The assurance nearly bowled him over, yet it filled him with a joy that he’d never dared hope would be his. It didn’t matter that she was having Kenny’s son. Dylan would love him every bit as much as if he were his own. She needed him. This woman who always tried to face storms all by herself was clinging to him for dear life. She wanted him here, now. At the most vulnerable time in her life, he was there to help her through and share the miracle at the end. A man couldn’t ask for more.
She shuddered with another pain and pled in a shaky voice, “Don’t leave me.”
He leaned close and promised, “I’m not going to leave you, Sondra.”
Lord, please help her. She can’t take much more.
As rapidly as that panicky time started, it came to an abrupt halt. She curled forward, grabbed the rail, and gritted, “I’ve gotta push!”
The doctor had just come in. He finished snapping on a glove. “Let me check to see if it’s time.” A minute later, he ordered, “Hang on. Don’t push. Blow.”
Dylan looked from Sondra to the doctor. The doc grimaced as he finished the exam. He ordered over his shoulder, “Call anesthesiology.”
Dylan’s heart dropped to the toes of his boots.
Almighty Father, don’t let anything go wrong.
The doctor stripped off his glove and threw it away. He squeezed Sondra’s arm. “We’re going to have to do a caesarian.”
Dylan grabbed Sondra’s hand and held it tightly sandwiched between both of his. “Why?”
The doc shook his head. “Face presentation. The baby flexed his head so he’s trying to come through face first. It’s impossible. We’ll have to section her.”
❧
“Nine pounds even,” Dylan marveled as he finished buckling Matthew into the car seat.
“Congratulations, ma’am,” the volunteer said. “You, too, sir. He’s the spitting image of you.”
Pain twisted Sondra’s heart. How many times in the last few days had someone presumed Dylan was the baby’s father? It was an understandable mistake. . . . But every time it happened, intense longing struck. She wanted her husband. Matthew deserved a daddy. God provided Dylan as a temporary fill-in, but that wasn’t the same thing.
Dylan murmured, “Come on, Sondra. Get in the car.”
She awkwardly lowered herself into the backseat so she could sit next to her son. Dylan pressed a tissue into her hand, buckled her seat belt, then winked. “Aren’t you just the cutest little mama in three counties? I swear, your tummy and ankles are just about back to normal already!”
“Who cares?” she wailed. He said nothing, but his eyes narrowed and mouth tightened. “I’m sorry!”
“Hush. You’ll wake up PeeWee. You both ought to nap on the trip home.” He took one of the flannel shirt blankets she’d made and draped it across her and the baby. “I’ll run the air conditioner, so you’ll probably want this as protection from the draft.”
He remembered to bring Kenny’s shirt blanket. I’m being a total shrew, and Dylan keeps being nice.
Sondra choked out an apology, and he patted her hand. She tamped down her tears and leaned back against the upholstery. Within a few miles, her lids grew heavy. The next thing she knew, Matthew started crying. She peeled open her eyes and gently caressed the dark peach fuzz on his head. Dylan glanced back and smiled. “We’ll be home in a jiffy.”
“Dylan, thank you for all of the help. I don’t know—”
“Don’t go getting all flowery on me. What are friends for?”
“All I do is take. You’ve been on the giving end of this relationship since day one.”
“Sharing the miracle of your son’s birth was the most precious gift I’ve ever been given. You’re plumb crazy if you think otherwise.”
He stopped in front of her place and started to chuckle; she groaned. “Half of the world is here.”
“Nah. Just the folks from your spread and mine. Teresa arranged it. Otherwise, all of these curious men are going to slip up to the house and bother you at inopportune moments.”
Matthew’s cries turned into full scale, outraged bellows. “Dylan, this
is
an inopportune moment!”
Teresa opened the door and crooned to the baby. “There, now. Don’t you fret. It’s lunchtime for everyone. Your mama will feed you while all of these big ol’ cowboys chow down. They’re dying to meet the littlest boss.”
“Teresa, you carry in PeeWee; I’ll take care of his mama.” Dylan handed Matthew to his sister and smiled. “Careful. He’s as loud as he is big!”
