Granted: A Family for Baby (11 page)

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Authors: Carol Grace

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He turned abruptly.
“I’ll show you the guest room,” he said.
She followed him down the hall. He didn’t turn around but he knew she was there. All evening long he’d known exactly where she was, who she was with and what she was doing. His antennae were up and running where she was concerned.
“Is that your room?” Suzy asked, catching a glimpse of a large white-washed bedroom with unfinished wooden beams, a huge solid-pine bed covered with navy plaid sheets and a thick comforter.
“Yeah. The guest room is next door.”
“But who lives upstairs? Who uses the tub with the champagne in it?”
“Nobody.” He shrugged. “I know, the house is too big for me, but I like it.”
She paused in the doorway. So he never used that big tub, never stretched out in it with a cigar in his mouth. She’d been fantasizing again. Hot water never lapped at his shoulders up there or trickled down his chest or anything else. She was an idiot. She took a deep breath and looked around the room. Antique firearms were mounted on the wall, and paintings of Western landscapes. There was a large brick fireplace and plaques and pictures hung above the plain pine dresser.
“Is that you?” she asked, spotting a family photo with a dark-eyed, scowling baby. She was truly curious, but she was also looking for an excuse to get a closer look at his room, to get a glimpse of the real Brady, the man behind the badge. Even though she’d worked for him this past year, she felt she was just getting to know him. She told herself there was no point in getting to know him any better, but she stepped inside the room anyway.
“Yes, it’s me,” he admitted reluctantly, standing in the doorway.
She glanced over her shoulder, noting the same expression on his face. “You haven’t changed.”
“Thanks. Your room is next door, this is...”
“Your room, I know and these are your parents?”
“Lucky guess.”
She ignored his sarcasm and his obvious desire to get her out of there.
“Who took these?” She pointed to a group of photographs of deer, poised at a water hole, and bobcats slinking across the high desert with the sun setting in the distance.
“Me.”
She couldn’t help but be surprised. He’d never mentioned any hobbies or pastimes except hunting and fishing. These pictures were really beautiful. By the look on his face, he didn’t want her to enthuse over them. He didn’t want her to do anything but get out of his private sanctum.
But a bronze plaque caught her attention and she had to ask, “What’s this?”
“An award I got for something or other.”
“Bravery above and beyond the call of duty,” she read. “What did you do?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Then why do you have it?”
“To remind myself of how lucky I am to be alive.” Suzy ran her finger over his name engraved in the smooth, shiny bronze surface, wondering what he’d done.
“I’m not surprised,” she said.
“That I keep a plaque on my wall?”
“No.”
“That I haven’t changed since I was a year old?”
“That you got an award for bravery. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever known.”
Brady shook his head and walked into the room, giving up on getting her out of there anytime in the near future.
“Where did you get that idea? I’m not brave. That award is a scam. I was scared every time I went out on my beat in the Tenderloin, the highest crime area in the city. Scared to death. And my wife was even more scared. Scared I wouldn’t come home in one piece. One night I didn’t.”
“What happened?”
“It’s a long story. And it’s late. The point is, I’d never put anyone through that again.”
“But Brady...”
“Don’t tell me it’s different here. I know it. That’s why I’m here. But some things are the same. The irregular hours, being on call all the time, the possibility of danger. I can handle it, but I’d never ask anyone else to. That’s why—”
“That’s why you’re never getting married again and I am.”
“You got it,” he said brusquely. He wondered if he’d ever get used to the idea of her being married. Wondered how he’d feel seeing her walk down the street pushing Travis in his stroller with her husband at her side. What would her husband be like? He knew. He’d be some dull, sensible, solid citizen. The thought made him sick. Or was that the effect of too much champagne and too many hors d’oeuvres?
He stared at her, standing there at his dresser, her head bent over examining his trophies, her pale hair gleaming in the light from the floor lamp. His heart hammered against his ribs.
He forced himself to speak.
“I wish you the best of luck, Suzy, you deserve it. You’ll make somebody a great wife.”
She slanted a glance in his direction and gave him a brief smile. “That sounded like a farewell speech. Anyway, thanks. If only I weren’t worried about my son.”
“Don’t worry about Travis. About whether somebody will accept him, raise him like he was theirs. Because Travis is a great kid.” The vision of Travis yelling “Da-da” at him across the diner came back to haunt him. He never told her how his heart had contracted
that night at the sound of that one word. He’d never have a son, but if he did...
