The New Baby

Still, he’d managed to do his share of tomcatting in his younger days, which had gotten him in trouble to begin with. His high school sweetheart, Jolene Bradford, had taken his heart, his class ring and his virginity, all in short order. Getting Jolene pregnant during their sophomore year hadn’t been the smartest thing he’d ever done. Giving up their baby boy had seemed a step in the right direction toward growing up and making responsible decisions. Or at least, it did at the time.

But as the years went by, the regret of not knowing what had become of his own child had worn on him. He’d lost himself in work, starting with after-school jobs and helping Papaw at the welding shop and with putting up the tobacco they used to raise. One day seemed to fold into the next, one year into another, until he now owned the shop and Papaw was in the nursing home.

What did he really have to show for his life? He’d always thought he’d have a family by now. A couple of kids and a wife to come home to…even if coming home only required walking up the hill. Though he had searched time and again, he’d never found his son, and the pain of that stayed with him.

Shaking off the melancholy thoughts, Ian let his mind wander back to Amanda. Maybe he ought to come right out and ask her on a date. He could take her to supper or something. Dancing maybe. Nope. He shook his head. He hadn’t danced in so long, he’d likely make a fool of himself by stepping on her toes. It would have to be supper. Someplace nice but not too romantic. Dinner. That’s what she’d probably call it. Just thinking about her western accent made him smile. It was hard to understand at times, but he liked the sound of it—the way the words rolled off her tongue. Though they barely knew each other, he hoped she’d accept his invitation, if for no other reason than the fact that their grandparents had been friends.

Would a woman like Amanda find a lifestyle like his worthy? She was a nurse, probably used to fancy things and men who worked white-collar jobs.

“You’re getting way ahead of yourself, Bonner,” he muttered out loud. But there wasn’t any harm in getting to know her. He could hear Papaw’s voice inside his head, as sure as if he were sitting right there beside him.

Can’t never did anything, son.

Papaw was right.

At the door, Cuddles scratched and whined to come in. Rising from his chair, Ian abandoned his half-empty beer to open the screen for her. “Some watch-dog you are,” he said, as she bounded inside and rolled over on the braided throw rug. Her paws in the air, she begged for a tummy rub. Ian laughed and scratched her belly. “Big baby.”

Maybe Amanda liked dogs.

Maybe he’d find out, the next time he visited Papaw.

TO IAN’S DISAPPOINTMENT, Amanda wasn’t working at Shade Tree Manor when he stopped by there Wednesday morning. But Papaw told him she lived at her granny’s cabin, and that Saturday was also her day off. He’d therefore planned to drive out to the old Satterfield place as soon as he finished a few odd jobs at the shop. Instead, he found himself in charge of the group of kids he’d volunteered to look after on a once-a-month basis. The Cumberland Cubs, a scout troop of a dozen boys under the age of twelve.

He shouldn’t have answered the phone.

Oh, he liked taking the boys camping well enough. But last Saturday had been his weekend with the Cubs, and he hadn’t planned to act as scout leader this weekend, too. Yet he never seemed to be able to say no to someone in need.

He now stood, dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved khaki shirt and hiking boots, next to a commercial-sized van that belonged to the head scoutmaster—his best friend, Neil.

“I sure appreciate this, buddy,” Neil said after giving the troop one more round of last minute instructions. “Having Peggy and the girls down with this cruddy spring flu, and my other two scout leaders sick, I didn’t know who else to call. And I hated to disappoint the boys. They love camping out at ’Livia Satterfield’s old place.”

“The Satterfield place?” Ian’s ears perked. “That’s where you were planning to take them?” They rotated locations on their monthly overnight outings.

Neil looked at him as if he’d grown an extra eye. “Yeah. You know we generally go there at least every other month.” Olivia Satterfield had loved the woods almost as much as she loved kids, and she’d let the Cubs camp on the back of her ten acres anytime they wanted. But Ian had assumed that was all in the past, now that Amanda lived there.

“I know, but—is the new owner okay with it?”

Neil shrugged. “Olivia left the place to her daughter, Bridget. And when I talked to her after the funeral, Bridget said ’Livia wrote it up in the will that the Cubs were to keep camping there for as long as the place remains in the family. I thought I’d told you that?”

