The next morning Nora sat in the driver’s seat of her truck. The babies were all in their car seats behind her, diapers changed, tummies full. She felt like she’d achieved something, just getting this far. There had been two spit-ups just before leaving, one leaked diaper, Rosie had wanted nothing more than to be cuddled and Bobbie decided that she hated her car seat and didn’t want to be strapped in. By the time Nora got them all into the truck, her nerves were frazzled. Now it felt good to just sit in relative silence—the soft sucking of pacifiers soothing her.
Nora had been angry the night before, and that hadn’t exactly changed. He said he hadn’t used his job offers as any kind of leverage with her dad...was she stupid to believe that? Apparently, she’d lived a lifetime of being altogether too trusting. And when she returned to Hope she’d trusted that Easton would be the same...to never be someone who would hurt her. Someone harmless.
He’d always been quiet, eager to please, willing to step aside for her. Now that she was an adult, she knew she didn’t want him constantly giving in to her, but it was possible that she’d still expected it of him. But Easton had grown into a man—strong, resilient, with his own goals and objectives, and he was certainly not harmless anymore. She’d been comfortable feeling a little sorry for him, but she didn’t like this new power he seemed to wield around here. And yet, mixed in with all that resentment, she missed him...or what they used to have...the guy who used to sit with her in haylofts and lean against fences as they talked.
Nora turned the key, and the engine moaned and coughed, but didn’t turn over. She stopped, frowned then tried again. Nothing.
“Great!” she muttered. This was exactly what she needed. This doctor’s appointment was important, and if she couldn’t even manage this... She leaned her head against the headrest then heaved a sigh and tried to start the truck again. It ground for a few seconds but didn’t start.
The rumble of an engine pulled up behind her, and she looked in the rearview mirror to see Easton. He must be done with his morning work and was back for some coffee. She’d been hoping to be gone by the time he returned. She unrolled her window as he hopped out of his truck and came up beside her.
“Morning,” he said. “Everything all right?”
“Not really,” she admitted. “I can’t start the truck.”
“Want me to take a look?”
Even if he got the truck to start, would she make the appointment? She glanced at her watch. “I guess I’ll call the doctor’s office and say we can’t make it.”
It was like everything was against her succeeding in one small parenting task this morning. This was the goal for the entire day—go to an appointment. There was nothing else scheduled. Why did it have to be so hard? Was it like this for every mom, or just the wildly inexperienced ones?
Easton crossed his arms and looked away for a moment then nodded toward his vehicle. “Would you rather have a ride into town?”
Right now she didn’t really feel like spending any extra time with Easton, but his offer would solve her problem.
“You probably need to eat, and I don’t really have time, and if I’m not going to be late, we’d have to leave now,” she rambled.
“Let me just clear out the backseat of my cab, and then we can get the car seats moved over,” he said.
A kind offer wasn’t going to make her trust him again. Regardless, she needed this favor, and she wasn’t about to turn it down. Not this morning. If anything, he owed her after whatever he’d done to secure that land—this and so much more.
Ten minutes later they were bumping down the gravel road, past the barn and toward the main drive.
“Thank you,” she said as they turned onto the highway. “I appreciate this.”
“Sure,” he said.
They fell into silence, the only sound the soft sucking of pacifiers from the backseat. It was a forty-minute drive into town, and Nora leaned her head back, watching the looping telephone wires zipping past outside the window.
“Remember that time we rode out past the fields and along the edge of the forest?” Easton asked.
Nora glanced at him. She did. It had been early spring, and she’d asked Easton to go with her. He hadn’t wanted to at first because he still had work to do, but then she’d threatened to go alone, and he’d caved in.
“It was fun,” she said. “Dad was furious when we got back.”
“You were a terrible influence,” he said with a teasing smile.
“Oh, I kept your life fun,” she countered, chuckling. She’d always known she could convince Easton to do pretty much anything she wanted. All it took was a bat of her lashes. She felt bad about that now.
“You did.” The teasing had evaporated from his tone. “Work kept me distracted from home, and you kept me distracted from work. You kept me sane. I ride out to check on fences and cattle, but I don’t ride on my days off anymore.”
“You should,” she said.
“It’s different without the company.”
He didn’t take his eyes off the road. Did he miss her, too? She could remember Easton with those sad eyes. He used to pause in the middle of a chore and look out into space, and she’d always been struck by the depth of sadness in his dark eyes. That had been part of why she liked to drag him away from his duties, because with her he’d laugh. She’d felt like she was rescuing him, saving him from whatever it was that was breaking his heart when he thought no one was looking...
“I was pretty mad last night,” Nora said.
“Yeah, I got that.”
She glanced over to catch a wry smile on his lips.
“You still mad?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I am, but not exclusively at you.”
“That’s something.” He slowed as they came up behind a tractor, signaled and passed it.
“Here’s what I want to know,” she said. “And honestly. What was there between you and my dad that was so special? And don’t say it was nothing, because obviously you were special to him.”
Easton was silent for a few beats, then he said, “I didn’t take him for granted.”
“And I did?” She couldn’t hide the irritation that rose at that.