“Really?” She beamed at him and the warmth of that smile sent him reeling. He almost lost his control. The room was so warm he took out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He wanted to stride across the room, sweep her off her feet and toss her onto that big bed he’d slept alone in for too long. Instead he crossed the room and threw the window open. He told himself it wasn’t just the smile, it was the late hour and the champagne. Whatever it was, he had to ball his hands into fists and repeat the words inside his head:
She wants to get married and you don’t.
She’s going to get married and you’re not.
She works for you.
Worked
for you.
She’s gone.
It’s over.
“You must be tired,” he suggested. If she didn’t leave this room soon—say within the next thirty seconds—he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions. Despite the breeze coming in the window, the temperature was still rising, and he wasn’t made of iron. He was made of some extremely flammable substance.
She nodded and went to the door. Relieved, he followed her out and closed the door behind him. Firmly. And moved on.
“Here’s the guest room.”
“It’s charming.” It
was
charming. Suzy didn’t know who had decorated it, but it couldn’t have been Brady. The bed had an old wrought-iron frame, painted black. The walls were sage green with botanical prints hanging above the bed. Green and white plaid blankets were stacked at the foot of the bed. She sighed.
“You said you had no furniture.”
“I didn’t. Until my mother came for a visit last year. This was a storeroom. She couldn’t stand it. She got out her tape measure, poked around at antique shops and garage sales and this is how it turned out. I told her I didn’t need a guest room because I don’t have any guests, but she’s stubborn.”
She stifled a smile, but he saw it.
“Okay, the Wilsons are all stubborn. I don’t deny it.”
“You never mentioned having a mother,” she said. “Or a father.”
“Got one of each. The two of them drive around the country in their RV visiting the grandchildren. Dad loves it here as much as I do. While mother goes hunting for antiques, he goes hunting for quail.”
Suzy ran her fingers along the smooth iron headboard.
“Well,” he said, “the bathroom’s across the hall. There are some shirts in the closet. Take what you need.” And he was gone.
Suzy stood in the middle of the room in a state of semishock, staring at the door he’d closed behind him. She’d known him for all the years he’d been in Harmony, worked for him for a year—and had never known anything about Brady’s family. Or that Brady had been decorated for bravery. Or that Brady was as expert at handling a camera as he was at charming women.
She stared at the door, feeling her heart twist. As if she’d willed it, the door swung open and Brady walked in as if he owned the place. Which he did. The gleam was back in his eyes. “Forgot something,” he said with a wicked grin.
Chapter Seven
H
e put his hands on her shoulders, turned her around, slid his hands down her back until they rested on her hips. Then he untied her apron and tossed it across the room. “I’ve been wanting to do that all evening,” he said. She shivered uncontrollably in the warm night air. And wondered what he’d take off next.
“And this,” he said lifting her hair off the nape of her neck and kissing her. His lips were warm on her cool skin. He made her feel so vulnerable, and yet so safe and secure at the same time.
He kissed the tender spot behind her ear, then he nibbled on her earlobe. She froze, dizzy with longing. Afraid to move. Afraid he’d leave. More afraid he wouldn’t leave.
“Brady...”
“I know. I’m leaving.” And he did. Again.
She sat on the edge of the bed and took her stockings off, then lay facedown, burying her face in the green-and-white-pinstriped pillowcase, listening to his footsteps
in the hall. She heard thumping in the room next door and imagined him taking his clothes off. Hanging his pants in the closet. Tossing his shirt on the floor. His underwear next. What kind of underwear? she wondered suddenly. Boxers or what?
She pictured his body stretched out on those navy plaid sheets and she moaned. The longing grew and swelled inside her until she couldn’t stand it. She rolled off the bed and went to the door and stuck her head out. Nobody in the hall. The bathroom door was open and steam was in the air. Nobody in the bathroom. Not now.
Nobody in the bathroom but his toothbrush was there, his damp towel, his shampoo and his aftershave all flooding her senses with reminders of him. The mirror was steamed up and the room smelled like him. Spicy and sexy. She locked the door. But why bother? He was as good as there, his things driving her wild with desire. She took her dress off and stepped into the tub-shower combination, pulled the shower curtain closed and began washing him out of her hair and her mind and her life. Because if she didn’t, it wouldn’t matter if she went to the diner or entered a nunnery. She’d have no chance of finding Mr. Right.
She wrapped a towel around her head and another one around her body, knotting it above her breasts. Then ever so slowly, she opened the door and stuck her head out. And ran across the hall to the guest room. As if she was afraid he’d be standing there waiting for her. Waiting to catch a glimpse of her in a towel. As if he had nothing better to do. As if he hadn’t fallen asleep already.
