Faith Hope and Love (A Homespun Romance) (10 page)

Pleased with her second attempt, she finished dressing Gordie and took him into the family room.  It was all a matter of staying calm and getting used to doing things differently, she told herself.  Taking out a bottle she plugged in the bottle warmer.  Gordie nestled into her neck.  Pleasure so intense it was almost pain shot through Rachel, and she laughed softly, "You're a sweetheart.  I'm falling in love with you."

"Another slave?" 

Rachel's heart jerked then went completely still.  Luke stood in the doorway watching them.  Time froze for a minute and Rachel had the oddest feeling they were replaying a familiar scene from another time, another life.

"Need a hand?"  He was so close she couldn't
think couldn't breathe.  The warmth that emanated from him invited touching.  The crisp curls in the vee of his checked shirt were oddly disturbing.

"No.  He's fine." Rachel turned away, picked up the bottle.  Gordie in his usual rush grabbed at it.  The smile returned to Rachel's face as she sank into the wooden rocker cradling him in her arms.  Gordie seemed to think having a feed was an aerobic workout.  If she kept her mind on the baby, the rest would just fade away.

Luke strolled over to a kitchen cabinet, took out a couple of mugs, placed the kettle on the stove.

"Want some herbal tea?"

A week here and the craving for coffee had disappeared.  "Please.  How's the job going?"

Luke's eyes lingered on the baby's dark head tucked into the curve of Rachel's breast.  "Fine.  I should be done by midnight.  Tomorrow I can give you a hand with Gordie."

He poured the boiling water over the tea bags.  For the first time Rachel noticed the lines of strain around Luke's eyes.  "Don't worry about us.  We're getting along fine."

"I can see that."

Gordie's eyes were fixed on Rachel's face as he drank.  Rachel looked down at him.  An indescribable tenderness cast a startling luminescence on her features.  Luke drank in the picture.  The sight was enough to bring a strong man to his knees in reverence.  He fought the urge to pick them both up, hold them close to his heart. 

It was too soon.  Rachel was walking a tightrope of discovery.  About herself.  About life.  One wrong move on his part and she would tumble off and never find the courage to get back on.  He had to be patient.  It was a first for him, this waiting for a woman, but then he wanted more than a brief roll in the hay with Rachel.

"Leave mine on the counter, please." 

Her voice jerked him back to the present.  Nodding, he picked up his own mug and went back to the study. 

On the family room floor, Rachel played a game of peek a boo with Gordie that set him giggling and chuckling.  After a while she put him on his exercise mat reminding herself that he could roll over and crawl.  Yesterday Hannah said he had gotten behind the couch in the family room and almost given her a heart attack when she'd looked up and hadn't seen him anywhere.  Luckily he had cooed an immediate answer to her call.  He needed constant watching.

Dinner.  Thinking of the wonderful meals Hannah always had on the table, Rachel was consumed by nervousness.  When it had been just her father and herself, the evening meal had usually been soup-out-of-a-can and sandwiches.  Once in a
while she had put things into a crockpot, but that was the extent of her culinary talents.  There had never been any opportunity to learn to cook abroad.  MRA usually hired a local cook for its field workers.  It couldn't be too difficult surely.  Hannah made it look so easy.

An hour later she wasn't so sure.  Gordie was bored.  He let her know by whining.  The kitchen was a shambles.  Rachel felt as if she'd just been through an aerobic workout herself without enjoying any of the benefits.  In the oven she had a couple of pork chops, which if they cooperated, would be dinner.  Left over potato salad would accompany it.  She stared around her.  Such a big mess for one meal.

Gordie began to cry in earnest.  Abandoning the thought of cleaning the kitchen temporarily, Rachel picked him up and hugged him.  He was soaked through.

"Oh dear!"  Evidently her diapering skills were on the same level as her culinary skills.

Gordie seemed to agree.  He started yelling his little head off.

Suddenly Luke was there, relieving her of the angry baby.  He pulled his arm out from under Gordie and looked a little startled at the wet patch on his sleeve, but all he said was, "I'll fix him up in a jiffy.  Why don't you put your feet up for a little while?"

He was gone before she could protest that she would change Gordie.  Not that she wanted to.  Those diapers seemed to sense she couldn't fasten them right.  Life seemed very difficult all of a sudden.  Rachel's chin wobbled as a sense of failure flooded her.

