Cattail Ridge (3 page)

Chapter Three

Five years earlier…

A
rcher first met the Campbell family not long before Sydney was born. New in town, the only people he knew were the guys he worked with at the garage. Archer was a mechanic and a damned good one, if he did say so. His boss, Jack Browning, had ferreted out the fact that Archer would be spending the Fourth of July holiday alone and had strong-armed him into coming to his own family’s gathering.

“It’s a mess of people what with my two kids, my sister’s five, various assorted friends and cousins, and a few neighbors thrown in just for variety. And we have one of the best seats in the house as far as watching the fireworks goes. Owen and Sarah’s place is on top of the mountain, and you can see the shows from every town around here.”

Reluctant but without a good excuse to get out of going, Archer went. As soon as he arrived, chaos greeted him. He’d expected that with as many people as Jack had told him were attending the gathering. What he hadn’t expected was the warm welcome he had received.

Jack’s sister was the first to greet him at the front steps to the farmhouse. “Hi! You must be Jack’s friend. I’m Sarah Campbell.”

“Archer Gibson. How do you do, ma’am? Thanks for inviting me.”

She smiled up at him and patted his arm. “So polite. I like you already. But you don’t have to call me ma’am. Do you mind taking this platter to the tables under the tent?”

“Of course not.” He took the large dish loaded down with sliced fruit and did as he was told. A dark-haired young woman around his age who strongly resembled Sarah waved him over.

“That goes here with the desserts. I’m Rachel.”

And the introductions rolled on from there. Archer knew he’d never keep up with them all, but one Campbell in particular stood out to him. Amelia.

The youngest of Owen and Sarah Campbell’s children, she appointed herself his escort for the day. Still a teenager, she was like a friendly young puppy tempered with a blossoming maturity that Archer knew probably caused her parents–particularly her father–fits.

“So who are you?” she asked after they’d eaten and all the food had been cleared away. She and Archer were sitting on a slight incline watching her brothers play tag with her nephews. “I mean, I know you’re Archer Gibson and you work with my uncle, but who are you? Where are you from?”

He watched her with bemusement as she propped herself up on her elbows, legs stretched out in front of her, and waited for his response.

“If you were anyone else I’d tell you to go bother someone who isn’t me.”

She laughed. “But I’m not anyone else. And you like me, admit it. So who are you?”

He did like her. She’d been by his side while they ate, gently guiding him through the noisy commotion that was her family. Someday Amelia Campbell was going to be a force to reckon with.

“I’m a mechanic. I’m good at it. I grew up near Ashland. Started working with my dad when I was twelve, took over our garage when I was sixteen. Been at it ever since.”

Amelia sat up, mirroring his pose by raising her knees and looping her arms around her legs. “Twelve is awfully young, not even legal. Why do I feel like you’re leaving a lot out?”

He shrugged. “Nothing worth repeating. I do have a brother. Logan. He’s a couple of years older than me. He’s in the Army.”

“Are you close?”

“We’re… I guess so.” His relationship with Logan was complicated. Too complicated to try to explain to a young girl. “I have a lot of respect for Logan. He raised me after our dad died.”

“I’m sorry.”

Archer accepted the words with a nod.

“So how old are you? Married, single, dating someone?”

He gave a mock growl. “You’re full of questions.”

Her answering grin was cheeky. “Familial trait and occupational hazard. My dad’s a writer. I’m considering following that path myself. So?” She bumped his shoulder with hers.

“I’m twenty-five. Divorced. No interest in going down that road again. What about you? Who are you?” He hoped that if he turned the questioning back to her she’d be diverted.

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes but answered. “I’m seventeen. Single. Never been married. I already told you I’m a writer-in-training. And I’m still figuring out the rest.”

There was that maturity again. Oh, yes. The girl was going to be dangerous when she became a woman.

Her brothers, John and Ben, and Jack’s son, Rick, came over then and pulled him to his feet.

“Come on,” Ben said. “Time for some football. You’re on my team.”

Before long they’d worked up a good sweat, and most of the men took their shirts off. When Archer didn’t no one teased him or questioned him. That consideration was a small gesture he appreciated, though he doubted they realized that. The last thing he wanted to have to do was explain his scars.

