Daddy in the Making

chapter Nine

It hadn’t taken long for Conn’s sisters-in-law to invite Rita to sit with them in the playroom. Instead of Trixie’s wine or Hayley’s lemonade, Rita opted for a bottle of water from a minifridge near the window that overlooked an expansive lawn that seemed to disappear into a sea of windblown green.

“So Conn brought a girl home,” said Trixie, who was married to Conn’s oldest—and biggest—brother, Bradon. She had long, wavy deep red hair and clover-green eyes with a sprinkle of freckles over her pale skin.

Hayley, Dillon’s wife, handed Rita her water as she sat down, her short, light blond hair brushing her jawline. “You have to understand what a remarkable occasion this is.”

“He’s told me all about his playboy days,” Rita said. “But that doesn’t matter much to me. We’re just friends.”

The other women traded “uh-huh” glances.

“No, really.” Rita unscrewed the top of her water bottle. “I think he took pity on me and Kristy because we were going to spend Thanksgiving by ourselves.”

Hayley took a long look at Rita’s water, then her stomach. She put her own glass of lemonade on the low table in front of them, smiling almost secretively.

Feeling somehow discovered, Rita pulled her sweater away from her tummy. Had Hayley seen a telltale bulge?

Just then, Jacob started yelling at one of the twins.

“What’s going on, Jake?” Hayley asked.

“Toy-tulle!”

The older boy gave the stuffed turtle back to Jacob and said he was sorry to his aunt, then his cousin. Kristy, like a little mommy, protectively led the two-year-old away from the bigger kids and back toward a pile of plush animals, where she and her new charge had been playing Zoo.

“Got to love kid drama,” Trixie said, sipping her wine.

“Best entertainment ever,” Hayley added.

Rita lost track of time, failing to check in with Conn while he was cooking, because Trixie and Hayley wanted to mom-talk about the highs and lows of raising children—subjects such as the true value of using time-outs as punishment and what sort of preschools were the right kind.

When Conn came into the room, Rita looked at her wristwatch. “Are you done already?”

“Yup. My dishes didn’t take all that long and now Mom is herding the guys away from the games on TV and to the table.”

“Let me get this straight,” Rita said. “You gave up football to cook.”

Conn shrugged. “The first game was a dud, but I won’t miss the second.”

He was so easygoing about it. Nothing much ever seemed to faze him, although his life was full of bumps.

He snuck over to where Ned and Nate were taking apart an oversize train like curious engineers, surprising them with tweaks to their ears.

“Hey!” both of them said, giggling.

Rita watched as Uncle Conn easily slid into the groove of playing with his nephews. Kristy, like a bee to honey, wandered over with Jacob, towing him by the hand next to Conn.

As she listened to him talking about how trains used to carry people all over the United States in the good old days, Kristy laid a hand on his shoulder, so naturally that it tugged at Rita’s heart.

Her girl liked having Conn around. Had Kristy been deprived of having a man to guide her and love her just because Rita had been so adamant about being, as Conn said, “Wonder Woman”?

Rita thought she felt a stirring in her tummy, as if their baby was telling her that she wanted Conn around as much as Kristy did.

While Conn laughed with the kids, Rita thought about how he would react when he found out that they were having a girl together. Part of her wanted to tell him right now, just so she could see the gleam in his eyes that had been there on the night she’d confirmed that this was his child. But part of her...

Too soon, she thought again.

But when would the right time get here?

Conn’s mom appeared in the doorway. “Dinner’s up!” she said, taking off that cheeky Goddess of the Hearth apron she’d been wearing.

“Let’s grab it.” Conn picked up tiny Jacob, tucking him under his arm as the boy kicked his stumpy legs and belly-laughed.

The sound made the women laugh, too, as they followed everyone out the door, to a restroom where they washed up, and then to the dining room.

There, a long table waited, covered with an orange-and-brown plaid cloth, gold-trimmed china, sparkling silverware and a festive assortment of ribbon-strewn pinecones as a centerpiece. One chair at the head of the table had a gray cowboy hat hanging off the top of it.

“My dad’s seat,” Conn said, leading Rita to a chair, pulling it out so she could sit. “He had a heart attack and passed on about ten years ago, but we keep it open for him.”