An acrid smell had her rushing to the oven.  Grabbing a mitt but not bothering to slip her hand into it, she pulled out the tray.

"Ouch!"  She had got too close to the heating element at the top of the oven.  Thumping the tray down on the counter, she rushed over to the tap and ran cold water over her left hand.  Behind her two blackened blobs rested in a pan that would need a month of scouring to get it back to Hannah's standard of clean.  She must have set the oven too high.  Her hand smarted and two tears escaped and rolled down her face.  Tossing the chops into the garbage she replaced the tray and slammed the oven door shut.  Could one make sandwiches with potato salad?

Luke re-entered the kitchen in a clean shirt, with a fresh smelling baby who was all smiles again.  Tactfully he ignored the acrid smell of smoke and her flushed face as he took out two jars of baby food and placed them in the microwave.

"I've burnt the dinner."  The belligerent tone reminded him of a Chihuahua in a corner.

"There's pizza in the freezer," Luke returned quietly.  "I'll heat it up as soon as Gordie finishes eating." 

Ignoring the chaos around him he began to feed Gordie a baby concoction of ham and peas.  It wasn't till he heard the door of Rachel's room shut behind her did he allow himself a sweeping glance of the kitchen.

A half smile on his lips he said to Gordie.  "Better not get her a cookbook for Christmas, champ."

CHAPTER 6

After Gordie was settled for the night, Luke lit a fire in the family room fireplace. 

There was no sign of Rachel.  He wondered if she had opted for one of her long baths.  It was her one pastime that amused everyone.  After dinner one evening, Hannah had asked her if she'd like to watch a popular night time soap with her.  Rachel had hesitated and then said, "If you don't mind, I'd rather take a bath."

He had thrown her into the deep end today.  She had surprised him again with her ability to cope, her quiet maturity.  There had been quite a few rough spots.  His gut tightened as he thought of her woebegone expression when he had pulled his sleeve out from under a soaking wet Gordie.  And that dinner.  He hadn't thought she would attempt to cook anything.  Hannah always kept the freezer stocked with pre-cooked meals, and he really should have said something about it. 

Luke looked up to see the object of his thoughts standing in the doorway dressed in a multi-colored wrap around skirt and a soft white blouse with a scooped neckline that exposed the vulnerable hollows at the base of her throat.  Her hair was scooped back in
its usual knot, the damp tendrils that nestled against her neck lingering evidence of a shower.  The stamp of uncertainty was back on her face...as if without Gordie or Hannah there to hide behind she was lost. 

Luke's mouth tightened again.  How long was it going to take to earn her trust? 

"Would you like something to drink, Rae?"

Her eyes flickered as she looked at the glass of amber fluid in his hand.  "No...no thank you."

"Come, sit down.  The pizza will be ready in five minutes.  I called Hannah and she's doing fine."

"I'm glad."  Rachel advanced into the room, sat down in an armchair, picked up a cushion and hugged it to her slight frame.  "How old is Hannah?"

"Fifty.  She’s been with us since her teens"

"She looks
younger and has so much energy.  She makes everything look so easy."  The wistfulness wasn't lost on Luke. 

"You did just great today."

The crimson tide that stole up her face amazed Luke.  Surely, he thought, she knows how good she is.  If the way she had stepped in and handled everything was any indication of how she worked someone had to have told Rachel Carstairs she was worth her weight in gold.

He watched as she twisted her fingers together and then said deliberately, "You're so good with Gordie.  I'm amazed at the way he's taken to you.  He's beginning to recognize people and fusses with strangers after a few minutes but every time I looked in on the two of you, you were getting on famously.  I never expected to get so much work done today.  Thank you Rae."

She lifted her head quickly and he caught the reflection of the fire in the sheen of her tears.  Leaning forward Luke reached for her.  He couldn't deny himself the comfort he wanted to offer her any longer.

The timer went off in the kitchen and she jumped up.  "I'll set the table." 

Watching her scurry away he could tell the charged atmosphere between them made Rae very uneasy. 

"Let's eat in here.  It's nicer by the fire," Luke called after her.

Rachel paused and looked back over one shoulder.  It was nicer by the fire. 
Too nice.
 

Her heart's usually even rhythm had changed to staccato.  Luke looked different tonight.  His stone washed jeans and soft blue shirt seemed to be molded to his frame.  Seated on the floor, long legs stretched out in front of him he looked absolutely relaxed.  The fire glinted off his face etching the strong lines in gold.  His eyes sparkled with intent, the look in them both scaring and exciting her.

