ROMANCE: MC BIKER ROMANCE: Bad Boy Biker's Baby (Bad Boy Alpha Male Motorcycle Club Romance) (Contemporary MC Biker Pregnancy Romance) (118 page)

Chapter Four

Myrtle had been correct when she told Ella that the boys were unruly. She was actually a little surprised by how little discipline Andrew had given them in the last five years. She was somewhat surprised they didn’t all have hair down to their waists and no bathtime each week. She had quickly discovered during the first week that bathing and rubbing their teeth clean were two things Andrew insisted on. He regularly emptied the chamber pots and kept the house as aired out as possible. He was a stickler for trying to make things as clean as possible, which pleased her. But the dust had always gotten away from him. Opening the windows invited in more dust from the air and their clothes and shoes did the rest.

She didn’t mind the constant dusting. It became part of her routine when she wasn’t trying to keep the boys under control. The lemon in her coffee and frogs in her bed that Myrtle mentioned were pranks that the boys had apparently used before so she was expecting them. She scolded the boys but was never harsh, leaving them thinking of more things to do to her. She wasn’t sure how to put a stop to it.

On her third Monday morning as their new mother, she woke to the usual morning scent of coffee. Andrew never woke her before he left and he was not talkative when he came home. He had not told her about any of his days or the creations he was working on in his business though it was something she would have been interested in hearing.

Andrew never discouraged Ella from reading her books. In fact, Myrtle had even bought her a new one when she finished
Sherlock Holmes A Study in
Scarlet
. It was a fantastic book and had become one of Ella’s all-time favorites. She was looking forward to reading more about the British detective at 221B Baker Street. So far, she had only had a chance to read to Carl. The other boys refused to sit long enough to listen.

This morning, she heard a crash downstairs and immediately jumped up from her bed. She pulled on her robe and slid her small feet into a pair of slippers Myrtle had also purchased for her. She hurried down the hallways to the den and pushed the door open.

“Raymie? Peter? Fred? Carl?” She said each of their names, even though there was no one in the room. She glanced around for hiding places and scanned the curtains and furniture for little feet or tufts of hair so she could see where they were. In the corner of the room, a large vase had fallen to the floor, shattering it into a million pieces. She was instantly afraid, thinking of what her father would have done if something like that had happened in his house.

But she wasn’t caring for her father’s house anymore. She was caring for her husband’s, a man she barely knew, even two and a half weeks in.

“Oh dear,” she said loudly so that small listening ears would hear. “Oh, my! Andrew will be so unhappy about this. I can’t imagine who could have done it!” She silently picked up a small hard ball that was still rocking in place under a table near the smashed vase. She slipped the ball into her pocket. “Oh dear.” She shook her head. “Could this have been a ghost? Oh, how will I tell Andrew there is a ghost in this house!”

She heard the sound of a small gasp from the other side of the open door into the foyer. It was followed by several muffled sounds of “shhh”.

“What will I do? A ghost!” She said again, directing her words toward the doorway.

“Oh! Oh, oh, is there really a ghost? Is there, Miss Ella?” Carl came running into the room and threw himself into Ella’s skirt, balling it up and pressing his face into it. She put one hand on his back and patted him.

“Shut your bazoo, Carl!” Raymie said in an irritating voice, also coming into the room. “You know it wasn’t a ghost! She’s just trying to scare you.”

Ella shook her head. “I wasn’t trying to scare him, Raymie. I was just trying to draw you, four boys, out. You did this, didn’t you? With this?” She pulled the ball out of her pocket and held it out for them to see. The other two boys were poking their heads around to see what she was doing. They came in the room, looking distraught and threw themselves on the couch. Peter hung his head, his small cheeks red. Freddie pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. Raymie was the one who appeared most upset, crossing his arms over his chest and plopping down on a big high-backed chair sitting next to the couch.

“I get bored around here!” He said angrily.

“I’m sure you do. You should be in school.”

“We don’t need to go to school!” He said abruptly. “We won’t need that when we’re working here on this farm.”

“Surely your papa will let you go to the schoolhouse if you want to.”

“I don’t want to!” Raymie exclaimed, giving her a furious look.

“You don’t?”