“That’s a nice tradition.” The patch of skin where he had rested his hand was even now tingling.

Conn was still carrying Jacob in one arm, and he went to put him at the kids’ table, which was similarly decorated but with paper plates and plastic utensils. Kristy had already claimed a spot next to her adopted little boy, spreading out her dress over her lap like a lady.

Then Conn sat down next to Rita. When everyone was ready, Bradon brought out the carved turkey to applause. Then Conn’s mom led a short prayer before they dug in to the turkey, an oven brisket with barbecue sauce, tamale-and-green-chile-corn-bread dressing, plus the mashed sweet potatoes, roasted vegetables and cranberry-orange salad that Conn had made.

All the while, Rita felt right at home, listening to the jokes they’d probably told to each other for years, hearing stories about Conn when he was young and carefree, collecting cars and shining them up for resale...but not before he’d taken them for a drag race or two on the back-country roads.

At the end of it all, when they were happily complaining about how full they were, Conn’s mom sighed, glancing at the empty seat next to her at the head of the table.

“Even if years have gone by,” she said, “I still can’t help feeling as if he’s going to stroll right through the door, apologizing for being late and then laying into the food without another thought to manners.”

Conn lowered his head. How many memories did he have of his dad? Whatever he still retained, Rita got the feeling that it wasn’t enough, and she wished she could help him with his amnesia more than she had done.

It was obvious that Dillon wanted to cheer everyone up, because his voice took on some spirit when he said, “I wish Dad was here now, too—for a different reason.”

He shared a loving glance with Hayley. With her light blond hair, she looked like a Christmas angel that belonged on top of a tree.

Dillon put his arm around his wife. “We’re having another baby.”

The room erupted with congratulations and laughter, Conn and all of his brothers getting up to pat Dillon on the shoulders, Bradon’s twins hopping up and down in front of a clapping Jacob, Conn’s mom starting to cry with the good news.

When Conn gave Dillon a bear hug, Rita realized that Conn was present for this memory, at least. But when Dillon slid his hand over Hayley’s belly, a sharp ache attacked her as she locked gazes with Conn.

They had news, too.

But he merely grinned, as if telling her that their time would come.

Was it actually too soon for him, too, in spite of all his determination to show her how responsible he really was?

Rita noticed that Kristy was sleepy-eyed in her chair, and that Jacob had come to lean against her, as if he was ready for Nap Land, as well. It was as good an excuse as any for her to leave the room, where the talk of babies was still going strong at the adult table.

Rita whispered to Conn, “Is there someplace I can put Kristy down?”

“Sure.”

He went to Kristy, scooping her into his arms. Carrying her, which had begun to tax Rita, seemed so easy for him, as if her daughter didn’t weigh any more than a feather. Besides that, putting Kristy to sleep was becoming somewhat of a habit.

God, she was going to have to talk with Kristy soon about just what Conn was to them, wasn’t she?

Kristy’s eyes bolted open, and she made a puckered face at Rita, who followed Conn out of the dining room.

“I’m not tired!” she said.

With that tone of voice, Kristy only proved how tired she actually was. “I’m sure Jacob’s going to have a nap, too, Kristy.”

“Ned and Nate won’t.”

Conn tugged on one of her curls. “The twins are going to have quiet time. You’re not going to miss a second of play with anyone.”

“Can I have a story?” Kristy asked.

“I think I could dredge one up.” Conn arched an eyebrow at Rita.

Stories, she thought, smiling at him. She still couldn’t get over how Conn might remember things like fairy tales when so many other tidbits would’ve been far more valuable.

They went into a guest room with a queen-size bed covered with a thick down patchwork quilt. Paintings of horses hung on the beige walls, and a lace doily decorated the end table.

After Conn put Kristy on the bed, Rita settled her in.

“Do you know ‘Cinderella’?” Kristy asked Conn, who sat on the side of the mattress.

“Is that the one with the poison apple and the dwarves?” he teased.

Now that Kristy was lying down, her fight to stay awake was all but over, and she only murmured a faint “Uh-uh.”

“All right,” Conn said, softer now. “Does ‘Cinderella’ have a spinning wheel in it?”

“No.” A whisper. Her eyes were halfway closed as she yawned.

