The Bride Wore Red Boots (21 page)

“This man could be no relation at all.”

“And then you're no worse off than you are now.”

“Unless Jibril is dead.” The tiniest hint of bitterness crept into the words.

“Unless he's dead,” she agreed. “And then you'll grieve, and you'll go to a counselor just the way you send your men to therapy, and you'll heal.”

“I won't need a counselor if I have you.” He covered her hand with his, and she flipped her palm upward so it nestled into his grip.

“No, I'll be your letter-writing consultant, but that's it. Unless you need your appendix taken out.”

“Uh, not today thanks.”

She grinned. “I have one suggestion for you, but you don't have to take it.”

“Hey, a pretty woman is holding my hand. I'll do whatever she says.” He squeezed her fingers, and his voice regained its natural humor.

“I think you should make what you have here a cover letter to your friend—it's perfect. But also add a very short letter for the man you're trying to reach. I'm sure someone there can translate it. Assume he's the uncle. Tell him something personal about your relationship with Jibril. Send him a picture. Tell him you've worried about him and would love to hear from any relative—something like that. A personal touch will get you a lot further than simply something official from a government embassy.”

He contemplated her suggestion for several moments.

“That's not too much? If it's not a relative?”

“Then it doesn't matter at all. If it is the uncle, then it's absolutely not too much. With luck he'll think of you less as a soldier and more as a friend.”

“All right,” he said quietly. “I'll think about doing that.”

“Don't think too much, you'll think yourself out of it. Just do it.”

“If this turns out to be a cluster, I'm blaming you.” He lifted their clasped hands and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.

“That's okay. I'm a big girl; I can take it.”

M
IA FULLY EXPECTED
the house to be calm and quiet. Preparations would be started for Thanksgiving in two days. Grandma Sadie would be in bed. Her mother would be knitting or reading. Her sisters would be in their rooms. She had it planned perfectly in her head that she and Gabe would be able to sneak off by themselves. The house was plenty big enough for everyone to have a space.

What greeted them was just the opposite: frenetic excitement and planning that couldn't have been more involved if her sisters, mother, and grandmother had been prepping for a presidential visit.

“Oh, I'm so glad you're back,” her mother said, hugging her tightly and then unashamedly offering the same to Gabe. “Are you all right? Are you feeling a little less overwhelmed?”

She'd told her family about Rory. “I'm all right, Mom.”

She braced for further parental solicitousness but it didn't come. Instead, Grace tugged her without ceremony toward the stairs.

“You have to see what we've done!” she said. “It's so great.”

“What's going on?” Mia exchanged a mystified look with Gabe.

“First of all,” her mother said, “since Rory won't be here in time for the real Thanksgiving, we're postponing our celebration until next week. We concentrated instead on a place for him to stay.”

“Harper had a fantastic idea,” Grace said. “Look!”

She opened the door to the room next to Mia's. In the three hours Mia and Gabe had been gone, Rory had gained a bedroom in what had been the sewing room. It was now decked out with a twin bed, a bookcase, and a desk. Grandma Sadie bent over the bed, straightening a log cabin quilt in deep red, blue, and green. A huge painting of Wolf Paw Peak, which stood on Paradise property near the middle of the ranch's land, hung on one wall. Harper's exquisite work.

Mia marveled at the room. “This is above and beyond. Who moved all the furniture?”

“Cole and Bjorne helped us,” Harper said. “We moved the sewing machine and fabric into the guest room downstairs next to Grandma.”

“But you were staying there.” Mia looked at her mother.

“I decided I wanted to go back up into my own room. I can manage the stairs now. It's good for me to make the effort.”

“This is pretty cool.” Gabe gazed in from the doorway and nodded.

“We left the shelves and other walls for you to decide about,” Raquel said. “You might know some things Rory likes we can put up.”

Mia moved slowly around the room, hugging her grandmother, staring at the painting, her mind numb to ideas—blown away by the effort her family had put into creating this spot.

“I . . . I have no idea,” she said. “I'm so grateful. But he'll be here such a short time. You didn't need to disrupt the whole house—”

“Of course we did!” Her mother hugged her again. “This is sad, but exciting. We want Rory to know that whenever he comes to visit with you, he's part of the family now.”

Mia's throat tightened and she grabbed for Gabe's hand. Part of the family? Three weeks ago,
she'd
barely felt like part of the family. She didn't even know if Rory was going to stay in her life. A request in a will was important, but not binding. Just as Gabe had said.

