Baby In His Cradle Page 8

  “How come I haven’t heard it before?”

  He shrugged. “It only comes on once or twice a week at most. Half the time I don’t notice it myself.”

  “Oh.” Relieved but still unnerved by her initial fright, Ellie tucked Daniel into the cradle, took a moment to gather her thoughts. Behind her, Samuel was watching, wondering. She could feel his suspicious gaze on the back of her neck. Fear could give her away. She had to control herself, control her terror. “Nightie-night, precious,” she murmured. “Sweet dreams.”

  Ellie took a calming breath, licked her lips, then straightened to face Samuel with the brightest smile she could muster. “So, we run on batteries around here. Clever.”

  A wary glitter sharpened his gaze. “My father was an inventor of sorts. The cookstove, fridge and porch freezer all use propane, but we needed electricity for the well pump and a few lights. When the power company refused to string lines this far into the wilderness, Pop engineered his own solution.”

  “He sounds like a brilliant man,” Ellie chirped in a voice that was much too cheery for the circumstance. “That must be where you inherited your own cleverness. I mean, weaving cradles, creating baby powder from pantry supplies, turning sheets into diapers. Wow, I am really impressed, really, really, impressed.” Her frantic gaze settled on the book in his hands. “Still reading about real-estate law, hmm? That’s impressive, too. Tough job. All that showing and selling, then thousand-page contracts with print so tiny you need the Hubble Telescope to read it. Why do you want to be a Realtor, anyway? And what about all those other books on mechanical drafting and financial management and—”

  Thankfully, the need for breath cut off her uncontrollable ramble. She filled her lungs desperately, noisily, while her head swam and her heart pounded her rib cage as if seeking escape.

  Samuel sat on the sofa, watching. Waiting.

  Ellie’s trademark smile froze into a grimace. She stared into Samuel’s cool eyes, and her breath backed into her throat, choking her. He knew. Dear God, he knew.

  Closing the book, Samuel stood, regarded her for a moment. “Good night,” he said quietly, then turned off the gooseneck reading lamp, climbed the ladder and disappeared into the loft.

  Ellie stumbled to the window, stared out at the falling snow. And she wept.

  By noon the next day Samuel had nearly completed shoveling a path to the shed, his pace quickened by news that a new storm would descend by nightfall. Ellie watched from the back porch, her fingers scratching a nervous rhythm on the rough screening. “How about taking a break?” she called out. “I’ve made a fresh pot of coffee and whipped up a nice tuna salad for lunch.”

  A perceptible stiffness in his shoulders revealed that he’d heard her, but he kept shoveling.

  “I even made pudding for dessert. Butterscotch. Of course, I’ve never made pudding with dried milk crystals before so the results might be kind of iffy, but—”

  She bit her lip as he straightened and gazed over his shoulder with cool dispassion. “Maybe later,” he said.

  “You can’t work without nourishment.” The feeble argument fell on deaf ears. Samuel was already shoveling again.

  Ellie returned to the kitchen, stored lunch in the fridge, then sat at the table, brooding about her next move. All morning she had repeatedly tried to slow Samuel’s progress, but he simply would not be distracted. Whatever was in that shed—and when questioned, Samuel only itemized diesel fuel and tools for the generator—he was clearly determined to reach it. Today.

  It was that very determination that disturbed Ellie. That, along with the fact that he hadn’t been able to look her in the eye all morning.

  A cranky cry from the cradle indicated that at least one person around here was ready for lunch. Ellie was happy to oblige.

  After Daniel had been fed, changed and put down for a nap, Ellie went to check Samuel’s progress, and saw the path had been cleared all the way to the shed door, which now stood open. There was a flash of movement inside the shed. Samuel emerged with what appeared to be a couple of odd-looking tennis rackets tucked under his arm.

  Ellie first frowned, then gasped in recognition. Snowshoes. He was carrying snowshoes.

  Ignoring the blustery cold, she dashed outside without a jacket, met Samuel halfway up the path. His gaze hesitated, skipped over her shoulder to settle on a peak visible beyond a distant dip in the treed terrain. “You’d best get back inside,” he said. “The temperature’s dropping.”

