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His Country Heart (Sierra Creek Series Book 2) by Reggi Allder (15)


 

 

 

Chapter 15

 

Wyatt caught Amy and leaned her back against a nearby building to let people exiting the council meeting pass. He nodded to those who acknowledged him.

When the street was clear, without a word he kissed her, coaxing her until she accepted him.

He suddenly stopped and stared at her, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I missed you, Amy.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I want you to know I’d be proud to wear the wedding ring you bought.”

“Wyatt, I was miserable with the way we left things.” She touched his face. “The band is just a piece of jewelry. It’s unimportant. I care about you—us. You don’t have to wear it,” she whispered, holding him near.

With her mouth open to speak, he captured it again, letting his tongue dance with hers. She forgot where they were or who might be watching. The only thing that mattered was Wyatt. Her heart pounding, breathing faster, the embrace continued as she pulled him closer.

“Informative meeting, Wyatt.”

Wyatt backed away from her, cleared his throat, and mumbled, “Uh, thanks, Mayor Breen.”

Her hand flew to her lips as she watched the mayor enter his car and drive from the curb.

“Come on, Amy, let’s go home.”

Home, was there a more beautiful word?

“My truck’s down the block.” His strong arm guided her.

“What am I thinking? I brought my car and I have to get Bobby. He’s staying at a friend’s house.”

“Okay.” His grin vanished. “See you in a few minutes.”

She could see by the slump of his shoulders, he was disappointed they couldn’t ride to the farmhouse together. Still, he walked her to the Volvo.

“Drive carefully,” he said

In the rear-view mirror, she saw him waving.

During his absence, she’d imagined calling all their friends to tell them the wedding was off and had pictured bleak years without him.

He cared. It’s going to be all right—if nothing else goes wrong.

***

“Bobby, did you have a good time?” Amy asked as she tightened his seat belt.

“Yeah. Mommy, he has lots of blocks. We made a tower. It was real fun until his little brother knocked it down.”

“Oh, too bad, but the little guy is only a toddler.”

She stared the engine and drove toward home.

“It’s okay cause we made a bigger one after his brother went to bed.”

She laughed and wondered what it would be like to manage two kids at the same time. Don’t go there. She was reminded she’d made a decision, no more babies. Not with the chance that the child would have celiac as Bobby did. The memory of the nights she’d paced with him crying in her arms, haunted her. Back then, she hadn’t known what was wrong or how to help him. She couldn’t put another child through that suffering. She took a deep breath and chided herself, think about what you do have, not what can never be.

Wyatt was home and Bobby was well. Things were fine on the farm with the planting of the new trees about to start anytime. She ignored the pang in her heart when she considered never knowing what Wyatt’s and her child would look like—the baby would never exist. Stop. It’s the right choice. Her life was fuller than many. She should be satisfied and count her blessings.

When Bobby stopped talking, she thought he’d fallen asleep, because it was past his bedtime. Following the highway, she turned right on the rural two lane road that led to Granny’s farm.

Farmers lived by early to bed and early to rise. At this hour of the night, Amy found the Volvo was the only vehicle traveling on the road. The few farmhouses she passed appeared dim. The road looked darker than usual without the guidance of the moon. Fog filtered through pine trees and did little to help her see. She slowed in time to let a deer cross in front of her car. The buck paused to stare for a second, then gracefully jumped over a nearby fence and disappeared.

“Stop the car. Mommy, stop!”

“It’s okay, honey. The deer got away.”

“No, Mommy. I’m going to throw up!”

As the car screeched to a halt, Amy undid her seat belt. By the time the brake was set, Bobby had jumped out of the backseat and disappeared into the darkness.

A gust of wind slapped her. She shivered, but ignored the jacket on the front seat, and grabbed her backpack instead. Her son retched. She followed the sound and found her way to the dirt shoulder of the road.

“Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m not a baby.” He gagged. “I’m a big guy. That’s what Daddy calls me.”

“Of course.” Wyatt appeared to understand how important is was for a boy to believe he was grown. She took a couple of tissues from her pocket. “Wipe your mouth, honey. Do you think you can ride now?”

“I guess.”

She hugged him, then held his hand. “Let’s get in the car.”

With his seat belt buckled, she cleaned his face, and handed him a fresh bottle of water from her backpack, glad she had restocked the bag.

The first inclination was to quiz him on what he’d eaten tonight and renew the food lecture she’d given many times about what he could and was forbidden to eat. She resisted. He knew the routine, even at five years old. No point in causing more upset.

“I know I have celiac, but I only ate what my friend had,” he cried, appearing to anticipate her unasked question. “It tasted good.”

“I’m sure, but you can’t eat everything others kids do.”

“It’s not fair.” He kicked the back of the seat.

“No, it’s not.” She hesitated. “That’s why I sent food with you and there was enough to share.”

“I wanted what he ate.”

What could she say? It broke her heart, but she couldn’t fix the problem. This would have to be an object lesson. A harsh one that would plague him, but keep him healthy when he learned to manage his disease.

“Daddy’s home from Seattle.” She changed the subject. “He’s waiting for us.”

“I missed him. Can I stay up?”

“You’ve had a long day and tomorrow’s a school day.” She paused when she saw his sad expression. “Okay, for a little while.” She started the car.

“Thanks, Mommy.” He settled down and rode in silence.

He’d be on his own more often as a teenager. Would he deny the normal urge to eat junk food like his friends? She prayed he’d have the strength.

