A Fortune's Children's Christmas (4 page)

“I noticed,” he said drily. “I’ll be right back.” He walked into the living room and wondered why he felt so compelled to wait on her hand and foot. She didn’t seem the kind of woman who expected that kind of treatment, but, for the first time since Emily’s death, he felt a need to protect and help her and her tiny daughter. He consoled himself with the thought that this was only for a few days, until she was able to take care of herself and her baby and the storm had passed. Then she was on her own. He dug in the small closet where he’d seen an old TV tray, compliments of the previous owners. Quickly washing it off with a rag, he returned to the bedroom with the tray and a lantern.

Next he opened his bottom dresser drawer, dumped the jeans onto the top of the bureau and lined the empty drawer with a blanket. “I’m fresh out of bassinets and cribs,” he explained, gently lifting Angela from her mother’s arms and placing her in the drawer near the bed. The baby’s body was warm, and she made happy little gurgling noises, but Chase told himself to stay detached. This little lump of flesh wasn’t his kid and after a few days, wouldn’t be his responsibility. Satisfied that Angela was content and comfortable, he straightened and motioned to Lesley. “Now, you, lady, have some dinner.”

Lesley glanced down at the makeshift cradle. “Will she be all right there?”

“Unless you crawl out of the bed and step on her, and I don’t think you’ll be doin’ much of that with that ankle of yours.”

“I know, but—”

“If you need to use the bathroom, call me. I’ll take you.”

She blushed scarlet. “No, I couldn’t. I mean I’ll get there by myself.” He sent her a disbelieving look, but didn’t argue. He set her tray across her lap, then got a second for himself and watched as she ate heartily.

“So where’s Angela’s father?” Chase asked as he dunked a biscuit in a pocket of lumpy gravy.

Lesley cleared her throat. “Aaron died six months ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” She replaced her fork. “He was older than me by twenty years and…well, he had a heart attack one day.” Her eyes clouded with what Chase supposed was grief, but there was something more to the story, as well, something she didn’t want to con-fide. The corners of her mouth turned down a bit, and the slight dusting of freckles over her nose seemed more pronounced. She pushed around her vegetables with her fork, and he decided he didn’t need to pry. She’d been through enough for one day. “When he died, everyone thought I should sell the ranch, move into town, but I wanted to try and make it on my own. With my daughter, of course.”

“To prove a point?” he guessed.

“Maybe.” She didn’t elaborate, and he held his silence.

It had been years since he’d shared Christmas Eve with anyone. Even with all his relatives he’d chosen to spend the holidays alone since Ryan’s death, ignoring the traditions of Thanksgiving and Christmas in favor of quiet solitude. On those holidays he’d usually spent time riding through snow-crusted hills, eyeing the scenery, telling himself that there was a God, that his son and wife were in heaven, that he could get by on his own, that he didn’t need anyone. Now he wasn’t so sure.

Within a few short hours Lesley Bastian and that mite of a daughter of hers had started turning his mind around. As he chewed on a tough bite of chicken and watched golden shadows from the kerosene lantern play over the smooth contours of her face, he had the distinct impression that the widow next door was about to change the course of his life forever, and he wasn’t certain it was for the better.

I
f you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay in that bed until I can drive you to a hospital so a doctor can look at your ankle.

Chase’s words still echoed through the empty cabin as Lesley struggled to her feet. The baby was sleeping in her makeshift bed, Chase was outside, and Lesley wasn’t going to let him boss her around. He’d been wonderful in his gruff way. For the past few days he’d waited on her hand and foot, taking care of both his place and hers, but she couldn’t stand being idle a minute longer. She needed to get on with her life, and the thought of some man, any man, Chase Fortune included, telling her what to do, made her see red. This was as good a time as any to test her ability to stand.

Gingerly she placed her feet on the floor and pushed herself upright. Pain screamed up her ankle and leg. “Darn.” Light-headed, she dropped back down on the bed for a second, then decided she wasn’t going to let the sprain get the better of her. She tried again. The pain hit her hard, then dulled. It wasn’t so bad this time. Gritting her teeth, she balanced on her good foot, then, using a cane Chase had found in the attic, hob
bled into the living room, where a fire crackled brightly.

