Summer Beach Reads 5-Book Bundle: Beachcombers, Heat Wave, Moon Shell Beach, Summer House, Summer Breeze (84 page)

He came through the sliding doors into the waiting room where people gathered at the low shelf for their baggage to be unloaded. He walked up to her and stopped just in front of her.

“Wyatt.” He had come home. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth, pressing her body against his as if she could meld with him.

He held her tight.

Because it was February, the three B&B rooms were unoccupied, but Carley wanted Wyatt as close to her as possible without upsetting her daughters, so that night he put his luggage in one of the guest bedrooms on the second floor, just a door away from Carley’s bedroom. They agreed they’d talk with the girls about this later. Now was the time to focus on Vanessa’s funeral, and then, to bring the baby home.

The funeral, and the reception at Carley’s house, was a crowded, emotional affair. Half the town showed up to pay their respects. That day blurred past, full of tears and memories and laughter, and that night the girls slept in their own rooms, and Wyatt slept with Carley.

The next day Wyatt, Toby, and Frame moved all the baby’s furniture
and necessities from Vanessa’s house into the guest room on the second floor that Carley and her girls had cleared out for the baby. Cisco and Margaret were all about the infant. As the days went by, Carley had to force them to go to school, to play with friends, to do homework. Maud came over every day, and Lauren, and Lexi, and even Beth Boxer. They took care of the little boy while Carley grabbed a much-needed nap. Between Wyatt and the baby, she didn’t get much sleep at night.

They officially named the baby Paul Webster, because Vanessa had called the baby Paul when he was born, and Webster had been Vanessa’s maiden name. Gradually, Paul’s hair grew longer and darker, and often, at the grocery store, or in the pediatrician’s waiting room, a stranger would say to Margaret or Cisco, “Your baby brother looks just like you!” Carley’s daughters had their father’s black thick hair, and while the baby’s hair wasn’t quite as dark, it was close. He did look like their brother, and that was very satisfying.

Wyatt helped Carley deal with all the legalities of Vanessa’s death. He put the house on the market. Carley went through the house, carrying the baby in a pack on her chest, to choose the items of furniture or pictures that were especially “Vanessa” to her. She put these in the baby’s room. Someday she’d explain them to him, when he was old enough to understand. She found a burial plot in one of the local cemeteries and arranged for a beautifully carved stone. She knew Cisco and Margaret sometimes visited Gus’s plot, and she wanted Paul to be able to go somewhere on this earth to find a marker of his mother.

Carley phoned Annabel and Russell and over a crackling, buzzing connection, told them about Paul’s birth and Vanessa’s death. She told them she was legally adopting Paul. She held her breath, and after a moment, Annabel’s voice came clear and strong: “Darling. I’m so sad about Vanessa. But you are doing the right thing, adopting that poor little child.” From then on, her emails and her daughters’ to Annabel and Russell were full of news about Paul’s every cry and drool.

Sunday afternoon, Carley and Wyatt called Cisco and Margaret in for a special talk, to tell them that sometime soon, when they had time to think about it, they would be getting married, and that until then, Wyatt would be living with them, so he could help with all the cooking, and buying groceries, and picking up the girls from school.

Breathlessly, Carley waited for her daughters’ reactions.

Margaret scrunched up her shoulders as her face brightened. “Can I wear a fancy pink dress and scatter rose petals at the wedding?”

Cisco staked her claim with a glower, daring them to disagree: “I’ll hold the baby during the wedding.”

Carley and Wyatt exchanged glances. They hadn’t even had time to think about a
wedding
yet.

Carley said, “Those both sound like excellent ideas.”

Little by little, Wyatt began to transfer his belongings into Carley’s house. She had cleared out closets, so there was plenty of space for his clothing, but she was slightly alarmed at the amount of outdoor equipment he owned. Not just backpacks and tents, but the expensive dirt bike, a surf board, skis, snowshoes, waders and clamming gear. He was such an outdoor man. He was such a
traveler
. Could such a man really find happiness in a home with two little girls and a baby?

Could such a man find happiness with a woman tied down to a busy B&B?

One night in bed, Carley sat up, wrapped her arms around her knees, and asked, “Can we talk?”

Wyatt strode out of their bathroom, clad in the blue-and-white striped pajamas Carley had bought for him, now that he was living with her and the girls. “Shoot.” He settled at the end of the bed, leaning against the footboard.