Rita leaned against the wall, hugging herself, her head tilted as she listened to Conn launch into the story of a girl who worked all day and never went out of the house until life took a turn for the better.

That was what had happened to her, too. Conn hadn’t been a curse. He’d been a good change. And it was looking more and more as if he could stay that way.

Couldn’t he?

Kristy was slumbering before Conn even got to the part about the fairy godmother changing the pumpkin into a carriage. He carefully rose from the bed, pulling up the covers around Kristy a little more, then moving away.

Rita opened the door for him, closing it as they slipped into the dim hallway.

“I don’t know what it is,” she whispered. “But you’ve got the touch.”

“I passed muster, did I?”

The comment had more weight to it than it would have under any other circumstances, and she swallowed, nodding.

“You’re doing really well, Conn.”

She was on the cusp of tears again—thank you, hormones—and her addled emotions didn’t escape Conn. He used his index finger to angle up her chin.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Why’re you sad now?”

She might as well let it out. “Because I had everything planned. You were never going to show up again, and I was going to raise the baby by myself. It was a simple strategy.”

“But then I ruined it all.” His tone was light, yet that didn’t mean he came off as uncaring.

And that made it even harder to talk.

“You didn’t ruin anything. You just threw me for a curve, and I have no idea how to manage those nowadays. I’m fine when it’s just me steering things along, but—”

He had bent toward her, shutting her up by pressing his lips to hers.

Her words dissipated under the sweet contact as she swayed toward him, her hands planted gently on his chest so she wouldn’t sink to the floor.

He ended the kiss softly, stroking his thumb over her cheek and sending quivers through her.

“No matter what comes down the pike,” he said, “I’m always going to be your man, Rita.”

She allowed herself the luxury of believing him while she thought she felt the baby stirring once again, as if agreeing.

* * *

Pieces were finally falling into place for Conn.

Did it matter that they weren’t the pieces he had initially set out to find in St. Valentine? No. These fragments he’d found in himself were what he suspected the old Conn had stumbled upon the night he had met Rita. And he guessed that what he’d found with her had ended the playboy’s reign.

That night had obviously turned his life around altogether before he’d hit the road and forgotten most of who he was.

Even so, Conn thought the next night as he headed out of his room and toward the steps that led to the St. Valentine Hotel lobby, he wondered why uncovering his memories still seemed to matter so much when he liked how things were going now.

What was more important—who he had become or who he used to be? Did the memories make a man?

Something dark, like a stain that was growing, flexed in Conn, but he shoved it down inside of him as he descended the staircase and entered the lobby.

At first, Rita was the only person he saw in his heart-struck, myopic vision. She was the only person working the reception desk on a slow night.

Curly dark brown hair held back by a barrette, gray eyes, full red lips, old-time hotel uniform, a smile that lit up his night...

Warmth flared through him, but then he took in his surroundings too.

She wasn’t the only one here.

Kim, Rita’s cowgirl sister, was standing by the desk. So was a brawny man Conn had briefly spotted at the wedding. He was a cowpoke, too, but he had an Iron Man-type beard, giving him a dark, dashing look.

Rita gave Conn a warning glance, though he wasn’t sure what exactly he should be wary of.

Kristy bounded out from behind the desk, dressed in what looked to be a velveteen sweat set. She was holding a majorette’s baton with Christmas-colored ribbons dangling from the ends.

“Mr. Conn!”

He got to a knee as she skidded to a stop in front of him. “You can call me Conn, you know.”

“Okay. Aunt Kim and Uncle Nick are here.”

And from the way Auntie and Uncle were eying Conn, he was sure that they’d come home from their business trip to finally have a word with him. As far as Conn could guess, Kim had said something to her brother about the rancher Rita was hanging out with, and based on the state of Rita’s belly, they had done the rest of the math.

He rose to a stand, his pulse pattering like a rabbit’s feet. Then he walked to the desk, extending his hand toward Rita’s sister first.

“Hi again, Kim,” he said. She took his hand in a strong grip, shaking it, making him think that she should meet his mom and create some kind of She-Woman club.

He offered the same gesture to Nick, who grudgingly took his hand while giving him the five-point inspection.

