Baby's First Homecoming Page 4

  “Can I get you something? A cold drink? Coffee?”

  “Just ice water.”

  “You sounded so serious on the phone.” She busied herself pouring their water. “Something the matter?”

  “Not exactly.”

  He sat on a stool at the breakfast bar and let his gaze travel the stylish, ultra-contemporary kitchen, with its high-tech appliances and built-in flat-panel TV. Like his mother’s clothes, the kitchen felt wrong. He remembered her cooking hearty meals at their huge gas range and a refrigerator covered with photos, reminder notes and school papers.

  His parents had divorced about the time his father exercised a small-print clause in his contract with the Powells and sold off their land, effectively putting them out of the cattle business. Clay honestly didn’t know if the sale of the land was the final straw in a marriage circling the drain or a last-ditch effort to save it.

  The story changed depending on which parent was telling it.

  Because his mother sided with Clay against his father regarding the Powells’ land, they had remained close. Neither of them kept much of a connection with Bud Duvall.

  “I have some news,” Clay said. “Rather incredible news.”

  “Uh-oh.” The twinkle in her eyes dimmed, replaced by worry. “The last incredible news you had was when you told me you and Jessica were getting married and moving to Texas.”

  They both knew how badly that had turned out. No two people had been more ill-suited for each other or more blind until it was too late.

  “No, I’m not getting married again.”

  “What is it then?” She placed two glasses of ice water on the breakfast bar and slipped into the stool beside him.

  He hesitated, honestly not sure how his mother would react. She wanted grandchildren. She also wanted Clay happily married and settled first.

  “I told you Sierra Powell was coming home for the wedding.”

  “You did.”

  Clay’s mother and Sierra’s mother had been good friends before tragedy had struck, cutting Louise Powell’s life short.

  “She brought her young son with her.”

  “Really! I wasn’t aware she had any children.”

  “No one was, including her family.”

  His mother’s hands flew to her cheeks. “That must have come as a shock. Though I’m sure Wayne is overjoyed. He dotes on his granddaughter, Sage’s daughter, too.”

  “He is overjoyed.” Clay inhaled deeply. “There’s something else you need to know. It’s good news, I assure you. But unexpected.”

  “Now you’ve got me scared.”

  “Sierra’s son… Well, I’m the father.”

  His mother stared at him blankly for several seconds. “How in the world did that happen?”

  “The usual way.”

  “You haven’t seen her since her mother died.”

  “I have. Two years ago when she came home for a visit. We didn’t tell anyone. We thought it wise, considering how her family felt about me, us, at the time.”

  “You cheated on Jessica with Sierra?”

  “No. Jessica and I were on the outs. I ran into Sierra at the Corner Diner. We got to talking, hit it off, and one thing led to another.”

  He summarized his brief affair with Sierra and what she’d told him about her pregnancy, Jamie’s birth, adoption and getting him back.

  “I can’t believe it.” His mother’s happy smile warmed Clay. “I’m a grandmother. Wait till I tell—” She stopped, covered her mouth. “What am I saying? Poor Sierra. Such a terrible ordeal for her to go through.”

  Her? What about him? “She kept my son from me!”

  “You dumped her.”

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “It was entirely like that. No wonder she was hurt and confused.”

  “She had no right to pawn Jamie off on strangers.”

  “We’re all guilty of making bad decisions we later regret.”

  True. Clay was a walking, talking example. “I told her I want joint custody of Jamie.”

  “Is she agreeable?”

  Clay thought back to how he and Sierra had parted yesterday at Ethan’s apartment and her vehement protests. “She’d prefer I start with supervised visitation. I told I have no intention of being an every-other-weekend father.”

  His mother reached over and covered his hand with hers. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, sweetheart, but why not?”

  “I’ve always wanted kids. That was one of the reasons Jessica and I divorced.”

  “I remember how devastated you were when she miscarried.”