She and Angela were alone. Chase was out looking for the missing livestock.

Leaning against the counter, she took a good hard look at the place. The house was decorated sparsely with an eclectic array of used furniture that somehow jelled together to give an authentic mountain-cabin feel to the place. The couch had once been deep forest green and was now worn and lumpy. A sleeping bag was thrown over one overstuffed arm and had sufficed as Chase’s bed. An old leather chair sat near the fire, and a drop-leaf table separated the living area from the kitchen. Four chairs surrounded the oval table, none of which matched another.

She’d asked enough questions to learn that most of the furniture had come with the place, and she supposed he was a man who traveled light, didn’t collect a lot of possessions or dust, and was used to moving from one place to another.

In the kitchen she poured coffee from a thermos and stared through the frost-covered windows to the barn, where snow was piled high on the roof and icicles dangled, sparkling in the pale winter sun.

Livestock, black Angus and white-faced Hereford cattle, chewed their cuds under a pole structure or milled in the snow that had been trampled.

She was sipping from her cup when the house seemed to shudder. The motor of the refrigerator began to hum. Lamps were suddenly lit.

Electricity! Finally. She snapped on the television
set and saw the familiar characters of a soap opera. “Good.” Lesley’s spirits lifted instantly. “Back to the twentieth century!” She hitched her way across the room to the wall phone and nearly shouted out loud when she held the receiver to her ear and heard an honest-to-goodness dial tone for the first time in half a week.

Her heart hammered, and she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. There were so many people to call to tell them about Angela.

First on the list were her parents. She dialed their home in Seattle and waited impatiently, her fingers tapping anxiously on the counter.

One ring. Two. Three.

“Come on. Be home.”

“Hello?”

At the sound of her mother’s voice, tears filled Lesley’s eyes. “Hi, Grandma,” she said.

There was a stunned silence and then her mother shrieked. “Lesley? You had the baby? Frank! Frank! Get on the extension, it’s Lesley! She had the baby! Where are you? What happened? Oh, my God, we were so worried!”

There was a click and she heard her father’s voice. “Les?”

“Hi, Daddy.” Tears of relief spilled down her cheeks. “Mom’s right. You’re a grandpa now. Angela Noel Chastina Bastian was born on Christmas Eve and she’s beautiful.”

“Well, I’ll be—” her father whispered.

Her mother began to sniff, and Lesley couldn’t help
but giggle through her tears. They were all a bunch of romantic softies deep at heart. “As I said, we were so worried,” her mom repeated. “We couldn’t get hold of you, not even through the police and…and the television reports said the storm there was the worst ever.” Her voice cracked. “There were pictures of stranded cars and frozen cattle and, oh, I just thank God that you and the baby are safe.”

“Me, too.”

“Are you at home?”

“No. At the neighbor’s. If it hadn’t been for Chase coming along…” She couldn’t imagine what would have happened. Quickly she recounted the past few days, leaving out only those parts that would upset her parents and lingering on the birth and Angela. “I was lucky I guess.”

“Very,” her mother agreed, then promised to visit as soon as the weather allowed.

“She’ll be there if she has to walk through another blizzard,” her father said, chuckling. They’d been waiting to become grandparents for years, but Lesley’s sister, Janie, wasn’t interested in becoming a mother. A lawyer, married to another attorney in the same firm, Janie lived in San Francisco and enjoyed an urban professional life uncluttered by children.

“So this Chase fellow, he’s still helping you out?” her father asked.

“I’m still at his house, but I think I can go home today or tomorrow. If not, you can reach me here,” Lesley added, rattling off the telephone number. They talked a few more minutes about the holidays and rel
atives and Angela’s future before hanging up, then Lesley called her sister and left a message on Janie’s answering machine.

