Baby Enchantment Page 9

  “Candy corn. Costumes.”

  She smiled. Then she sobered quickly. “I can’t imagine this baby being big enough to wear a costume. I wish I could. I wish the baby were more real to me, but right now it’s only a strip of paper from the pregnancy test that turned the wrong color.”

  He cocked his head. “You’re kidding.”

  “I don’t know any babies, Cord. How can I imagine mine?”

  “You’d better start,” he said.

  “Isn’t it a little premature? I’ve got six months, after all.”

  “Brooke, it’s important for you to start bonding with this kid. You’re its mother. You’re the most important person in the world to your baby.”

  “I know that,” she said unhappily. “I liked the baby that we just saw—Lindsay. She was cute. I didn’t hold her, though. I didn’t feel her weight in my arms. What do babies smell like, for instance? I haven’t a clue.”

  Cord stared at her for a long moment, and as if he had suddenly had an idea, he stood up. “Come on, Brooke. We’re leaving.”

  “You haven’t finished your beer!”

  “This is more urgent.”

  She glanced at the rest of her sandwich. She wasn’t all that hungry anymore. Still, she didn’t understand what he had in mind.

  “Let’s go.” After she slid out of the booth, he took her arm.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as he dragged her through the cloud of cigarette smoke that surrounded the slot machines, which kept ringing and zinging and, in the case of one bespectacled matron, spitting out coins.

  “We’re going to go look at Exhibit A.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Brooke, this evening you are going to meet a real-life, perfectly charming, extremely delightful baby, who is Exhibit A in the Preparing for Parenthood course.”

  They burst out into the clean cool night air. She shook his hand off her arm and stood stock-still in the parking lot. “Wh-what?”

  “A baby, Brooke. Didn’t you understand what I said? I’m taking you to meet a baby.”

  Padre Luís Speaks

  I am but a poor priest, and it is not easy. I still cannot imagine what possessed someone to give the former site of my hospital a name like Desert Rose and then place a cactus garden in the middle of the courtyard! I was blessed with a sense of humor, but this does not seem funny to me.

  Brooke needs help, like so many others who come here. Too often the people who travel to this blessed site suffer from sicknesses of the soul. It is my given mission to assist all who come here, with God’s help. And who am I to question why I am the instrument of God? I am a poor priest, but also a humble one, not to mention confused.

  Why am I confused? I was for some time confined to my cactus patch and unable to move about. Now I am no longer required to stay there. I can go where I will. So, in the spirit of helpfulness, I showed myself to Brooke in the place where everyone eats. Did she see me? I do not believe so. I have spoken into her ear when she needs guidance. Did she hear me? Madre de Dios, I think not.

  You know, when I worked with Erica, who married Hank, I lost my voice for a time. The cat had got my tongue. Yes! It happened! I do not know why. I do not question. But now that I can leave my cactus patch, now that I have my voice back, I am frustrated that Brooke cannot see or hear me. What am I to do? How am I to reach her?

  Brooke is with child. I can feel the heaviness of her soul resting upon my shoulders. I am thinking, how do I communicate with Brooke? She is a writer. She understands the written word. Thus, I must write. I tried it today. I wrote Brooke’s name upon the wind. The wind sailed away across the desert and was caught by a dust devil, a jolly little fellow. I do not think that Brooke was able to see the message. As for the dust devil, he has gone on to bedevil somewhere else.

  I must think. I am thinking. Hmm…

  I have it! Brooke has a strange book in her room. It has keys with letters on it, and when she taps the keys she makes words. The words appear magically on the screen of this book. Madre de Dios! Perhaps I can do this.

  The strength of my God is everywhere. Now I ask him to grant this poor priest a favor and allow me to reach Brooke through this magical book in her quarters.

  With God’s help, all is possible. I must pray that my favor is granted.

  Chapter Six

  Cord pulled the pickup to a stop outside a small neat house with a baby stroller on the front porch.

  “Where are we?” asked Brooke. She looked disconcerted, which wasn’t so surprising. He had refused to answer any of her questions on the ride from Sonoco to Rancho Encantado.

