Once Burned (25 page)

“Everything’s just fine, Hen. You worry about yourself, and I’ll see you in a bit.”

After Beth and Noah left, Lindsay leaned close to Henry. “She’s not pregnant, is she?”

“Not that I’ve heard,” he replied, glancing out the window to watch his petite sister-in-law climb into her truck. Lindsay’s question put a name to the
something
that had distracted him a moment ago. “It’s possible. Nick let it slip a while back that they were thinking about trying for another baby.”

“Oh, how fun.”

“You wanna move out of the way of the door, Doug, so I can get Dylan in out of the cold?” came Mel’s voice, jerking Henry’s attention back to the matter at hand.

“Oh, sorry, babe.”

Doug jumped out of the way, yanking the door farther open and then closing it behind Mel. She looked exactly how she had when Henry had left except that she watched him with uncertainty instead of grief and glanced at Doug instead of Henry for reassurance. Henry felt nothing but the mild recognition of an old friend, but he’d expected that. He’d expected what happened as soon as he shifted his gaze to the dark-haired toddler clinging to his ex, too, but there was a world of difference between the expectation and the reality. His heart thudded as he took in the familiar but changed features of Dylan’s face. His gaze sidetracked briefly to Doug, and at once, he wondered why he’d never seen the resemblance between them because it was unmistakable.

I didn’t see it because I didn’t look
.

“Christ, he’s grown so much,” he murmured, reaching for Lindsay’s hand for support.

Recognizing his voice instantly, Dylan turned his brown eyes on Henry and reached for him, and when Mel didn’t move any closer, he whined. “Dada!”

“No, honey. That’s not daddy, remember?” Mel corrected. “That’s Henry.”

“No! Dada.”

Doug’s face fell and he started toward the door, but Mel grabbed his arm with her free hand and stopped him. “We knew this was going to be difficult.”

“And why is that, Mel?” Doug snapped over Dylan’s increasingly louder shouts. At once, he held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I promised I’d work on forgiving that, and I’m out of line.”

“Mama! Down,” Dylan demanded, reaching again for Henry with enough strength that Mel had a hard time holding on to him. “Dada!”

“Ah, Jesus.” Henry pulled a chair out from the dining room table and sank onto it. He couldn’t do this. Dylan’s cries cut straight to his soul, and every nerve through his neck and shoulders spasmed with each shriek until he hunched over his knees and curled his hands around his head in a useless attempt to block it out. Lindsay perched on his knees, forcing him to sit straighter as she folded her arms around him. At once, with the soft heat of her body to remind him that he didn’t have to do this alone, peace flowed through him, and he marveled at her influence over him.

“I know how much you love him, Henry,” she whispered, resting a reassuring hand over his heart. “I can’t watch it tear you up, so stop fighting it and just take him. Please.”

Lindsay stood but left her hand on his shoulder, and he held his hands out to Dylan. The second Mel set the toddler on the floor, he made a beeline for Henry. Swearing again, Henry murmured, “He was barely walking last time I saw him, and now look at him.”

Dylan launched himself at Henry, trusting Henry to catch him. He did, hugging the little boy close, eyeing Doug, Mel, and Lindsay. Doug averted his gaze, and the muscle in his jaw worked. Mel didn’t look any less pained, but Lindsay’s expression was difficult to read. She was obviously uncomfortable, but there was a light in her eyes that he thought might be pride or even maternal gratification that the man she’d chosen as a mate would also be a devoted parent.

With Dylan once again the happy, smiling boy Henry remembered, the tension and awkwardness left them all, and they gathered in the living room to discuss what had brought Mel and Doug to Montana. Henry held Dylan, who jabbered away about his favorite toy, and Lindsay sat beside close beside them on the couch with her feet tucked under her and an arm draped over Henry’s shoulder. Her posture was outwardly relaxed, but the way she watched Mel was anything but.

“The first thing is this,” Mel said, slipping a manila envelope out of her diaper bag. She leaned across the coffee table to set it in front of Henry. “I decided to let Tam’s friend buy me out of the salon. You were right. I’m not cut out to be a business owner, and now that I’m back to being just a stylist, I’m so much happier.”

Henry opened the envelope and pulled out a certified check. Instead of the nine thousand six hundred she still owed, it was for exactly ten thousand dollars. Frowning, he read the sticky note on it.
What I still owe plus some interest.
It was paper-clipped to a sheet of paper that was a fairly simple, straightforward letter stating that Mel had repaid in full the ten thousand dollars he’d loaned her. There was a space for him to sign and also a place for the document to be notarized. Dylan made a grab for the paper, and Henry held it out of the toddler’s reach.