“He does, too!” Peter said, quietly. Raymie glared at him. “Well, you do, Raymie. I heard you telling Freddie even just a couple of days ago. You said you wanted to learn to read, and you were mad because you don’t know how.”

“I do know how to read!”

“No, you don’t.” Peter shook his head.

“You don’t know how to read, Raymie?” Ella was surprised and disappointed. She would have thought that at least the oldest one would have learned that by now. “It’s very important that you know how to read. Especially since you want to work on the farm.”

“I don’t want to work on the farm!” Suddenly Raymie stood up; his small fists clenched and his eyes filled with tears. Ella’s heart broke looking up at him. She took a step closer and reached out to him, but he pulled away. “I want to work in a bank! It’s not fair!” He bolted out of the room and up the stairs. A few moments later, the door to his room was slammed shut.

Ella was left in shock. He was so embarrassed. She hadn’t meant to embarrass him. Freddie gave her a smile and walked out without a word. Shortly afterward, Peter followed, never taking his eyes off the floor. Both boys went up the steps.

Ella looked down at Carl, who was staring up at her. “He’s mad,” Carl said.

Ella nodded and looked at the stairs. “Yes, I think he is mad.”

She leaned down and picked the little boy up, resting him on her hip. He was too big to carry like a baby, but he held on to her as if he was one. She carried him up the stairs and opened Raymie’s door without knocking. She set Carl down and surveyed the scene. Peter and Freddie were simply sitting on Raymie’s bed while the young boy pressed his face into his pillow. Carl immediately went to the bed, climbed up on it and covered his oldest brother with a hug, resting his cheek on Raymie’s back and wrapping his small arms around his brother as much as he could.

Raymie didn’t move, accepting his little brother’s love without a word. Again, Ella felt her heart melt for the boys and their obvious love for each other. She went to the bed and sat in an open area, placing one hand on Raymie’s shoulder.

“I am so sorry I embarrassed you, Raymie. Please don’t be upset anymore. I tell you, you can be happy about one thing.”

“What’s that?” Raymie’s voice was muffled but sounded hopeful.

“You can learn to read any time in your life. I have three younger brothers at home, and I taught them all to read. My papa thought that reading and having an education was very important, even for a girl! So he taught me and I taught them. I can teach you, too, if you want.”

Raymie sat up but didn’t look at her. Carl transferred himself to Ella, draping himself over her back and wrapping his arms around her neck. She lifted one hand and patted his arms instinctively, feeling a great deal of affection for the little tyke.

“I can learn to read?”

“Of course, you have just as much…” Something behind Raymie on the wall caught her attention, and she focused on it. All four boys looked up at her face when she suddenly stopped talking. “What is this?” She mumbled to herself. She stood up, taking Carl with her as he wrapped his legs around her waist so she could piggy-back him. She carried him to the wall and bent down. There was a bit of wallpaper torn away. She lifted her fingers, grabbed it and pulled it so that it ripped some more. She heard a gasp behind her and Freddie spoke up.

“That’s wallpaper Papa put up just for Raymie. It’s his favorite color. He’s gonna be mad.”

Ella continued to rip the wallpaper off, feeling a bit of nervous excitement flow through her. She lowered Carl to the floor and ripped even more down. Behind the green wallpaper, there were pages and pages of newspaper. The section that had caught her eye read in big bold letters
Jim Smiley and his Jumping
Frog. Someone had covered the wall with an old New York Saturday Press from 1865. She was shocked that it was still readable after all the years that had passed.

“We can start now if you like.” She looked back to smile at the four boys. Their eyes had widened, and they looked at the wall curiously. “I can read this story to you. It’s a very interesting story about a man and his jumping frog. Would you like for me to read it to you?”

“Yes, yes, Miss Ella!” Freddie was the first one to respond, and his brothers followed suit quickly. Even Raymie had regained his composure and came over to look at the words on the wall.

An hour later, Andrew came through the front door and stood still for a moment. The house was quiet. It was never quiet. He looked around suspiciously, noticing the broken vase that had been partially cleaned up. He glanced down the hallway and then up the stairs nervously.

“Boys?” he called out and took the stairs up two at a time. The first door to the right was Raymie’s so he swung it open.

He didn’t expect to see his four sons sitting on the floor surrounding Ella. Carl was once again on her back. She appeared to be reading from papers they had ripped down from the wall.

