A Mom for Callie (17 page)

She'd just passed the midway point of her manuscript when she heard it, a soft rustling sound outside her window. At first she chalked it up to nothing more than a squirrel or chipmunk, but when she heard voices, she froze.

Male voices. Deep, yet intentionally hushed.

Betsy quietly crept over to the window, some instinct warning her to stay out of sight. And then she saw them.

Two men, both wearing bandanas, crouched in the moonlit gap she and Kyle used as a pass-through. Unaware of her presence, the men pointed in the direction of the Brennan home, snatches of their conversation reaching her through the screen door.

“Hand me the lighter and get ready to run.”

“Crap. I think I left it in my bike pouch.”

“Get it.”

She dropped to the ground as the bulkier of the two men stood and turned in her direction, her heart thumping in her chest. Had he seen her? After several long moments with no indication he had, she crawled her way into the kitchen. Pulling her cell phone from the counter where she'd left it, she dialed Kyle's number.

A woman answered.

Choking back the sob that threatened to make her words inaudible, Betsy pulled the phone tighter to her face. “My name is Betsy Anderson. I live next—”

“Hi, Betsy! It's Angela.”

Caught between a mixture of relief and fear, she continued, her words shaky and hushed. “They're outside. In the hedge. I think they're going to set a fire.”

She closed her eyes as she heard the phone being moved and Angela's muffled voice in the distance. Seconds later, Kyle's voice bellowed through her screen door as she sent up a silent prayer for his safety.

“Move and I'll shoot.”

 

I
T WAS SEVEN O'CLOCK
the next morning before Kyle finally showed up, the adrenaline that surely got him through the night still evident on his face.

Steeling herself against the urge to throw herself into his arms, she simply pushed the screen door open and gestured him inside. “Is it over?”

Slowly he searched her face, nodding as he did. “We got 'em…thanks to you.”

“All of them?”

“Yeah. It truly was a gang of thugs—four cousins hell-bent on teaching me a lesson for putting one of theirs in jail. But it's done now.”

She felt her shoulders slump with relief. “And you're okay?”

“No. Not really.”

Fear coursed through her body as she looked him over from top to bottom. “What happened? Did they hurt you?”

He reached out, touched her cheek with the backside
of his fingers. “Shh….” Pulling her into his arms, he held her close. “They didn't do a thing to me.”

“But you said you're not okay.”

“I'm not.”

She wiggled her way out of his arms and stepped back. “I don't understand.”

Raising his hands into the air, he brought them back down to cradle the back of his head. “Angela told me.”

“Told you what?”

“That you're leaving for New York in a few days.”

“Oh. That.” She marched over to the computer table and sat down. “She's right. I am.”

He dropped his hands to his sides and took a step forward, stopping almost as quickly. “But I thought you said you had another ten weeks or so.”

She shrugged. “Things have changed.”

“And by things you mean us?”

“I was deluding myself, Kyle. I thought we had something special here…something that was all ours.” She allowed her gaze to flicker across the darkened screen. “But I was wrong. In your eyes I'll always be Lila.”

He took a step closer. “I made a mistake.”

“You make a lot of those.” It was an honest assertion for which she had no guilt.

“You're right. But in this case I didn't see your note until it was too late. I thought you'd taken off for New York without so much as a look over your shoulder in my direction.”

“And my calls the next evening?” she asked.

“By then the damage was done. I wasn't going to be an afterthought.”

“You were my first thought, Kyle.”

“I know that now. And I'm sorry.” He closed the gap
between them, sinking to his knees when he reached her chair. “I'm sorry I didn't know. That I didn't have enough faith to know you wouldn't leave without telling me. But I was afraid for Callie. I didn't want her being hurt again.”

“I wouldn't hurt Callie.”

“I get that now. I think I knew it then, too. But fear has a way of chasing away facts. For you and for me.”

She felt her resolve weakening.

“I can't live like this, Kyle. I can't live in the past anymore. Not mine and not yours.” Holding her hand just out of his grasp she continued. “I understand that Lila hurt you. I get that. I also get that I've been through some mighty hard times myself. But I'm willing to consider that things can be different. I'm willing to love you with all my heart in spite of the very real possibility that you're going to be sent out on a call that might get you killed one day.”

Her voice broke and she began to sob. The feel of his hands around her only made her sob harder.

“Please give me another chance, Betsy. Just one more. I promise you won't regret it.” Lacing his hands through her hair he brought his lips to her ear. “Give me today. Please.”

She shook her head as reality pushed aside the hope she felt brewing. “I need to write.”

Hooking his index finger under her chin, he raised her head upward until their eyes met. “Didn't you tell me once that writing is what you do, not who you are?”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she nodded her reply.

“Then put it aside for just this one day. Please, Betsy.”