She’d hung up and was hobbling back to the bedroom when the phone jangled. Thinking her mother had decided to call back, she hiked her way back to the kitchen and snagged the receiver on the fourth ring just as Chase appeared on the back porch.

“Hello?” she said, smiling, as she watched Chase shake the snow from his jacket and hat.

“Oh…hello,” a woman said. She sounded young and a little put off, as if she hadn’t been expecting to hear Lesley’s voice. Foolishly, Lesley’s heart sank. “This is Kelly Sinclair. I’m trying to reach Chase Fortune.”

“He’s right here,” Lesley replied, surprised at the knot of disappointment in her stomach. Chase shouldered open the door and gave the room a quick once-over. “The power’s on.”

“Finally.” She held the telephone toward him and forced a smile she didn’t feel. “It’s Kelly.”

His eyebrows elevated. “Who?”

“Kelly Sinclair.”

“Oh. Good.” His demeanor changed instantly. The hardworking, abrupt cowboy switched into an even-tempered man. He took the receiver and grinned. “Merry Christmas—well, it’s a little late, but we’ve been snowed under. Suppose you heard.”

Angela started to cry, and rather than eavesdrop on Chase’s private conversation, Lesley started for the bedroom.

“Hey, wait. I’ll help you,” he said, but Lesley’s spine stiffened. She wasn’t going to depend upon him.

“I’m okay,” she said over her shoulder as the baby’s cries got louder.

“You’re sure…what?” he said into the telephone again. “Oh, no. Just the neighbor. Yeah, we had a little trouble here over the holidays.”

Just the neighbor.
Lesley’s teeth clenched so hard her jaw ached. She gripped the cane even harder. Of course she was
just
his neighbor. What more did she expect? Sure they’d been trapped together for four days and in that time she’d seen through Chase’s hard facade to the gentler man behind his brooding eyes and harsh expression. Though he’d avoided holding Angela, he’d been concerned for her well-being. He’d made sure that Lesley was recovering and she’d noticed that he’d slipped his old dog scraps from the table and watched him absently rub his ears. His concern for his newly acquired herd seemed to run deeper than a simple worry about profit and loss. Deep inside, Chase Fortune probably had a heart of pure gold; he just did a darned good job of hiding it.

Angela, red-faced, tiny fists clenched near her head, was screaming at the top of her lungs. “Shh. It’s all right. I’m here,” Lesley insisted, picking up her daughter, dropping onto the bed and immediately un-buttoning her nightgown. As the baby suckled hungrily, she closed her eyes and couldn’t help overhear part of Chase’s conversation.

“…as well as can be expected…yeah, that was an obstacle I hadn’t counted on, but we’re okay.” A
deep, rumbling chuckle. “I know, I know. The situation is only temporary, trust me…. Yeah, I know. I’ve got more than my share of work cut out for me. I don’t have time for any distractions.” There was a familiar tone to his voice, an intimate teasing quality that twisted Lesley’s heart. Whoever Kelly Sinclair was, she was obviously very important in Chase’s life.

“I think we’ve overstayed our welcome,” Lesley whispered softly to her daughter, and dismissed the foolish pang of pain that seared her heart. “We should think about going home.” It was time to give him his life back and get on with her own.

“I’ll keep in touch,” Chase promised Kate, who had finally had her secretary call to see how he was doing. He’d chatted with Kelly a few minutes before his great-aunt had actually picked up and in that time he’d mentioned the fact that he’d helped deliver a baby.

“See that you do keep in touch,” Kate said with a deep chuckle. “I’ve got a stake in this, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” He squinted out the window to the snow-crusted fields and the tiny herd of strays he’d managed to drive back to the barn.

“And keep your eye on that widow with her newborn.”

He hesitated.

“They’re still staying with you, aren’t they?”

“For a while.”

Kate sighed. “Thank God you found Lesley when
you did. Sometimes I think we all have guardian angels with us.”

He didn’t reply. What could he say? That Lesley had been so confused she’d thought an actual angel had been in the car with her?

“I know it must be hard for you,” Kate ventured to say, and Chase tensed. “What with it being the holidays and all.”

