being together.”
He makes me laugh and think and pray. He makes me believe I’m someone other than Mona Placer’s white-trash daughter.
“End of subject.”

“Are you in love with him?”

Haley raked the brush through her hair with a vicious yank, terribly afraid she might be. But loving Creed didn’t change who she was any more than loving Rose made her mother material. “No.”

“Thank goodness. I was starting to wonder.” Mona flopped down on the edge of Haley’s bed. “I admit he’s cute, Haley, but if I were you I’d go for that landlord. He wants you. That’s plain as the nose on your face. The man practically salivates when you aren’t looking.” Swinging her crossed legs, she picked at a piece of lint on the bedspread. “Don’t be such a stiff neck. See what he might have to offer. He may not be the looker Creed is, but looks fade.”

Haley’s lips tightened in distaste. Brent’s salivating was part of the problem. “Money doesn’t stick around, either, Mona. I thought you’d learned that by now.”

Her mother sat up straight, the lines around her puckered mouth and angry eyes showing her age. “Don’t you back talk me, Miss High and Mighty. After all I sacrificed for you.”

Haley held up the brush in a stop sign. “Don’t go there, Mona. Do
not
go there.”

Tears welled in her mother’s eyes, her weapon of choice. For years, likely forever, she’d used tears and pouting to get her way.

“Save the tears. I’m immune.”

The moisture dried up like sweat on a hot day. “You are such an ungrateful child. I don’t know why I stay here and take your abuse.”

This was her mother. As much as Haley wanted to blast her with the ugly facts, she couldn’t. “I have to go, Mona. I told Creed we’d meet him at his church. You can come if you’d like. The spring social includes people your age.”

Mona rolled her eyes until the blue was replaced by whites. “Boring. Maybe I’ll drive into Moreburg.”

Mona’s hair formed a perfect platinum wave against her shoulders, her nails were filled, glossy and pansy pink and her makeup precise. Yet she had nowhere to go.

“Suit yourself.”

By the time Haley reached the church she’d gone over the conversation a dozen times. She’d been too harsh, too condemning. She shouldn’t have made the snarky remark about money fading. Pastor Ed would say that we were all sinners saved by grace and shouldn’t look down our noses at others.

But Pastor Ed didn’t have Mona Placer for a mother.

“Haley!” Creed came at her across the parking lot of the small, white, steepled church, his grin wide. He kissed her cheek before hoisting Rose Petal into his arms. “Mom and Grandma are inside, waiting to get their hands on my princess.”

His princess. Creed was going to have a harder time than she was when Rose Petal’s paperwork was cleared for adoption. She was prepared for the inevitable. He wasn’t.

Haley would worry about that another time. Today was an outing with Creed’s church family and he’d invited her and Rose.

Inside the family center of New Life Christian, the chatter of voices rose over the pound of basketballs and scooted chairs.

The huge building served as an all-purpose center for everything from basketball games to musical concerts and baby showers to youth group meetings.

“Want something to drink?” he asked, playing host.

“Anything. I’ll help.”

“Better drop Princess Rose with my mom first. Look at her over there, waving her hand off.”

Warmth spread through Haley at the sight of Kathy Carter in slacks and a red buttoned-up blouse, brown bob tucked behind her ears, bouncing on her tiptoes above the seated assembly. Seated beside her was the endearingly old-fashioned Grandma Carter, her gray bun high and tidy on the back of her head, walker at her side.

What would it be like to have a family like this instead of the whiny, selfish Mona? And why couldn’t she muster more Christian compassion for the woman who’d given her life?

Some women simply weren’t mother material. Mona was one of them.

As she handed over a gurgling, smiling Rose Petal, her chest grew hot with a strange and lovely pleasure. Pride in the pretty, happy child filled her, followed quickly by the truth she hadn’t wanted to see.

She wanted more out of life. As much as she enjoyed her plants and art and foster children, she wanted a family like this and a home full of love.

Creed laughed at something Grandma said. His dark head tilted back, his throat flexed with laughter.

Lord, help her. She wanted him, too.

* * *

Early the next morning, after he’d stopped at the church to pray but long before his first charter, Creed found Haley on her knees next to the front porch tenderly setting tiny sprouts into the dark gardening soil. A wide-brimmed sun hat shaded her face.

“Hey, mother earth, I brought you something.” He dangled a white sack above her head.

With the back of her gloved hand, Haley pushed her hair out of her face. “That’s nice of you. I hope it’s food. I’m starved.”

“Grandma’s homemade cinnamon rolls. Four of those babies.”

“Oh, yum. Give them here.” She lunged for the bag.

Creed laughed and moved out of reach. “Come get it.”

She offered a dirty gardening glove. “Give me a hand up, you fiend.”

Creed didn’t care if she was covered in mud from head to foot. She’d still look adorable to him.

With a smirky grin, he pulled her to a stand but kept the white bag out of reach. “Don’t I get compensation for driving over here with breakfast?”

“Compensation? Well, let me think.” She rubbed her chin, pretending deep thought. “How about some green tea?”

He made a gagging sound.

“Dandelion coffee?”

He arched an eyebrow. “I had something a little more personal in mind.”

“Milk?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s real personal.” He stalked toward her, eyes narrowed in mock menace.

Haley laughed and held her ground. With a growl, he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off her feet as if to swing her in a circle. Her equilibrium tilted.

“Stop, stop.” She struggled against him. “Put me down.”

Creed stilled. “Why? What did I do?”

“If you swing me around I’ll throw up.”

He slid her safely back to earth. “Seriously? You really can’t even swing?”

“Not even on a jungle gym. Makes me dizzy.” She tiptoed up and snuggled closer. “Now, what was this compensation you had in mind?”

“Anything for a cinnamon roll?”

“Your
grandma’s
cinnamon rolls. Makes a difference.”

“Well, let’s see...” Creed pretended to think as he lowered his face closer and closer to Haley’s. “The price could be exorbitant for something as special as
Grandma’s
cinnamon rolls.”

“Mmm-hmm. That’s what I was thinking. Exorbitant.” When they were nose to nose, sharing warm breath and a heartbeat, Haley giggled...and kissed him. Not a quick, runaway kiss, but a wrapped-her-arms-around-his-head, pulled-him-down and put-some-joy-in-his-morning kind of kiss.