Custody For Two (Baby Bonds #1) Read online

  Dylan’s gaze passed over her cranberry blouse and her navy slacks as well as her black shoelike boots.

  “Do you mind going for a walk?” he asked her. “I suppose we could stay here and talk.”

  She’d seen nothing but the confines of the hospital for the past two days. Even last night she’d curled up on the couch to get some sleep. She needed the cold to clear her head as much as he did.

  Standing, she went to the rack for her parka. “I could use some fresh air.”

  “If anything else occurs, I have your numbers,” the neonatologist said diplomatically, and disappeared down the hall.

  Neither of them spoke as they walked to the elevator. Dylan pressed the button. Shaye wrapped her scarf around her neck then pulled her hair from under it. Reaching into her pocket, she found her knit hat and pulled it onto her head.

  When they stepped into the elevator, she could feel Dylan’s gaze on her and she realized her whole body was responding to it…to him. She was warmer than she should have been and she attributed that to nerves, anxiety about Timmy and everything else that had happened. Certainly a man couldn’t make her warmer just by looking at her. That had never happened with Chad, although she’d considered herself in love with him. She’d thought he was madly in love with her. She’d been wrong. Yes, she’d loved him, but apparently Chad had seen her as convenient and disposable.

  Why was she thinking about that now when there were so many other things to think about…so many things to feel? Whenever she stopped thinking, she started feeling. Missing Julia, realizing Timmy would never know his real mother, made her sick inside.

  Aware of the bulk of Dylan beside her, she felt awkwardly self-conscious. She usually knew what to say and how to say it. Why not now? Because the stakes were so high and involved her becoming a mother? Because the grief they shared could form a bond neither of them might want?

  In the lobby, she pulled on tan leather gloves.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “Hiking is a habit for me. It’s the way I catch the right photograph, the way I solve a problem or find an answer.”

  She couldn’t keep her gaze from passing over the thick hair that fell across his forehead and shagged over his collar. His hands were bare though he did wear rugged-looking shoes. “Aren’t you going to be cold? It will soon be dark and there’s a wind.”

  “I don’t think a stroll around the hospital will do me in.”

  According to his sister, this man had climbed a glacier to get a particular shot. Her worry for him was unwarranted. “I didn’t mean to suggest—”

  He held up a hand to stay her words…as an apology for his sharpness.

  Looking into his very green eyes, she saw his anguish over Julia as well as Timmy. “It’s okay. Come on.”

  They headed for the door.

  Nestled at the foot of the Painted Peak Mountains, Wild Horse Junction had been born in the eighteen hundreds and some of the original buildings had survived. The town was a mixture of old-fashioned and modern, classic and contemporary—from Clementine’s, the saloon turned honky-tonk and now modern day bar and grill, to a saddle shop, trading post, discount store and modern hospital. Wild Horse had a little bit of everything.

  Thank goodness Wild Horse Junction’s St. Luke’s Hospital had a Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. The unit was only three years old. A few years ago, a celebrity who spent summers on her ranch in Cody had been passing through Wild Horse Junction when she’d gone into premature labor. There had been complications, but the obstetrician at St. Luke’s had saved both the actress and her baby. To show her gratitude she had endowed the hospital with a Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. Although Wild Horse Junction was still basically a small town, it had become a center in Wyoming for babies born at risk.

  Shaye’d thought about leaving Wild Horse once. She would have had to, to follow Chad. But she hadn’t really wanted to. Her family was here. Her good friends, Gwen and Kylie, whom she’d known since grade school, were still here. During tourist season, all kinds of people came and went, and she found them interesting and exciting. Yet most of them left and she stayed. That was the way she liked it.

  Unlike Dylan Malloy.

  Julia had told her how he’d dreamed of getting away from the time he was a small child, from the time his father had bought him his first camera.

  “A walk around the hospital or across the street to the park?” Dylan asked as they exited the building.

  “To the park.”