She could smell the fresh scent of toothpaste. She wanted to crawl the length of the bed and kiss his mouth.

“I’ve been thinking about the money Vanessa left me.”

“Right.”

“It’s a magnificent gift. And perhaps we’ll need it someday, in case of an emergency …”

“You all are
my
family now,” Wyatt said. “
I’ll
take care of you.”

“Oh, Wyatt, that’s not what I meant. I mean, yes, we are your family now, and I’m glad, and I’m grateful you’ll take care of us, but what I’m trying to get at is—Wyatt, I don’t want to give up the Seashell Inn.”

“Okay. No one is saying you have to. But with Vanessa’s money, you don’t
have
to work. You have Paul to take care of now, in addition to your girls, and in the not too distant future,” he finished, teasingly, “a very needy husband. Will you have the energy for the B&B, too? I’m not trying to persuade you one way or the other, Carley, but it’s a question worth considering.”

“I know it is, Wyatt, and I have considered it. The thing is, in a way I can’t explain, the B&B nourishes me. It
gives
me energy. I enjoy it, every bit of it, and I’m looking forward to catching up with the news of the returning guests. I can’t articulate it, but it’s making my life broader, wider, more exciting. Why give up the B&B if it makes me happy? I’ve got plenty of help with the baby.”

“And I’ll do everything I can to help you in the summer, too.”

“You will? Oh, Wyatt, thank you!” Carley tried to crawl across the bed like a sex kitten but got caught in the covers, finally tumbling against Wyatt’s leg. “I want to kiss you.”

“That can be arranged.” Wyatt twisted on the bed, bringing his face down to hers, and pressed his warm, sweet-tasting lips against her mouth.

I can do this
, Carley thought,
I can have so much happiness!
Then Wyatt put his hands on her body and she stopped thinking.

Wednesday evening, Toby was out on an emergency. Maud’s boys were in their rooms. Carley and Maud sat on either side of the work-table in Maud’s study, with cups of decaf sprinkled with chocolate
close by. They were looking one final time at the cookbook. The printer wanted them
yesterday
, and since Maud couldn’t leave her boys, Carley had come here. Wyatt was with the children. All the children.

“It’s ready to go to the printer,” Maud declared.

“I agree.” Carley gave Maud a high five across the table. “The illustrations are beautiful, Maud.”

“So are the recipes.”

“Maud, I want to do another cookbook. I’ve invented a Vanessa cake.”

“Chocolate, I’ll bet.”

“Completely. Streaked with fudge, dotted with chocolate chunks, plus a few mystery ingredients.”

“Vanessa would love that.” Maud pulled out a piece of paper and held it up. “We’ve been on the same wavelength. I’m adding a mermaid named Vanessa to my next book. She’s kind of a fairy godmother.”

Tears pricked Carley’s eyes when she saw the drawing. There Vanessa was, dark hair flowing in the water, jewels covering her breasts, mermaid tail shimmering. “That’s gorgeous!”

“It’s just a sketch. I’ve got to write the story.”

“And I’ve got to invent some more recipes. Maybe I can do an entire Vanessa cookbook.”

“You’ll gain weight with that one.”

Carley chuckled and checked her watch. “No frantic phone calls! I think we’ve done it, Maud. The Great Experiment has succeeded.”

“Who would ever think it possible? Wyatt alone in a house of children.”

“Well, Cisco’s still awake, doing homework. If Paul wakes up, she’s perfectly capable of dealing with him. Although,” she added, frowning, “Paul has a cold. I think Margaret brought it home from school. He sneezes and snuffles and seems miserable. Poor little guy.”

“He’ll be fine,” Maud assured her.

“Hope so. He was sleeping when I left. Wyatt promised to phone if there was a problem.”

Maud stretched her arms high above her head. “How’s Wyatt doing?”

“He’s good. Although I’ve talked with his sister Wendy about him. She said when they were children, he used to take the heads off her baby dolls.”

Maud laughed. “Carley, all little boys do that! They take
everything
apart.”

“I know. Gosh, Maud, it is such a responsibility, this little boy. I want to do everything right.”

“No one does everything right,” Maud reminded her. “I don’t know why I get so frightened.”