Sondra felt self-conscious about having Dylan haul her inside, but she wasn’t sure she could manage to mount the steps under her own steam. He carried her easily and took her back to the master bedroom. “I’ll bring in your suitcase. You’d best better slip into a nightie before you get too tired to manage on your own.”
“Oh, no. I’m staying dressed!”
“Don’t be knot-headed, Sondra.”
Before she could argue anymore, Teresa interrupted, “This little fellow isn’t going to wait much longer. Dylan, you get on outta here. Sondra, honey, if you don’t change, Matthew isn’t going to be able to get to the table, so to speak. That dress zips clear on up the back. Dylan’s right. Put on a nightie, else these men’ll think you’re holding court and won’t ever get back to work. Once they see your robe, they’ll keep it short and sweet.”
❧
“Short and sweet, just like you,” Dylan teased a little while later as the last of the hands left, the door shut, and the house fell silent. “Told you so.”
Sondra patted Matthew and let her head fall back onto the sofa cushion. “Those have to be the three ugliest words in the English language.”
“ ‘Go to bed’ has to rate close to the top on the list of the best phrases.”
“Far be it from me to put up a fuss.” Sondra struggled to rise.
Teresa grinned. “I’m spending the night. What would you like for supper?”
“Sleep,” Dylan answered.
“With a side order of peace and quiet,” Teresa tacked on.
Matthew started to whimper. Dylan chuckled ruefully. “Fat chance.”
“Don’t mention that awful word! I’m never going to fit in my jeans again!”
“Sondra, bitty as you started out, I’ll bet PeeWee could wear them when he turns five. There’s nothing wrong with a woman carrying soft curves. Gives a man something to hold onto.”
“Oh, so now you’re admitting that I’ve gotten fat and I was too scrawny at first. There’s just no pleasing some people!”
He waited until she sat on her bed, then turned to his sister. “Teresa, talk some sense into her, will you? Oh, forget it!” Dylan stomped out of the house.
Fifteen
Ranching—especially during the hot part of the year—demanded early morning work. Dylan had always been an early riser. The next day, he automatically woke up an hour earlier. He glanced over at the glowing numbers of his alarm clock and hopped out of bed.
If I hustle, I can have a bit of time with Sondra and PeeWee.
He felt a bit self-conscious arriving at 5:00 a.m., but that initial wave of awkwardness disappeared when he heard the baby whimpering softly. A smile chased across his features. He wasn’t going to be interrupting Sondra’s precious sleep.
A blue diaper bag propped open her bedroom door. The white porcelain Guardian Angel nightlight glowed from the dresser, casting a soft light on the bed. Sondra lay curled on her side, snuggled under a pale yellow sheet. Oddly, Matt’s soft whimpers didn’t seem to be coming from Sondra’s bedroom. Dylan frowned, moseyed over to the bassinet, and wondered where the baby was.
Teresa came in, Matt snuggled over her shoulder. Her oversized, OSU T-shirt made Dylan grin. “With pjs like that, no wonder Jeff let you spend the night over here.”
His sister laughed.
Dylan pointed at Matt. “Hey, I’m hoping you and Jeff don’t wait long before you have one of those.”
“Hmm,” a sleep husky voice whispered from the bed. “What’s up?”
“Not what—who,” Teresa said. “Your son started to wind up, so I changed him. Here you go.”
Dylan nodded. “Breakfast of champions, huh?”
“Breakfast, lunch, dinner, midnight snack. . .” Sondra’s voice sounded deep and slow. Waking up to that sultry purr would be the best alarm clock a man could ever have.
Teresa bumped him with her hip. “If you gather the eggs, I’ll get breakfast going for us big people.”
He wanted to protest that he’d come to see Sondra and the baby. . .but he stopped short. Even by the faint illumination of the nightlight, he could see the flush on Sondra’s cheeks.
It’s me
, he wanted to say.
Just me. Go on ahead. . .
But that wasn’t right. He wasn’t her husband. She had every reason and right to behave modestly. He spun around and headed for the coop.