  Wild Horse Junction’s park was an unusual one. The town had been named for the wild mustangs that used to roam the Painted Peaks but now mostly lived in the Big Horn Mountains about an hour away. Bronze sculptures of the beautiful animals had been added to the park since the early nineteen hundreds. Black wrought-iron benches were plentiful and every spring the city council made sure they were refurbished and kept in good shape for the residents come summer.

  She could imagine bringing Timmy here, walking him in a stroller. When he grew older, she could see him playing on the swings at the south end of the park. During the past two days she’d purposely created pictures in her head of the future, believing they’d come true. The pictures eased her loss and kept her away from the truth that she’d never see Julia or Will Grayson again. Her eyes burned from the tears she’d shed and she almost wished she could go numb instead of having to deal with the depths of loss.

  Traffic was sporadic as she and Dylan stood at an intersection to cross the street. They’d just stepped off the curb when an SUV suddenly rounded the corner and sped by them. Dylan reached for Shaye’s elbow, holding it protectively to let her know when it was safe to cross. Unlikely as the sensation was, she seemed to feel the heat from his long fingers and his large hand through the down of her jacket.

  As if he sensed something, too, he looked at her, and even though the night was turning dark and shadowy, she caught an awareness on his face…some kind of current between them.

  Flustered, she hurried with him across the street, his long strides making her quicken hers. As they entered the park’s winding stone-covered path, snow began to fall lightly. Shaye lifted her face and the feel of the flakes somehow seemed to cleanse her of the chaos of the past few days.

  As Dylan stopped, he said huskily, “I wish I had my camera.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I never took a shot of a woman looking exactly like that—like you were with your face tipped up to the sky.”

  Frissons of excitement shot through Shaye and she didn’t know how to respond. “Do you photograph people much? The shots in magazines Julia showed me were mostly of animals.”

  “Most people like to have their picture taken. I’d rather have the challenge of capturing an animal unaware of me, photographing it in its real home, snapping interaction with the other animals. It’s all genuine and honest.”

  “Unlike people?”

  “People are much more complicated. Much of what they do is motivated by something.”

  “Like?” she coaxed.

  “Do you deal with foster families much?”

  “I do.”

  “Talk about motives. I know the system is overcrowded. I know there’s constantly a need for placing kids. But neither Julia nor I had pleasant experiences. The families we were placed in weren’t motivated by compassion.”

  “Julia told me the foster father in the family she was placed in drank. And when he did, he became loud and abusive.”

  “That’s right,” Dylan confirmed. “I had to get her out of there.”

  “What about the family you were placed with?”

  He shook his head as if his experience hadn’t mattered. “I wasn’t there that long.”

  “Two years can feel like forever when you’re not happy.”

  Stopping again, he said, “You’re perceptive.”

  “I have to be, in my work. I have to use my intuition as much as my training.”

  When he stared down at her, he admitted, “The fami
ly I was with just wanted the money they received every month. I was good for chores and work around the house, but there was no real caring there.”

  “I’m sorry,” Shaye said, meaning it.

  “That’s long ago and I’ve forgotten about it. But I saw firsthand that altruism isn’t part of what most people are about.”

  “You weren’t thinking about yourself when you made a life for you and Julia.”

  “She was my sister.”

  Shaye could tell that was the only explanation he intended to give.

  They walked for a few minutes under Russian olive trees catching the snow. Aspen branches waved in the breeze.

  “Do you think she had a premonition?” Dylan asked suddenly. “Do you think that’s why she chose a guardian before the baby was born?”

  “I don’t know. I do know Julia wouldn’t take any chances with a child, that she would have secured the baby’s future no matter what she had to do.”

  Stopping again, he took Shaye by the arm and looked deeply into her eyes. “You’re a single woman. You have a career. Do you want to be a mother to Timmy?”

  This was the moment where she had to make everything she said matter. Aware of Dylan’s hand on her arm and the magnetic pull of his gaze, her curiosity about him was growing. She tamped it down.