“That wasn’t my idea. Stephanie—she’s Tam’s new partner—wanted everything in writing.”

“Smart woman,” Henry remarked. “We might be able to get this notarized in Devyn tomorrow if we leave early enough.”

“You don’t have a problem signing it?” Doug asked.

“No. Why would I? It’s a smart move on the new partner’s behalf. I might’ve gotten my money back sooner if I’d been as smart and set specific repayment terms and had it recorded somewhere other than my safe deposit box.” He dropped the paper on the table and paid Dylan a moment of attention before turning back to Mel and Doug. “All right. What’s the other thing?”

“Well…” Doug began. “Like Mel told you, we’re back together, and we’re trying very hard to make our relationship work this time. Things are going pretty well, too. We still have some things to work out, but the important thing is that we’re trying. You were right about that, too. It wasn’t a lack of compatibility or issues we couldn’t overcome.”

“That’s great, Doug. I’m happy for you. But what does that have to do with me?”

“We have a proposal for you,” Mel said. She gripped Doug’s hand and glanced at him for reassurance. When he nodded, she met Henry’s gaze. “We’d like you to be Dylan’s godfather.”

Henry wasn’t sure which emotion hit him first—the relief that he wouldn’t have to say goodbye to Dylan forever or the dread that he would always have that tie to Mel and the pain of learning that Dylan wasn’t his son. He stared blankly at her for almost a minute before stammering, “Wh-what?”

“I—we—know you’d take good care of him if anything were to happen to us,” Mel explained. “And… we want to have a reason for you to stay in Dylan’s life because you were one of the biggest parts of it. We don’t want either of you to lose that bond.”

“And this has nothing to do with money?” The words popped out of his mouth, bypassing his censor, and he immediately felt like an ass for asking but didn’t apologize or attempt to take them back. He had to know.

“I can take care of my own family,” Doug replied a little too coldly.

“I never doubted that,” Henry bit back. “What I doubted was when or if you’d man up and decide you should.”

“Henry,” Lindsay said gently.

That one utterance averted what would have quickly spiraled into a firestorm of accusations, and Henry inhaled deeply, then let it out. “Sorry.”

Mel stared at him with unveiled surprise, but she said nothing. Instead, she steered them back to her proposal. “What do you think? Will you do it?”

Henry didn’t respond. On the one hand, saying yes meant he wouldn’t have to fight to keep his love for Dylan buried, but on the other, he was moving on with Lindsay and making plans to secure their future, and he didn’t want any tie with his past to damage that.

“Henry?” Doug asked.

“I can’t make a decision right now,” he answered. He scrubbed his hand over his face and took a deep breath, but it did little to relieve the heavy weight of weariness. He should just say no because, if the tension that sapped his energy was what it would bring him, he didn’t want it. “I need a couple days to think it over and talk it over with Lindsay. In the meantime, why don’t we plan to get this notarized tomorrow morning?” He lifted the letter briefly off the table.

“I guess that’ll have to do for now,” Mel said. She stood and tried to take Dylan from Henry, but the little boy wouldn’t have it.

“Dylan,” Henry said quietly. “You have to be a good boy and go with your mommy. I’ll see you again tomorrow, okay?”

Only after Henry gave him a big hug and again promised to see him tomorrow did Dylan go willingly with his mother. Henry walked them to the door, closed it behind them, and stood at the window to watch them drive away. Lindsay joined him, wrapping her arm around his waist and leaning into his side. He draped his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. He owed her. There was no way he would have made it through seeing Dylan again without breaking completely down if she hadn’t been with him.

“What should I do, gorgeous?”

“Exactly what you said you needed to. Think about it for a couple days.”

He turned to her and folded his hands loosely together behind her back. “Are you all right?”

“I won’t lie and say that was a pleasant experience, but I like that you care so much about me that you’re thinking about my state of mind even when yours is probably pretty rocky right now.”

“I
do
care about you,” he said, lowering his mouth to hers. When she kissed him back, reassurance and relief wove together around him. “And I don’t think you realize just how lucky I am to call you mine.”

