Luke lifted his eyebrows. This was unexpected. “Tell you what I’ve got,” he said. “They’re habitable and the new appliances have been delivered but not installed, they need inside paint, and furniture has been ordered, not delivered. Thanks to Paul, all new roofs, windows and doors. The countertops and cupboards are installed, but I’m still working on baseboards. I put in new hot-water heaters.”
“If you had a hand with the paint and appliances, think you could free up a couple by Christmas?” Jack asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Luke said. “If furniture can be delivered quickly. But, Jack, even with your help, that would be a push.”
Paul moved closer. “Where’s your furniture coming from? Maybe we can pick it up with one of the company trucks.”
“Eureka. Beds, sleeper sofas, small tables and chairs, etcetera. It was the next thing after paint and appliances.”
“Then we’ll get it done,” Jack said. “That would be perfect. Otherwise, we’re going to have to hang all these people from the trees. Be right back,” he said, taking David off to bed.
Then suddenly Shelby appeared in the kitchen. She was smiling a sweet, secret smile, a very special light in her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d be here,” she said.
“Neither did I.”
To the men in the kitchen she said, “Mel said to tell you it won’t be much longer. And she said you are not to get drunk.”
“We don’t get drunk at birthing parties,” Preacher said indignantly. Then he looked over his shoulder and said, “Except Paul. He got toasted after Matt was born, but that was a whole different thing.”
Luke was focused on Shelby’s smiling face. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“I was helping with Mel’s kids so she could be with Brie, but now that Vanni and Paige are here, I can observe,” she said. “Brie said it would be all right. I’ve never seen a birth.”
“You’re up to that?” he wanted to know.
“Of course,” she said. She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
Luke made fast work of his first drink and was nursing his second, through many jokes and soft, respectful laughter, when Mike came into the great room holding a very small bundle wrapped in a pink receiving blanket. Mike went to the women first—Paige and Vanni. While they were murmuring, smiling, beaming, the men moved in a crowd out of the kitchen to have a look at what Mike had for himself. The look on Mike’s face was a combination of exhaustion and exhilaration—just what would happen to a guy who’d just helped and worried his way through labor with his wife while she produced this, his first child. His smile was huge; his eyes were bright inside and weary on the outside.
And that’s when Luke started to remember. So long ago. So deep and buried. He migrated to Mike and the baby, smiling sentimentally, gently tugging back the pink wrap to get a better look at her. He even heard himself say, “Good for you, man.”
When Felicia first told him there was going to be a baby, she’d been real upset. It was unplanned, she wasn’t ready. But he had felt something inside him grow proudly. She told him to keep it to himself, she didn’t want everyone to know before she even got used to the idea. But back then he’d been so bonded with his men, his boys, he wasn’t into secret-keeping, especially about things like this. He told them all; they toasted him, got him a little drunk and drove him home.
Against her wishes, he’d called his mom and dad, his brothers. He had been all puffed up on testosterone pride, life had taken on new meaning for him. He never even tried to understand her cranky behavior—he was a young buck with a baby coming and she was pregnant—what was to understand? He put up with her pissy mood; he tried to be patient. He watched her begin to grow.
She told him it was a boy and it seemed like seconds after he learned the news, he got the call. Somalia. But it wasn’t supposed to be long—it was a peacekeeping mission. They’d make a presence there with the Marine Corps and he’d be back quickly. He felt he could do anything because waiting for him were his woman, his son. That euphoria stayed with him for so long, he assumed that was the way all men felt when they struck oil.
But it was ugly in Somalia; lives were lost in Mogadishu and it was in many ways a miracle there hadn’t been more casualties. When he got home the first thing he could fill his eyes with was his wife—she was huge. He should’ve looked at her eyes first, but he couldn’t help himself.
“It’s not yours,” she said. He wasn’t sure, but he thought she said that before she even said hello. “I didn’t want to tell you while you were on a mission, but you’re back safe now. We’re over. I’m leaving. I’m going with the father. I’m sorry it happened this way. You shouldn’t have been bragging about it. I told you not to.”
In a flash he wondered how that came to be his fault—being proud? At first he thought she was joking, some really sick joke. Then he thought there was a mistake; when had she had time for another man? He’d been making love to her constantly. Next he thought she couldn’t have done that to him—not while he poured every cell of his body into adoring her.
He wanted to kill someone. Her, maybe. Or the father, who turned out to be an officer in his command, a man whose orders he was obligated to follow. A man who’d been with them in Somalia, knowing every day that he had a baby coming with another man’s wife.
The months that followed blurred as he drank too much, avoided people, got in random fights, buried himself in a dark, black loneliness and wished he was dead. Before he got to remembering the scandal, the shame of having been made to look like a complete fool, the sympathy and pity, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “How about that, huh?” Jack said to him, bringing him back. “When have you seen anything as sweet as that?”
