Stroke of Fortune (6 page)

“What kind of question is that?”

“A straight one. I'm not talkin' about wanting, about whatever it is that makes our hearts beat too fast when we get near each other. I'm just talking about respect. About one person liking how another person is. And I'm asking, do you like me?”

“Damn it, Josie.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. Yes, I like you. You know I do.”

“That's right. I do know. And I know why, too. You like me because I'm strong and I'm straight. Because I've been through a lot and things haven't always been so good for me, but I'm still standing. I'm still keeping on, doing the right thing as best I can—and not usin' any drugs or alcohol to soften the edges of how hard life can be. My daddy was a messed up, wife-abusing drunk. And you know and everyone knows that I am the reason he ended up in prison. I called the police on him and I testified against him so they could put him away where he belonged. In spite of all of that, I got through high school with a three-point-six GPA and someday, the good Lord willing, I'll get a college education. I ran this whole big house of yours before I was twenty years old. I moved up to Hurst when you sent me away and I worked hard and I paid you back every penny you gave to me.

“I may be more than ten years younger than you, but that doesn't make me weak and helpless. Not by a long shot. I don't know what I would have done if I'd had your baby. I can't talk about what never was. Because that baby you found on the golf course is not mine. And I think, if you'd only be honest with yourself, that you know she's not mine.”

He looked at her sideways. “If she's not yours, then what are you doing here?”

Josie felt tired then, tired right down to her bones. It was no good. No matter how hard she tried, she wasn't getting through to him.

“I said, what are you doing here?”

“Your mama told you. I came to apply for the nanny job.”

“Why—if Lena isn't yours?”

“Because I love babies and someone has to take care of that poor little girl. And because—” She stopped herself, not sure if she really wanted to reveal the rest.

“What?”

She made herself say it. “Because I still have hope. I still…want a chance with you.”

“A chance.” His tone made it achingly clear that she didn't have a prayer in the world for such a thing.

She sighed then. “That's right. God knows why, but it's true. I still want a chance to make things work with you.”

“There is no chance with me. You know that.”

She shook her head and then spoke with some anger. “Not unless that baby is ours, right? Then you'd have to do the right thing, wouldn't you?” She dared to step up next to him again, to tip her head back and speak right into his grim, set face. “For the sake of that baby, you'd put aside that awful promise you made to yourself when Monica died.”

He didn't even blink. “So?”

“Am I right?”

“You just said the baby wasn't ours.”

“You aren't answering my question, Flynt.”

“Is Lena ours?”

“How many times do I have to say it?”

“This once. Answer now and I won't ask you again.”

“Is this some kind of a deal you're offering? I say it one more time, and you'll believe me, you'll finally let it go?”

“Let's put it this way. I'll stop asking.”

She saw what he was getting at. “So, you won't believe me, you just won't ask again. You'll wait for the results of that paternity test.”

“You can volunteer the truth anytime between now and then.”

“Oh, well, thank you. Thank you so much.”

“No call for sarcasm, Josie.”

“Not from where you're standing, maybe.”

“Is Lena ours?”

“No. She is not.”

“Well,” he said. “Okay, then. Fair enough.”

“What in the world has ‘fair' got to do with it?”

He ignored the question and asked another one of his own. “You still want the job of taking care of her?”

She realized her mouth had dropped open and snapped it shut. “You're offering it to me?”

“That's right. You'll have to move in here.”

“I…yes, that's what the ad in the
Clarion
said.”

“You'll get two days off—the weekend—Friday at 6:00 p.m. to the same time on Sunday. But other than that, you'll be with Lena pretty much round-the-clock—well, except for, say, three hours a day, Monday through Thursday. How's that? Let's say from two to five in the afternoon as a rule. I'll spell you, or my mother will, or Cara—school's out now, so she's available in the daytime now and then.” Cara was a teacher at Mission Creek High. “So you'll be able to check on Alva, make sure she's got everything she needs and she's doing all right.”

“But—”

“The money will be good.” He named a figure.