  “I want to be Timmy’s mother with all my heart and soul. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he grows up to be a man Julia would be proud of.”

  Dylan’s jaw set as he studied her and analyzed her words. The white of his breath seemed to mingle with the puff of hers as a bond formed. It was a bond that she knew she didn’t want…yet couldn’t break.

  With a slight nod, he broke eye contact and dropped his hand to his side. “Let’s go back.”

  She knew there was no going back. And that truth scared her as much as her visceral reaction to Dylan Malloy.

  “You need to go to your apartment and get some sleep,” Walter Ludlow warned Dylan later that night.

  Dylan paced the lawyer’s home office. His friend was a widower now and lived in one of the brick row homes not far from the center of town.

  “I’m going back to the hospital,” he said resolutely.

  “You’re not going to do that baby any good if you run yourself into the ground.”

  Dylan hadn’t even been back to his apartment yet, hadn’t been there for six months. His luggage, laptop and camera gear were still in the trunk of the rental car he’d secured at the airport so he could drive to the hospital in a hurry.

  After his walk with Shaye, he’d spent an hour with her sitting by Timmy’s bed. She’d finally left to get something to eat and when she’d returned, he’d come to Walter’s.

  “I’m used to sleeping on sofas or cots or on the ground. Camping out in a chair in a waiting room isn’t going to kill me. Timmy’s in crisis right now and every hour matters. I have to do this for Julia.”

  “You have to take care of yourself for Julia. She’d want that.”

  Dylan’s adrenaline was pumping full-speed. He stopped pacing and made himself sit on the edge of a leather chair in front of Walter’s desk. “I thought I knew my sister inside and out, but this will of hers— Maybe I should find a PI and have him run a report on Shaye Bartholomew.”

  “Don’t waste your money,” Walter advised him. “I’ve known Shaye’s family all my life. Carson Bartholomew has never been the best father. He’s a cardiac surgeon, so you can imagine the hours he keeps. He never saw much of his kids before his wife died, let alone after.”

  “How did Shaye’s mother die?”

  “A brain aneurysm she never knew she had. She just fell asleep one night and didn’t wake up again. After that, Carson saw to the kids’ physical needs but not much else. Although he hired a housekeeper, Shaye did the mothering, the cooking, the shopping and anything else that needed to be done. That’s what made her become a social worker, and a damn good one. I’ve been involved in some of the cases she’s handled. So don’t think a PI’s report is going to give you any more than I can tell you. She’s a good woman, Dylan. She was a good friend to Julia, and I think your sister knew what she was doing.”

  Dylan’s head jerked up as his eyes met Walter’s. “You don’t think I deserve custody?”

  “This isn’t a matter of deserving, boy. Julia loved you. She wanted the best life for you. She knows your blood’s in your work. Why would she want to saddle you with a baby? On the other hand, if Timmy’s with Shaye, you can be involved in his life as much as you want to be when you’re here. I’m sure she wouldn’t turn you away. That’s not Shaye, and Julia knew it.”

  “I feel as if I have a responsibility—”

  Walter cut him off. “You fulfilled your responsibility when you took Julia in and cared for her. Don’t be a martyr.”

  Walter had never pulled punches with him and now, for the first time all day, Dylan relaxed into the chair, realizing how tired he was. Looking down at his clothes, he imagined the sight he made, needing a shave and a haircut. More than that, he needed a shower and a couple of hours of sound sleep. Maybe he could catch a few winks at the hospital.

  He wasn’t a martyr, but he did care.

  Standing, he zippered his jacket. “I’m going to run by my apartment to make sure everything’s still in one piece and take a shower. But if you want me, I’ll be at the hospital.”

  “You always were stubborn,” Walter muttered.

  “I’ve had to be.” Crossing to the door of Walter’s den, Dylan said, “Thanks for everything you’ve done. I’ll keep you informed.”

