Baby in His Arms (5 page)

His father walked through the door, also carrying a grocery sack though Creed suspected his held Mama’s home cooking. “Creed, son, I was planning to come by your office.”

“What’s up?”

“Nothing in particular.” He set the paper bag on the counter next to the plastic sacks. “I thought we might have lunch if you aren’t too busy.”

Creed checked his watch. “I have a tour in about thirty minutes, but unless I get a walk-in, noon is clear. Want to meet up at the Iron Horse or Clemson’s Café?”

Whisper Falls boasted only a handful of eating places. Other than the Pizza Pan and a couple of burger hangouts, choices were thin. Some people wanted to keep it that way, to keep out the big-box stores and restaurants. Even though he appreciated the provincial atmosphere of their little mountain town, progress meant business. Business meant more people to charter his helicopter services.

“The Iron Horse sounds good. I’ve got a hankering for Miss Evelyn’s apple pie.” His father, as tall and angular as Abe Lincoln, wore black-framed glasses and still had no gray in his dark brown hair, a fact that drove his mother, jokingly, to despair. She’d been coloring hers as long as Creed could remember.

Dad pecked Grandma on the cheek. “Looking pretty today, Mama. Did Cassie come by and fix your hair?”

She swatted his arm. “Now, Larry, you quit buttering me up. I know you’re after my candy.”

“I thought I smelled peanuts when I turned the corner.”

“I knew it. Creed, your daddy is a pure-dee mooch. I swear I raised him better.” She fumbled with the bag another minute and finally managed to tug the sides apart to dole out jagged slabs of the peanut brittle. “Mmm-hmm. So good. Sticks to my dentures, but who cares.”

“Grandma wants to plant roses again.”

“Good idea.”

“Creed’s girlfriend likes to grow things, too. I think he’s trying to get my approval. Why don’t you bring her by sometime?”

Dad’s peanut brittle froze midway to his lips. “What’s this? A new girlfriend? Why didn’t I know?”

“Because there is nothing to know, Dad. Grandma’s being...grandma.” But again that flush of heat swamped Creed’s neck. “Haley Blanchard, the foster mother. I told you about her on the phone.”

“Yes, I know who she is. Your mom bought a birdhouse from her last fall at Pumpkin Fest. Isn’t she the one caring for the abandoned baby?”

Creed nodded. “I stopped by a couple of times.”

“To see Haley or the baby?”

Grandma laughed. Creed scowled.

He wasn’t a man who encroached on another man’s territory. The other night with Brent Henderson had been less-than-comfortable. Even though he’d not gone to Haley’s house with thoughts of romance, Brent clearly had. Besides, flakey Haley was not his type.

“The
baby,
Dad. What happened bothers me, you know. A little baby dumped like that.”

His grandma and his father exchanged looks. Dad cleared his throat and wiped his fingers together to divest them of crumbs. Creed knew what they were thinking and he didn’t like it. He also thought neither wanted to talk about his situation. His parents had always been straight with him. He’d always known, and he rarely thought about the fact that he had not been born a Carter. He was happy, well-adjusted and loved his family. End of story. Being adopted didn’t have a thing to do with his feelings for Rose Petal.

Chapter Five

A
chopper
whirp-whirped
overhead. It was him. Again. Was her house an FAA flight path or something?

“Look, Haley!” Thomas’s excited voice confirmed the identity of the sound and the pilot. “It’s Creed.”

Thomas hopped up and down waving his skinny hand off and yelping Creed’s name as if anyone could hear over that racket.

Haley crossed her arms tightly against her jean jacket and chanced a quick look skyward. As she did, the chopper dipped slightly so she could make out the yellow logo on the side. She also spotted a darkly handsome form in the pilot’s seat.

“Wave, Haley. Creed’s waving at us.”

Haley’s head spun. She shook it hard and looked away, shuddering. The very sound of a helicopter made her dizzy. How any human being could voluntarily climb inside a flying machine was beyond her.