But as she took in the eager faces of the women in her life who'd moved a holiday and two rooms, who'd done this huge thing for her, something deep inside shifted. Maybe, she thought, it was to make room for a sad, orphaned little boy. And a cat named Jack.

M
IA MET THE
plane alone on Sunday afternoon. Rory had no idea of the reception he was in for, and she'd begged her excited family to forego any kind of welcome party. For all she knew, Rory—who was arguably one of the biggest lovers of a party she'd ever met—might want nothing more this time than to curl up and hide.

Nerves like insidious drops of acid assailed her stomach as she waited by baggage claim for a first glimpse of Rory. Half-embarrassed at her anxiousness over a child, she used every yoga breathing technique she could remember, and every head-to-toe relaxation method she'd ever read about to calm herself.

They didn't help. She caught sight of the social worker who'd accompanied him first. It wasn't her friend Samantha—who'd had an emergency to attend to—but Samantha's colleague Hannah White. And then she saw the beautiful head of curls she recognized beyond any doubt. She'd envisioned every manner of greeting from tears and a hug to a stoic high five. She wasn't prepared for what she got.

“Mia!” Rory pulled away from his chaperone with a twist and burst simultaneously into tears and a dead run.

She barely had time to brace herself. From five feet away, Rory, with his backpack flapping, launched himself into her arms and clung like a little spider monkey.

G
ABE HAD PROMISED
to be at the house when Amelia returned with her new charge, and as he watched her car pull slowly down the driveway, excitement mixed with apprehension. The idea of meeting the boy in his first moments at Paradise Ranch seemed suddenly, enormously important, as if this was a do-or-die test. Ridiculous. It was a child.

He'd once loved kids. Funny guys always liked small people who were suckers for clowning around. Now that he was much less the clown, however, he'd lost his effortless ability to relate immediately on their level.

He hadn't admitted to Amelia—he'd barely admitted it to himself—that Rory's appearance in her life worried him. He wasn't stupid. He knew his nerves stemmed from emotional garbage that had to do with Jibril. He'd followed every wrong instinct in the world with the boy who'd become his little shadow in Baghdad. He'd thought he was being so smart, so kind, and so righteous befriending a local child and showing him the wonderful ways of American life.

Instead, he'd been selfish. Nice maybe, but deep down he'd been making himself feel powerful. And it had cost a family dearly. Until Amelia, he had preferred to wear his guilt like a martyr—doing more work with adults and depriving himself of children. Then she'd started hounding him about not giving up. About closure. About all the things he'd planned never to face. And for the first time he'd been willing to search one more time for the truth, not so he could help himself, but so he could be a little bit more whole for her.

So he'd put together a note and some pictures for Jibril's maybe-uncle and sent the whole package off to the American Embassy yesterday morning before he could lose his nerve.

But he was losing it. He was glad Amelia was doing just what he advocated: making a home for a child who needed one. He just didn't want to blow it. He'd thought it was just his own biological children he didn't want to bring into the world and mess up. The truth was, he didn't want to mess up any kid.

The front door opened slowly, and Gabe stole glances at Bella and Grace, the other two designated welcome committee members, seated on the couches in the living room with him. His stomach rolled in queasy anticipation.

He was a grown man, for God's sake.

Amelia stepped through the door, a quiet smile on her lips as she caught everyone's eyes and then glanced down at the boy plastered to her side.

“Hi, everyone,” she said. “I found the man I went looking for.”

Gabe followed her gaze, and his heart punched against his ribcage. Rory held a pet carrier in front of him that took up almost his entire wingspan. Behind the lines of effort on his face, the boy was beautiful. He also could have been Jibril's brother.

His skin glowed like it was bronzed from the sun, and a halo of black curls framed his face. Jibril's hair had been coarse and straight, but his skin tone and dark eyes had been similar.

Amelia spoke quietly to Rory, and he set the carrier down. She squatted with him in front of the little door and helped him open it. She looked like a natural with the boy, peering alongside him, one graceful hand resting on his shoulder, her shapely, jean-clad legs folded easily into the crouch, and her red boots punctuating the picture. Sweet and sexy—a woman who could rescue a child and rock a pair of hot boots.

When she stood, Rory stood with her, holding one of the prettiest cats Gabe had ever seen—a beige-colored mass of fur that squirmed only to get comfortable in the boy's arms. It stared around with eyes as big as its master's.

“I'd like you all to meet Rory Michael Beltane and his buddy, Jack.” Amelia put her arm briefly around Rory's shoulders. “Rory, this is my mom, my sister Grace, and my good friend, Gabriel.”