❧
As he put a third egg in the basket, Dylan tried to decide how to proceed with Sondra. She was his—she simply didn’t know it yet—and he wanted her to make that realization. If not now,
soon
.
How did a man let his woman ignore a love that was meant to be? How long was he supposed to let her live in solitude? He’d given her time to grieve. Now she needed time to recover physically and adjust to motherhood
. But when will it be my turn, Lord?
He finished collecting the eggs and took them into the kitchen. Coffee trickled through the auto-drip. Diced ham, tomatoes, mushrooms, and grated cheese on the cutting board let him know Teresa planned to make her killer omelets.
“Stop looking like you lost the 4-H roping,” she teased.
“Huh?”
“Oh, don’t play stupid with me,” she whispered. “I saw the look on your face when you brought Sondra home yesterday. You’ve got it bad, and I couldn’t be happier.”
“The lady’s not exactly husband hunting.”
“Mom said something when I was in high school that made me realize how I felt about Jeff. I’ll pass her wisdom to Sondra some day in the future: ‘No need to search the world over for a stallion when you already have one in the stable next door.’ ”
Dylan raised his brows a notch. “Run it by Sondra and let me know how she reacts.”
“Time, Dyl. Give her time. By the way, know how a hen gets pecky when she’s on the nest with her first brood and how protective she is with the chicks? Expect Sondra to do the same thing. She’s going to be feisty and particular. Don’t take it personally.”
“How’d you ever get so smart?”
She cracked an egg into a blue earthenware bowl. “I was always the smarter one. Since I’m so brilliant, I’ll toss one last jewel of wisdom at your big old boots. The one thing a woman can’t resist is a man who’s crazy about her kid.”
Dylan smiled. Little Matthew was hot stuff. While the doctors stitched Sondra back up, the pediatrician had put PeeWee in his arms. He’d lost his heart in that instant. For a selfish moment, he’d cuddled Matt before scooting closer to Sondra so she could nuzzle his little face and croon to him.
Unaware of his thoughts, his sister continued, “I’m not going to think badly of you if you can’t love Matt as your own, but if that would be the deep-down truth, don’t mess with Sondra’s heart.”
“Soon as I admitted to myself that she’s my One and Only, I knew Matt was part of the deal. I held him even before she did, and I swear on a stack of Bibles, in that instant, I claimed him as my own. He’s a fine boy, and I’m gonna love being his daddy.”
Teresa stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“So do me a favor. Don’t offer to stick around after sunset. I’ll take night shift.”
“You got it.”
Before Sondra had the baby, he couldn’t possibly live here; but the situation had changed, and she needed help round the clock. It would be temporary, and folks could plainly see the necessity. No one in his right mind would question if any hanky-panky were going on.
Dylan widened his stance. “I’m going to work like crazy so this place turns even more of a profit than Miller required. I don’t want Sondra thinking she had no choice but to marry a man who couldn’t cut it, just so she could keep her home.”
“Teresa?” Sondra’s voice sounded from down the hall.
“Yeah?”
When Sondra didn’t reply right away, Dylan went to see what she wanted. He got one look at her, clutching Matt and slumped against the wall over by the bedroom, and tamped down his alarm. He lengthened his stride. “Hey, there,” he said softly, securely wrapping an arm around her waist and the other around the baby.
She sagged against him and confessed in a vague tone, “I’m a little dizzy.”
Teresa slipped up behind him.
“Sondra, honey, give me the baby. I’ll just ease him into Teresa’s arms.” To his relief, she cooperated. “Let’s have you lie back down.”
She didn’t protest his plan. Her arm wound around his waist, and she shuffled a step. Her meek acquiescence bothered him. For her to yield without an argument went contrary to her nature. Dylan put her back to bed and quietly asked, “Are you having any other problems?”
“No.” A hint of coloring started to suffuse her cheeks. Another few seconds passed, and though she didn’t exactly look like her usual perky self, she revived a bit. “I just got up too quickly. I’m fine—I was worried that I might drop Matt.”