She went back to digging in the garden. Spring was her favorite time. The smells of moist dirt and new green growth. The feel of terra firma beneath her feet.

She patted the dark soil around a spindly, green tomato plant. “Give me good old planet earth any day of the week.”

But Thomas was not to be sidestepped. Once the chopping sound faded, he returned to his row of radishes, but the topic of Creed was once more on his mind. Since the kite-flying episode, the boy had talked of little else but Creed Carter and flying.

“When I grow up, I want to be a pilot just like Creed. Do you think he’ll teach me to fly when I’m bigger? Do you think he’d let me ride with him sometime? I bet he would.”

There were moments when Haley thought if she heard the flyboy’s name one more time, she’d drink hemlock and tell God it was an accident.

“He’s pretty busy, Thomas.”

“But he likes me. Can we go out to his helipad sometime? He said we could.”

She looked at him, incredulous. “You asked him?”

The light went out of Thomas’s eyes. “Was that okay? Are you mad?”

The worry frown between Thomas’s brows stabbed her heart. When she’d first become his foster mother, Thomas was confused and nervous all the time, afraid of doing the wrong thing. According to his social worker, his mother’s mental illness had contributed to the confusion. He never knew what might set her off. Since then, Haley had made every effort to give him a stable, predictable emotional environment.

“No, I’m not mad. Just surprised, I guess.”

“Oh.” He patted the dirt over the tiny black seeds, his head down, the blond cowlick nearly white in the pleasant sunlight.

Guilt tugged at Haley. Just as Thomas shouldn’t suffer for his mother’s illness, he also shouldn’t be denied his dream because of her fear of flying.

“I have an idea.” She swallowed down the jitter of nerves.

Thomas looked up, wary. The expression accentuated her guilt. She’d worked hard to take that look from his face and now it was back.

“After lunch, we’ll take a drive.”

He nodded, solemn. “Rose likes to ride in the van.”

“No kidding.” They both glanced toward the shady porch where Rose Petal slept in the bassinet. A ride in the Caravan each evening lulled the baby to sleep long enough for Haley to get some much-needed rest. “But this ride is for you, not Rose.”

“Where?”

“I thought we might drive out past the airport so you can watch Creed land or take off or whatever.” She’d drive only close enough for Thomas to see the helicopter. If she were lucky, Creed wouldn’t see them at all, or if he did, maybe he wouldn’t recognize her vehicle.

“Really?” Thomas rose up on his knees, a wild hope widening his eyes. “Can we really?”

“Sure. Why not?” Maybe this one concession would end the incessant talk about Creed Carter.

Or make it worse.

* * *

Creed put the Yellow Jacket down smooth as butter onto the grassy green helipad. The excited chatter of his passengers filled his ears as he answered questions and played the perfect tour guide. Being a gregarious guy, he enjoyed his customers, and happy customers would return and bring others with them.

As the party disembarked and headed toward their vehicles, with the comment that they would be back, Creed spotted an old purple minivan circling the curvy road leading to the airport. The Caravan looked familiar but he couldn’t place it. He had one hand on the door to his office when he remembered.

Whirling, he squinted at the vehicle, gleaming purple in the afternoon sun. Thomas’s blond head bobbed like a search light inside the van.

“Haley,” he murmured.

The pit of his stomach tingled, a strange, unwelcome stir of energy that had tormented him every time he thought of the hippie foster mom.

The purple van eased closer, slowly, as if she, too, was somehow hypnotized into making reluctant contact.

Might as well admit the truth. He was
mildly
attracted to her. The timing stunk and she was about as wrong for him as a cat was for a hummingbird, but being attracted didn’t mean he wanted to marry her or something ridiculous like that. Not that he didn’t want to get married. He did. He wanted the ring, the cake, a tidy yard with a pretty house and fried chicken on Sunday after church. He wanted babies and dogs and the whole nine yards. Just not yet. And certainly not with flakey Haley.