“We all get frightened,” Maud assured her. “And you’ve had some really bad stuff fall out of the sky onto your head. It’s not surprising you’re worried.”

Carley hugged her friend. “Thanks, Maud, for everything.” She gathered her papers and slid them into her book bag. She dug her keys out of her parka pocket. “Tell me when the printer thinks he can have the books ready. We can arrange a signing at the bookstores.”

“Carley, this is going to be so much fun!”

Carley pulled on her down parka and gloves and wool cap before braving the fierce frigid wind. She shivered to her car over ice-glazed mounds and valleys of snow. Inside, she switched the heater to high. Even with the blower turned up, the interior of the SUV was still cold when she arrived home.

She used the automatic garage door opener, then hurried into the warmth of the house. She hung her parka on a hook and tossed her hat and gloves and car keys into the basket on top of the chest.

“Hello,” she called lightly. Margaret might be asleep.

The downstairs was strangely quiet. Empty. That was odd. It was only after nine. She glanced in the den. The TV was blaring away on the sports network.

“Hello?” she called again as she walked up the stairs.

A pounding, roaring noise came rushing toward her as she ascended. What in the world?

She ran.

Mist wafted out of the bathroom into the hallway.

“In here!” Cisco called, opening the bathroom door.

“What’s going on?”

Cisco’s hair was hanging in dripping wet hanks. Even her sweater and jeans were damp. Her face was blotchy.

“Cisco? Oh, God, what’s happened?” Carley stepped into the bathroom.

Wyatt sat on the side of the bath tub, which was filled with roiling hot water. The shower thundered full blast. Steam filled the air. Wyatt was holding Paul up against his shoulder. The baby was crying, hoarse little sobs.

“Shut the door.” Wyatt’s hair was wet, too. Water drops dripped down his crimson face. Globs of vomit slowly slid down the back of Wyatt’s shirt.

“Mommy.” Cisco took her mother’s hand for comfort. “Mommy, the baby was crying and Wyatt and I got him. We tried to feed him the bottle, and he choked, and we burped him, he stopped choking, but he started making these terrible sounds, Mommy, he was
squeaking
. He couldn’t get his breath.”

Carley went ice cold with fear. “Croup.” She started to reach for the baby, but Cisco’s words stopped her.

“Wyatt said to come up here and turn on the hot water. Wyatt said steam would loosen the mucus and help him breathe, and it worked, Mommy, it worked!”

Carley’s entire being longed to seize the little boy, to hold him in her arms, listen to his breathing, watch his chest rise and fall, look into his face.

But Wyatt was speaking to her as he held Paul against his chest, gently patting the baby’s back. “My sister’s baby had croup,” he told Carley. “My sister had it, too, when she was little. I remember the drill. I’ve seen my mother do this.”

Carley dropped to her knees next to Wyatt. “He vomited down your back.”

“That’s good. He got rid of some mucus.”

“Mom,” Cisco said, “Wyatt was
awesome.
”

Astonished, Carley asked Wyatt, “But weren’t you afraid?”

“I was terrified.” Wyatt reached over to slow the volume of water. “But I could tell something had to be done immediately. I thought about having Cisco call Toby, or call you, or even call my mom, but by the time anyone got here … I just did it.” Wyatt’s smile was crooked and almost shy. “I think I did the right thing.”

Drops of moisture slid down Carley’s face and her clothes were growing sticky. Her skin prickled with heat. She wanted to comfort the baby, who actually seemed to be falling asleep on Wyatt’s shoulder. She wanted to hug Cisco, who clearly had been frightened, and she wanted to kiss Wyatt fiercely all over. A loud freaked-out scream would feel good right now, too.

Instead, she acted as if this was just another normal evening. “Yes, Wyatt, you
did
do the right thing. Look at him. He’s falling asleep. Come on, Cisco. Let’s get you in dry pajamas and I’ll tuck you in bed.”

As she left the bathroom, she started to turn back, to softly call to Wyatt, “I’m going to give you a thank-you gift you’ll never forget.”

With a thrill in her heart, she realized that she didn’t need to give him a present. He hadn’t done it for
her
. He’d done it for Paul, spontaneously, without any motive except saving the baby.
Oh, Wyatt
, she thought,
you have no idea what a good father you are
.

Then she thought, with another leap of her heart, that Wyatt
did
know. He had known all along. She was the one who needed to know. To trust.