“Sure I do because I’m just as lucky to have you.” She touched her lips briefly to his again. “Let’s not talk about whether or not you should say yes to being Dylan’s godfather for a while and focus on having a good time with your family and mine and the rest of the good people of Northstar. In two days,
then
we’ll sit down and talk about it. That should give us both plenty of time to step back and prevent us from making a decision from a place of anger or pain or any other dark emotion.”

“I like that plan. I like even more that you said us. How ‘bout we start focusing on the fun with a soak at the Elkhorn? Noah hasn’t been yet, and after our ride today, he’d probably appreciate it even more.”

“Mmm. That sounds delightful. And after… maybe my parents will be up for watching Noah so we can explore other ways we’re lucky.”

“Someone’s awfully playful today.”

“Must be the mountain air.”

“Must be. Maybe it’s just me, but you’ve been a lot happier since we’ve been home.”

“It’s not just you.” Lindsay shook her head and laughed. “There’s that word again. It keeps popping up in my thoughts and conversations, so I have to wonder if it’s true.”

“What word?”

“Home.”

LINDSAY’S SUGGESTION TO WAIT two days before she and Henry talked about him agreeing or not to be Dylan’s godfather had very little to do with a desire to ensure he didn’t make the decision purely on his emotional reaction. Mostly, she’d wanted time to see how he interacted with Dylan and if the boy he’d believed was his son would pull his attention away from Noah.

She leaned over to see around the wall that separated the kitchen in John and Tracie’s house from the living room, spying on her boys. Henry sat with Dylan in his lap, but his focus was entirely on Noah and their intense game of checkers. In the last two days, Henry had drawn a line between Mel, Doug, and Dylan and Lindsay and Noah, and he’d made it very clear to everyone which side he stood on. Regardless, watching Henry with Dylan made Lindsay uncomfortable, but she had no hope of explaining why.

“I hear a rumor that the Ramshorn is highly interested in your rather formidable culinary skills,” Tracie commented from the stove where she was basting the Christmas Eve turkey.

“As a caterer, yes,” Lindsay replied, forcing her attention back to helping Henry’s mother with dinner. “I assume Henry told you June asked me to put together a small spread for Marvin and Mary Struthers yesterday.”

“Actually, your parents beat him to it. They were quite proud about it, and rightly so. How did it go?”

“They asked me when I would be available to cater for them.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said I didn’t know. I haven’t even begun to wrap my head around the possibility let alone started working on the details, but I’m grateful they’re willing to give me a shot. June said they were thinking of converting the small cabin right next to the lodge into a kitchen specifically for event catering and that I’d be able to use it until I get my own.”

“Well, there you go. Sounds like you could make a go of it.”

Lindsay beamed despite her troubling thoughts about Henry and Dylan. She’d made herself proud yesterday with an Asian-inspired menu and sampler for the Strutherses and June and Ben Conner. She was no closer to figuring out how to make a catering business work out here in this sparsely populated corner of Montana than she was to understanding why she was still waiting for her relationship with Henry to fail, but the reactions of the Ramshorn’s current and future owners to her dishes still made her giddy. She wanted nothing more than to dive right into daydreaming about it, but with Henry’s decision about Dylan hanging over her, she couldn’t afford the distraction. One issue at a time, she told herself.

“Henry told you what Mel and Doug want, didn’t he?”

Tracie nodded.

“What do you think about it?”

The older woman frowned and, like Lindsay had done just moments ago, leaned around the wall to peer into the living room. She returned to basting the turkey before she answered. “I’m torn. I love that little boy to death, and I selfishly would like to keep him in the family in some way, but Mel…. I’ve never been fond of her, and her decision to assume Henry was her son’s father lost her most of the few points she had with me.”

Lindsay wasn’t surprised to hear that; Henry’s mother hadn’t made it a secret that she tolerated Mel, and barely at that.

“This idea stinks of being yet another ploy to keep him around, just like asking him for money to start the salon and just like telling him she was pregnant with his kid when she obviously wasn’t sure.”

“Why would she need him around now? She has Doug to take care of her, and he made it pretty clear the other day that he could.”

Tracie didn’t answer. Instead, she shoved the turkey back into the oven and, with her previously graceful movements made rough by anger, nearly sloshed hot grease and drippings out of the roasting pan.

“You don’t like that she expects to be taken care of, and you think she wants to keep Henry on a chain as insurance.”

“That’s a polite way to put it.”

“I’m guessing that’s also exactly why you’ve never cared for her.”