  The chill had little to do with the convulsive tremors skittering down her spine. “Where are you going?” she whispered. When he didn’t reply, she followed his gaze, recognized the faint outline of a wooden structure jutting above the trees. “The fire tower?”

  He nodded. “I won’t be gone long. A couple hours at the most.”

  She clutched his arm. “No, please. I mean, what if the storm moves in sooner than expected? It’s too dangerous and besides, there’s no reason for you to go, no reason at all.”

  Samuel’s gaze shifted to her grasping fingers, lifted to settle on her face. A shadow darkened his eyes, the only indication that he was troubled. “The tower has a two-way radio,” he said matter-of-factly. “You might have to wait another day or so for the rescue chopper depending on the weather, but with any luck you and Daniel will be back home by the end of the week.”

  “No!” Ellie saw him flinch as she dug her nails into the sleeve of his jacket and forcibly loosened her grip. “I mean, Daniel and I don’t really have a home, at least not at the moment. My job at the lodge was just temporary, after all, and it’s not like anyone is looking for us.” Her laugh was high-pitched, frantic. “Besides, we have everything we need right here. Daniel is thriving, and I know I haven’t exactly been carrying my weight, but I will, I promise. I’ll keep the cabin clean as a whistle, and I’ll cook all your meals—”

  She paused for breath as Samuel covered her convulsive fingers with his own gloved had. “Ellie, you don’t have to—”

  “I’ll even help you keep the paths shoveled,” she blurted, unwilling to listen. “I’m stronger than I look. I can chop firewood, too, you just wait and see. I’ll keep the woodpile so high you’ll need a ladder to reach the top—”

  “Ellie, stop it.” Dropping the snowshoes, Samuel grasped her shoulders with a gentle shake. “Calm down.”

  “I am calm,” she babbled wildly. “I’m perfectly calm, and I’m perfectly happy, and Daniel’s perfectly happy so I don’t see why you’re so anxious to get rid of us, but if you want us to leave, we’ll go, only you don’t have to call anyone to come get us, we’ll just get up and go, and, and...” The foolish words condensed in the frosty air like frozen mist. Ellie swayed, saw shock in Samuel’s eyes and realized that he thought her mad.

  For an instant, she wondered if he was right. She must be mad even to suggest snatching up a newborn infant and dashing through wilderness in the dead of winter. “I didn’t mean that,” she murmured, rubbing her head. “You know I didn’t mean that.”

  His eyes flashed. “Didn’t you?”

  Ellie remembered the stormy afternoon she’d stumbled onto the cabin porch, half-frozen and nearly dead because she’d charged off in a blind panic without thought or reason. No wonder Samuel didn’t believe her, didn’t trust her. She wasn’t certain she trusted herself.

  Run. That’s all she could think of when cornered, when faced by an obstacle that seemed too huge to overcome. Run. Escape. Get away.

  But it wasn’t just her now. Ellie had a child to think about, a helpless infant who needed her.

  A trembling hand touched her mouth. It was her own hand. Turning away, Ellie bit her lip, felt hope drain away as if it were melting show. If she couldn’t stop Samuel now, if she couldn’t keep him from reaching that fire tower and calling for help, all that was precious to her would be lost forever.

  He spoke softly, in a voice tinged more with concern than anger. “What is it, Ellie, what are you running from?”

  Fear
bubbled up like bitter bile. Desperate, she faced him, turned the question around, and clubbed him with it. “What about you, Samuel? Why does a man leave his job, his home and hole up like a hibernating squirrel in the middle of a frozen wilderness?” He vibrated as though struck, stumbled back a step, but Ellie was too frantic to care. “So you first, Samuel. Tell me what you are running from, then maybe we’ll talk.”

  The most profound sadness flickered across his eyes, a grief so exquisite that it took Ellie’s breath away.

  Without a word, Samuel retrieved the snowshoes, hiked up the ridge of shoveled show and bent to fasten the woven, skilike objects to his boots. Behind him, Ellie called his name, but he blocked out the sound of her voice. Her words evoked memories that sickened him, scraped him raw inside.