“It’s all right.”

“You’re sure?” He knew what she was asking, but he didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His son hadn’t survived to see his first Christmas, and his wife…well, Emily had blamed herself and taken her own life on New Year’s Eve. She’d mixed vodka and an entire bottle of sleeping pills. The results had been deadly.

“I’ll be fine, Kate,” he assured her.

“I know you will, Chase. Just remember no man is an island.”

“No?”

“Have a good holiday.”

“You, too.” He hung up with the unsettling feeling that there was more to the old woman’s bargain than first appeared. And she was wrong. A man could be an island. Self-contained. Self-reliant. Chase had told himself years ago that he didn’t need anyone, not even his own family, to make it on his own. Meeting Lesley Bastian hadn’t changed that.

He added a couple of chunks of oak to the woodstove, then checked on Lesley. She was lying on the bed, her eyes closed, the baby nuzzling at her breast. Something tightened in his chest, and he averted his
eyes; he still hadn’t gotten used to seeing her so uncovered, but it was fascinating and sensual in a domestic, earthy way that caused heat to climb up the back of his neck and an answering response between his legs.

It was beginning to seem right—her sleeping in his bed, the tiny baby swaddled and sleeping either with her or in the make-shift bassinet.

At the turn of his thoughts he stiffened. What was he thinking? Just seconds ago he’d been on the right track, and now as he glanced at the sleeping woman and child he doubted himself.

“Angela and I are leaving in the morning,” she said, surprising him. He thought she was asleep and didn’t realize that she knew he was in the room.

“You can barely walk.”

“I’ll manage.” Her eyes opened fully, and he was struck by the intensity of her gaze—green irises shot with silver—that didn’t flinch. “I’ve imposed too much already.”

“There’s another storm on its way.”

“This time we’ll all be ready.”

“I couldn’t leave you over there all alone,” he insisted.

“I don’t think you’re going to have much choice.”

“Don’t I?” he demanded. “How’re you gonna get over there? There’s no damned taxi service out here.”

“How about your truck? I heard you start it this morning, and I can only think that you have chains. The radio announcer said that most of the roads are
clear, so I think I should call a tow company for my rig and have you drive me and Angela home.”

“I don’t know if I’d feel right about it.” He rubbed the back of his neck in agitation. He couldn’t keep her here forever, not that he wanted that, but the thought of her and that baby alone in an empty house in subfreezing weather bothered him.

It bothered him a lot.

“It’s time, Chase,” she said firmly, and he realized he couldn’t change her mind. “You have your life—I have mine. I appreciate everything you’ve done for Angela and me, but I have to start taking care of my daughter and myself.”

“You’d be taking one helluva risk.”

“Mine to take.”

“Lesley, think about it.”

“I have,” she said firmly.

There was no use arguing with her. The best he could do was bargain. Folding his arms over his chest, he stood at the foot of the bed and stared down at her. “If you insist on doing this—”

“I do. Absolutely.” Her pointed chin thrust forward in determination.

“Okay, then I’ll go over to your place, make sure the power’s on, the furnace hasn’t frozen and you’ve got running water. Then, in the morning, when the house is warm enough for Angela, I’ll take you over.”

“But—” Lesley started to argue, then threw up one hand. “Oh, sure. Fine,” she said, obviously having trouble giving an inch. She was testy today, probably
suffering from a bad case of cabin fever. “There’s a key hidden behind a wreath by the back door.”

“Then I’ll go over now and take a look around.” He whistled to Rambo and was out the door to the screened-in porch. If the woman wanted to be stubborn, so be it, Chase thought. She was right: he couldn’t keep her at his place against her will. He buttoned his jacket, stepped into his boots and crammed a hat onto his head. The path he’d made to the barns, stables and garage was holding, as there hadn’t been any new snow in the past couple of days. He hazarded a glance toward the sky and frowned at the dark, big-bellied clouds rolling slowly across the heavens. What would happen to her if another storm hit and she was stranded without power? What about the kid?