Mother's Day Miracle and Blessed Baby: Mother's Day Miracle / Blessed Baby

As the worst possible scenario flew into her mind, she gasped. She’d seen those milk-carton pictures for years, children who’d been stolen from one parent by another.

“You can forget whatever you’re thinking. I am their legal guardian.” His rumbly voice openly mocked her.

“They?” She pounced on the information, struggling to assimilate it all. “Who are they?”

His face twisted into a wry smile. “One of the meddlers around here really must have slipped up.”

When Clarissa only frowned in perplexity, he sighed, rolled his eyes, then thrust out one hand.

“I suppose we didn’t get off to a very good start. You already know my name. And yes, before you ask, I’m part Cree. On my mother’s side. She kept her name.” His dark fuming eyes dared her to make something of that. “My sister and her husband died and left their kids for me to look after. Tildy and Lacey are twins. They’re twelve. Jared is ten and Pierce is seven. We moved here for the work. I would have thought the gossips would have imparted at least that much.”

Clarissa took his hand and shook it, feeling the zap of his touch shiver all the way up her arm.

“I don’t listen to gossip,” she assured him in a daze.

Four children? This man was raising four children? Alone? “Welcome to Waseka.” She managed to get the words out despite the shock that held her jaw tense.

“In case you didn’t understand earlier, I think I should make one thing perfectly clear,” he muttered, yanking his hand away and shoving it into the pocket of his worn but very well fitted jeans. “I’m not looking for a wife. Despite what people think, men are as capable of parenting as women. Nobody’s going to go hungry or get abandoned or forgotten about. I promised my sister I’d care for them, and I’ll keep my word. I’ll do my duty. Me. By myself.” His lips tightened. “In spite of the locals’ opinion, I’ve been doing just fine for several months now. And I intend to keep it that way.”

She wondered why he sounded so torn about it. Then the impact of his words hit home.

“Now, just a minute here.” Clarissa felt the flush push up from her neck, right to the roots of her string-straight hair.

“No, you wait. I know what small towns are like. Nosy bunch of old fools! Everybody’s been hinting about you since the day I walked into this one-horse place. ‘Clarissa’s a wonderful cook. Clarissa’s so good with kids. Clarissa would make you the perfect wife. She just loves to care for people.’ Yak, yak, yak.” He snorted derisively, eyeing the plate that now held only a few crumbs. “I can see you’ve already been practicing your motherly wiles on my nephew.”

“Wiles? I wasn’t—”

“I’ve heard it all before, you know. Too many times. The sweet praise for a man who can care for four children. The innocent suggestion that I might need help. The generous offer to cook us a healthy meal. Out of friendship, of course! Matchmakers!” One corner of his unsmiling mouth tipped down.

“Forget about whatever you’re planning, Miss Cartwright. We’re not in the market. I don’t need the aggravation.” Wade Featherhawk turned and stomped down the walk, his face grim and forbidding.

Clarissa followed him down, her brain working furiously. “But, wait a minute. I didn’t even—”

He whirled around faster than she expected, bumping into her. One tanned hand grabbed her arm, waited until she was steady, then fell away as if it had been burned.

“No, you wait. Maybe I didn’t make it clear enough. I’m not interested in whatever you’re offering. My family is doing just fine. I don’t need your interference.” His snapping black eyes told her just how little she interested him. When Clarissa didn’t back off, he smiled darkly.

“I don’t go for blondes, and even if I did, I’d pick someone strong enough to handle four kids, not a woman who looks like she’d blow away in the first storm that came along.” His eyes glinted black as ebony. “You want to mother someone, Miss Cartwright? Find your own kids.”

Clarissa cringed away from him, but she refused to allow him to get away with saying such things to her. Whatever was behind his glowering countenance, it couldn’t cover this deplorable lack of good manners.

“Believe me, Mr. Featherhawk, I wouldn’t bother to give you the time of day! But I feel sorry for those children. If you’re this cranky all the time, they must really bask in your company. A veritable joy to live with!”

Clarissa had never been so furious in her life. She stomped up the stairs, picked up Pierce’s empty glass and plate, and stormed into the house, slamming the door behind her. As usual, the door immediately flopped open, and waved back and forth on its hinges with the annoying creak it always made when ill-treated.

A burst of laughter from outside made her flush even hotter. She slapped the dishes down and whirled back to the door to face his supercilious look.