“What is going on?”

Freddie was the first one on his feet to run toward his father.

“Papa!” he called out excitedly. “Mama Ella is teaching us to read! She says we don’t have to go to the schoolhouse if we don’t want to and that she’ll teach us right here. But I want to go to the schoolhouse, papa, that’s where other kids are! And Raymie wants to be a banker, papa! He does!”

With that, the other three boys approached their father and started talking all at once.

“Whoa, my sons!” Andrew laughed. He gestured for Ella to come to him, as well. She got to her feet and approached slowly. He noticed she looked nervous and shook his head, reaching out to touch her cheek and brush a loose strand of hair away from her face, gently pushing it behind her ear.

“Is this true? You would like to teach my sons? You don’t mind being here with them all the time?”

She shook her head. “Not at all, Andrew. I would be proud to teach them. They are lovely boys, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You are the first to say that, my dear. I am glad. I am very glad.” He pulled her into a hug that she didn’t expect. She put her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his chest with a sigh. Tingles covered her when he whispered in her ear. “Do you think you can take a grouchy old man and fall in love with him, too?”

She looked up at his deep green eyes and had to admit it. “Yes,” she said. “I think I already have.”

“I have been distant,” he said in a low voice.

“I have been watching. You are a good father and a good man with plenty to be concerned about. You work hard for these boys. They know it and so do I. I am proud to be here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m so happy to hear that, Ella. I really am.”

He lowered his head and gave her a kiss, which she returned. It was the warmest, best kiss she had ever had. And it was only the beginning.

*****

THE END

Here is a FREE bonus 10.000 word romance story by Margaret Milburn, “The Cowboy’s Forgiveness”

Chapter 1

When I was fourteen, I was certain that my life would be an Eliza Doolittle. I had just begun my first year of high school. My overalls were pressed. My braces were set. I had become increasingly more conscious about my freckles and the impossible knots that my bushy brown hair got itself into. Eliza and I, while we had our differences, were in similar straights. I was just another country girl waiting for a handsome, high-society man to pamper me with things and teach me some class. Further down the line, I jokingly figured I’d settle for a Julia Roberts from
Pretty Woman
. But, being a romantic and a girl longing for adventure never really worked out in the small town of Gordonsville, Montana: population two thousand.

In a small pond like that, I quickly realized my path was never meant to be quite so serendipitous. I wanted to travel the world, live in a big city, eat sushi, ride a subway for the first time... So in my twenty-second year, that’s exactly what I did. I left town for big dreams, and had no intention of returning. Five years passed, and I got everything I ever wanted. But there were some parts about Gordonsville that never quite left…

Well, I did manage to live out a Julia Roberts scenario like I always wanted, though not at all like I had planned. Welcome to the life of me, Erin McGarity, Gordonville’s very own Runaway Bride.

“Zelda!” I called, weaving through piles of clutter and stacks of boxes. It was an early Tuesday morning, and the apartment was in utter disarray. Unpacked boxes were scattered about, clothes still piled in hangers and some half-folded into suitcases.

At this rate, we’re never going to catch our flight in time.

I chided myself for thinking that I had enough time to finish everything. It wouldn’t have been too bad, but Mr. Kinney begged me to take on one more account before I left and it completely tied me up for the weekend.

“Zelda!” I bent to peer beneath the living room coffee table. I sighed, resting my hand underneath my chin, and slumped over the table.

In the corner of my eye, I spotted a small, white ball dart toward the fireplace.

“Philip,” I called. “She’s in the fireplace!”

The sound of pattering feet became louder as he neared.

“Where is she? Where is she?” Philip’s loud squeal echoed across the apartment. He ran into the room and dove to the floor, crouching on his hands and knees, his head peering at the fireplace. He wore his dinosaur pajamas, his blonde hair whirred into messy tufts from tossing in his sleep.

“You have to be very quiet,” he said in a whisper. I sat with my arms folded, silently laughing to myself at Philip’s serious nature.

“If you’re quiet,” he said, “she won’t be scared. And if she’s not scared, then she trusts you.”

For a moment, Philip cooed toward the logs that sat in the fireplace. He reached into his pajama shirt pocket, and began piling sunflower seeds on the floor in front of him.