It had to be the fire that instilled so much excitement into the atmosphere, cloaking the normally cheery room with enchantment and mystery.  The orange flames cast exotic patterns on the weathered grey stone and the whole room looked different in its glow.  

Did he know she had never been in a situation like this ever before?  That every moment seemed tinged with magic?  Swallowing hard Rachel carried the plates to the coffee table and prepared to go back for the rest.

Luke's hand on her shoulder made her jump.  His command was as strong as it was soft.  "Sit.  Relax.  I'll get the rest of the stuff."

She'd been touched before.  Often.  But only contact with this man produced the electricity that left her witless.  Rachel sank on to a cushion, refusing to look up when he returned with the glasses, set them down, and went back for the pizza. 

Sitting down across from her Luke picked up the piece of pizza she served him and bit into it, ignoring the cutlery.  "It's good."  The obvious satisfaction in his tone after the first bite drew no visible response from her. 

Rachel pretended to be absorbed by the fire, while every nerve ending in her body danced in awareness of Luke.  He reached for the hot peppers and his arm brushed against hers, searing her skin.

"Do you like the pizza?"  Luke wondered what had happened now.  If it was a normal companionable silence he would have left it alone.  But it wasn't.  Tension emanated from her...as uncomfortable as steel wool under one's skin. 

"I haven't had pizza for ages, but it tastes wonderful."

She was playing with her piece, the mechanical motions of her jaw belying her words.

"If you don't like it, say so, and I can fix you an omelet."  Luke put his hand on hers to stop her lifting the slice to her mouth.  The cry of pain startled him as much as it did her.

"What is it?"

Rachel's hand was behind her back.  Like a child her rounded eyes relayed a distracting measure of fear and guilt.  Gordie looked like that when he found something he knew he wasn't going to be allowed to play with.  Gently Luke grasped her arm and brought the hand out.  The sharpness of his indrawn breath spliced the tense silence hovering around them.  Three angry purple welts marred the softness of the skin on the back of her hand.

"When did this happen?"

Her hand seemed to shrink inside his as if wanting to minimize the area of contact. 

"Earlier today."  The rasp was back in her voice.  "It's nothing.  I wasn't paying attention."

Why on earth was she looking like a whipped dog?

"The oven," Luke surmised correctly.  "Dinner.  That's how you got burnt wasn't it?"

"Yes.  It's nothing," Rachel said quickly.  "I'm just not used to the oven.  I was clumsy."

And he had assumed that she could handle anything.  Cursing his preoccupation with his work he demanded, "Have you put anything on it?"

"I ran some cold water over it."

"That's why you don't have any blisters I guess, but you need something for the pain."

Disappearing into the bathroom, he returned with a tube.  Cradling her hand in his, he smoothed the cream over the area.  Rachel stared at her hand.  It was lost in Luke's large one.  For all
its size his touch was gentle.  She had to fight the urge to raise his hand and bury her face in it.

"Let Theresa fix the evening meals in future." 

How could he have let her struggle with dinner?  He should have mentioned the pizza earlier.  Luke didn't realize the anger he felt at himself had escaped into his voice.

“
I'm sorry to be such a nuisance."  The crack in her voice jerked his head up.  Her chin wobbled but evidently she hadn't finished what she wanted to say.  Her laugh, meant he supposed to be self-deprecatory, hurt like whiskey poured on a wound.  "I'm a klutz in the kitchen.  I think I've ruined a baking pan.  It will be easier all around if I don't attempt to develop my culinary talents at your expense."

Luke looked down at the bent head.  It was either that or let her see the blaze of fury in his eyes.  Who or what had given Rachel such an inferiority complex?  Right now he would give away one of his thoroughbred stallions, for a few moments with the person responsible for her insecurities.

"I don't give a damn about the expense," he said brusquely, "just about your well being."  Luke couldn't help the sternness in his voice.  Any minute now he was going to abandon convincing her with words and kiss some sense into her.  "You can burn every pan in the kitchen if it makes you happy, but the next time you're hurt I want to know right away.  Understood?"  A hand tipped her chin up. 

Her eyes glistening Rachel looked into the flame warmed navy depths at odds with the stern set of Luke's mouth.  He sounded strange.  As if he had a right to say what he just had...as if he cared.  A solitary silver tear overflowed.  Luke's thumb caught it, swept it aside.