  “This is where my friends Dusty and Tanya Smith live.” He slid out of the truck and hurried around to open Brooke’s door. He helped her down from the seat, deciding that he needed to be more mindful of her condition. She wasn’t going to be a mother; she already was, albeit an expectant one. Considering the importance of her need to accept her new status, he’d better remember that.

  “Do they know we’re coming?”

  “No, but they won’t mind if we stop by. You might have seen them at the wedding. They brought their baby but left before the reception so they could put her to bed.”

  The curtained windows in the front of the house gave off a warm golden glow, and while they waited for someone to answer Cord’s knock, Brooke had a chance to study his profile. It was a strong one, the nose long, cheekbones high and sturdy, chin like a rock. And then there was that scar, faint now in the light beaming from the windows.

  The door swung open to reveal a woman who was about Brooke’s age. “Why, Cord,” she said, sounding pleasantly surprised. “It’s good to see you.”

  “I’ve brought someone to visit, Tanya. I hope it’s not too late.”

  “Of course not.” She called over her shoulder. “Dusty, Cord is here, and he’s brought a friend.”

  A slim man hurried out of the kitchen, carrying a baby. “Cord, what’s up?” He handed the baby to his wife and shook Cord’s hand.

  Cord made introductions all around. “Dusty is ranch foreman, second-in-command of the cattle operation. Tanya is a stay-at-home mom. And this is Emma,” he said as the baby stared at both of them.

  They stepped into a cheerful room furnished in soft blues and pale yellows and were invited to sit in the living room. “Brooke is a freelance writer who frequently has articles in Fling magazine,” he told the Smiths.

  “I love that magazine,” Tanya said. She set Emma on the floor, and the baby toddled across the living room toward them. She was a pretty child, with curly dark hair and blue eyes. Those eyes sparkled up at them as she wrapped her arms around one of Cord’s legs.

  Cord reached down and swung her into his arms. Emma smiled and patted his face. “I haven’t see you in a while,” he said. “You’re getting to be a big girl.” He set her back on the floor when she struggled to get down.

  “Emma will be a year old next week,” Dusty said. He sat down beside his wife and casually slipped an arm around her shoulders.

  “How about a piece of blueberry pie? I baked it today,” Tanya said.

  “I bet it’s good, but none for me. Brooke?”

  Brooke shook her head, her gaze remaining fixed on Emma, who had made her way across the floor and was now handing toys to her mother. Tanya accepted them one by one, her lap growing full.

  “I brought Brooke here because she is interested in babies,” Cord said.

  Dusty laughed. “You’re in the right place,” he said.

  “Oh, am I going to be quoted in Fling? I’d like that!” Tanya seemed thrilled.

  Brooke shot him a look that said, “Now what?” but she didn’t correct Tanya’s misconception that she was writing an article about babies.

  Emma bent to pick up a fistful of toys, then tottered over to a wastebasket and dumped them in, chortling all the while. “She must be a handful,” Brooke observed curiously. Were all babies in constant motion like this one? How would she work at home i
f she was tempted to play with a baby?

  “She’s a very busy child now that she walks.”

  “Do they usually start walking so young?”

  “Some do, some don’t. Emma took her first steps a few weeks ago at ten months, so she’s an early walker.”

  “Ten months!” Brooke hadn’t thought that babies could walk when they were so young.

  “I had a nephew who walked at eight months,” Dusty said.

  Emma made for Brooke’s purse, which she had placed on the floor beside the couch. Brooke snatched it away, worried that Emma might trip over the strap.

  Dusty came and picked up his daughter, planting a kiss on her cheek. “No, no, sweetheart. That doesn’t belong to you.” He put her back down. “Where’s your rubber duck?” Tanya held out the toy, and Emma made a beeline for it. She immediately stuck its head in her mouth, dropped to her hands and knees and began to crawl rapidly toward the kitchen.

  Brooke watched all of this with fascination. “Does Emma still nap?”