They did, however, warn him about Amelia.

“You know she’s still a kid, right?” Ben asked as they were getting cool drinks.

Archer immediately understood where her brother was going with that. “I know. And I’m not into kids.” Against his will his gaze sought out their other sister, Emma. Even hugely pregnant, she was attractive. Too attractive for his peace of mind. He was glad she was involved enough with someone to have gotten pregnant, though she’d introduced herself as Emma Campbell, and none of the men present acted like she was his. That put her safely behind a line he wouldn’t cross.

The security blanket of her involvement was ripped away the next time he saw her, which was at a birthday party for her and Ben in early August.

“So they’re twins?” he asked Amelia as they ate. She was once again attached to him at the hip.

“Mm-hmm. Emma’s a few minutes older. This has been a rough year for the whole family but on her especially. It’s good to see her having fun today.”

“Rough how?” Archer was more interested in Amelia’s response than he should have been.

She leaned in closer, her voice low. “Well, you probably noticed that she’s pregnant. And the sperm donor isn’t in the picture. He’s a sleazebag. She came home this spring from Georgia and even though she set up her photography studio and it seems to be a success, her self-esteem has really taken a beating. Emma’s usually the strongest of all of us, never turns away from a challenge.”

Archer quickly did the math in his head. She was due to deliver any day, meaning she’d gotten pregnant late last year. She’d moved home, apparently leaving the father behind, and was getting ready to face motherhood alone. Alone. Uninvolved. Single. That unsettled him so much he almost bolted from the table.

Amelia continued. “Then there was the drama with John and Zanny, and Ben and Ainsley.”

“That sounds private.”

“Yes. But we’re adopting you, so you’ll learn about it eventually anyhow. John and Zanny split up this spring, about the same time Em came home, as a matter of fact. They officially reconciled at the Fourth. And Ben and Ainsley dated years ago but things happened. It appears they’ve patched themselves up. He’s not been this carefree in years.”

Archer had to admit the other man seemed happier than he had appeared a few weeks earlier.

After they ate and the birthday kids opened their presents, Archer went outside with Jack and Rick. They were walking the perimeter of the large meadow that surrounded the Campbell homestead when John flagged them down.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked his nephew as they met him halfway across the yard.

“Emma’s in labor. Rick, can you drive her?”

Rick was a sheriff’s deputy and had driven his cruiser to the farm, as he’d come off duty just before the party started.

“Sure.”

They hurried inside to where the whole family had gathered in the foyer. Emma was holding on to the newel post at the foot of the stairs, clearly in the middle of a contraction. Her mother was rubbing her back, speaking in a low, soothing voice. To say the atmosphere was tense was a vast understatement.

When Emma straightened, her face clearing, the whole family breathed a sigh of relief.

“That was intense.” She tried to smile but it didn’t quite work. “I hate to break the party up. Sorry everyone.”

Her father wrapped her in a hug. “Hush. We get to have a baby for your birthday. That’s the best present in the world.”

“Absolutely,” Ben agreed, touching her hair. “Let’s get going, though. I might want a niece for my birthday present but I don’t particularly want to deliver her.”

That sent a round of chuckles through the room, breaking some of the tension.

Emma started toward the door but stopped after a couple of steps, her hand going back to clench the post. “I don’t think I can walk.”

“We can carry you,” Ben told her. “Rick and I can make an arm sling.”

But Emma was tall, almost as tall as Ben. And Ben’s arm was in a cast. Archer glanced around the room and gave in to the inevitable. He was by far the tallest man there at six-foot-four, and years of moving heavy car parts around had built strong muscles. He stepped forward.

“No need. I can carry you. If you’re okay with that?”

Emma’s face flushed but she nodded. “Thank you.”

“Just grab my shoulders,” he said as he put an arm around her lower back and stooped so that he could get the other behind her knees. “Ready?”

“If you’re sure.”

He scooped her up as gently as he could, then straightened and settled her against his chest with a smile. “No sweat. Your chariot awaits.”

When they got to the cruiser, however, Emma shook her head. “No way. I’m not getting in that backseat.”