 

H
E COULDN'T HELP IT
. He loved looking at Betsy. Loved the way the sun sent shimmers of golden highlights through her otherwise soft brown mane. Loved the way her big brown eyes lit from within every time she saw something that captured her fancy—a family of squirrels, a rousing game of chipmunk tag, a squealing toddler on the nearby playground.

“Do you know how beautiful you are sitting there? Looking at the world like you're seeing it for the first time?” It was a thought that had struck him all afternoon as they lounged beside Paxton Lake. “I mean, I watch you and I see the way you soak up everything around you. And I guess I can't help but wonder where that comes from.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“It's like the first time we met. You seemed truly interested in Paxton Bridge. Most people don't care.”

She shrugged. “I think I was interested in you.”

“You didn't come here for me.”

“True. I simply saw a picture of the bridge and felt a pull. Since it was the first pull I'd felt in a year, I couldn't ignore it.” She ducked her eyes from the path of the sun and flashed a smile in his direction. “I'm glad I didn't.”

“You and me, both.” Cocking his head toward the Paxton, he grinned. “Do you think it might be a wee bit strange to send a thank-you note to a bridge?”

“And you'd do that because…”

“It got you here.” He shifted on the blanket, her flushed cheeks stirring a physical reaction he wasn't sure she was ready for yet. “I guess what I'm trying to say is that you seem to
see
where others only look.”

“I'm not following.”

“Take those squirrels earlier. You watched them for
a long time. I don't think they'd have even registered for most people.” He scooted closer to her on the blanket, the remnants of their picnic lunch relegated to mere crumbs. “I like seeing things through your eyes. They seem far less tainted than mine.”

The feel of her hands on his face caught him by surprise. Her words, even more so. “I think you just need to wear a different pair of glasses.”

“Spoken like a writer,” he quipped.

“No. Spoken like someone who cares very deeply for you.”

Catching her hand in his, he turned it over and planted a kiss on her soft skin. “I believe that. I really do. And I think you're right about the glasses. In a way, at least.”

She snuggled up inside his arms. “How so?”

“More than changing glasses, I think I just needed to get things in focus.”

“And?” she asked.

“Lila was meant to be in my life. To give me Callie.” Betsy's nod against his throat helped him continue, his thoughts streaming through his mouth with more clarity than he'd expected. “And you…you're in my life for an entirely different reason.”

Reluctantly he released her from his arms so she could peer up at him. “And what's that?” she asked.

“To show me the meaning of true love.”

With a gentle swipe of his thumbs, he cleared her face of the tears that fell, his own eyes burning from the truth. Never in his wildest imagination could he have ever foreseen meeting someone like Betsy—someone sweet and honest, loyal and caring, and so incredibly beautiful to boot.

“And on top of all that, I love the way you are with
Callie. It's as if you see her as a plus rather than a minus.”

Betsy gasped. “A minus? How could anyone see Callie as a minus? She's smart and funny and talented and sweet and I consider it an honor to spend time with her.” She bowed her head for a moment as she continued, her words difficult to hear. “It's why I wanted to leave early. The pain of losing both of you was more than I could handle.”

Both…

Swallowing back the lump that threatened to render him speechless, he brushed his lips across her forehead. “You truly are a gift, Betsy Anderson—the most amazing gift I could ever imagine.”

His heart squirmed under her seductive gaze only to be caught up short by the smile that exploded across her face. “She gets to come home now, doesn't she?”

“She?”

“Callie! Now that those guys are in jail, she gets to come home, right?”

He, too, smiled. “Day after tomorrow, yes.”

“Why that long?” she asked.

“I'm working a long shift again tomorrow and school's out.”

She sat up tall, her eyes glistening in the sun's rays. “I can watch her.”

“You have to write, don't you?”

“While I'm writing she can color or do some writing of her own. After lunch I'll break for the day and we can do whatever we want.”

He studied her closely, searching for any indication she was simply being polite, but there was none. Betsy
truly loved his daughter. The knowledge made him swipe at a tear of his own as he pulled her close once again.

Suddenly, her tote bag vibrated against the blanket, the sound an unwelcome respite from a world that seemed to include no one else but the two of them.

Sitting up, she reached for her bag. “I'm sorry, but I should take this.”

He listened as she talked, her cheerful greeting morphing into clipped statements.

“No. I absolutely can't come to New York tomorrow. I have a prior commitment.”

Realizing the commitment she was referring to was Callie, he tried to wave her off but to no avail.

“Is there a reason they need me in person? Hmm, I didn't think so…I'll be available for a thirty-minute conference call at nine o'clock eastern time. Thanks, Hannah.”

“You didn't have to do that,” he said as she flipped the phone closed and stuffed it back inside her bag. “My mom could have watched her.”