He was right. It was very good. After working in day care, Josie knew what such jobs generally paid, and it wasn't a third of what Flynt had just offered. The hours would be much longer, true. But she'd get her room and board in the deal.

“You'll have to talk to the people at the café, tell them you're quitting. I need you to start right away.”

“Wait a minute. Your mother already as good as said she wouldn't hire me.”

“My mother isn't making this decision. Do you want the job?”

Lord help her. “Yes,” she said. “I do.”

T
he room off Flynt's bedroom had become a nursery again. Josie recognized all the cute white-painted furniture stenciled with dancing teddy bears holding big, bright balloons. The bins of baby toys were back. So were the open shelves stacked with soft receiving blankets and sweet little snap-front T-shirts and pastel rompers.

Flynt had even had someone in to paint fresh murals on the walls. Now it was fairies hovering in the air and cute, goofy-looking frogs in a pond. Before, it had been more teddy bears and a big rainbow arching across the ceiling.

The baby lay on a play mat, on the soft dark-green carpet, waving her fat little arms and making giggly sounds at the toys dangling from the play station set up above her. Grace was sitting in a rocker a few feet away. She had an open book in her lap, but she was watching the child, a soft smile on her mouth, looking as fond as a doting grandmother—which she probably felt certain she was. She took off her reading glasses when Flynt led Josie into the room, the soft smile becoming a flat line, the faint wrinkles in her brow
etching deeper than before. Josie read her expression. Grace knew that Lena's nanny had been hired and she did not in the least approve of her son's choice.

Her book had one of those ribbon markers hooked to the spine. Grace smoothed it in to save her place, shut the book and stood. “Well,” she said. And that was all. She waited for Flynt to tell her what she already knew.

Flynt didn't make her wait long. “Josie's taking the nanny job, Ma.”

“I see.” Grace gave her son a tiny smile—just the slightest upward tilting at the edges of her mouth. It was the smile of a trueborn lady. So polite. So cool. So very disapproving. She turned that itty-bitty smile on Josie. “Josie, could you wait in the sitting room for a minute or two, so that Flynt and I might have a word alone?”

Josie didn't even think to argue. “Of course.” She started to turn.

Flynt stopped her with a hand on her arm.

Josie flinched at the contact. She stared into those eyes of his. Her arm burned where he held it, his flesh to hers.

“Stay here.”

“But—”

He just looked at her.

She found herself nodding. “Yes, all right.”

He released her. “Ma, it's decided. Josie's going home to get her things, to check on Alva and quit her
other job. Starting tonight, she'll be looking after Lena five days a week.”

“I see,” Grace said again, that itty-bitty ladylike smile never wavering. She knew her son, knew when even her considerable powers of persuasion weren't going to be enough to make him see things her way. “Well, then, what can I say? If the decision is made…”

“It is. Josie will take the spare room next door.”

Next door, Josie thought, warmth pooling in her belly. There'll be my room and then the baby's room and then his room.

On the floor, the baby let out a particularly high-spirited giggle. Josie looked down at her—and never wanted to look away. Oh, what a precious little darling she was, with those feathery midnight curls and those wide eyes. To have a baby like that in her arms would almost make this mess she was getting herself into bearable.

Because Josie had few illusions. Coming back to work here wouldn't be any picnic. Flynt was a difficult man, to put it mildly. And Grace clearly didn't want her here. Who could say what the rest of the Carsons would think of Josie Lavender living in their house again?

However, she would have this baby to hold and to cherish, to pamper and fuss over. And yes, to love.

Except for Lena's little coos and sighs, the room
had fallen silent. Josie looked up to find both Flynt and Grace watching her.

Well, fine. Let them stare. “Do you mind if I…?”

“You're the nanny.” There was something in Flynt's voice. Triumph, maybe. Or vindication. “Go ahead.”

Josie was across the room and kneeling before that little sweetheart in two seconds flat. “Oh, look at you. You're a happy girl, aren't you? A sweet, beautiful, happy little girl.”

The baby blinked those gorgeous blue eyes and looked right at Josie. Then she made one of those baby sounds that almost might have been actual words.