“Not quite. I never trusted her to love Henry for who he is. It’s one thing if my boys want to take care of or even spoil their women, but I didn’t raise my sons to be walking wallets. They have so much more to give than that, and I hated seeing Henry’s finer qualities ignored in favor of how much money he earned.”

“His finer qualities being his sense of humor, his honesty, his generosity, and the fact that he’d break his own heart before he hurt someone he loves?” Lindsay inquired lightly. She picked up the bowl of potatoes and grabbed the peeler out of the drawer beside Tracie. She started peeling and cubing the potatoes and dropping them in the pot to be boiled and later mashed. “Or perhaps it’s his devotion to his family, his thoughtfulness as a lover, and that he’ll be a wonderful father that you wish she’d wanted instead of his paycheck.”

“All of the above.” Tracie grinned, and Lindsay realized that Henry had inherited her favorite devilish smile from his mother. “But you see it, Lindsay. You understand his
real
value and have from the very beginning. It was obvious from the moment you talked him out of being pissed at Nick for telling us about Dylan.”

Henry’s mother wasn’t asking; she was stating fact.

“Yes, I do. Just as he understands mine and reminds me that I have it.” Lindsay eyed her companion with one corner of her mouth lifted. “Is that your way of telling me you’d approve of your son marrying me if he were so inclined?”

“I more than approve. I’d be delighted to call you my daughter-in-law, Lindsay, and if it were up to me, you’d already have a ring on your finger like Skye does.”

“But you wouldn’t have approved of him marrying Melanie.”

“If he’d wanted to, there isn’t much I could have done to stop him, but no, I wouldn’t have approved. It takes a lot of work to run a ranch, and everyone has to pitch in.”

“And Mel didn’t do that?”

“You look in the living room again and tell me what she’s doing right now.”

Lindsay craned her head around the wall and peeked into the living room. “She’s sitting on the couch with Doug.”

“Exactly. She could be in here helping with dinner like you are, but she isn’t.”

“Maybe she doesn’t feel welcome in here.”

“I might agree with you, but even in the beginning when she was still trying to impress me, she never volunteered to help out around the place. That says a lot about her to me. Just like the fact that you’re right here peeling potatoes says a lot about you. You are a rare gem, and Henry should consider himself blessed to have found you… and I know he does, or he wouldn’t have invited not only you and your son but also your parents for Christmas.”

Lindsay smiled shyly, unused to such blatant praise from anyone but her parents and Henry. “Thank you.”

Tracie abruptly switched topics. “So, what about Mel asking him to be Dylan’s godfather bothers
you
? Because it obviously does.”

Lindsay started to respond, but Tracie held up her finger for silence.

“No, no, sweetheart. Don’t tell me. That’s something you need to talk with him about first, and I think it’s probably time to do so. Mel and Doug are leaving first thing tomorrow morning so they can make it back to Denver in time to spend
some
of Christmas with their families, and without them here, you both might be tempted to put it off. You don’t want that hanging over you when you should be enjoying yourselves and each other.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lindsay replied. She finished peeling and cubing the last potato and reached for the ingredients for caramelized carrots.

Tracie blocked her. “I’ll get these started. You can do whatever it is you do with them after you’ve talked with Henry.”

Lindsay wasn’t ready to talk about Henry and Dylan yet, but Tracie was right that she needed to get it out of the way. The doubts swirling around the topic dimmed her enjoyment of what was otherwise a marvelously fun day with the Hammonds, the Hathaways, and her parents. Since she knew Tracie wouldn’t back down, Lindsay wandered out of the kitchen. Instead of going straight to Henry and asking him to step outside with her so they could speak in private—something that wasn’t likely to happen indoors with so many people in the house—she leaned against the wall and observed the occupants of the living room.

Henry and Noah were still playing checkers, though by the number of pieces on the board, she guessed they’d started a new game. Will sat on the sidelines with Jessie snuggled up next to him, and the cousins watched the game intently. Henry answered their incessant questions about how the game was played with complete patience and an indulgent smile that told her he enjoyed it. Even when Dylan swatted half his pieces off the board, Henry chuckled and put them back. Ignoring the confusing emotions the sight of him with Dylan incited, she couldn’t deny that the two of them together were adorable. Any doubts she might’ve had that he’d make a great father had vanished entirely over the last two days of watching him play with his niece and nephew, Noah, and Dylan. A pang of maternal longing brought to mind her conversation with Aelissm on the ride to Seattle for Shannon O’Neil’s stage debut. Did she want another baby?

