The Cowboy's Christmas Baby. Carolyne Aarsen
at her.
She didn’t know why that bothered her. It was like she wasn’t there.
“Okay. We’ll push off then,” Vic said, giving Lauren another brief kiss. “I’ll call you tonight.”
Lauren’s soft smile for Vic gave Erin a tinge of jealousy. She was happy for her sister. Happy her life had come to this good place. But it was hard not to wonder what her own future looked like.
Just before Dean left, his eyes drifted to Erin once more and for a heartbeat their gazes held.
She wasn’t sure what to read into his enigmatic expression.
Didn’t matter, she thought, cradling her head over Caitlin. She had other priorities and another focus.
Dean Moore’s opinion of her wouldn’t affect her at all.
* * *
“I should change Caitlin,” Erin muttered, looking around for the diaper bag, as the guys left.
“Here’s what you want,” Lauren said, bending over and picking up the bag from where it lay beside Caitlin’s car seat.
“I’ll be right back,” Erin said, once again retreating to the washroom. She didn’t linger, however, and made quick work of changing her daughter’s wet diaper. Caitlin’s eyes were drawn to the lights above the sink and as she kicked her bare legs Erin felt again that wave of love. This tiny baby was so amazing.
“Love you so much,” she whispered as she picked her fragile body up and held her close.
Lauren was pouring water into the coffeemaker when she came back and Jodie was putting together a plate of snacks. Cheese and crackers and cookies.
Her favorite white chocolate macadamia nut, from what Erin could see.
“Just go sit down,” Lauren said, turning on the coffeemaker and then setting out some mugs.
Erin walked into the living room and dropped into the nearest couch, finally giving in to the weariness that had fuzzed her brains and dragged at her limbs. She leaned back into the chair as she cradled her now-quiet daughter in her arms, letting herself absorb the familiarity of this place. She knew Lauren and especially Jodie had resented coming here those summers of their youth, after their parents’ divorce, but she’d always enjoyed it in spite of their taciturn father.
“You look tired,” Jodie said as she brought the plate to the living room.
“I am. Been driving most of today. It’s a good thing Caitlin was so well behaved for most of the trip.”
She glanced around the room, then frowned as she noticed an empty space in one corner of the living area. “Did you sell your piano?”
“No. We moved it to Finn’s place. A tuner was in Saddlebank to work on the church’s piano so we thought we would take the opportunity to move and tune mine while he was around.” Jodie sat down beside Erin, her hand reaching to touch Caitlin, now swathed in her linen blanket. “She’s so perfect,” she breathed, her finger trailing over her tender cheek.
Erin’s throat tightened up. The words she had rehearsed all the way here now seemed pointless and superficial in the face of her sister’s acceptance. Then Lauren sat down across from her, her hands clasped between her knees, her blond hair hanging loose around her classical features.
“You look amazing,” she said to Lauren. “I think being engaged agrees with you. Congratulations, by the way. I’m happy for you. For both of you.” Erin turned to Jodie, encompassing her younger sister in her congratulations as well. “I never thought a free spirit like you would end up marrying a sheriff.”
Jodie released a light laugh. “Me, neither. Though Finn isn’t a sheriff like Dad was. He’s a deputy, but he’s quitting in a year. Hoping to focus on horse training, which is his first love. I don’t know if you remember him. He stayed with the Moores when his mother took off on him.”
“Vaguely.” Erin hadn’t gotten too involved with many of the people in Saddlebank. When she was here, she had spent a lot of her time on the ranch walking in the hills, or riding. The ten months they lived in Knoxville, where their mother moved them after her parents’ divorce, were always a dissonant time for her. While her sisters loved being in Knoxville, and disliked being on the ranch the two months a year they were sent here by their grandmother after their mom died, she was the opposite. Though their grandmother tried, Erin knew it must have been difficult for her to raise three grandchildren. Erin, of all the children, seemed to sense the tension more keenly than her sisters did.
So when they were shipped off to the ranch to be with their father, who reluctantly took them in, Erin found a peace that eluded her sisters. She would faithfully do the chores assigned to them by their father before he went off to his job as sheriff of Saddlebank County, then literally head to the hills with her sketchbook. She loved her time alone with her thoughts.
And her God.
She stopped reminiscing, turning to Lauren again. “Speaking of the Moores, I certainly didn’t think a cowboy like Vic was your type, either. You always were so businesslike. So proper and—”
“Stick in the mud.” Lauren laughed as she brushed her hair back from her face, gold hoops swinging from her ears. “You can say it. I was.”
“That’s not what I wanted to say,” Erin objected. “I meant, you were always so focused and so self-disciplined.”
“Qualities I get to apply to running Aunt Laura’s flower shop right in Saddlebank now that she’s retiring.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re taking it over,” Erin said. “I have such good memories of that place.”
“Her home and store was a sanctuary for us,” Lauren said with a gentle sigh. “And we needed that from time to time. Though I think Jodie and I managed to find some peace the past few months. Since Dad died.”
Erin felt it again. The tug of unmet expectations. The sorrow she’d felt when she heard her father had died and she couldn’t come to the funeral.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t come,” she said, struggling once again with her shame. “I do want to visit his grave when we have a chance.”
“We’ll go there. On Sunday.”
Which meant she was expected to attend church.
However she wasn’t getting into that now. They had other things to discuss.
“He also wrote us each a letter when he found out he was dying,” Jodie said, laying her hand on Erin’s shoulder. “There’s one for you, too. I found them in the house when I was cleaning up.”
Erin looked down at Caitlin, wondering what their straightlaced, overly strict father would have said about his first grandchild. Born out of wedlock.
And more.
“I’d like to read it. But later.” She had to get through this first hurdle—trying to find a way to explain to her sisters what had happened to her.
“Yes. Later,” Jodie agreed.
A beat of silence followed and Erin knew that while they had much to catch up on, her baby was, for lack of a better metaphor, the elephant in the room that could no longer be ignored.
“So, this is Caitlin, like I said before,” she began, pleased her voice came out so steady. “She’s six weeks old. I was on bed rest for two months before her birth. That’s why I didn’t come to Dad’s funeral. I cut back on my graphic design work so I could focus on her.” The words came out stilted. Cold. As if she related the events of someone else’s life. “She was a Caesarean birth, which meant another few weeks of rest and taking it easy.”
And another few weeks of putting off what she knew she had to have done many months earlier, when she discovered she was pregnant.
Tell her sisters.
It