An hour and a half later, Bobby slept on the sofa near Wyatt. She smiled remembering the excited reaction they’d had when they saw each other. Wyatt had hugged Bobby and her son had talked nonstop, grinning the whole time. They’d played a board game and paged through the book of dog breeds together while they dreamed of having a puppy.

“Sit down, Amy.” Wyatt patted the empty seat on the couch next to him.

She leaned against him and he put his arm around her. “Good to be on the farm, you have no idea how much I missed my family.”

She smiled and snuggled closer. “I think I might. You must be exhausted, traveling and the council meeting…”

“I’m not much of a public speaker, but I guess it went okay. I expect the mayor understands the town has a lot riding on the outcome.”

“Daddy,” Bobby sat up and yawned.

“Hey, Big Guy, let’s get you to bed.” He picked him up and carried him toward the staircase. Amy followed, grabbing her son’s teddy bear on the way. She should stay with him in case his stomach got upset in the middle of the night. She hoped Wyatt would understand.

When Bobby brushed his teeth, and put on his pajamas, she tucked him in bed.

After his book she said, “Sleep tight, I’ll be right here if you need me.”

An hour later she came out of the bedroom for a glass of water. Wyatt sat on the bench in the hallway waiting for her.

“Is he okay?”

“Fine, but to be sure, I’m going to spend the night in his room.”

“Let me take over while you get some sleep.”

“You don’t have to.” Thank goodness, she stopped before adding, he’s my son, not yours. Where had that come from? She wanted him to be Bobby’s father, and it was obvious they loved each other. Was she over protective as Wyatt had once accused her of being? Maybe she needed to let go—a little.

“Amy, honey, don’t keep me away.” His intense voice come out as a whisper in the late night. “Can’t you see I want to help—to be involved? Let me be a real dad with all the trials and tribulations as if he were born to me.” He hesitated. “I’m not a stranger. Don’t guard him as if I were.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“It’s all right. You’ve had to be mom and dad for so long it’s natural, but I’m here now.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Get some rest. I’ll tell you if he wakes up and wants you.”

***

Amy woke as the sun came through the window and it looked like a beautiful day on the horizon. The storm, in so many ways, was over. Time to help Bobby get ready for school.

When she entered her son’s bedroom, he slept holding his favorite stuffed bear. Wyatt, with his long legs sprawled out in front of him, dozed in a small chair. She grinned. She must buy a larger one if he planned to make a habit of staying in the room with Bobby.

After breakfast, Wyatt returned to the cottage and she walked Bobby to the bus stop. A good night’s sleep and the right breakfast had him back to his happy self. Today she’d made sure he had his favorite lunch with him. No chance he’d be tempted to try a friend’s snack. He talked about the puppy he and Wyatt would own someday. She listened without interrupting him. With a sigh of relief, she waved as the school bus drove down the two lane road.

The sunshine warmed the morning. Birds, in the trees lining the lane, sang. Spring. Soon the foliage would blossom perfuming the air surrounding the farmhouse. What was the old saying about happiness being found in a person’s own backyard?

In the country kitchen, she surveyed the dishes piled high on the counter near the sink. Should she ignore them? Her nose wrinkled and she shook her head, too many days had gone by already. Granny had often told her to whistle while she worked. Amy had never been good at it. Even so, in her grandmother’s memory, she tried.

You still can’t whistle. She giggled and turned on classic rock and let it blare. If she still lived in San Francisco, by now her landlord would be telling her to turn down the sound. The farm belonged to her. She increased the volume and threw her hand in the air, “raising the roof” and jumped as she’d done at concerts. Shouting many of the words, she sang along. If she didn’t remember the lyrics, la, la was thrown in to cover any missing phrase. While she danced to a favorite hit, she cleared the breakfast dishes and wiped the table, afterward tossing the sponge overhand into the sink. “Score. Three points.” She laughed.

In jeans, his chest bare, and hair mussed, a wet strand falling over his right eye, Wyatt came in from the cottage. He grinned and stood tall and more virile than ever.

“Amy, you’re in a good mood.”

“Yes, I am.”

“I took a shower and realized I left my clean shirts here in the dryer.”

Drops of moisture glistened on his abs. She should be used to seeing him without his shirt. He worked hard in the country heat and often without a top. But…

“Honey, you all right?” he shouted over the music. “Honey?”

“Yeah. More than that.” Her mouth opened and her face heated. A yearning for him stirred in her as she stared. “I didn’t expect anyone to hear me singing.”

“I’m not anyone.” His expression told her he wanted her too. He grinned. “Dance with me.” Locking her in his grasp, he swayed and spun her away from him and back again. With his arms holding her waist they danced hip to hip as they had the night of his boss’s birthday party at the swanky hotel in Sacramento.

“I’m covered in soap. I was doing the dishes.” She tried to pull away to find a towel.

“I love cleanliness.” He kissed the nape of her neck, still refusing to release her. “Fresh,” he whispered in her ear, sending a shiver of desire shooting through her.

He continued to apply kisses while he pulled her so close she felt his awareness of her grow. “I want you, honey, here and now.”

With her eyes closed, her world spun and a need to be possessed by him shook her. Her body trembled and a longing to touch every part of him overwhelmed her. With her fingers tangled in his hair, she opened her mouth, moaning when his tongue entered. The music’s rhythm quickened and her heart’s beat matched it. “Wyatt.”

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