The New Baby

“Sorry,” Ian said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What are you doing?” A look of concern laced with suspicion flashed in her eyes. Her gaze darted toward the house as though measuring the distance.

Surely she didn’t think he was going to pounce on her like some sex-starved maniac?

The sex-starved maniac that he actually was. He held his hands up in surrender. “Don’t shoot, I’m unarmed.”

She only looked at him. “I thought we’d said our goodbyes earlier.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her expression changing. “It’s not one of the boys, is it? Is someone sick or hurt?”

“No.” Ian shook his head. “Everyone’s fine. I couldn’t sleep, and I heard you crying. I thought I’d make sure you were all right.” He studied her. “You are, aren’t you?”

She sniffed and tucked her hair behind one ear. “I’m okay.” She shrugged. “Just a little homesick, I guess.” But her eyes betrayed her, telling him there was more to it than that. She looked at him like she wanted—needed—someone to talk to.

He nodded. “Yeah, Papaw said you’d come out here all the way from Colorado.”

“I did.”

“Mind if I ask what brought you here?”

“My car,” she said dryly, then winced. “Sorry.” Her smile was wooden. “Just a little humor to lighten the moment. I apologize for treating you like an intruder.”

“No problem.” He lifted a shoulder. “I guess in a way, I have been, what with me and the boys barging in on you.”

“Well, I suppose that hardly makes you Jack the Ripper.”

“Not even close.” He smiled, wishing he could get her to relax and laugh again. He’d liked the way she joked around with Papaw, and he wondered if she realized how different she was outside the walls of Shade Tree Manor.

Realizing there was such difference made him all the more curious. “So, since we’re both wide awake, want to talk a little bit? It’s always nice getting to know your neighbors.”

Again, a look passed over her face as though she did want to talk, yet was still hesitant. With seeming reluctance, she nodded. “Okay.” Then as though unwilling to be rude, added, “Would you like something to drink? A Coke? I could bring it out on the porch so you don’t have to leave the boys.” She glanced in the direction of the trees. “Or is the porch even too far away?”

“No,” he said. “They’re fine. We’ve got the tents set up in the clearing. Right where you and I were talking earlier.”

“Okay, then.” She turned and walked across the thick grass, sidestepping the lawn ornament he’d made for Olivia Satterfield a long time ago.

He’d nearly forgotten about it. Composed of welded scrap iron, the whimsical billy goat with flowing beard had its head down in a perpetual grazing position.

“Tacky thing, isn’t it?” Amanda said. “I guess I ought to have it removed along with the others.” She waved her hand at an assortment of ceramic statues. “It would make things easier for the boy who mows my lawn.”

Ian hid a grin. “It might at that.” He looked around. The grass wasn’t knee-deep anymore, the way it had been after Olivia’s passing, but it was still a few inches tall. He knew that Rachel Fultz had kept an eye on the house for the past couple of years, but apparently her neighborly duties hadn’t included caring for the yard.

“I can’t believe how fast the grass grows out here,” Amanda went on, climbing the porch steps. “I had it mowed less than a week ago.”

“It’s the humidity,” he said. He paused at the bottom of the steps. “I’ll wait here. Just in case.” He motioned toward the woods and his scout troop.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” She hurried inside and returned with two cans of Coke. She handed one to him, then sat on the edge of the porch rail. Her body posture seemed tense, and somehow vulnerable, as though she wanted to trust him but still wasn’t completely sure she could. Something about Amanda compelled him to reach out to her.

He settled on the steps, where he could keep an eye out for his boys. A protective feeling rose inside of him, the way it often did, with sudden gusto. He never saw it coming. It was simply there. One minute he’d be minding his own business, walking along with the Cumberland Cubs, or maybe passing by a group of kids at the little mall in the next town. And there it would be. The need to watch over and protect. The way a father would.

How many kids ran around out there in the world, unsupervised, with nobody to care for them? The thought made him furious, and he prayed on a regular basis that his own son had gotten better than that in the way of parents.

“Ian?” Amanda spoke his name as if she’d repeated it.

“Sorry.” He took a sip of his pop. “Just woolgathering. Guess I’m more tired than I’d thought.”

“We don’t have to do this,” she said. Her features closed over once more, as though she were blocking out her emotions, ready to backpedal on spending social time with him. “I mean if you’d rather take the Coke with you…”

“No.” He shook his head, not willing to let her pull away so quickly, just when he was getting to know her a little better. “I like talking to you. It’s nice to have someone around that’s above the age of ten and only has two legs.”

“Excuse me?”

“My dog.” He pursed his lips, teasing Amanda, enjoying it. “She’s over the age of ten, in dog years anyway. But friends of the four-legged variety don’t say much.”

Amanda laughed softly, the sound dropping over him like a rush of warm air. “What kind of dog is she?”

“Rottweiler.”

“A Rottie? Oo-oh.” She shivered.

“No, she’s not mean.” Ian twirled the Coke can. “As a matter of fact, she’s a big old baby. Three years old and a hundred and five pounds. And all she wants is to have anyone and everyone rub her belly.”

“Now that’s my kind of dog. Granny used to have a bloodhound that was the same way.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “She might not talk, but she’s a good listener. Guess it’s true what they say about dogs being man’s best friend. Or woman’s.” He raised his can in a toast to Amanda, then took a swallow.

“Animals are good for telling your secrets to.” She gazed into the distance, her eyes not focused on anything in particular. “There’s a little gray squirrel that comes up here on the porch sometimes. I call him Skippy. He loves croutons, and I feed him and talk to him.”

Ian sobered, his humor fading as he watched her. The wistful expression in her eyes moved him. It was similar to what he’d seen reflected in his own mirror, and instantly he thought about what had happened the other day at the nursing home, and how it had made him feel. Like he could relate to Amanda in some way.

“It’s nice of you to let the boys stay here.”

“Like I said, I don’t mind once in a while.”

He hesitated, still studying her, and told himself to tread with care. He didn’t want to scare her away or seem overly pushy. “Do you like kids?”

“Sure.” Her answer came out a little too quickly. “Why do you ask? Am I being too mean in not inviting your scout troop over more often?”

“No, not at all. I just…” He let the words trail away. Maybe he was getting too personal. Scratch the “maybe.” He was being nosy and he mentally chastised himself for behaving rudely. It wasn’t like him, which only showed him that Amanda had him rattled. “Forget it. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No—what were you going to say?” Amanda persisted. “What did you notice?”

He focused on the look in her eyes. Her expression had shifted, changed, enough for him to see that whether Amanda realized it or not, she was reaching out to him. His curiosity overcame what was left of his hesitation. He lifted a shoulder. “The other day at the nursing home—when you saw the baby that young couple brought in.” He halted, at a loss for words. He was making a mess out of this, when all he’d meant to do was reach out to her. “Is there something about kids that bothers you?” he asked.

Amanda’s face paled in the moonlight. “You’re very observant,” she said quietly. “I’m surprised you noticed my reaction.”

Immediately, he felt like an oaf. “Forgive me. It was rude of me to bring it up. I didn’t ask you to be nosy, it’s just that—”

She cut him off. “Speaking of children, maybe you’d better go check on your scouts.”