Josie couldn't help chuckling. “I think she just said, ‘You bet.”'

“You want to hold her, don't you?” Flynt made the question into something very close to a taunt.

Josie decided not to rise to the bait. “I sure do,” she said honestly.

“No one's stopping you.”

Josie moved the play station and gathered that little darling into her arms. Lena giggled some more—and then rested her silky dark head on Josie's shoulder. Josie kissed the black curls and patted the tiny back. When she turned, she found both Flynt and his mother still staring at her.

She decided to ignore them. She rocked the baby gently from side to side and indulged herself in a few
more little kisses—on that satin-soft cheek, on the perfect shell of a small, warm ear.

At last, Grace turned to her son and asked a little stiffly, “Do you want me to stay with her until Josie can get her things and come back?”

“I'd appreciate it. I've got a few calls to make.”

“No problem.” Grace set her book on the small table by the rocker and held out her arms.

Reluctantly Josie handed Lena over. “I'll probably be two or three hours.”

“It's all right,” said Grace, holding Lena close. “We'll manage just fine.”

 

Alva was lying on the sofa, as usual, when Josie got home. But she looked pretty good. Her oxygen was turned off and wheeled over into the corner. Day by day, the circles beneath her eyes seemed a little lighter, her cheeks a little less pale.

She sat up. “Josie, honey, I'm thinking maybe I'll fix us both some macaroni and cheese. I know you love macaroni and cheese.”

Josie sat down beside her and took her hand. “Mama…”

Alva looked at her with a mother's knowing eyes. “Something's happened. What?”

“Well, it's kind of a sudden thing, I know, but I've been offered a nanny job out at Carson Ranch.”

“Just now? Today?”

“That's right.”

“A nanny job…watching the mystery baby?”

“Mama. How'd you know about the mystery baby?”

“I may be under the weather lately, but I have a few friends in town. And I've also got a phone.”

“Everybody's talking, huh?”

“Aren't they always?”

“Yeah, I suppose they are.” Josie rubbed the back of Alva's thin, wrinkled hand. Her mother was only forty-five. But judging by her hands, she might have been seventy or more. “Mama…”

“Spit it out, now, sweetie.”

“Well, it's a round-the-clock job. I would have to stay at the ranch five days a week. I'd come home every day, though, to check on you and I'd have two days off.”

“You talked to Gus over at the café yet?”

Josie shook her head. “I'll go see him next.”

“Oh, don't look so serious.” Alva's smile was a little wan, but it was a smile, nonetheless. “You know Gus. He'll holler some and then he'll say as soon as you want your job back, you got it.”

Josie nodded. “I have to admit that does sound like Gus.”

“He knows a hard worker when he's got one. This nanny job pay good?”

“Very good.”

“And you want to do it?”

“Yes. I do.”

Her mother reached out, brushed a few strands of hair out of Josie's eyes. “And not only for the money, am I right?”

“Oh, Mama…” All at once, there were tears pushing at the back of her throat.

“What, now? What is makin' you cry?”

“I'm not crying. Not quite, anyway.”

“Tell me. Come on.”

“Well, when it comes to love and all that, I only wanted to find a good man, you know? A nice, stable, solid kind of guy.”

“Who is it?”

Her mother's sudden question took Josie by surprise. “What?”

“Oh, honey, I always suspected there was someone at that house when you were working there before—and then, when you quit all of a sudden and decided to head up to Dallas, I knew something was wrong. You had that look of a woman brokenhearted, but you weren't talkin'.”

Josie patted Alva's hand some more. “I didn't want to worry you.”

“You'll worry me more now by not telling me who the man is.”

Josie swallowed. Why not tell her mother? Alva only wanted to understand. “It's Flynt Carson.”

“Oh, my,” said Alva, shaking her head.

“Keep it to yourself, Mama.”

“Don't you worry. I will.”

“I can see it in your eyes. You think I'm making a big mistake.”

“It's all right,” her mama said. “You follow your heart now. You're wiser than I ever was. And your heart does know the way.”

