A Baby in His Stocking

As if she’d delivered a physical blow, Wyatt recoiled. “Pregnant?”

She nodded.

“Wow. Ah, I guess congratulations are in order.”

“Thanks.” Though she’d stopped crying, her voice sounded defeated. “Could you please help me with this mess? The apples are going to have to be rewashed.” On her knees, she gathered all of the nearby fruit and napkins.

“Sure.” Her condition had nothing to do with him, so why were Wyatt’s eyes now stinging? Things like this—random reminders of his own shortcomings as a man—were why he had to get out of Weed Gulch. At times, it seemed as if the whole damned town was turning up in this condition.

Just after Dallas’s evil twins, Betsy and Bonnie, had been born and their mother, Bobbie Jo, had died, Wyatt suffered his own near death with a hellish bout of mumps. At the time, he’d been holed up in a dorm on an Alaskan North Slope drilling field, knowing there was no medical cure. So he’d stayed in his room, doing his damnedest not to infect others. Best he could figure, he’d caught it from a suspiciously snotty kid at Fairbanks International. A few months ago, during a routine physical, he’d mentioned the incident to Doc Haven, who in turn had worried aloud about the disease being a cause of male infertility. Always having assumed he’d one day have a big family, Wyatt opted to have his “equipment” tested.

Bad call.

Ever since, he’d felt like less a man.

The more babies his brothers and sister had, the more of an outsider he’d become. He’d tried to forget about the fact that he’d never have what they had. He’d tried to forget with willing women like Starla. It hadn’t worked.

Now, with Natalie’s joyous news, Wyatt’s own inadequacies once again slapped him in the face.

“Think we got ’em all,” he said once her load had been reassembled. “But how about you find a nice place to sit down, and I’ll get this stuff outside.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m good. My ego’s more bruised than my body. Sorry about flipping out on you like that.”

“No problem,” he said on the return trip to the kitchen. “We all have our moments.”

Standing alongside her at one of the kitchen’s commercial sinks, Wyatt couldn’t stop his mind from racing. He should be home, studying geographical charts. Instead, he wanted to know if that UPS dude Natalie had been dating was her baby’s father. If so, why wasn’t he here with her today? Where had he been at the christening? Had she mentioned they’d had a fight? Most of all, Wyatt wondered why he cared.

He’d known Natalie forever, yet it was funny how when it came right down to it, they hardly knew each other at all. Not the way it mattered. “You and your baby’s father tying the knot?”

“Nope.” She quickened her pace, in the process dropping the fruit she’d been trying to wash.

“But you two have been together for a long time. What’s the problem?”

Upon placing the last apple in the bowl, she turned off the water. “Short story, Craig had no interest in becoming a father.”

“What the hell?” What was wrong with that guy? Here, Wyatt would’ve given anything to have his own son or daughter, yet the loser Natalie had hooked up with was running away?

How is that any different from what you’re doing?

The thought stung. But Wyatt knew damn well his reason for leaving was far from cowardly. He wasn’t so much shirking responsibility as chasing self-preservation.

The faint grin tugging the corners of her pretty lips contained the sadness of an abandoned basket of kittens. “Yeah, what the hell pretty much sums it up. Craig initially tried the whole commitment thing, but in the end said he wasn’t ready to be a father and that was that.”

“For what it’s worth,” Wyatt said, “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.”

“I get that, but you shouldn’t have to just be fine. You should be over-the-moon happy.” Wyatt couldn’t imagine the joy he’d feel were he in this Craig character’s position. His heart would feel so full it’d hurt. Thing is, he’d never get the chance.

“Really,” Natalie said, “I’ve got this whole single-mom thing figured out. Sort of,” she tagged on with a sad little laugh.

“Aw, you’re going to make a great mother.” Wyatt abandoned the napkins he’d been straightening to give her a hug. In his arms, she felt small and fragile. The man in him wanted nothing more than to protect her and make everything okay. She smelled of sweet apples and barely there floral perfume. She reminded him of the kind of take-home-to-mom girl he’d always planned to marry—at least until fate had thrown him a screw-you curveball. Now, no kids. No marriage. No life he’d always imagined.