  “She didn’t want children, Mom. She couldn’t have been more relieved.” Clay was the one who’d grieved over the loss. When he’d discovered not long after that Jessica was secretly taking birth control pills, their shaky marriage had rapidly deteriorated. “This is a second chance for me.”

  “I worry that you’re so busy. You work seven days a week at the rodeo arena. You’re at Powell Ranch at least two days a week helping Gavin with the stud and breeding business. And then there’s the wild-mustang sanctuary. How are you going to fit raising a child, a young child at that, into your life?”

  “I’ll hire more help if necessary.”

  “I suppose you could.”

  “What happened to the happy grandmother?”

  “I’m thrilled, of course. And I’ve always liked Sierra. It’s just such a huge responsibility and an enormous adjustment. I think the two of you should proceed slowly. Whatever decisions you make must be best for everyone, especially little Jamie. Let him get used to Sierra before you start taking him.”

  His mother made sense, but Clay wasn’t convinced. He had a lot of catching up to do with Jamie.

  “Would you like to see him?”

  She brightened. “I can’t wait.”

  “Let’s go over there now.”

  “This second?”

  “Sure.”

  “Shouldn’t you call Sierra first?”

  “She’s already expecting me. I told her yesterday I’d be by.”

  “But not that you’d be bringing me.”

  “You’re Jamie’s grandmother.”

  “Have you told your father yet?”

  He shook his head.

  “Don’t you think you should?”

  “I will. Later this week.” Clay may be at odds with Bud, but he wouldn’t deny the man his grandson. Not like Sierra had denied him.

  “Tell you what.” Blythe hopped off her stool. “You call Sierra while I change into slacks.”

  Two minutes later, Clay was shutting the Arcadia door behind him as he went onto his mother’s back patio to make the call. He didn’t want her hearing the conversation in case Sierra gave him more grief.

  She answered the house phone on the second ring.

  “It’s Clay.”

  “Oh, hi.”

  He ignore her lack of enthusiasm. “I should be there in about a half-hour, forty-five minutes tops.”

  “It’s not a good time. Jamie’s napping.”

  “He’ll wake up eventually. Won’t he?”

  “Yes—”

  “We can wait.”

  “We?”

  “My mother’s coming with me.”

  Silence followed.

  “We won’t stay too long, I promise.”

  “All right. But in the future, I need more than a moment’s notice you’re bringing someone with you.”

  “She’s my mother.”

  “Even so.”

  “Until we hammer out the custody agreement, I’m going to see Jamie every day. I’m more than willing to work out a schedule that’s convenient for both of us.”

  “You don’t get to dictate all the rules, Clay.” There was an unaccustomed edge to her tone.

  “Neither do you. Not anymore.”

  He heard her sharp intake of breath.

  “Fine, I’ll see you shortly.” She hung up without saying goodbye.

  Clay refused to g
et angry. This was only the beginning of a potentially long battle, since Sierra was intent on resisting him at every turn.

  Unless…

  The idea that had suddenly sprang to his mind quickly grew into a full-fledged plan.

  And Clay liked having plans.

  * * *

  “YOU OKAY, SIERRA?”

  She glanced up to see her future sister-in-law Sage enter the kitchen wearing her khaki uniform. She was a field agent for the Arizona Game and Fish Department and often worked on the weekends. Later, as her pregnancy advanced, she’d be assigned to a desk job.

  “I’m fine.” Sierra moved away from the wall phone. “Clay and his mother are coming over.”

  “From the look on your face, I’d say that’s bad.”

  “I was hoping for more time alone with Jamie before pulling him in a dozen different directions.”

  “Kids are resilient and do better with change than we think they will. Especially at his age.”

  “You’re probably right.” She was right, Sierra thought. It was her and not Jamie who needed more time.

  Sage reached into the refrigerator and came away with a piece of leftover pizza, which she then placed on a paper plate and put in the microwave.

  “Miss lunch?”

  “No.” She smiled embarrassedly. “I’m just always hungry.”

  “Lucky you. I spent most of my pregnancy throwing up or feeling like I wanted to.”

  “You’re also lucky.”