Rita was giving them both a lowered look. “They just stopped by to chat, Conn.”

Chat sounded like a code word that actually translated into interrogate.

“I’m always up for that,” Conn said.

Nick’s voice was gruff. “We figured it’d be best to get to know you, seeing as Rita hasn’t seen fit to do anything about that.”

It couldn’t be more obvious that Nick had taken the father-knows-best spot in the Niles family after their parents’ deaths, and he’d never given it up.

“Conn! Conn!” Kristy was tugging on his shirttail.

He smiled down at her. She probably felt the tension in here, and like his nephews occasionally did when there was a disagreement in the household, she was trying her damnedest to erase it through a distraction.

“Watch,” she said, spinning her baton.

After she finished, even stone-faced Nick gave her kudos, although he went right back to glowering at Conn a second later.

But someone, somewhere clearly thought Conn deserved a break, and Nick’s cell phone dinged.

He exhaled while glancing at the screen. “Lady Guinevere is foaling, Kim. We need to go.”

Kim was already moving. “See you later, Rita.” Then she gave a brief nod to Conn before she went to Kristy and gave her a sound kiss on the cheek. “You can put on a show for us later, Kris, okay?”

“Okay,” said the little girl as Nick came over to hug her, too.

She watched her aunt and uncle go, then slid an unreadable glance to Rita before going to a clear space in the middle of the lobby, where she started spinning her baton again.

“Careful,” Rita said.

But Kristy was on a roll. “Conn! Watch!” She executed a little leap into the air, ending up in a tah-dah pose.

“Well done,” he said.

She grinned and kept practicing.

Rita laughed, lowering her voice. “She’s knocking herself out to impress you.”

He’d noticed that Kristy had sort of latched onto him lately, and it made him smile. “She doesn’t have to try hard.”

Rita leaned on the wooden counter. “Sorry about Kim and Nick. She must’ve given him the rundown about us.”

“He didn’t look happy.”

“Well, Kim doesn’t know everything. I’d told both of them that I was pregnant back when I first found out, but I didn’t say much about you. I’ve just been giving Kim bits and pieces, but I didn’t sit them down for a good talk like I should’ve.”

“Why did you put that off?”

Rita shook her head. “I don’t know. Why do I put so many things off when it comes to this? Probably because I have no idea what to say. Kim’s not very good at girl talk, and she would’ve asked all these very direct, protective questions I didn’t want to hear. And Nick would’ve gone all Dear Daddy on me.”

“They love you, that’s all.”

The L word just dangled there, but it was apparent that she wanted to leave it be.

Yet the longer it wavered in front of Conn, there for the taking, the cloudier his vision got, until...

Rita, lying in bed that morning, her necklace in his hand as he backed out of the room, closing the door as carefully as he could...

He shook himself out of the memory, which only added just the slightest bit more to the old one.

What did it all mean?

Rita gave a finger wave to Kristy across the room, then rested her chin on her hand. “I know Kim and Nick are disappointed that this happened again to me—another single mother situation. I guess I’m always going to be the girl who should’ve done better.”

“No,” Conn said, pulling out of his own thoughts and concentrating solely on her. On Rita, the only woman who mattered. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

“What—beat myself up about it?” A tiny laugh. “Welcome to my life.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” He gestured around the room. “I’m not getting the sense that you’re some kind of failure, Rita. Have you taken a good look at what you’ve gotten done?”

He meant more than running a recently prosperous hotel, too. He meant raising Kristy to be a great kid. He meant turning him around, a feat that no other woman had ever accomplished, as far as he could remember.

She paused, blushing, looking down at the desk with a smile. “I’m just so used to hearing the disappointment from other people. It’s good to know that someone has noticed what I did right.”

“I’ve noticed what was right from the very first.”

They locked gazes. Conn almost lost his way in her eyes, but that was impossible, because she was the only clarity he had.

Is that why you can’t stand the thought of being away from her? a little voice inside him asked. Because she makes you believe you’re one person when you used to be another? And you’re scared to death that you still might be that guy?

He would’ve dismissed that voice, too, if it hadn’t sounded so much like the old Conn.

* * *

After Rita’s shift was over, she, Kristy and Conn went up to her quarters with a couple of boxes of Christmas decorations that he was carrying.