Luke pushed it all back down again. Thirteen years had made him very adept at that—shoving it underwater where it should all just drown. He smiled. “Lotta black hair on that little head,” he said.
He briefly remembered how the happiest day of his life had been when his transfer orders finally came and he could get away from Felicia and her new partner. By that time he was lucky he had a career left in the army. He’d been completely out of control there for a while and had been disciplined more than once. Given that he’d performed heroically in Somalia and came home to a wife, nine months pregnant and leaving him, his commanders cut him a little slack. Moving gave him a second chance, helped him pull it together.
He wanted to leave the Valenzuela house; he was exhausted. But there was that bold press of men, converging on him, catching him up in their celebration. While he’d been drowning in the past, Muriel St. Claire had arrived and was now gathered with the men. There was food to eat, gossip to pass around. He was eventually pushed out on the porch where cigars were clipped and lit. Rather than going with the women, Muriel stayed with the men, accepting her cigar and drink, making them chuckle. If they were a batch of women, the childbirth stories would start, but there were only a few such comments; Jack had delivered his own children, Preacher had almost fainted when Paige gave birth. Dr. John Stone joined them for a cigar, and talk went back to all the work left to be done to get Luke’s cabins ready for the Sheridan and Valenzuela clans to hit town for the holidays.
Luke had no idea if he’d been unusually quiet. He glanced at his watch and was stunned to see it was almost midnight—that was a little scary. Hours had passed and he’d been in the past, not real conscious of what had been going on around him. Then Shelby was beside him, looking up at him. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
He put an arm around her shoulders and laughed. “Shelby, babies are like puppies, there’s no such thing as an ugly one.” He put his cigar in the ash can. “I’m going to head home.”
“I’m not needed here anymore. Want some company?” she asked him.
He gave her shoulders a squeeze. That was exactly what he needed—someone soft, warm and safe. This young woman had an uncanny ability to make everything in his life feel right. Good. “You bet I do,” he said.
Fifteen
Jack Sheridan must have been more serious about needing room for his family than Luke realized. The day after Brie’s childbirth, he showed up in the morning with Paul and six men in three pickups. It was the sound of the trucks arriving that brought Luke out of cabin two. As the men clambered out, he grinned. “Looks like a barn raising.”
“Might as well get it done. Show us what and where,” Jack said.
First Luke showed them Art’s cabin, which was finished. Luke was no decorator, but it had all new furnishings, appliances and fresh paint. Art had a new queen-size bed, a table with four chairs and a large chair with ottoman and reading lamp. There was a new stove and microwave, a small refrigerator that slipped under the kitchen counter. It boasted wooden blinds on the windows and a patterned area rug. Art was all stocked with dishes, glasses, sheets and towels; in the large bathroom were a small washer, dryer and closets. All the men walked through, poking around, nodding.
“Luke, this came out real nice,” Jack said. “You did a fine job here.”
“I’m no professional, but they’ve come a long way since we bought ’em.”
He showed them a partially finished cabin—new baseboards, paint and appliances, but that was as far as he’d gotten. Then he showed them an unfinished cabin. The appliances sat in the middle of the room, uninstalled. Blinds that he ordered were still in long boxes, ready to be hung after painting, area rugs were rolled against the wall and cans of paint were stacked next to a couple of folded tarps.
“Looks simple enough,” Paul remarked. “Two days. Maybe four, if we need extra supplies.”
“Four days?” Luke repeated, stunned.
“It’s all moving and cosmetic. We’re kind of fast.” He grinned. “We do this a lot more than you do.”
“Since there have only been one or two painters here, there are only the two tarps,” Luke pointed out.
“Not a problem, we came prepared, even brought some baseboards in case you didn’t have enough. Now, if you’re not worried we’ll screw it up, this might be a good day for you to go over to Eureka and set up a pickup for that furniture and get anything else you might need for these cabins.”
“Leave you working?” he asked. “I couldn’t do that to you.”
“Wait till you see my family. And the Valenzuelas,” Jack said. “Go. Buy sheets and towels.”
Luke thought about this for a very short time—he had other important errands in Eureka. It was high time he plunged into an investigation of Art’s job and group home there. He had to know the man’s past in order to help with his future. Buying sheets, pillows, towels and dishes wouldn’t take any time at all. “You sure? Can you keep an eye on Art in case he gets a little excited with all the people? Sometimes he’s too much help, you know.”
“Sure, he’ll be fine. Where is the good man?”
“If he’s not here, he’s at the river.” Luke grinned. “I’m not getting so much help since I bought him that rod and reel, but the freezer’s full of fish. I have a feeling some of it’s going to be coming your way at the bar.”
“We never turn down handouts,” Jack said, hefting a ladder out of the truck.
As Luke stood and watched, they all started hauling tarps, ladders, toolboxes, brushes and rollers out of the truck beds. He wandered down to the river and found Art.
“Hey, Art,” he said. “How are they biting today?”
“Okay,” he said, throwing out a line and slowly reeling it in.