  “Samuel, please.” The voice was closer now, sharp with panic. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so sorry. Samuel!” It was a scream. “Don’t go.” It was a whisper.

  A desperate whisper that turned him like a touch.

  She was on her knees in the snow, only a few feet away from him. Her face was bloodless, her brown eyes huge with terror. She extended her arm, stiffly reaching, fingers straining to touch him, to touch safety, to touch life. The nightmare sprang to life, spinning through his mind.

  Dark eyes. A reaching hand A plea for help.

  “Please, don’t go,” Ellie begged. “I’ll tell you everything, I swear to God I will. Please, please, don’t do this to me.”

  Samuel reached out, felt her fingers brush his gloved palm, then slip away.

  Not again, he thought wildly. Never again.

  Lurching forward, he collapsed on his knees directly in front of her, pulled her into his arms. She clung to him, trembling, sobbing uncontrollably.

  “Hold on tight, honey.” Samuel smoothed her tangled hair, tensed his body against the pull of a current that existed only in his mind. “We’ll get out of this, I promise we will, just hang on. Don’t let go,” he whispered. “No matter what happens, don’t ever let go.”

  Slumped at the kitchen table, Ellie felt numb and defeated. She closed her eyes, listened to the comforting cabin sounds. The strong scrape of Samuel’s boots on the rough pine floor. The soothing gurgle of pouring liquid, a tinny rasp as the metal coffeepot scraped the iron burner. The cabin had become Ellie’s refuge, a special place where the outside world and all of its pain was nothing more than a dim memory. She’d felt safe here. Protected. Cherished.

  Now that would all change.

  Samuel set a mug of steaming coffee in front of her, seated himself across the table. He studied her, watching as she sniffed, raked fingers through her tangled hair, grasped the ceramic mug to warm her icy hands.

  Moistening her lips, she murmured her thanks, took a sip of coffee, then another. It was bitter. Samuel still hadn’t figured out how to get the percolation temperature right. Across the table, he waited without comment until Ellie shuddered once, set the coffee down, stared into the mug hoping the answers she sought would be magically reflected in the swirling black brew.

  They weren’t. “I don’t know where to begin,” she said finally.

  An awkward silence followed. Samuel shifted in his chair, cocked an ankle atop his knee and folded his arms loosely. Displaying no visible impatience, he simply waited.

  After another sip of bracing, bitter coffee, Ellie took a deep breath. “I used to work for an insurance company. Actually I worked for several. Insurance is a cutthroat business, you know? People clawing their way up the ladder of success, trampling on anyone who gets in their way. I hate that.” What she hated was the unpleasantness, the confrontation. “Life is too short for all that hostility, don’t you think?”

  She chanced a furtive glance, saw that his expression hadn’t changed. Heaving a sigh, she propped her chin on one hand, ran the index finger of her other hand around the coffee mug rim. “Anyway, I’d just started a new job at a private insurance office. The people were happy, friendly folks—most of them were related to each other—and I just loved the relaxed atmosphere. We were always playing pranks on each other. Someone once put green dye in the hand-soap dispenser. That was a real hoot. Nobody ever got angry, though, not even when the boss hid an ugly rubber spider in the copier.”

  Ellie cut off the story, avoided Samuel’s knowing stare. He wasn’t smiling; he wasn’t frowning. He was just regarding her with those piercing blue eyes that penetrated a person’s soul, and laid private thoughts bare. He understood her well, she thought, and was not cheered by the realization.

  “Talk all you want,” he said quietly. “We both have plenty of time, and I figure you’ll get around to the meat of the matter when you’re ready.”

  Ellie flinched. Oh, he knew her, all right, had recognized her tendency to use unrelated jabber as a stalling tactic. That wasn’t going to work with Samuel. He’d sit there until spring thaw, if necessary, but he wasn’t going to let Ellie leave that chair until she’d told him everything.

  Everything.

  “There was a park across from my office,” she said dully. “I jogged through it on my lunch hours. That’s where I met Stanton.”

  A flicker of interest brightened Samuel’s eyes. “Stanton?”