“If you did, I didn’t hear you,” Ian said, trying not to smile. Perfect. “I guess we’ll find out if her granddaughter feels the same way.”

“Won’t matter. Like I said, it’s in the will.” Neil cupped his hands around his mouth. “Okay, troop, let’s load up! Pronto!”

The boys piled into the minivan, and Ian climbed behind the wheel, feeling like a kid himself. A kid with a crush.

“Hey, Ian.” One of the youngsters leaned over the seat and tapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks for taking us camping.”

His conscience gave a mental blush. He shouldn’t be happy they were headed for Amanda’s place just so he could see her. He loved kids, and the Cubs came first. The purpose of this camping trip was to be sure they had a good time.

“You’re more than welcome, Jeffrey.” Ian wondered how it would feel to drive a van full of children of his own. Maybe he’d find out someday. If he could ever find someone to be their mother.

He waited while the boys settled in place with all doors shut. “Is everybody buckled up?”

“Yeah!” they chorused.

“And is everyone ready to have some fun?”

“Yeah!” Their voices were louder this time, full of enthusiasm.

Ian’s lips twitched. He was already having a good time. “And is everybody ready to kiss some girls?”

“No!”

“Yuck.”

“I’m not going if we have to do that.”

He let out a hearty laugh. “Okay, no girl kissin’. How about catching frogs?”

“Yeah!”

A grin plastered on his face, Ian waved at Neil and drove away.

AMANDA SANK INTO the steaming tub of bubbles. From the headphones of her portable CD player, the sounds of nature helped her relax, as did the scent of the aromatherapy candles lining the vanity. Closing her eyes, she dozed and awoke a short time later. The headphones were silent but she could hear the faint chatter of birds. Laughing at herself, Amanda sat up straight in the tub. She had all the nature sounds she wanted right outside her window.

Discarding the headphones, she leaned forward and turned on the hot water to bring the tub’s temperature up to a comfort level once more. Then she rose and flipped open the latch on the window. Hands slick, she pushed upward on the sliding pane of frosted glass and very nearly lost her balance. Creaky with lack of use, the window stuck a moment, then slid abruptly to a wide-open position. Through the screen, she heard the running creek, and the birds, louder now, singing in the trees…

And the voices of children.

Kids? Out here? Frowning, Amanda turned off the water and peered over the edge of the windowsill. She didn’t see anyone. Her nearest neighbors lived some distance down the road in either direction. So where were the sounds coming from? Head cocked, she strained to listen. For a moment, she heard nothing and wondered if she’d imagined the whole thing. Then a burst of laughter rang through the air, followed by a shout and a man’s voice.

Hastily, Amanda closed the curtains and climbed from the tub. She dried off haphazardly with an oversized bath towel, doused the candles, then wrapped herself in a terry-cloth robe. Who on earth was out in the woods behind her house? Belting the robe at her waist, Amanda stepped into the kitchen and let out a startled gasp.

A boy, who looked about nine or ten, stood in front of her sink. Chubby with sandy hair and freckles, he stared at her, eyes wide, candy-stained mouth open. A plastic cup of water slipped out of his grasp, landing on the floor to pool across the linoleum.

“Who are you?” Amanda clutched the bathrobe against her damp skin. “And what are you doing in my kitchen?”

The poor kid clamped his mouth shut, then tried to form a sentence. “I—I…” He looked down at the water spreading around his feet, then back up at her. “You’re not Miss Rachel.”

He referred to the woman who’d been Granny Satterfield’s dear friend, and who had kept an eye on Granny’s house for the past two years. Sixty-five, Rachel Fultz lived down the road on the way to town.

“No. I’m Amanda Kelly. This used to be my Granny Satterfield’s place.”

“I’m Troy Stoakes,” he said. He bent over to pick up the plastic cup and Amanda belatedly realized he was wearing some sort of scout uniform.

Boy Scouts were supposed to be honorable, dependable, good kids, so surely this one meant no harm in entering her house. But the fact that he’d walked in without knocking was a bit unusual, even for small-town etiquette.

“If you’ve got a towel, I’ll clean this up.”