“While you’re looking for someone to share your life with, I’d make sure he knows how to build. This mausoleum is going to fall down around your ears if you don’t do something soon, Miss Cartwright. Not that I’m volunteering.” He frowned, took a step backward and shook his head. “No way! I’m not into masochism. Good night.”

Clarissa seethed with indignation. Of all the arrogant, rude, obnoxious men, Wade Featherhawk had to take the cake. She closed the door firmly on his snide words and then wondered if he’d been referring only to the house.

The phone pealed a summons and Clarissa picked it up reluctantly. Please Lord, not another busybody.

“Hi, Prissy! How was Hawaii?” Her college buddy, Blair Delayney’s bright voice echoed from the far reaches of the Rocky Mountains. “Meet any gorgeous men?”

“Nope, not a one. I’m still part of the group. How about you and Briony?” She wouldn’t say a thing about the one who’d just left her front yard.

It was an old joke. In college, all three women had planned to be married and then lost their grooms one way or another before the ceremony. Down but not out, they’d banded together, calling themselves the Three Spinsters, vowing never to go looking for love again.

The only problem was, none of them could seem to accept in their hearts that love wouldn’t find them. Someday.

“Oh, we’re both still old maids. How was the wedding?” Blair always demanded details.

“It was lovely. On the beach, at sunset. That exclusive club was something else, though I felt out of place. I didn’t know anyone except Great-Aunt Martha and she’s deaf.” Clarissa described the elegant dresses of the guests as best she could.

“I told you to take along a friend. Hawaii’s a hard place to be alone.” Blair’s voice softened in commiseration.

“Tell me about it.” Clarissa rested her cheek against the coolness of the wall. “Everywhere I went there were couples. Old ones, young ones, but always couples. Even some with kids.”

“I’m sorry, Priss.” Blair and Bri were the only two who knew how much she wanted to be a mother.

The old nickname came from her college days when she was constantly chiding them about cleaning up the apartment. It was somehow comforting to Clarissa. “Don’t be. I managed all right once the aunt left and I got to look around on my own. There’s this museum, Blair. You wouldn’t believe the stuff!”

She launched into a description of the Bishop Museum that left little time for her to recount the lonely evenings spent walking along the silver-lined sand by herself, longing for someone to share all that beauty with. By the time Blair rang off, she was hooting with laughter. Which was exactly what Clarissa wanted. No one feeling sorry for her.

She rinsed off the dishes and stacked them in the cavernous dishwasher, empty except for her dinner plate and cutlery. She considered Wade’s stinging assessment as she worked. Her lips pinched tight in anger as she remembered Pierce’s yearning look at the pie she’d made for Mr. Harper.

“We’ll see who has the last laugh, Mr. Wade Featherhawk. We’ll just see. I wouldn’t offer to help you if you begged me on bended knee!”

The mental picture this brought to mind made her burst out laughing. Wade Featherhawk, on his knees, to her?

“In your dreams, woman.” She giggled out loud. She’d often dreamed of being proposed to, but it wasn’t going to happen this time either, prayer notwithstanding. “Just forget about him.”

If only it was that easy.

Chapter Two

Two weeks later Wade glanced around the old-fashioned church and grimaced as he caught sight of Clarissa Cartwright’s willowy figure two pews ahead. Her dainty blue-and-white-flowered dress accentuated her gorgeous blond hair and the narrowness of her waist, along with other assets he forbade himself to notice. She was tiny. As he studied her clear profile and smooth white skin, his body tensed, his hands clenched and his jaw tightened. Wade told himself it was anger.

Everywhere he went these days, she seemed to be there, waiting in the wings, a silent reminder that he wasn’t a very good father, that he didn’t know diddly about parenting. That duty and obligation were no substitute for the mother’s love that the kids needed.

She never said a word, of course, but he knew she was inaudibly pointing out the fact that he didn’t have a clue as to what he was doing when it came to raising kids, especially girls.

Just his luck that Tildy and Lacey had Clarissa for a Sunday school teacher, Jared drew her as his special pal in Boys’ Club, and Pierce couldn’t stop singing the praises of her dim, moldy old library. Some luck, Wade decided grimly.

No sooner was Wade’s back turned than Clarissa invited one or the other of them over to that mausoleum. For a snack, to plan an outing, to practice a new recipe. Blah, blah, blah.

Wade was fed up to the teeth hearing about Miss Clarissa Cartwright and her wonderful life! All it did was make him look incompetent and lacking. Which he was! But he didn’t need it rubbed in.