Easton glanced at her and then back to the road. “Of course. He was your dad, and it was perfectly normal to take all that for granted. That’s what kids do—they get used to a certain way of living, and they don’t stop to think about all that goes into achieving it. That isn’t a terrible thing, you know.”
“But you were saintly and appreciative,” she said, sarcasm edging her tone.
“I wasn’t his kid,” he retorted. “You’re going to inherit all of that land, and I certainly won’t. Cliff loved you heart and soul and always would. He was generally fond of me because I’d been around so long and I worked my tail off. There was a massive difference. I wasn’t nosing in on your turf.”
“That’s ironic, because you ended up with my turf.”
Easton smiled slightly. “Land isn’t love, Nora. It was years of knowing my place. I wanted to learn from your dad, and he liked to teach me stuff. I would do anything extra he asked of me in order to learn. He made me into the professional I am today, and I never took that time with him for granted. Because he wasn’t my dad.”
“And that’s why he liked you so much,” she clarified.
“I think so,” he said. “That and—” He stopped and color crept into his face. For a moment she could see the teenage boy in him again.
“And what?” she pressed.
“It’s a little embarrassing,” he said, “but he knew how I felt about you.” He glanced at her, dark eyes meeting hers, then his gaze snapped back on the road. The moment had been fleeting, but she’d caught something in that eye contact—something deep and warm.
“So you had a crush,” she said, trying to sound normal, but she still sounded breathy in her own ears. Bobbie started to whimper, and Nora reached behind her to pop her pacifier back into her mouth.
“It was a weird thing to bond over,” Easton admitted. “But I was the one guy who thought you were just as amazing as your dad did.”
“I always thought my dad hated the idea of us together,” she said. “Anytime he caught us alone, like in the hayloft, he’d blow his top.”
“That was then,” he said. “After you left, he seemed to change his mind. He never liked the guys you dated, you know.”
“They weren’t so bad,” she countered.
Easton chuckled but didn’t answer. She’d known that her dad hated the guys she went out with in Billings. They were the kinds of guys whose boots had never seen mud.
“I kind of knew you had a crush,” she admitted. “Kaitlyn thought it was more than that, but I told her it wasn’t. You might have to reassure her.”
“It was more.”
Nora’s heart sped up, and she cast about for something to say but couldn’t come up with anything. More than a crush...what was that? Love?
“Anyway, after you left, your dad used to joke around that if he had to choose between one of those city slickers and me then he’d take me,” Easton said.
“He never told me that.” Not directly, at least. Her father had pointed out Easton’s work ethic to her more than once. “He’s the first one up, and the last one in,” her dad had said. “He reminds me of myself when I was his age. You could do worse than finding a man who knows how to work hard, Nora.” Was giving Easton the house her father’s way of “handpicking” her husband? That wasn’t really Cliff’s style.
“Look, it was nice to have your dad’s respect,” Easton said. “But I wasn’t the kind of guy who could be led to water, either. Regardless of how I felt about you. I respected your dad, and I appreciated all he did for me, but I make my own life choices.”
“So you didn’t really want anything more with me—” She didn’t know what she was fishing for here—absolution, maybe?
“I didn’t want to be the guy always chasing at your heels,” he replied. “What I felt for you was considerably more than a crush, but I didn’t want to chase you down and try to convince you I was worth your time. If you didn’t know it yet, then that ship had sailed. I put my energy into getting over you instead.”
“Pragmatic...” She swallowed.
“Always.” He laughed softly, and her heart squeezed at the sound of it. He was every inch a man now, and it was a whole lot harder to ignore. But he’d made the right choice in getting over her.
“So you think Dad wanted us to get together,” she clarified.
“I don’t really think it matters what he wanted now,” Easton said frankly. “He’s gone.”
Gone with her father were the days when Easton could be talked into horseback riding, and that was probably for the best.
“You’re right,” she admitted. “I might be able to pick that bone with him if he were still alive, but he’s not.”
Easton glanced toward her again, and she could see the warmth in his gaze—something that smoldered deeper. It wasn’t the same shy look from years ago when he’d had a crush. This was the steady gaze of a man—unwavering, direct, knowledgeable.
He didn’t say anything, though, and neither did she.
Easton parked in front of the two-story building that housed the doctor’s office. It took a few minutes to get the babies out of the truck, and then Nora carried two car seats and he carried Rosie’s into the waiting room. While Nora went to tell the receptionist that they’d arrived, Easton glanced around at the people seated in the chairs that edged the room. He nodded to two men he knew, and a couple of older ladies looked from the car seats to Nora and then up at Easton, their expressions filled with questions and dirty laundry, no doubt.
Easton glanced at his watch, wondering how long this appointment would take. They were getting low on calf formula. He could let Nora call him on his cell when she was done, and he could head down to the ranch and feed shop... Rosie started to fuss, and Nora glanced back at him. She looked overwhelmed by all of this, and he felt a tickle of sympathy.
“Do you mind?” she asked hopefully.
Easton unbuckled Rosie from her car seat and picked her up. That settled the infant immediately, and she snuggled into his arms, big brown eyes blinking up at him. Rosie definitely liked to be held. Bobbie and Riley were asleep in their seats, and Nora was rooting through her purse for something. He wasn’t getting out of here anytime soon, was he?