Rachel's chin wobbled but she held his gaze.  "I'm afraid I'm not good at anything except relief work."

"Nobody's perfect," he said brusquely.  "I bet not one of us on the Diamond Bar can do the kind of work you're an expert at.  I've seen strong men pass out at the sight of blood."

She smiled but he saw the ‘you-don't have-to say-things-like-this’ look in her eyes.  She thought he was just being kind?  For the first time in his life Luke understood frazzled.

The silence lengthened and Rachel was aware of time stilled for something important.  Was Luke going to lecture her on her responsibility to herself?  The man had plenty to do without having to take care of her as well.  Hannah had shown her the medicine cabinet.  She should have tended to her own hand instead of coming across as a helpless female again. 

Luke cupped her face in his large warm hands and her startled gaze flew to his.  "Listen to me, Rae," he said seriously.  "You don't have to prove anything to anyone here.  That includes me.  No one expects Superwoman.  We like you just the way you are."

The world receded as he filled her senses.  The touch of his mouth was like a butterfly caress at first.  It skimmed her lips, then hovered and finally settled.  After the first start of surprise Rachel relaxed, giving in to the warm undertow.  Luke's gentle siege parted her lips, made her want more.  She pressed herself into the solid wall of his chest and was held as if she'd finally come home. 

Time raced on, unnoticed.

Rachel didn't hear the soft tap on the door.  She was immersed in the feeling this had happened before...that she wasn't a stranger to these feelings.  That on a previous occasion Luke had kissed her, held her, and she had found peace. 

The chill of disappointment as Luke put her from him made her shiver.  The door opening snapped her mind to attention as Angela entered through the back door, with her father close behind. 

"Temperature's dropping fast." 

Rachel was grateful for the way Luke stood between her and the Rodriguez' giving her a minute to collect herself.

Juan was saying something about Theresa's rheumatism acting up which meant they were in for a cold spell.  Angela carried her overnight bag into the guest room. 

"W…would
you like some pizza?"  Rachel asked father and daughter shyly.

Juan smiled at her, "No thank you.  We have just eaten.  Perhaps another night, you and Luke will join us for tacos?  Marie will sit with Gordie."

"Would I have to bring my own fire extinguisher along?"  She smiled mischievously at Juan.  There was something in the manager's manner that reminded her of Tom Atwell.  Warm, friendly, undemanding. 

Juan threw his head back and roared with laughter.  "I see Hannah has warned you about us.  She hasn't forgotten the time we gave her our homemade salsa full of some of the hottest Jalapenos around."  He turned to Luke. "It was soon after she and Carlos were married.  Hannah kept insisting she liked hot food.  Theresa took her word for it and cooked a special meal for them.  One bite and we thought Hannah would go up in flames."  Juan chuckled again,
and then said.  "Don't worry.  We will have some food that’s not too spicy for you."

"I'll look forward to it."

"If you have time," Juan said to Luke almost apologetically, "we could talk about Diamond Pride.  Mr. Callaghan called again at five this evening.  He's very anxious to finalize matters."

"Come into the study.  Excuse us," Luke said to Rachel.  "This won't take long." 

The sound of the study door closing galvanized Rachel into action.  Picking up her plate she glanced at the teenager who had switched the television on.  "I'm going to bed now.  It's been a long day.  Goodnight."

"Goodnight."  Angela's voice was absent, her imagination already captured by a woman in evening dress screaming that she wanted a divorce.

Rachel shut the door of her room and leaned against it.  Luke.  She touched her lips.  He had kissed her, held her as if it meant something.  As if she meant something.  Was it just a gesture as insubstantial as the moonbeams trailing across her bed, or had those moments meant something to him as well? 

In the few days she had been here Rachel had learned Luke wasn't a man who said or did what he didn't mean.

She fell asleep with a smile in her heart.

The smell of frying bacon woke her at eight. 

Jumping up Rachel grabbed the velour robe Luke had bought for her and hurled herself into the kitchen.  What a time to oversleep.

Gordie was in his high chair, playing with a spoon.  Luke was by the stove.  A maroon and cream sweater strained to confine his upper body, the lean lithe hips were encased in cream corduroys.  Rachel knew the apron he was wrapped in had Kiss the Cook emblazoned on the front.