“LADIES…” WYATTTIPPED his cowboy hat.

“Hey.” Was it wrong that a simple grin from the man had Natalie ready to swoon? The Buckhorn Halloween extravaganza was in full swing, and the chilly night air came as a welcome reprieve to the stuffy, kid-loaded barn.

“You’re just in time,” Josie said to Wyatt. “If we’re going to keep to Georgina’s schedule, we need to hitch the horses to the wagon ASAP.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave his sister-in-law a salute, but Natalie received a wink. Oh, she knew full well he was just playing around, but the gesture returned her fertile imagination to that epic kiss, compounded by his small kindnesses at the school rummage sale. For all the years they’d been acquaintances, she was only just now seeing what an asset he’d be as a true friend.

While Wyatt set about readying their ride, Josie returned to the party, leaving Natalie on her own with the man. And his dizzingly well-fitting jeans. Even in the dark, his size was impressive. Tall and broad in all the right places. Their kiss had also educated her on the full extent of his strong muscles.

Mouth dry, she looked away, disappointed in herself by the realization she’d been staring.

“It’s okay,” he said, leading a large draft. “You’d be a fool not to look.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know you like what you see.” After another wink, he smacked his butt.

“You’re nuts.” Natalie tried playing it cool, but instead, burst out laughing. “And annoyingly handsome.”

“Thanks.” He cinched the horse’s lead. “I was just thinking the same about you. Only with more feminine adjectives.”

Their banter was all in good fun, but as Wyatt returned to his task and Natalie busied herself helping two dozen children and a few parents onto the wagon, she couldn’t help but reflect on how differently her life might have been if Craig hadn’t turned out to be such a flake. But then it wasn’t all Craig’s fault she’d ended up pregnant.

The few times he had forgotten a condom, she could’ve stopped their lovemaking. But honestly, she’d secretly hoped to become pregnant. She’d foolheartedly believed a baby would magically drive Craig to the altar. Oh—it’d driven him all right, straight to the nearest highway out of the state.

With the wagon jolting to a start, surrounded by sweet-smelling hay and singing children, stars twinkling above, Natalie choked back a sudden yearning. For all of her brave talk to Josie about how she’d be fine raising her baby on her own, she didn’t want to.

In the dark shadows she drank in Wyatt’s strong profile, imagining him with her in a more simple time. In Oklahoma a hundred years earlier. Wyatt was a man’s man. She could all too easily see him leading a cattle drive down the Chisholm Trail. He might handle the oil side of the family business now, but in high school, he and Dallas had often been hired by her father to help with their cattle. As a little kid, Wyatt’s favorite game at recess had been wagon train.

Too bad her imagination was the only place any of them were perfect. For all of Wyatt’s physical attributes, when it came to how he treated women, Wyatt was no different than Craig. Oh sure, he might be far more smooth, but his basic noncommitment routine was much the same. Maybe worse—at least Craig had told Natalie to her face he was done. Wyatt’s kissing stunt had forced Starla to do the work.

The only reason Wyatt treated Natalie with respectful kid gloves was the knowledge that they would never be more than friends, never mind the glimpse of chemistry they’d shared.

“Miss Natalie,” seven-year-old Bonnie Buckhorn said, “I thought you were s’posed to tell us a ghost story?”

“Yeah.” Bonnie’s twin, Betsy, climbed onto Natalie’s lap. “And if you don’t tell the story, then when Uncle Cash jumps out in his costume, trying to scare us, then nobody’s gonna be scared.”

“Hush,” Natalie halfheartedly scolded. “That’s supposed to be a surprise for your friends.”

Betsy folded her chubby arms. “Then Daddy shouldn’t’ve been talking so loud with Grandma, because I know all about it.”

Laughing, Natalie gave the pint-size know-it-all a squeeze. Was it wrong to pray her child wasn’t quite as precocious?

By the time the story had ended and all of the kids save for Betsy were sufficiently spooked, Wyatt pulled the wagon alongside the old stone mill where a bonfire crackled. Dancing flames only added to the already ghoulish scene. Gnarled oak limbs cast monster shadows held at bay with plenty of marshmallows, chocolate and laughter.