She leaned back against the door, breathing hard as if she’d run the marathon instead of the three steps from
the bathroom. Then she pulled the sliding door open and looked into the walk-in closet. A crisp white dress shirt and a blazer. Gray slacks. The clothes he’d worn for campaigning and wouldn’t likely wear again. Until the next election. She also saw a flannel shirt and more shirts. She let her towel drop to the floor and took a striped, button-down Oxford cloth shirt off the hanger.
She slept in the shirt, inhaling laundry soap and the smell of Brady, that seductive mix of tobacco and leather and outdoors. If that wasn’t enough to keep her awake, the fabric rubbed against her sensitive skin in all the most susceptible and erotic zones as she tossed and turned and replayed the evening from the champagne in the bathtub incident right up to that last seductive kiss on the back of the neck. Heat flooded her body. She tossed off the plaid blanket, then the pin-striped sheets. Her whole body throbbed with blazing hot desire.
What did it mean? Nothing. All it meant was that she was overwrought from the election campaign. It was natural she’d react in a strange and unpredictable way. By tomorrow everything would be back to normal. Just in case it wasn’t, she’d leave before he woke up. Just as he’d done at her house. She’d make the bed, hang up her towel and he’d forget she’d even been there.
She’d take Travis to the park tomorrow, then do her errands, church on Sunday and presto—everything would be back to normal. Of course, getting used to working at the diner might require a slight adjustment.
But hey, adjusting to a new and different situation was a good way to forget anything she wanted to forget. Such as Brady and his sizzling kisses. Such as Brady and his big, unused, half-lived-in house. She shivered and pulled the sheets and then the blanket up to her
chin. But she didn’t sleep. Not with him next door. Not with the sound of someone tossing and turning. Or was that her imagination? More than likely he was sleeping soundly. What had happened between them tonight was just something that had grown out of the excitement of the victory party.
At the crack of dawn she was back in her dress, tiptoeing out of the house, shoes in her hand. She took one last, lingering look at the big old converted barn in the middle of five acres of brush and oak trees before she started her car. Then she went home. The home that had always seemed cozy and now seemed small and overcrowded with Travis’s toys and the furniture she’d collected at garage sales. Overcrowded on the inside and overcrowded on the outside by neighbors on both sides.
She changed into jeans and a T-shirt and went to pick up Travis at her mother’s. When she got there her mother asked about the party.
“It was fine,” Suzy said, fighting off fatigue and letdown and other emotions too confusing to sort out. “I think most of the people had a good time.”
Her mother gave her a searching glance. “What about you?”
“I wasn’t there to have a good time, I was there to help Brady. It was part of my job.”
“What time did you get home last night?”
“Mom, I’m thirty-one years old,” she said indignantly.
Her mother’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Just wondering.”
“It was so late and I was so tired, I spent the night,” Suzy admitted. “In the guest room.”
“Of course.” Her mother poured Suzy a cup of coffee.
“Well, it must be a relief to have it over. The job and the campaign.”
“Yes, it is,” Suzy said, stuffing Travis’s blanket into the tote bag.
“On the other hand,” her mother said.
“There is no other hand, Mom. It’s a relief, period.”
“What’s Brady going to do without you?” her mother asked while Travis picked Cheerios off the tray of his high chair.
“That’s up to him. I tried to find a replacement, but he didn’t like any of them. Maybe he thinks he doesn’t need an assistant.”
“Or maybe he thinks you’re irreplaceable.”
Suzy sighed. “I don’t know what Brady thinks. He’s on his own now. On Monday morning I start at the diner. Is seven o’clock too early to bring Travis by?”
“Of course not,” her mother said, lifting Travis out of his high chair and hugging him tightly. “I’m going to miss him when I move to Vegas.”
“He’ll miss you too, Mom. So will I.” Suzy felt the tears spring to her eyes. What was wrong with her? Getting all emotional over this move that had been pending for the past year. She was a thirty-one-year-old mother. And happy for her own mother, who’d never wanted a small-town life, who’d always yearned for more to do in the evenings than Bingo games in the church basement. Now her mother, after years of taking care of others, after her dad had died of a lingering and debilitating illness, was finally getting a chance to live the life she wanted. Then why was she crying?
“What’s wrong?” her mother asked anxiously.
“I don’t know. You’re leaving. I’m changing jobs. Everything’s different, everything’s changing.”
“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing quitting your job?” her mother asked.
“I’m not sure about anything, except for one thing. I want to get married. I’ve always wanted to get married and have kids. I see how happy my friends are. I saw how happy you and Dad were. Now it’s my turn. Oh yes, one more thing I’m sure of. I never would have found anybody to marry while I was working for Brady. During the past year at his office I came into contact with a lot of men. There were at least two welfare cheats, four cattle rustlers and six horse thieves. None of which would have made good husband and father material.”