With Henry, absolutely I do,
she admitted with a certainty that having and raising a child with him would be a partnership and a joy instead of the lonely, often frustrating experience she’d had with Max and Noah.

Before the pang turned into an ache, she shifted her attention to the others in the room. Her mother and Skye’s sat on the L-shaped couch with Skye and Aaron at their feet paging through a wedding magazine. Steve, Skye’s father, and John sat at a card table playing a noisy game of rummy with Jeremiah Mackey, occasionally asking questions or giving input on the wedding planning. Nick added his opinion once or twice from his seat on the shorter section of the couch, but his attention was mostly on his wife, who lay beside him with her head pillowed on his thigh. Beth’s eyes were closed, but Lindsay wasn’t sure if she was asleep or merely resting. Tracie had chased her out of the kitchen some while ago when she couldn’t stop yawning, and instead of arguing the point, she’d obeyed. Lindsay tilted her head. The ribbed ice-blue sweater revealed something her bulky winter coat had hidden, and Lindsay decided the slender woman’s belly was thicker than it had been back in August. Pregnancy would certainly explain Beth’s exhaustion and the irritability she’d mentioned the other day. The proud, wonderstruck light in Nick’s eyes were further confirmation.

I wonder if Henry’s expression was the same when Mel told him she was pregnant with Dylan,
Lindsay mused.
Or if it will be whenever he has children.

Shaking her head to clear those thoughts from it, she glanced at last to the primary reason for her unsettled emotions. Melanie and Doug sat together on the loveseat apart from everyone else, plainly the odd ones out, and impatience was beginning to pinch both their expressions. Cut those two out of the picture, and the scene before her was the image of Christmas joy.

With
that
thought, she asked Henry to join her outside when he and Noah were finished with this game.

“Sure. What’s up, love?”

“It’s time to talk about Dylan,” she said too quietly for Mel and Doug to hear.

“Will, do you think you know enough to take over for me?” Henry asked.

“I said after your game,” Lindsay said.

“I know you did, but this is important. What d’ya say, Will?”

“I think I can.”

Henry scooted Dylan off his lap and, taking the boy’s hand, led him over to his parents. When the toddler realized what Henry was doing, he was not happy. Firmly, Henry told him to stay, then turned hard eyes on Doug and Mel.

“You need to take your son for a bit.” His tone was both an order and a reprimand.

Henry started to walk away, and Dylan let out an ear-piercing scream. Henry turned around and gave him a firm
no
followed by a command to stay with his mother.

“Dada!” Dylan screamed.

“I’m not daddy,” Henry corrected quickly.

“Henny. Stay.”

“No. But I’ll be right back.” He turned to Mel and Doug. “If you think me agreeing to be his godfather means I’m going to raise your son for you, I’ll give you my answer right now with no discussion. No.”

“That’s not what we want, Henry,” Doug said quickly.

“Then prove it by being parents.”

Even Lindsay jerked back in surprise, and everyone in the room stared at Henry with a mixture of shock and pride or—from Melanie and Doug—embarrassment. Henry took Lindsay’s hand and led her the short distance to the entryway, then helped her into her coat and shrugged into his.

Outside, it was another gray-skied, flurry-filled day but mercifully, it was also relatively warmer than it had been with the thermometer reading twenty degrees. Instead of launching into the matter at hand, Henry pulled Lindsay against him and kissed her soundly.

“Looks like Noah is not only going to get his white Christmas but one with new snow falling.” He tipped his head back and closed his eyes with a faint smile flirting about his lips. “I’m so used to this that I’d forgotten how incredible it is, but you and that wonderful son of yours have done a thorough job of reminding me. You both make life so much richer.”

“Believe me, Henry, the feeling is mutual.”

Alone with him in the hush of the falling snow, her worries slipped away again as they only did when she was here in Northstar with him to show her that there was more to life than survival. And that made her all the more anxious to get the subject of Dylan out of the way so she could get back to wallowing in her happiness.

“I thought you were struggling with the decision about Dylan,” she murmured, “but what you said in there makes me wonder if you haven’t already made up your mind.”

“I
am
struggling with it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to stand up for myself when I need to. So let’s talk.”

She expected him to let her go, but he didn’t. Instead, he led her around the house to the snow-covered picnic table, brushed off a portion of the table and sat, pulling her onto his lap and folding his arms around her.