  When Dylan left his friend’s house, wind buffeted him as pictures of Julia played in his mind—how happy she’d been when she’d come to live with him, how she’d cooked for him, how she’d chewed the end of her pencil as she’d solved math problems. He hadn’t come home this Christmas. He’d planned his schedule to take a break when his nephew was born.

  Dylan’s eyes burned. He was just too damned tired.

  As he climbed into the rental vehicle, in spite of his worry over Timmy, he saw Shaye’s face as she’d lifted it to the snowflakes. Switching on the ignition, he blanked out the image, needing to keep on an even keel, needing to forget that when he’d touched Shaye Bartholomew, everything inside him had gone on alert.

  She’s just another woman.

  But then he thought about his sister’s fondness for Shaye and her decision to leave her child to her friend. In turmoil, in spite of Walter Ludlow’s words, Dylan knew the next few days would be crucial in making his decision on whether to stay in Wild Horse Junction or go back to the life he’d come to love.

  Chapter Two

  As Dylan carried the last of his gear into his apartment, the space definitely had the feel of a bachelor pad not lived in for six months. Situated on the second floor of a rambling old farmhouse on the outskirts of town, Dylan kept it for when he returned to the area. The retired farmer who lived on the first floor kept watch for him and sent someone in to clean once a month when he wasn’t home. It had always suited his purposes just fine.

  Yet now the place held so many memories of Julia and her years with him that he felt bombarded. Although he could now indulge in a bit of luxury if he wanted to, he hadn’t. Practically furnished when Julia had lived here, he’d replaced the second-hand sofa with a more contemporary comfortable one. The TV and sound system sitting on pine shelves were utilitarian, too, rather than up to date. Julia had bought the setup for him one Christmas after she and Will were married. His small kitchen with its bar and stools was functional, and he still slept in the thrift-shop bed he’d bought after he’d landed his first job. The second bedroom, which had been his sister’s, was now filled with file cabinets that stored transparencies and negatives. Cartons of photographic equipment were stacked in any spare space. A third bedroom was occupied with state-of-the-art equipment—computer, scanner, two printers and a fax machine. Julia had often shaken her head with a smile and told him he should invest in drapes rath
er than update his computer. But he never had.

  In spite of the memories, the unlived-in feel of the apartment bothered him now, when it never had before. Because he’d lost Julia and she’d never be calling to chat with him again while he worked? She’d never be testing out a new recipe on him when he was home? She’d never be—

  The thoughts tightened his chest and made breathing difficult.

  After Dylan turned up the heat, he stripped off his clothes and showered, letting the sluicing hot water splash away images that were just too painful.

  He’d found a pair of clean jeans and was pulling on a tan-colored, long-sleeved flannel shirt when his cell phone beeped. He’d placed it in the charger on the bedroom dresser. He picked it up, bracing himself as he switched it on.

  “Mr. Malloy? It’s Dr. Carrera.”

  Dylan’s heart hammered faster. “Yes, Doctor.”

  “What’s your blood type?”

  “AB positive.”

  “Good. Timmy is anemic and we think a transfusion will help. Fortunately he’s AB positive, too. Would you be willing to give blood? Or should we go to the blood bank?”

  “Of course, I’ll give blood. I’ll be there in five minutes.” Something about giving his life force to his nephew seemed right.

  “Careful on the roads, Mr. Malloy. Snow’s making them slick and we don’t want any further tragedies.”

  Further tragedies. Such a generic way of putting it. The words didn’t begin to cover what Dylan was feeling.

  “Is Miss Bartholomew still there?” he asked before the doctor hung up.

  “Yes, she is. She also wanted to volunteer for a transfusion but she’s not a match.”

  A picture of Shaye was beginning to form in his mind; a picture of a woman who was a caregiver. He hadn’t known many women like that in his life and neither had Julia. Maybe that’s why his sister had gravitated toward Shaye.

  Thinking first and foremost about the transfusion he was going to give Timmy, Dylan grabbed his jacket, wallet and keys and headed for the hospital.