  “I am, but what are you referring to?”

  The previous evening, after Clay had left, Sierra had finally unloaded the entire story about Jamie to her family. They were supportive, sad she’d gone through so much misery alone and ecstatic she and Jamie were reunited. They also didn’t quite understand her reasons for not telling them about her pregnancy from the start and, at least in Gavin’s case, were a little mad at her.

  “You’re lucky Jamie’s father wants to be part of his life,” Sage said.

  Sierra leaned her back against the counter and watched Sage devour her warmed-up pizza. “I’m okay with Clay being part of his life. It’s his need to control that bothers me.”

  “Wanting to see their sons every day is natural for most dads. I wish my ex wanted to see Isa. Not for my sake, mind you. For hers. Gavin is wonderful and a hundred times the father my ex will ever be, but Isa still asks about her daddy and can’t help feeling rejected. Jamie won’t ever experience that.”

  The advice was good, and Sierra appreciated it. When she’d first got Jamie back, Sierra hadn’t thought ahead to when he might ask about his father. Certainly not about what she’d say to him or how it would affect him.

  Now it was irrelevant. Jamie would know his father. Very well, if Clay had anything to do with it.

  “I just wish he’d calm down a little. Quit trying to run the show.”

  “That’s Clay for you.”

  “Is it?” Sierra really didn’t know him, not the adult Clay. The youth and teenager she’d grown up with had been a lot like her older brothers. Competitive, confident, a talented athlete and enormously popular with the girls. The Clay she’d spent time with two years ago had been vulnerable and wounded and unafraid to show his gentler side. That was the man she’d fallen in love with.

  “He’s a really good person, Sierra.” Sage smiled fondly. “Hardworking, loyal, caring and sweet.”

  Sweet?

  “He’s not hard on the eyes, either,” Sage added with an appreciative sigh. “You could do worse.”

  “We’re not… There’s nothing between us,” Sierra protested.

  “There was at one time.”

  Jamie’s I’m-awake-where-are-you? cry carried through the house from the bedroom. “Oops.” Sierra excused herself with a smile. “Someone’s up from their nap.”

  “And demanding your attention. Isn’t that just like a man? Big or little.”

  Jamie’s crying stopped the moment Sierra stepped into the bedroom. He stood up in the portable crib, clinging to the side. One good growth spurt, and he’d be tall enough to crawl out on his own. She was going to have to buy a full-size crib soon, though she couldn’t imagine where she’d put another piece of furniture in here.

  She and Jamie needed their own place. Though she loved her family, she couldn’t live with them and off them for long. Her pride wouldn’t let her. In order to obtain her own place, however, she’d need a job. In order to get a job, she’d have to conquer her fear of being away from Jamie.

  The solution was obvious. Find employment she could do from home.

  That, she decided, would be the first order of business on Monday morning. She’d update her résumé and start sending it out. In the meantime, she’d offer to help around the ranch. Run errands. Answer the phone. Paperwork. Clean stalls if necessary, so long as she could have Jamie with her.

  “Hungry, handsome?”

  She hummed to Jamie as she combed his rumpled hair. He patted her face and made kissing sounds; at least, Sierra chose to believe they were kissing sounds.

  For a moment, she lost herself in the miracle of her son and forgot all about his father coming over. It didn’t last. No sooner did she walk back into the kitchen, Jamie toddling along beside her, then she remembered.

  She’d just finished giving him a snack of juice and Cheerios, when a knock sounded.

  “Sierra! It’s wonderful to see you again.” The hug Blythe Powell gave Sierra when she opened the door was warm and genuine and a good ten seconds long.

  Her resistance melted. Here was someone from her past, an important someone. In a small way, hugging Blythe was like hugging her mother again.

  Suddenly, Sierra wanted Jamie to meet his only living grandmother.

  “Come in.” Her pleasure was cut short when Clay sauntered into the kitchen.

  He was carrying an old-fashioned wooden rocking horse, one that had been ridden hard and loved well, given the worn paint and frayed yarn mane. Once inside, he set it in the middle of the floor.

