“Shit!”
Mason’s ratchet hit the ground with a clang as Ben launched himself to stop Aaron from grabbing hold of a scythe that leaned in one corner of the large, dusty room. He’d known Aaron was fast, but he hadn’t thought he could cross the barn in such a short time. Ben landed hard on his side in reach of the baby and was able to lift Aaron up and away from the blade of the scythe before he could touch the sharp instrument. Mason joined him a second later and scooped his son into his arms. As Ben pushed himself up to a sitting position, Mason hurried to fetch his cane and hand it to him. Ben struggled to stand. In the end he needed Mason’s arm to get upright.
“You got him just in time.”
“Shouldn’t have put him down in the first place,” Ben said.
“That’s my fault, not yours.” Mason jiggled the baby in his arms, inspecting his hands to make sure they hadn’t been cut. “That was close.”
“All’s well that ends well.” Ben dusted off his jeans. Mason was right; he’d prevented Aaron from getting hurt, but only because he’d gotten lucky. If his initial lunge hadn’t carried him far enough, he couldn’t have gotten to his feet again and run for it. He hated to think what the consequences might have been.
“I TOLD YOU already; I’m not going to that stupid dance.” Caitlyn passed a wedding gown to her aunt.
“It’s not a stupid dance. It’s a Chance Creek tradition.” Ellie took the gown from her hands, fluffed it out and hung it from a metal rack. She used the steamer to rid it of wrinkles while Caitlyn paced up and down the small room.
“Whatever it is, I’m not interested.”
“You’re never interested in social events. I can’t understand it.”
“I had enough of that kind of torture back in high school, thank you very much.” Ellie would understand it if she could have heard Lilian and Brittany earlier. They were years out of school, but sometimes Caitlyn felt as if nothing had changed. Gossip was a currency in this small town and even though Lottie was six months old, her single-mother story was still headline news.
“If you had a boyfriend you’d feel differently.”
Caitlyn stifled the urge to run right out of the bridal store. When Ellie had offered her an assistant manager position in her boutique she’d accepted it gladly as a chance to put her business school education to the test. What other job could she get when everyone in town knew she had an infant at home and no one to help her? At the few interviews she’d managed to score, the issue of Lottie always came up. Did Caitlyn have daycare arranged? What if her provider was sick? What if Caitlyn was sick? Her would-be employers made it clear they assumed she’d miss too many days. By the time Ellie made her offer, Caitlyn had been desperate. She was prepared to help Ellie in all aspects of the job, but so far that work had been limited to steaming garments, ringing up sales and exclaiming over brides-to-be.
“You know why I don’t have a boyfriend.” Wasn’t a baby enough? She didn’t have the time or the inclination to date, no matter what Ellie thought. When she’d found herself pregnant she’d known the road ahead of her wouldn’t be easy, but from the day she’d read the home pregnancy test results she’d wanted nothing more than to have her child.
She and Lottie were a team and she was happy. Mostly.
Actually, she was lonely too. Sometimes when she held Lottie, she wished someone would hold her, too. When Lottie did something amazing, she longed to turn to someone and share the fun. And late at night, as tired as she was after a day of work and a night with her baby, she couldn’t help wishing she had a husband to share her bed. But what man would want to be saddled with a baby that wasn’t his?
“Lots of single mothers date,” Ellie said, as if reading her mind. She hung up the first dress and reached for another. “Hand me that, would you?”
Caitlyn did so. “Maybe. When their children are older.”
“Motherhood is sexy.”
“Ellie!”
“It is. Next time you push Lottie down the street in her stroller, take a look around you. I’ll bet you see someone looking back.”
Sure she would; some nice octogenarian who missed his grandkids, probably.
“I’m not going to the dance. That’s final.”
Ellie sighed again. “Then when will I get to help you pick out your wedding dress?”
At this rate? Never, Caitlyn thought.
Chapter Three
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