“The one who's kind of your new boyfriend?” he asked, assessing Gabe with a gaze that spoke purely of fact-finding.

Amelia's face flushed an attractive light pink, and Gabe smiled, his heart rate calming for the first time in hours. This is why kids were so great—they never minced words, and you couldn't tell them any secrets. As Rory had just made clear. If he hadn't been standing right there, Gabe would have loved ribbing Amelia about this one. “Kind of a boyfriend” was a designation he never would have hoped for. One day he'd thank young Rory.

“I, uh . . . yeah, that's Gabe.”

“Hey, Rory.” Gabe didn't make the mistake of trying to offer a grown-up handshake. The cat, Jack, took up both Rory's hands. “Glad you made it safely to Wyoming. How did you and Jack do on that long flight?”

“It was okay.” He looked down at his pet. “I was afraid for him in the bottom of the plane. But I guess he's all right.”

“He is one handsome dude of a cat. Calmest cat I think I've ever seen.” The words started to come more easily.

A little light of pride blossomed in Rory's eyes. Amelia smiled gratefully. Gabe raised his brows suggestively and winked.

“Hi, Rory.” Bella approached, gave Amelia a kiss on the cheek, then bent to Rory's level. “I'm Mia's mom. Call me Bella. We're so glad to have you with us, but I want you to know that we understand it's a pretty sad time for you. Right?”

Rory gave a nearly imperceptible nod. This was where Amelia had gotten her ease around kids. Professional mothers were wonders to behold.

“When you're all settled in and feel comfortable, you can tell us anytime you want to talk about your mom. Or you don't have to at all. We'd like to learn all about her if you want to share her with us.”

He bit his little lip, but his eyes remained dry, and he nodded again.

Grace greeted him, too. She was the one to tease him into a first pale smile by warning him that he was about to be one of only two men in the house with a whole lot of girls. And he should just run for Cole or hope that Gabe hung around a lot so he could have safe places from all the talking.

Rory buried his face in Jack's fur to hide the grin. Gabe thought he detected a hint of impishness beneath the sober mien. The hug bestowed on his cat was one squeeze too many, however, and Jack wriggled free, plopping to the floor with a plaintive meow and heading for the living room with a confident cat swagger.

“He'll be okay,” Amelia said. “Let him explore.”

“Didn't Rory fly here with one of the social workers?” asked Bella.

“She's staying at a hotel in Jackson,” Amelia said. “I invited her to stay here, but she wanted to get some work done and come tomorrow morning to visit the ranch. It was nice of her to give us some bonding time. So, Rory, that means we'd better start getting you settled so we look good tomorrow, right?”

He nodded.

“Now that you've met part of the family, we can go back to the car and get your suitcase and the things we bought for Jack. I have a special spot for his litter box all picked out. And you can put his new bed in your new room.”

“Okay.”

There wasn't much luggage for a child who'd been thoroughly uprooted and moved across country. Gabe grabbed the one large suitcase, and Grace easily hauled a box of cat litter. Amelia handed Rory a plastic bag with a pet store logo on it, and she took the new litter box. They paraded back into the house where Jack met them, getting Rory to smile for the second time.

They set up the litter box in an accessible corner of the back hall, and Jack obediently checked it out. Then it was Rory's turn to scope out his room. The first hint of deer-in-the-headlights shock started to appear in his face as he followed Amelia up the grand wooden staircase to the upper floor. When she nudged him gently ahead of her into the newly created bedroom, he halted as if he'd hit a force field.

Amelia had finished off the room by filling the shelves with classic old books found in her mother's stash of things saved from the girls' youth. She'd also made a trip to Jackson the day before and picked up a few toys Bjorn had suggested might be appropriate—a couple of Lego building sets, a Transformer she'd been promised was classic, and a set of Matchbox cars just because. She'd found a bright red bean bag chair that looked inviting next to one wall. But the crowning splurge was a new laptop over which she'd debated long and hard. It wasn't super powerful, Gabe knew, but it could run video games, allow him to do research for school, and she'd had all the parental controls set up and activated so she felt relatively confident he couldn't get into trouble on it.

“He needs something to feel cool and special,” she'd said. “This is a tool and a toy. Right?”

He'd kissed her in the middle of the electronics store and whole-heartedly agreed. Rory would not hurt for attention or caring while he was with Amelia.

“What do you think?” she asked Rory as he continued to gape. “Will this be okay while we're here?”

“This is for me?”