“They’re very cute,” one of the older ladies said, putting down her copy of Reader’s Digest. She had short, permed hair that was dyed something close to black. It made her face look pale and older than she probably was.
Easton used his boot to move the car seat toward a line of free chairs then sat down in one of them. The woman scooted over, peering into Rosie’s tiny face.
“These are...the ones...” She looked at Easton meaningfully. Had gossip really gone around town so fast that people he didn’t even recognize were asking about the situation? He decided to play dumb and hope she took the hint.
“They’re cute all right,” he said.
“But these are Cliff Carpenter’s grandchildren, right?” she plowed on. “These are the babies with that poor, poor mother...”
He closed his eyes for a moment, looking for calm. “It’s private,” he said, trying to sound more polite than he felt right now.
“I never imagined,” she went on. “My husband did some mechanic work for him on the tractors—you know, when it got beyond what they could handle on site—so I knew Cliff pretty well. And he just seemed so devoted to Dina. So devoted. Just...” She shook her head, searching for words.
“Devoted,” Easton said drily. Why was he encouraging this?
“Yes!” she exclaimed. “He really was. He talked about her all the time, and he only ever mentioned his daughter—I mean the local daughter. He never, ever mentioned anyone else, if you know what I mean. If he had, I might have said something, but he never did. I wouldn’t have guessed if those babies hadn’t arrived.”
She straightened, looking up guiltily as Nora came in their direction, a car seat in each hand. Nora sank into the chair next to Easton and nodded to the woman.
“Hi, Ethel,” Nora said.
“Morning,” Ethel murmured, but her gaze moved over the babies, her mouth drawn together in a little pucker of judgment.
“I never knew,” Ethel said, leaning forward again. “Just so you know, Nora, I never knew.”
Nora cast Ethel a withering look—apparently she was past polite at this point, and Easton had to choke back a smile.
“If I had, I would have said something, too,” Ethel went on, not to be dissuaded. “I side with the women. How many times have we been tilled under by a man with a wandering eye? So I wouldn’t have kept a secret like that. I’d have spoken up, and let him face the music. That’s what I’d have done.”
“It’s a sensitive topic, ma’am,” Easton said quietly.
“I’d say it is!” she retorted. “My sister married a man who couldn’t keep it in his pants, so I know exactly how sensitive these things can be. It is amazing what some men do with their free time. My sister’s husband didn’t even try to be faithful. He slept with everyone within reach, and she knew it, but she wasn’t about to give him his walking papers, either. It’s all well and good to tell her that she should kick him out, but it was her life, and her marriage, and I couldn’t interfere now, could I?”
“Hardly,” Easton said wryly, but she didn’t seem to read his tone, because she kept talking.
“Everyone in her town knew that her husband had fathered two other children. In fact, I attended the wedding of one of those girls. My sister’s husband wasn’t there, of course, because he was still pretending that he wasn’t her daddy, but I was a friend of a friend, so I went to that wedding. I wasn’t invited to the reception, but—”
“Ethel,” Nora said, shooting a dangerously sweet smile in the older woman’s direction. “Shut up.”
Ethel blinked, color rising in her cheeks, and she opened her mouth to say something then shut it with a click.
“Ethel Carmichael,” the receptionist called. “The doctor is ready for you now.”
Ethel rose to her feet and stalked toward the hallway in time for Easton to overhear the nurse say something about taking her blood pressure. They might want to wait on that to get a normal reading, he thought, and when he glanced over at Nora, she sent him a scathing look.
“What?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes and looked away. This one wasn’t his fault. Ethel was the storyteller. Women like Ethel had memories like elephants for juicy gossip, but looking down into Rosie’s tiny face, the humor in the situation bled away.
This baby girl—and her sisters—would experience the kind of sympathetic tut-tutting that he had for most of his growing-up years. Easton had enough scandal surrounding his own parentage, and he knew what it felt like to have every woman in town look at him with sympathy because his mother had walked out on him. That kind of stigma clung like a skunk’s spray.
When Easton was in the fifth grade, they were supposed to make key chains for their mothers for Mother’s Day. Easton had dutifully made that key chain, braiding leather strips as they were instructed. All he’d wanted was to blend in with the class, but that never happened. The other kids whispered about him—he didn’t have a mom to give the gift to—and the teacher was extra nice to him, which he’d pay for at recess time. So he’d finished his key chain and in the place where they were supposed to write “I love you, Mom,” he’d written something profoundly dirty instead. He wanted to change that look of pity he saw into something else—anger, preferably.
It worked, and every Mother’s Day afterward, he pulled the same trick, because things like Mother’s Day couldn’t be avoided. These girls would have the same problem, except for them it would be at the mention of grandparents, and everyone would clam up and look at them with high-handed sympathy. And they’d hate it—he could guarantee that. With any luck, they would find something better than profanity as a distraction.
Hang in there, kiddo, he thought as he looked down into Rosie’s wide-eyed face. She flailed a small arm then yawned. He couldn’t say it would get better, because it wouldn’t. But she’d get used to it.