“I know that. But writing is what I do, not who I am. Remember?”

Reaching outward, he trailed a finger down her jaw, stopping it at her chin as he pulled her to within inches of his mouth. “I remember.”

“Who I am is a woman in love with two people.”

He stopped midway to her mouth. “Okay… Who is he?”

“Don't you mean,
she?
”

“She?” He repeated as his hand traveled around her neck only to stop and pull her the rest of the way, his
mouth closing over hers as his tongue parted her lips. Their kiss, intense yet respectful, was the final reminder of what he knew to be true.

Betsy Anderson was a keeper.

“Here, put these on.”

She glanced down at the shorts he flung onto the bed along with a navy blue T-shirt that looked as if it was three sizes too big. “That's not my shirt. Mine's over there.”

“I know. But yours leaves the top half of your back exposed.”

“That didn't seem to bother you earlier today.”

“True. But that's when the sun was shining and it was about twenty degrees warmer.”

Clutching the sheets to her chest, she sat up in his bed, her tousled hair just one of many reminders of the way they'd spent the latter part of their day together. Time after time he'd entered her, their bodies moving together as one, each encounter surpassing the one before.

This was what she'd been searching for her whole life. Sure, writing was her dream…but finding true love was that and so much more.

“Where are we going?” she asked as she pulled his shirt over her head and struck a pose on his bed.

“Keep that up and we're not going anywhere.”

“If that's supposed to be a threat, it's backfiring.”
Grabbing his hand she pulled him down onto the sheets, making short work of the buttons he'd just painstakingly fastened. “I could stay here all night.”

A frustrated moan emerged from his lips as he caught her fingers before they undid the final button. “My goal reaches a little further than that.”

“Huh?” She closed her eyes as his lips brushed against hers.

“C'mon…finish up.”

Opening her eyes, she followed him around the room as he pulled on the same pair of jeans she'd pulled off him not four hours earlier. “Should I be offended?”

He straightened up. “Offended?”

Scooting over to the edge of the bed, she wriggled into her shorts and zipped them up. “Here I am wanting to…well, you know…and all you want to do is get me out of here.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, we'll be back.”

She eyed him closely. “What are you up to?”

Feeling his hand close over hers, she couldn't help but smile, even as he tugged her to her feet and propelled her from his room. “No more questions.”

“But I like questions,” she protested.

He ushered her outside and over to his car. “I'll give you a hint.”

“Okay…”

“We're going for a ride.”

“I think I could have figured that out all on my own.” She stepped back as he opened the door for her and guided her into the passenger seat, a smile teasing his lips. “How about another hint? One that's not quite so obvious this time?”

“Hmm. Well, I guess you could say it's official business.”

“Official business?” she repeated. “We're going to the police department? Why?”

Bending slightly at the waist, he planted a kiss on her head before shutting the door and crossing to the driver's side. When he, too, was seated, he started the car and backed onto the road.

“It's not exactly that kind of official business.”

“You're making my head hurt,” she announced as she leaned back against the cloth interior. “How about I just sit over here and be quiet.”

“Then I'd be sad.”

“Why?”

“I'd miss the sound of your voice.”

His honesty made her cheeks warm and her hands moisten. To think she'd nearly turned around en route to Cedar Creek out of embarrassment—embarrassment over searching for something that didn't exist.

But hope did exist.

It existed inside the human heart.

Sure, it had a tendency to get buried under life at times…but it was there, lurking, for anyone brave enough to seek it.

Hope had brought her back.

Love would keep it close.

The car slowed and she looked up, confusion narrowing her eyes. “What are we doing back here? Did you forget something?”

“Nope.”

She studied him as he pulled the car to a stop in the exact same parking spot they'd filled earlier in the day. Without a word, he stepped from the car, his strong muscular form crossing to her side and offering her his hand.

“What's going on?” she asked as she, too, stepped from the car.

“Come with me. And you'll find out.”

Motivated by curiosity and the sheer desire to spend every waking moment with this man, Betsy followed him down one moonlit path after another until they reached Paxton Bridge. With her hand firmly encased inside his, he pulled her onto the very top of the bridge.

“Kyle, I don't understand.”

“After careful consideration I realized the thank-you note really wouldn't work.”

“Thank you—” She stopped, an unexplainable joy rising up inside her being. “And so you decided to tell it in person?”

“No, not exactly.” Dropping to one knee, Kyle took her left hand in his, his voice husky with emotion. “Since the Paxton is responsible for bringing us together, it seems only fitting it should be where we stand when we make it official.”

“Official?” she whispered as a tear rolled down her face.

“Three weeks ago, I couldn't imagine sharing my life with another woman ever again. Now, I can't imagine living my life without you. Will you marry me, Betsy Anderson?”