  “Oh, yes, every afternoon, but she had a late nap today, so she’s unusually wide-awake this evening.”

  “But they sleep a lot when they’re little, right?” She didn’t see how she’d be able to get any work done if her baby didn’t start out sleeping most of the time.

  Tanya chased Emma into the kitchen and brought her back to the living room, where she sat in Tanya’s lap. “It is true they sleep most of the time at first, waking to be fed or have their diapers changed.” She laughed. “I like being an authority on babies. What else would you like to know?”

  “I’d like to learn more about their first three months,” said Brooke, feeling that Tanya would be able to see right through this ruse and wishing that Cord had never put her in this position.

  “You know, Brooke, I think I have something that will help you. I saved a bunch of publications from the pediatrician’s office, and if you’ll excuse me, I’ll sort through them to see if we have any extras.”

  “If it’s not any trouble,” Brooke told her.

  “It’s no trouble at all, but it will take a few minutes.” By this time, Cord and Dusty were discussing ranch matters, and Tanya brought Emma to Brooke and deposited her in Brooke’s arms. “I’ll be right back.”

  Brooke stared at Emma. Emma stared back. Then she blew a bubble and grinned.

  The men paused in their conversation. “I think Emma likes you,” said Dusty.

  “I hope so,” Brooke said. She stared dubiously at the baby. “There are so many things that can go wrong with a child this age. I’d be afraid to leave her for even a minute.”

  “We have a baby monitor,” Dusty said. “It takes some of the worry out of being a parent.”

  “A baby monitor? What’s that?”

  Dusty grinned. “A year ago I’d never heard of one, either. It’s an intercom device that helps you keep tabs on a baby in another room of the house.”

  “Obviously, there’s more to bringing up a baby than I ever thought,” she said soberly. “Baby monitors. Who would have guessed?”

  Tanya returned from the back of the house, carrying a handful of pamphlets. “These will fill you in on a lot of the basics,” she told Brooke as she gave the booklets to her. She swung Emma up into her arms. “It’s time for this little one to go to bed,” she said. “Say good-night, Emma.”

  What Emma said didn’t sound remotely like “good night,” but her goodbye wave was enthusiastic and completely understandable. Tanya bore her away, and Cord wound up his discussion with Dusty.

  “We need to be going,” Cord said. “I’ve got a full day tomorrow.”

  Tanya called out her goodbye from the back of the house, and Dusty walked them to the door.

  “Thanks,” Brooke said, feeling guilty that she wasn’t really writing an article about babies.

  “Anytime,” Dusty said.

  When they were walking to Cord’s pickup, Brooke glanced over at him. “They’re a nice family,” she said.

  He looked pensive for a moment. “That’s true,” he said. His face was silvered by starlight, his eyes shadowed and dark. He slid a glance in her direction. “Was Tanya helpful?”

  “I may have questions I want to ask her once I’ve read the pamphlets.” She felt wistful as she was struck with the realization of how much her life had changed; before she and Leo had broken up, before she was expecting a baby, she would have been planning romantic weekend trips to the Napa Valley wine country, not collecting pamphlets about child care.

  They got in the truck, and Cord started it. He slowly drove the short distance back to the stable and pulled up in the parking area alongside the corral.

  Cord didn’t switch the ignition off. Instead, he turned to her. “I’m going to drop you off here before I go check on the newborn calves.”

  “Can’t I go with you?”

  He stared in surprise. “Do you really want to?”

  “I, well, I’m suddenly interested in babies. Of all kinds.”

  “There’s a heap of difference between a calf and a human baby,” Cord said dryly, but he shifted into reverse and began to back out of the parking space. They didn’t have to drive far, and as they climbed out of the truck near the calving shed, someone hailed Cord from the barn.

  “I’d better see what Vernon wants,” he said.

  “Take your time,” Brooke told him.