Still, his legs started walking toward the Caravan and his hand lifted in greeting. The van rolled closer and Thomas’s hand waved so hard that Creed thought he might catch a wind current and take flight. Nice kid. Smart, too. Heartbreaking what he’d been through.

Creed’s gaze searched the vehicle’s interior, coming to rest on the car seat in the back. Baby Rose was not visible but she must be in there. His attention swung back to the driver pulling to a stop in the visitor’s parking area—a graveled patch with railroad ties for curb.

Haley rolled down her window. “Hi. Thomas wanted to come.”

A smile began in his chest and spread to his face. “That’s cool. Come on in. I’ll show you around.”

“No. Really. We’ll just...sit out here.”

“Why?”

“Um. Well...”

Whatever excuse she had was useless. Thomas was already out of the van. “I saw you land. It was awesome.”

Creed took the time to acknowledge the boy. “Want to see where I work?”

“Can I? That would be so cool.” Thomas whipped around. “Come on, Haley. Creed said we could come inside.”

“Rose Petal is asleep. I’ll stay out here with her.”

For a moment Thomas looked perplexed but then he nodded. “Don’t leave, okay? I’ll come back. I promise.”

Thomas’s plaintive comment jabbed Creed in the gut, hard as a fist. Had the kid been left alone by his sick mother? Was he afraid of being abandoned like baby Rose?

Haley must have wondered the same because her face contorted. “Oh, Thomas.” Her gaze flickered to Creed’s. “Give me a minute to get Rose Petal out of her car seat.”

“You’re coming with us?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Somehow the wry tone belied the truth of the words. She was reluctant to be here. Was it because of him? Did she dislike him? Was she afraid her boyfriend would find out? Brent Henderson had definitely seemed the jealous type. Not that Creed could blame him. Haley was special.

Whoa!
Where had that come from? He barely knew this woman and had no designs on her.

But he
was
glad to see her. And the kids, of course. He was all about the kids.

As Haley reluctantly opened her door, he spotted flip-flops, a jean jacket and a colorful flowered hippie dress. She looked garden-fresh, her wavy hair dangling at the sides but caught up in a knot on top. There was no wind today, but the sun shot rays of copper through her auburn hair. Shiny. Soft-looking. Like her.

“Let me help.” He and Haley reached for the back door of the van at the same time. Haley’s side bumped his; their hands brushed. That bizarre itch tingled the hairs on his arms. He caught the door handle first and opened it. She leaned in, brushing past him to unbuckle the baby.

Lemons. She smelled like lemons. Citrusy and cool with a tart edge. Like the woman herself.

“She sleeping any better?” he asked, trying his best to shake the unwelcome fascination with Haley’s hair and skin and scent.

“A little. We’re starting to establish a routine.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Very good.” With a gentleness that tugged at him, she slid her hand beneath Rose Petal’s head and lifted her small body out of the car. “During the day she sleeps like this, solid as concrete. Not even your helicopter flying over the house awakens her.”

He had a sudden vision of Haley in her sun hat, baby in arms, looking up at him as he flew over. She hadn’t waved. “She’s growing.”

“You haven’t seen her in a few days. Babies change so fast.”

He stroked Rose’s soft check. “Chubbier. Softer. You’re taking good care of her.”

She looked up, one finely arched eyebrow elevated. “Even though you had your doubts about me as a foster mom?”

He opened his mouth and shut it again just as quickly. She was right. He had. But he’d been wrong. Thomas and Rose were in good hands.

“If you want an apology, you have one.”

She gave him a cool look. “I don’t want anything from you.”

Yes, sir, lemons could be tart. “Maybe I want something from you.”

They’d started walking toward the office door where Thomas already waited as patiently as a ten-year-old could. Now Haley stopped to stare up at Creed.

“Like what?”

“I have a grandma.”

“Congratulations.”

He laughed. He didn’t know why when she seemed determined to be contentious, her prickly words didn’t match her artsy, tree-hugger demeanor.