  “Stanton Mackenzie.” Suddenly exhausted, Ellie rolled her head, rotated her stiff shoulders, resisted the urge to lay her head on the table. “Politically connected president of a Sacramento computer-components firm, deacon of his church and upstanding pillar of the community. Of course at the time I thought he was just another fast-track yuppie on a fitness kick, but he had a wonderful sense of humor and we, well—” Ellie studied a blemish in the oak table, gathered her thoughts. “We hit it off,” she finished finally.

  Samuel waited a moment, leaned forward to prop his forearms on the table. “What do you mean, politically connected?”

  “His brother-in-law is one of the governor’s aides.”

  “I see.” He shifted back in the chair, drummed his fingers on his thigh. “So you and this Mackenzie started dating?”

  She nodded. “It was casual, friendly stuff. Dinner, movies, the occasional Saturday at the beach. Neither one of us was looking for a serious relationship, so from my perspective, our friendship was perfect.”

  “But there came a time when it became not so perfect?”

  “Yes.” She raked her hair again, caught her fingers in a tangle. “I must look a wreck,” she murmured, ineffectually trying to smooth the ruffled mess.

  “What happened?”

  “The snow got it, then the wind blew it into a mass of knots—”

  “What happened with Mackenzie?”

  “Oh.” She’d known exactly what he meant. “I honestly don’t know. One day we were laughing, making plans for a trip to an amusement park, then Stanton disappeared for a couple of weeks, and when he showed up again, he gazed at me as if I was the only roast beef sandwich at a picnic filled with starving men.” Twitching nervously, Ellie scoured the hapless oak blemish with her thumbnail. “Before I could blink, I was being seriously wooed. Red roses on my desk and doorstep. Romantic dinners at restaurants with French names I couldn’t begin to pronounce. Fancy hotel suites, with champagne and dipped strawberries. We, ah...” She couldn’t meet Samuel’s eyes. “We became lovers.”

  She chanced a look, saw his eyes warmed with understanding and a touch of sadness. “You were both adults,” he said quietly. “It happens.”

  “Yes,” she murmured, swallowing a lump. “It happens.”

  He nodded sagely, gave no hint of reproach or disapproval. “Somehow, I never did quite buy off on the artificial-insemination theory.”

  A slow heat crawled up her throat. “I deliberately deceived you. I’m sorry.”

  That didn’t seem to be news to Samuel, although he didn’t dwell on it. “Were you in love with him?”

  “Stanton? Yes, I was.” The edge in her voice took them both by surprise. “I didn’t want to be. It just happened.”

  “And Daniel, did h
e just happen, too?”

  Ellie flinched. “Yes. That’s not to say that I don’t adore him. Daniel is the best thing in my life,” she said fiercely. “I may not have planned to get pregnant, I may have even been scrupulous about using protection in the fear that I would get pregnant, but the moment I learned that I carried a life in my womb, everything changed. I wanted my baby. I wanted him more than I wanted my next breath.”

  A warm palm covered hers as Samuel reached across the table. “You’re a wonderful mother, Ellie. I never had a moment’s doubt about your love for your son.”

  Moisture gathered in her eyes, blurring his features. He was so infinitely kind, so dear, so very different from the man who had fathered her son.

  When Samuel spoke again, his voice was edgy. “I presume that this Stanton character was not as thrilled by the pregnancy.as you were.”

  Sucking in a breath, Ellie withdrew her hand from Samuel’s comforting grasp and shook her head. “On the contrary, he was absolutely elated. The first thing he did was make me an appointment with the best obstetrician in town and drive me there himself. He bought me tons of prenatal vitamins, called me six times a day to make sure I was eating properly, getting enough exercise, and generally taking care of myself. The only thing he didn’t do—” her voice caught “—was be with me.”

  Clearly, Samuel was surprised by that. He leaned back, his brow furrowed, his mouth grim. “Are you saying that there was no further sexual activity after you became pregnant?”

  “Nothing beyond a chaste kiss. It was almost as if he was relieved that a burdensome chore had been eliminated. I was hurt,” she admitted. “And confused.”

  “I can see why.” Samuel rubbed his face with his palms, peered over the fingertips. “So this Stanton character wooed you, seduced you, was elated by your pregnancy, but he never once mentioned the word marriage.”