  As Cord strode off, Brooke continued to the shed, buttoning her jacket against a chill wind that was whipping down out of the western mountain. The building had a Dutch door, the top part of which had been left open. Inside, illuminated by the light of a low-wattage bulb, were several cows, one lying in the hay. That one scrambled up when she saw Brooke’s face and backed into a corner, nearly trampling her own calf.

  “Hey! Don’t go in yet!” Cord was headed toward the shed on a run.

  Brooke wheeled in a panic. “I’m afraid that cow is going to hurt her baby.”

  “Hey, Daisy! Move it,” he said to the cow. And to Brooke, “She’s a little scared right now, that’s all. A cow tends to get right protective when she’s got a new calf.”

  At that point, the cow snorted and stomped in their direction. “Simmer down there,” Cord said to the cow, which only glowered at him.

  “I’ll go in, see what’s what,” he said. “Vernon mentioned that this one gave birth late this afternoon. Looks like a pretty calf, too.” He opened the door and entered cautiously, talking soothingly to the angry cow.

  She lowered her head, calmer now, and nosed her calf, which now lay in the straw. The calf seemed alert, and after Cord spoke to the cow for a while, she allowed him to check her baby over.

  “That’s a fine calf, Daisy,” he told the cow. “A nice addition to our herd.”

  Cord let himself out the door and joined Brooke in leaning over the door’s bottom half to observe.

  “Sorry about Daisy over there,” he said, inclining his head toward the now-docile cow. “Cows that are new mothers perceive people as a threat sometimes, and she doesn’t know you.”

  “It’s natural to want to protect one’s young,” Brooke said thoughtfully. As a mother-to-be, she wanted to keep her child safe from harm, too. She didn’t have to love her baby in order to protect it.

  But she wanted to love this baby. And she didn’t yet.

  She turned away so that Cord wouldn’t see her distress. She had been on an emotional roller coaster almost from the instant of conception. She’d gone through a lot in the past couple of months—breaking up with Leo, realizing that he didn’t share her dreams of a life together, forcing herself to face the fact that he was never coming back. Then she’d found out she was going to have his baby, and even though she had been in denial about it for the first few weeks, she’d thought she’d accepted the pregnancy. She hadn’t, though. There were layers upon layers of motherhood that she hadn’t considered yet, and each time she uncovered a new one, it hit her hard.

  “Ready to head back?”

  Alth
ough she was still grappling with her new and overwhelming emotions, she nodded and followed Cord to his pickup. When they arrived at the stable, he stopped the truck and said, “What about tomorrow? Is there anything you want to see?”

  To think about this with thoughts of motherhood swirling in her head was difficult. She slid down from the seat before replying. “I want to ride up to Cedrella Pass.”

  Cord shook his head slowly. “You shouldn’t attempt it on horseback. It’s too far.”

  “It doesn’t look so far on the map.”

  “Once you cross the salt flats and get into the mountains, it’s mostly up and down. The only way to get there and back in one day is to take a four-wheel-drive vehicle.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment flooded her.

  “Besides, Brooke, that’s not an outing you should tackle alone.”

  “Why not?”

  “The pass is too remote, and it would be easy for you to lose your way. Why don’t you explore closer to home—wouldn’t you rather see the old borax mine? Or check out some of the sights around the desert?”

  “I’m more interested in the Tyson Trail and the people who suffered at Cedrella Pass.” She started walking toward the stable, her suede jacket flapping in the wind.

  “You don’t want to go there, Brooke.”

  She sighed, then turned around at the stable door and waited for him. “You’re the one who doesn’t. Never mind.” Maybe she could find a guide in Sonoco. There must be people who would take her to Cedrella Pass for a fee.

  “What’s the big attraction, anyway? I don’t get it at all.”

  “I want to research the history of this area.”

  “That doesn’t seem to fit in with the type of article they publish in Fling.”

  “The research is for another project that I might want to pursue someday. Anyway, what’s your problem with history? I should think you’d be in favor of my learning more about the area.”

  “Not that history,” he muttered. The words were scarcely audible.

  She glanced over at his stony profile as they resumed walking. “Something’s bugging you. I wish you’d tell me what it is.”