As if he understood, Travis looked up and said, “Mama.”
“Yes, sweetheart, Mama’s trying to find you a da-da.”
“I thought Tally fixed you up with someone,” her mother said.
“Yes, someone. Someone who doesn’t stay in one place for more than a few days. Some playboy who flies all over, on business or pleasure. Travis needs a father who’s there for him. And besides, the guy was boring.”
“So he has to be exciting.”
“No, of course not. In fact, I don’t want anyone too exciting. That’s what got me into trouble the last time. Falling for Jared for all the wrong reasons.”
“Sex appeal?” her mother suggested.
“And a killer smile, great body...well, you know, you saw him.”
“Briefly.”
“Briefly, exactly. He breezed through town briefly. Swept me off my feet, and he was gone.” Suzy shook her head. “I won’t make that mistake again. Confusing
lust with love. Not that I’m looking for either. No, I’ve learned my lesson. Now that I think about it, boring would be okay. Certainly preferable to what I had.”
“Just don’t rush into anything, will you?” her mother asked. “You deserve the best. I know I’m prejudiced but you have a lot to offer a man. You’re a great mother, a wonderful cook and truthfully, you’re a beautiful woman.”
Suzy hugged her mother. “Good heavens, Mom, it’s a good thing you’re not prejudiced, I’d hate to hear what you’d have to say then.”
“It will all work out,” her mother said. “I feel it in my bones. And when I get that feeling, I’m never wrong.”
Suzy grinned. “Are you sure that isn’t your arthritis?”
Her mother propped her hands on her hips. “I don’t have arthritis. I’ve got a mother’s intuition. You’ve got it too. You inherited it from me. So don’t ignore your feelings. And don’t settle for boring. Don’t settle for less than anything less than perfect. Because you deserve it.”
Unable to speak, Suzy nodded and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek.
 
On Monday morning, a little after seven, Suzy swept by Brady’s office in her car. Brady never came in until nine, unless there was an emergency, so she felt safe unlocking the front door with the key she hadn’t yet turned in. But there he was, standing in front of his desk, his arms crossed over his waist, his eyebrows raised.
“I knew you’d be back. I knew you couldn’t take it,” he said.
She wished she could wipe the smug smile off his face.
“I came to pick up some stuff I left behind.”
“You mean you’re going through with this ridiculous plan?” he demanded.
“Yes, Brady, yes. I’m late already, so I’ll just—” She started toward her office, but he grabbed her arm.
“You’ll just what? Make a few long distance calls, fill your purse with paper clips and Post-it pads?”
Wide-eyed, she stared at him, astounded at his words. Was he kidding? Kidding or not, she realized how ludicrous it was that she would come back to pilfer some office supplies and she started laughing. Laughing helplessly until the tears ran down her cheeks.
It was Brady’s turn to be astounded. He stood there watching her as if she’d gone berserk.
“I’m sorry,” she said when she’d caught her breath. “It wasn’t that funny. It’s just that lately I’m a little off balance.” Off balance was putting it mildly. All weekend long she’d found her eyes tearing up at the slightest provocation. At the sight of Travis’s baby clothes, or hearing an old song on the radio. Anything. And now this, laughing hysterically at nothing. “Like when I tried to walk across your kitchen floor. I wasn’t really drunk or anything. I want you to know that.”
“And I want you to know how inconsiderate it was of you to leave without saying goodbye.”
“Me? Inconsiderate? You have a lot of nerve saying that after that night on my couch. I got up to make breakfast for you and you were gone.”
“What were you going to make?” he asked, leaning back against his desk and surveying her through narrowed eyes.
“Waffles. Pancakes. Hash browns. Whatever.” The
minutes were ticking by. She was going to be late for her new job on the first day. And he was acting like she had all the time in the world.
“What about hush puppies and grits?” he asked.
“Yes, those, too.” She looked at her watch. “Let’s call a truce, okay? You left without saying goodbye and so did I. We’re even. We could argue about it all day, but I have to get going. First I’m going to get the pictures I left on my wall. The ones of Travis. You can come and watch to see that I don’t lift anything that doesn’t belong to me, like the half roll of Scotch tape I left in my drawer.” -
“I took the pictures down,” he said. “I thought you didn’t want them.”
He reached into his desk drawer, brought out a manila envelope and handed it to her. She pulled the photos out.
“Where’s the one of me and Travis on his birthday?” she asked.
He shrugged. “If I find it, I’ll let you know.”
She thought about insisting he find it then and now, but she didn’t have the time and energy for another argument, so she pressed her lips together, clamped the envelope under her arm and rushed out of the office.

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