She laughed, too. “Okay, truce. I didn’t want to come out here today but Thomas was so insistent.”

“Because of your boyfriend? Are you afraid he won’t like the idea of you visiting another guy?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“But I thought—” Thomas said... He perched his hands on his hips and gazed toward the greening peak of Blackberry Mountain.

“You’re talking about Brent, aren’t you?”

“The two of you seemed to be an item.”

“We’re not. He’s my landlord.” She shifted the baby to the crook of her arm.

Exhilaration zinged through Creed’s blood with g-force speed. “I got the feeling Brent was jealous when he saw me there.”

“Maybe he was.”

Frustrating woman. “Does he have a reason to be?”

“None on my part. I barely like the guy. But he owns my house and I owe him rent. Which is now past due, as Brent most certainly reminded me. He can be a bit pushy when that happens.”

Something dark curled in Creed’s belly. He clenched his fist. “He’s not taking advantage of the situation, is he?”

“I’d poison him first.” But her suddenly pink cheeks made Creed wonder how close to the truth he’d come.

“Remind me not to make you mad.”

She and Brent were not dating. She didn’t like the guy. For whatever reason, Creed was relieved.

“Is that why you haven’t stopped by again to see Rose Petal? Because you thought I was seeing Brent?”

“Did you want me to come over again?”

“Thomas was asking.”

“Oh. Sure.” She was asking for Thomas, not herself. “That about sums it up. I don’t tread on another man’s turf.”

“I will never be
any
man’s turf.” Haley smiled but the lemon tartness was back.

“Got it,” he said, but he took the statement as a challenge. “So, you don’t mind if I stop in after work sometimes? To see Rose and say hi to Thomas?”

“Why would I mind?” That was apparently the closest thing to an invitation he was going to get. She dipped her chin toward the boy dancing in circles around the office door. “Thomas is going to implode if we dillydally any longer.”

“Right. Let me carry the baby.” Before Haley could go all feminist on him, he had Rose Petal in his arms. He felt as awkward as a moose, but the little girl seemed to fit perfectly in the crook of his left arm. His chest heated with the same tenderness he’d experienced at the church and again at Haley’s house. Little Rose Petal touched the alpha male in him. He’d be a good daddy someday, a daddy who would protect his girls fiercely and teach his boys all the things he knew. A dad like his own.

He mulled on that, thankful to God that he’d been adopted by such fine Christian people. Unlike some adoptees, he’d never been the least bit interested in his birth history. The only family that mattered to him lived outside of town on the land the Carters had owned for generations. His land. His family.

The office was a single room carved into one corner of the metal hangar where he parked his heli. A couple of businessmen also stored their single-engine planes here near the short, single airstrip. The place wasn’t fancy but he liked it.

“Welcome to Carter’s Charters and Scenic Tours,” he said, motioning toward the plastic unibody chairs lining one wall. “This is where the magic happens.”

* * *

Haley looked around the small office with genuine interest. Neat and clean, every paper clip in order, the desk held a framed collage of family pictures. Creed’s handsome face smiled from above a military uniform and again bracketed by a middle-aged man and woman, probably his parents.

“My mom did the pictures. She helped me fix up the place when I first moved in. Added those and that plant over there.” He gestured to a tired-looking peace lily near the only window in the room.

“Your plant needs to be fed.”

His expression was incredulous. “You have to feed plants?”

She shook her head, grinning. Men could be as clueless about houseplants as they were about women.

“I’ll give you a feeding solution for it the next time you’re at the house.” The next time. She refused to consider the ramifications of allowing the handsome flyboy carte blanche to visit her home. He was a friend. He liked Thomas and Rose. They needed a male in their lives. Occasionally. Temporarily.

“I like your office,” she said to still the sudden troubling thoughts.

“The space works for me. Someday, I’d like to expand and add another helicopter and a couple more pilots to share the workload and provide more services. For now, I’m the only one. If I don’t fly, there are no tours.”