 

Josie didn't get back to the ranch until after seven. Cara was watching Lena by then.

“Josie.” Cara had kind eyes—eyes that made no judgments. “We've missed you. Good to have you back.”

“Good to be here.” And it was—though it was a little bit nerve-racking, too. She kept thinking how she'd be sleeping right down the hall from Flynt. And taking care of the baby he still believed to be theirs.

“You'll need time to put your things away,” Cara suggested. “I'll stay here with Lena. Go ahead and get settled in.”

“Thanks.”

Cara waved a hand as if to say that thanks weren't needed. “What about dinner? Did you eat? Call the kitchen and have something sent to your room.”

Josie spent a half an hour or so putting some of her clothes into drawers and hanging the rest in her new room's small closet. She also set out the few personal things she liked to have with her wherever she stayed—a framed picture of herself and Alva, a little chipped Hummel statue of a shepherd boy holding a
lamb, some big quartz crystals she'd found on a trip to Arkansas and, of course, her computer.

The housekeeper brought up her tray just as she got everything in order. She carried it into the baby's room, thinking she'd tell Cara it was okay if she wanted to go.

But Cara had already slipped out, probably gone home to the small caretaker's cottage not far from the main house, where she'd lived since before Josie first came to work for the Carson family. Josie entered the nursery room to find Flynt bending over Lena's crib.

He straightened and turned to her. He'd changed his clothes since that afternoon. Now he wore gray slacks and a dress shirt the same color as his eyes. It almost hurt to look at him, he was so handsome.

Heartbreaker, she thought, and wondered again at the wisdom of returning here.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

She frowned. “All right?”

“Your room. Is it all right? Did you find everything you need?”

“It's great.” She thought of her computer. “There's a desk in there, and I'm glad about that. But there is one thing…”

“Name it.”

“About the phone…”

“Right. Works like an office phone. If you pick it up, it buzzes Anita and the kitchen. If you want to dial out, just dial 9 first.”

“Well, I figured that out. Problem is, I have a phone modem for my computer and—”

He didn't let her get the whole sentence out. “Cable modem's better. I'll see you get a line in there first thing tomorrow.”

“There's no need for that. I've got a server. It's all set up. All I need is—”

“Josie, take my word. You'll be happier with high-speed service.”

She opened her mouth to argue further and then decided against it. Why not just take the cable hookup, since he was offering one? She'd still have her server, if she needed it later—if this crazy scheme of hers to give the two of them another chance together didn't work out. “All right. Thanks.”

Because Lena was fussing a little, Flynt lifted her from the crib. He carried her over to the bureau/changing table, laid her down and checked her diaper.

“Wet,” he said, bending so close his forehead and Lena's almost met.

“Oog. Ga,” said Lena.

“Yes, ma'am,” Flynt replied. “I'm on it.” And he was. In no time at all, he was snapping her back into her lightweight pj's. “There. All better.” Lena let out more nonsense sounds, waving her arms and kicking her legs. Her fat little fist ran into his nose, then opened and grabbed on.

“Hey.” He laughed, catching that tiny hand, which
instantly wrapped itself around his thumb. “Cut it out.” He kissed the plump pink knuckles.

Josie looked on, her poor heart melting right down to pure mush. He did have a way with that baby, now, didn't he? And he didn't even flinch at the prospect of changing a diaper.

Heartbreaker, he might be. But there was good-guy potential there, a steady, dependable man inside him. Always had been.

Josie's job over the next two weeks or so—until the results of that paternity test came through and the unassailable truth finally had to be faced—would be to set that good man free.

He slid a clean diaper onto his shoulder and then lifted Lena into his arms.

Right then he looked at Josie and scowled. “What?” The word was pure challenge. He must have seen the softness in her eyes.

She almost lied, almost waved a hand and told him nothing.

But where would avoiding his challenges get her?

Hey, she thought. I've quit my job and gone and moved in down the hall from him. Might as well go for it, starting right now.

She asked, “How in the world did you ever get it in your head to marry someone like Monica?”