  “I hope you don’t mind I brought this along,” Blythe explained. “It was Clay’s when he was Jamie’s age. His grandfather made it for him.”

  The grandfather she’d named Jamie after? Yes, she thought, observing Clay’s features soften.

  “Is this him?” Blythe approached Jamie, her hands clasped in front of her, her face an explosion of joy.

  Jamie, excited over the commotion, started slapping the tray on his high chair.

  “Hello there.” Blythe bent so that her face was on Jamie’s level. “Aren’t you adorable?”

  His eyes went huge, and his mouth started quivering.

  “Goodness gracious, don’t cry.”

  Sierra rushed over. “He’s a little shy around new people.”

  Except when it came to Clay.

  “It’s okay,” Blythe crooned, not appearing the least bit offended. “We’ll get to know each other slowly.”

  Sierra removed Jamie from the high chair and bounced him in her arms, standing next to Blythe so he could get used to her. After a minute, he settled down. The next minute, he was reaching for Blythe’s glasses.

  She captured his hand, put it to her lips and blew a raspberry on his palm. Jamie snatched his hand back, stared at it in amazement, burst into giggles, then pushed it into her face.

  “Ma, ma, ma.”

  Tears sprang to Blythe’s eyes, and she laughed along with Jamie. “He looks just like Clay did as a baby.”

  Sierra didn’t deny the resemblance, though she sometimes thought she saw some of her father in him, too.

  After another two minutes and another dozen raspberries, Jamie was more than willing to go to his grandmother. She took him gratefully.

  “Do you mind?” she asked, indicating the chair where Sierra had been sitting when they arrived.

  “Sit, please.” She caught Clay’s glance and was struck still.

  The sweetness Sage had referred to earlier shone in his expression. “Thank you,” he mouthed.


  She shrugged, ignoring the mild thrum of her heartstrings.

  “Can I get you something?” she offered.

  “I’m fine.” Blythe and Jamie were engaged in a game of peek-a-boo.

  “Me, too.” Clay removed his cowboy hat and set it on the counter. At the table, he stroked Jamie’s head. “The rest of the family out working?”

  “Yes.” Saturdays, as Sierra was learning, were the busiest days of the week for the Powell Riding Stables and Gavin’s stud and breeding business. “Ethan’s shoeing horses, and Gavin said something about new brood mares arriving. If you want to go talk to them, your mother and I—”

  “I want to talk to you.”

  All the warm, cozy feelings Sierra had been having promptly vaporized. “Right this minute?”

  “Mom can watch Jamie.”

  Blythe must have heard them, but she didn’t look away from Jamie.

  “I haven’t hired an attorney yet,” Sierra said softly.

  “It’s not that kind of conversation.”

  What kind was it, then? She’d much prefer stalling, except he would push and push and not relent until she did.

  “We can sit in the living room.”

  “I was thinking of somewhere more private. Like the back patio.”

  “No. I can’t see Jamie from outside.” She couldn’t see him from the living room, either, but he would be only one room away, and she could hear him. That would minimize her anxiety.

  “Mom’s not going to—”

  “Of course she’s not.”

  “Then why?”

  “It’s the living room or not at all.”

  Sierra couldn’t explain her phobia to herself, much less other people. Losing Jamie had made her overprotective and unreasonably afraid. She would, she was convinced, improve in time. Everyone just needed to be patient with her.

  “Okay.” He led the way.

  Sierra chose the chair closest to the hallway.

  Rather than sit, Clay stood at the large picture window, studying the courtyard, beyond which lay Mustang Valley and the community of Mustang Village at its center.

  He was, Sierra grudgingly admitted, a nice-looking man. Tall, broad-shouldered, lean-hipped and with a ruggedly handsome profile. His jeans were the same everyday brand her brothers wore. Not so his Western-cut shirt. She’d bet if she viewed the label inside the collar it would bear a designer name. His quality leather boots and belt were hand-tooled by expert craftsmen.