“Oh, Philip…” I sighed. “You shouldn’t put--”

“Look, look!”

A little white head peeked out from behind the logs. Zelda’s little ears twitched, and her tiny pink paws skittered toward the pile of seeds that Philip left. Soon, she was climbing on his shoulder, twitching her little whiskers at Philip’s face as he giggled.

Of all the animals my son could have possibly chosen to love, it had to be a rat.

At least he seems to be taking the move well
, I thought. Perhaps Zelda’s presence helped with that. I was thankful for any relief I could get. I knew it would get much harder in the days to come.
But, for now
, I reminded myself,
it’s time to pack!

“The prodigal daughter returns,” a familiar old face met with us outside of the airport. Leaning against his dusty, blue pick-up, was Peter Hargrave, Gordonville’s very own carpenter, welder, and plumber extraordinaire. To me, however, he was an old family friend, the uncle I never had. He stretched out his arms for a hug, his rosy cheeks beaming under his silvery-white beard.

“You’re all grown up now,” he rested his hands on my shoulders.

“It’s only been six years,” I said. “I’ve been grown up for a while, Pete.”

“But your hair--how’d you get it so straight?--and your clothes--why, I remember when you were just a little bony thing, always gettin’ tears in your dresses from playing with the boys.”

My cheeks grew warm. “Well, a lot has changed.”

A small hand pulled at my jacket.

Pete’s eyes widened. “A lot indeed!”

He bent down to meet Philip. Philip hugged at Zelda’s carry-box close.

“You must be Philip,” Pete sent him a wink.

“You must be Uncle Pete,” Philip said.

Pete stood up and chuckled.

“I am indeed.”

“This is Zelda,” Philip held up the little carry-box. “She’s shy at first, but if you’re nice to her, she will be nice to you. Also, she loves sunflower seeds.”

Pete smiled and fished into his front flannel pocket for some sunflower seeds. One, he bit into himself, prying out the seed from inside the shell. The other he gave to Philip, whose face lit up. Pete tousled Philip’s hair.

“Well then,” he chuckled. “I think Zelda an’ I will get along just fine.”

It was a two hour drive to Gordonville from the small airport that we flew into. Going from New York time to Montana was rough. Philip had already fallen asleep in the back seat shortly after we set off, and even I had trouble keeping wake. I leaned against the passenger door. Outside, endless fields of grasses filled the landscape, some early spring flowers already began to peak out. Mountains and trees scattered in the distance, the melting snowy peaks visible in the clear air. It was quiet out here. I had almost forgotten the sound of silence.

Pete filled the emptiness. “When I heard from Rick that you were comin’ back to take over the farm, why, I about jumped out of my seat.”

I sat up.

“Whoa, whoa--wait a minute,” I said.

Philip shifted in the back and I let my voice down.

“Look, I don’t know what my dad told you, but I don’t have any intention of taking over the farm.”

Pete’s smile left, and he shifted uncomfortably.

“Oh, well, I guess I must have misheard--it sounded to me like Rick thought you were comin’ back to help out, an’--”

“Yes--to
help
. I’m coming back because I heard he was having a hard time, and I know he won’t admit it. I’m not planning anything permanent. I’m going to see what I can do. Honestly,” I folded my arms. “I keep telling dad to come move in with me. He knows he’s just not able to do it all by himself anymore. But he’s too stubborn to listen.”

“Your father’s a proud man,” Pete said. “But this is his home. You can’t just expect him to give it up so easily.”

“He’s worked himself too much ever since mom passed,” I said.

Pete let out a sigh.

“It seems to run in the family.”

“Pete,” I was already getting agitated.

“Sorry, Erin.”

We continued in silence for a moment.

“By the way,” Pete cleared his throat. “I know I’m on shaky ground as it is, but...”

              I turned to Pete. “Hmm?”

“You know, Matty Gordon’s still nearby. He’s a real man of the town nowadays. Got a real head on his shoulders. Really taken after his family business. You plannin’ on speaking with him at some point?”

I looked out toward the side of the road once again. Until that moment, I hadn’t really thought much further. My sights were set on taking care of things with my father, settling the business with the farm, convincing him to move back with me and Philip, and then,
maybe
, I would find enough courage to talk to
him
.
No,
I knew I had to talk to him at some point.