“It is. You need a place to make your own. When we get back to New York, we'll figure out a room there, too.”

“So . . . ” He looked over his shoulder, desperate hope in his eyes. “I really do get to stay with you?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper. “I'd like that.”

Gabe didn't know what caused the more forceful sock to his gut, the reminder that she was leaving soon or the fact that she seemed to have made a decision about Rory's future already.

“I thought I could sleep with you.” He looked at the floor.

She knelt beside him and offered a hug. “Sweetie, you can sleep wherever you'd like. Wherever you feel safest. If you want to sleep with me, of course you can.”

Rory relaxed as he hugged her. When he let go he turned back to the room, the deer-in-the-headlights replaced by growing excitement. He walked to the desk and touched the laptop in awe.

“I get to use this?”

“It's yours,” Amelia said. “You'll need it for school. And for looking things up and getting even smarter than you are.”

He whirled around again. “Mine?” He questioned everyone in the doorway with his incredulous eyes.

“I was with her when she picked it out,” Gabe said. “She said it was for you.”

Rory threw his arms around Amelia again. “I never had nothing so nice as a computer.”

“Never had anything,” she said, and poked his side softly. “Get used to that. I correct grammar. And I know your mom had a computer she let you use sometimes.”

“Yeah, but it wasn't
mine
.”

“I'm really glad you like it. There'll be some rules, but only a few,” she said. “We can talk about that kind of stuff later. Want to see the rest of the house so you know where everything is?”

He clearly wanted to check out the computer, but he nodded and followed them out of the room.

Rory's excitement had faded back into overwhelmed silence by the time the house tour was finished and he stood in the kitchen, where the rest of the family finally waited to meet him. He shook Cole's hand somberly and responded to Harper like he had to Grace, with a small smile at her compliments of his cat and the admission that she'd already sneaked him a little bit of tuna as a welcome treat.

“You must be ready to eat, too,” Harper said. “We'll have dinner in about three hours, but how about something now?”

“I'm not so hungry,” he said, moving closer to Amelia and looking up at her as if for permission to say such a thing.

“You don't have to eat,” she said.

“Oh, that's just pishposh.” The admonition came from Grandma Sadie, who joined the crowd, her black-and-red flowered cane tapping ahead of her lively steps. “Everyone in this kitchen is hungry for cookies. So, sit down, all of you, and I've got my famous old oatmeal chocolate chippers. Hello, Mr. Beltane. I'm Grandma Sadie.” She put her wrinkled hand out. “You can call me Grandma Sadie.”

To Gabe's astonishment, Rory gave her the biggest smile he'd offered up yet. He held out his own hand. “Are you like a great-grandma?”

“I'm a very great grandma.” She winked. “Every house needs one, don't you think?”

“And you still make cookies?”

That garnered a round of laughter.

“It's about all I like to cook anymore, and only for special occasions. I thought this qualified.”

The exchange sealed the deal both of cookies and Rory's acceptance of his new home away from home. Cookies, milk, and coffee flowed after that and the atmosphere relaxed. Gabe relaxed, too, less worried about the child now that he knew there were so many women willing to act as aunties and grandmothers.

On the other hand, he didn't want to get in the way of the new, fragile family bonding. He was still an outsider. Maybe he was a “kind of boyfriend,” but that and, as the clichéd saying went, a buck-fifty would get him coffee at the nearest gas station. He might be unofficially attached to Amelia, but he wasn't really part of the Crockett clan.

So he settled for quietly watching the ten-year-old try to absorb his new surroundings. Poor kid—this had to be overwhelming. People laughing and joking when he'd just lost his mother and home. He'd certainly be more comfortable once he was back in New York.

A wave of melancholy hit Gabe like a Wyoming thunderstorm. He needed to think hard about what he was doing with Amelia Crockett. This was her life now. Like a boulder thrown into a gentle, quiet pond, the arrival of Rory had tsunami-caliber repercussions. He honestly wasn't resentful or jealous. But he didn't want to hurt someone or be hurt either. His time to pursue Amelia before she left him had run out.

And yet he wanted more of her. Watching her laugh with her family, a woman who'd changed by a hundred and eighty degrees from the cool, stiff, unapproachable doctor he'd met three months before, only increased his desire. So what the hell did he do with this dilemma?

“Time for Rory to choose what we do next.” Amelia propped her chin in her hand and raised her brows. “You can rest here in the house, or you can come down to the barns and see some of the animals. I think a couple of the guys are here working with the mustangs.”