“It’s a weekend-after-Thanksgiving tradition,” Rita had said downstairs, before she’d been relieved of work duties. Conn hadn’t even made it out the door to run a few errands, as he said he’d been planning to, and Kristy had started talking about decorating and...

Here they were.

He put the boxes down on the sofa, looking toward the corner at the small tree in its stand. “You had time to go out and get this?”

“They actually deliver from the drugstore,” Rita said. “Tomorrow, the employees will be trimming an even bigger tree in the lobby.”

When he seemed dubious, she laughed. “St. Valentine is way ahead of the curve in some things. Derry Drugs has a deal with a tree farm not too far away.”

Kristy piped up from her spot on the sofa. “Good customer service.”

Both Conn and Rita gave her startled glances, then laughed. The things her daughter picked up from everyday conversation.

“I think she’s heard me talking about that a few times,” Rita said.

Kristy rolled her eyes. “A lot of times, Mommy.”

“Smart as a whip,” Conn said, going over to Kristy and lifting her up so he could give her a twirl before setting her back down.

“Again!” Kristy said.

Conn obliged her with another go-round, and Rita remembered what he’d said in the lobby about her not being a failure—not with Kristy, not with anything. Who, besides Violet and her mom, ever really pointed that out to Rita? She’d never met a man who knew just what to say—and genuinely meant it.

But then, just as happiness was stealing up on her, a cold tide washed in. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all so temporary...

“Hey,” Conn said, taking her by the arm and guiding her toward the sofa. “Now’s a good time for you to rest.”

“Nap time for you,” said Kristy, pulling a reindeer ornament out of a box.

Rita wasn’t a bit tired. “You can’t just—”

“Remember what I said about pampering?” He sat her down. “Don’t be so stubborn about accepting a little bit of it. Do you have a small tub?”

“For what?”

“For soaking your feet. I read that it’s a good thing for pregnant women to do.”

As if the word pregnant had lured Kristy, she came over to Rita, getting on the sofa, resting her ear against Rita’s tummy. Overcome, Rita stroked her daughter’s hair, and when she glanced up, she saw that Conn was touched, too. He even seemed as if he would like to be the one trying to hear a heartbeat.

Then he came out of his haze. “The tub?” he asked.

Rita’s throat hurt when she said, “In the hallway closet, top shelf.”

Conn took one more moment to stand there, watching, then nodded and went to find the tub.

“Hi, baby,” Kristy said as she lay against Rita. Then she raised her head. “What do we name her?”

She had already told Kristy to expect a sister, and the fact that Conn, the father, didn’t know the sex yet grated against Rita’s protective urges.

“I haven’t thought of a name,” Rita said.

“I like Ariel.” Kristy lay back down.

Rita heard Conn’s boot steps on the rug, and they slowed as he came back into the room. Had he heard what they were talking about?

If not, was now the time to tell him?

It seemed like such a momentous and private thing—the last brick in Rita’s wall of defense against the hurt he could still cause.

But he was a daddy.

Rita sighed. If she was going to reveal something so meaningful, it couldn’t be around Kristy. It would have to be one-on-one.

From the way Conn went about filling that tub with water in the bathroom and sprinkling it with some lavender-scented bath salts he’d found in the shower, Rita guessed that he hadn’t heard anything about their child after all. It was a respite...and a burden, because she wanted it to be out there.

Finally.

But there would be a time, and for now, she reveled in the feel of warm water bathing her bare feet while she watched Conn and Kristy hang ornaments on the tree—small dolls, paper stars Kristy had made last year, tinsel. Then, at the end, Conn lifted Kristy up so she could place a golden star on top.

Rita held her breath at the sight. She wouldn’t have been able to do that for Kristy, but a man like Conn had the strength—and the desire—to lift her so high.

He and Kristy turned on the lights together, the glow of the tree illuminating their happy faces as he got to a knee and Kristy leaned against him.

This man could’ve been Kristy’s father, Rita thought. If life were fair, he would’ve been, instead of Kevin.

Luckily, though, Rita would have a second chance at getting the father right with her new baby. This time, she was going to make sure this dad would do right by his child, as well as Kristy...

And maybe even by Rita herself.