“You can’t ride in the front,” Rick said. “I don’t think there’s room what with all the equipment and, uh, your belly. I’ll have to escort you. Someone else will have to drive.”

“I can take you,” Archer volunteered. “I can slip you right into my truck, easy in, easy out. Your mom can ride with us.”

She smiled tensely. “Thank you again. I’ll owe you one.”

He’d just reached his truck when another contraction hit. He stopped and stood very still, riding it out with her as she clenched his shoulders so tightly he reckoned there might well be bruises there tomorrow. She slowly uncurled her fingers as the contraction passed.

“Oh, Archer, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?” Her gaze searched his face anxiously as she patted his shoulder.

He blew off the concern with an exaggerated snort. “That? The last time I was this close to a pregnant woman, she shot me. I barely felt your hands.”

As he’d intended, she laughed. “Still, I do apologize.”

“No need. You take care of you and baby. I’ll take care of me.” Amelia opened the door for him, and he eased Emma into the seat. She tried to put the seatbelt on but it wouldn’t go around her belly.

“I’ll be extra careful,” he promised her as he stepped back. “Everyone else going to follow us, I guess?”

Owen nodded and rolled the window down, then closed the door. “Don’t hotfoot it, Archer. You have a big chunk of my world in your hands.”

Archer held the driver’s door open for Sarah, who climbed in before him. “I won’t, sir. We’ll see you there.”

He let Sarah keep Emma calm, talking her through each contraction. He kept a safe cushion of space between his truck and Rick’s cruiser but kept up with the deputy. The drive to the hospital only took fifteen minutes but by the time they pulled up under the canopy outside the emergency room, Archer was sweating. His admiration for Emma and her mother had increased tenfold, and he was more than ready for a stiff drink. He brought the truck to an easy stop and set the brake, then hurried around to open the passenger door for Emma. Rick went on ahead to park.

She eased out and stood beside the door, breathing fast. Archer reached his hands out and she took them gratefully, holding tight. “Sorry. Hit me as I stood.”

Sarah backed out of the truck and came around the bed. “Just breathe through it, sweetheart. You’re doing fine.”

“Oh, no. Oh, no. Mom?” The worried question was the only warning Emma was able to give. A gush of liquid hit the pavement, splashing all over her and Archer. He stepped back but wasn’t quite fast enough to avoid the wetness.

Emma was on the verge of tears when he raised his head, shocked. “I’m so sorry. Oh, God, this is embarrassing.”

Archer turned to Sarah for help. “What happened?”

“Her water broke. The amniotic fluid around the baby? It’s part of labor.”

“Oh.” He looked down at his damp shoes. “Well, what’s a little amniotic fluid between friends? It’ll wash.”

Emma gave a gurgling laugh. “Archer, you may just be the sweetest man I’ve ever met.”

He grinned. “Hey, I had to work on a car last week that had run over a skunk. This is a cakewalk.”

Sarah chuckled. “I’m going to go let them know you’re here and get a wheelchair. Archer, will you stay with her?”

“Of course.” He glanced in the direction Rick had gone but there was no sight of Emma’s cousin. “So I think your brother said you’re having a girl?”

Emma smiled and rubbed her belly. “I am. Sydney. Though I haven’t come up with a middle name yet. I’m torn between Marie and Amanda. Which do you prefer?”

Archer felt a wide smile start. “My grandmother’s name was Marie. She was a sweet lady. That would be my choice. It’s softer. Kind of old-fashioned. But it isn’t my child.”

To his horror, her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry. All I’ve done today is apologize to you. It’s just that I didn’t expect to be doing this alone.”

“I imagine not. But you’ve got a great family and you’re not alone. You’re going to go in there and before long, you’ll have an adorable baby to love. You won’t even remember that jerk’s name because you’ll have the best part of him and that’s all that will matter.”

She tilted her head. “You’re not just a pretty face, Archer Gibson. And I thank you for what you’ve done for me today.” She reached up to touch his cheek and a moment passed between them—a connection—that scared Archer nearly to death. Her eyes closed and she took in a slow, slow breath as another contraction hit, this time stronger than the last if the way her face paled was any indication.