“First things first,” I said. “At least let me get settled in. When, and
if
I speak with Matthew Gordon, it’s going to be a thought-out, civil conversation for mature adults who’ve moved on.”

“You do know that everyone’s already talkin’ about it? I bet he already knows himself when you’re comin’ in. I’d just be ready for the audience, if I were you.”

I sighed and leaned myself on the armrest of the door.

“Perfect. Everyone’s ready for the sequel. Let’s see how Erin McGarity can embarrass herself in front of everyone--again!”

Chapter 2

Driving through downtown Gordonville was like staring at a foggy, old mirror. Everything was just as I had left it, and yet it seemed entirely foreign to me. The main street buildings huddled together, with the rustic charm of an old Western outpost. Antique shops, a corner cafe, a drugstore, and an assortment of fancier specialty shops lined the strip.

In just a few moments, we had already ridden past the heart of Gordonville. The McGarity farm lay almost thirty minutes toward the outskirts of town.

It was a bright day that seemed the first to really feel like spring after a harsh winter. A slight chill still hung in the air. As the small plots of neighborhoods and farm became scarcer, the scenery once again became the familiar roll of yellow green hills, wet with melting slush.

After several moments, I began to spot large cows grazing in the distance, and a tall, meshed, wooden fence trailing far along the roadside.

“Whose land is this? I don’t remember this belonging to anyone before.”

“This here’s all part of the expansion by the Gordon ranch. Apparently, Matty’s had a lot of success since he took over. Made a few deals with some buyers in Texas. Got some big shot investors to oversee everything.”

“So he’s just been buying out the whole county?”

Pete didn’t respond at first.

“Matty’s a good kid,” he said. “And times have been rough for a lot of folk out here. He makes his living--”

“By selling the town out to some corporate money bank?”

Pete sighed, “By givin’ folks a second chance.”

“Right,” I folded my arms and sighed. “A second chance.”

“Philip,” I cooed toward the backseat. “Philip, we’re here.”

Philip peeked out from the blanket draped over him, his bright blue eyes blinking the sleep away. He brought Zelda’s box close to him as he leaned toward the window.

“It’s so big!”

He marveled at the old farm house, the yellow-white paint peeling off, the shriveled shrubs overgrown against the porch railing that wrapped around the house. Smoke puffed out of the blackened chimney.

As we walked to the house, Philip pointed in the distance to the large red barn, though it looked more brown now, fading into disrepair.

“Are there cows in there?” He found everything around something to marvel at. “Look, look!” He giggled at the chickens that ran about his feet, pointed excitedly at a large willow in the front yard sporting a large tire swing, and hugged tight to Zelda’s box when a bright orange farm cat settled atop the wooden fence-post nearby, coolly watching us with his gaze.

“Erin!” The green screen door banged to a close as my father came out to greet us. His flannel shirt was dirtied, the sleeves rolled up. His heavy boots thundered as he bumbled down from the wooden porch.

“You came much earlier than I thought you would,” he said as we pulled away from a hug. He turned his sights to Philip, rustling at his hair with his large, worked hands.

“Hey there, Philip! It’s been a while. You were just this big when I last saw you,” he held his hands apart from one another.

“We made pretty good time,” I said, ushering Philip toward the door. “We’re tired, but we made it.”

Pete began unloading the truck. I held my hand out toward the door when a large hand closed in before mine, my father grasping onto it before me.

I stood back.

“I really didn’t expect you so early,” he said, shifting.

“Well, we’re here now…” I tried to skirt around him toward the door, but he stepped in front of me.

“You have to understand, Erin,” he said. “It’s a man’s duty to see through all his options.”

“Options? Duty? What are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you know sooner…”

I began to grow impatient. I was tired and jet lagged, and the last thing I needed was my father presenting me with games.

“Dad, please, just let me--”

“Momma, who is that man?”

Philip pointed toward the front living room window. A shadow moved from inside, the curtain swaying as if they had been peeking out at us.

“Who was that?”

My father shifted his gaze from me and sighed.

“Dad…” the impatience in my voice must have caused him to resign, and he stepped aside.

“I’m sorry,” was the last thing he said.