Chapter 4
Four
Sloane
“I’m sorry, what?”
I wince at her tone.
Anger, I could’ve handled, but the shocked hurt in her voice is so much worse. I’m instantly overwhelmed with guilt and wrecked with second-guessing.
“What is it?” I hear Steve’s voice in the background.
“You’re a grandmother, Mom. Her name is Aspen,” I clarify before adding, “She’s four months old.”
I hear a gasp, and then a brief rustling, before Steve’s voice demands to know, “What the hell is going on? Who is this?”
“It’s me, Steve.”
“Sloane? What happened? Why is your mother crying?”
Oh yeah, the guilt is thick and bitter in my throat.
“Because I just told her you guys are grandparents.”
“You’re pregnant?” he asks.
“Actually, I have a baby daughter, she was born the twenty-first of April.”
He’s silent for a while. All I can hear are my mother’s sniffles, and I’m on the verge of tears myself.
This is the problem with bad decisions; the consequences often aren’t only yours to bear.
When his voice comes back on, it’s carefully measured, but I can hear the barely contained anger.
I deserve it.
“I really hope you have some very good reasons why you decided to keep this information from your own mother.”
Lies are what got me here, so honesty is the only way forward.
“I thought there were, but I’m not so sure anymore,” I confess.
The first call is long, and painful, and for me humbling and even humiliating. But when Mom calls me back the next day—after giving herself a chance to process the information—we’re able to have a more productive conversation. I take the opportunity to tell her about Jeff, not as an excuse, but for the sake of total transparency.
At the end of our talk, she prompts me to tell her about the delivery, which had been fast and furious, and asks for me to send her pictures. At least that’s something I can do for her, having chronicled as many moments in Aspen’s short life as I’d been able to capture on my phone.
The following day I call back via FaceTime, and watch my mother and Steve fall in love with my daughter. By the end of that call, Mom announces she’s coming to Montana for a visit, and I’m determined to have a decent plan in place by then.
My next call is to Junior Ewing to let him know I can officially start first thing tomorrow.
“It’s a good thing you’re so damn adorable, you little stinker.”
Aspen is leaking drool and smiling her gummy smile at me while I try to get her dressed again.
We’d been ready to head out the door when I heard a distinct rumbling, much too loud for a body that small. Even before I lifted her out of the car seat, my nose alerted me to what I would find. Good thing I had an extra early start this morning, thanks to a restless night with this little girl.
Teething, already. I wasn’t aware babies could start this early, but according to Pippa they can.
Aspen was fussy all night, waking up crying several times, and I finally gave up on trying to sleep. Instead, I surfed the web on my phone, reading up on the milestones and developmental stages of a four-month-old, including what to expect when they’re teething. Apparently, diarrhea is not an unusual side effect, hence the impressive blowout requiring a quick hose-down in the tub, and a completely new outfit.
The house is already empty when I carry my daughter back to her car seat, which I’d abandoned by the front door. Sully had been out the door at the crack of dawn, something about picking up a horse in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. I know Pippa had a busy schedule at her auto shop today but had to drop Carmi off at school first.
Today is my first—official—day at work, which is why Aspen is going to go back to the ranch where Ama and Alex have volunteered to look after her.
I looked into daycare and there is one in town, but they have a waiting list I added Aspen’s name to. One of the ladies at the daycare gave me the name of a woman who does home childcare, but she doesn’t take babies under six months.
I was starting to panic, wondering if I should pass on the job and coast on my meager savings until I could secure care for my daughter. But when Pippa heard I was considering blowing off the position with the Sheriff’s Office, she told me not to make any stupid decisions. Two hours later, I was handed a babysitting schedule for the next two weeks.
Pippa, her sister, Nella, my uncle, Ama, and Alex all have volunteered for shifts. Even Lucy—who is married to Bo and self-admittedly is better with animals than people—appeared to have volunteered for a shift. One thing is sure, Aspen is going to end up with a lot of aunties.
Coming to Libby had been a bit of a knee-jerk decision, and I wasn’t sure if it would work out, but it sure looks like I made the right call. They say it takes a village to raise a child, which, in Aspen’s case, seems to be a fair statement.
After those first two weeks, my mom plans to be here for the next two, and I have a feeling she won’t want to share any time she can have with her granddaughter.
All of that means I should be covered for childcare for the next month, leaving my hands free to get a good grip on my new job.
I’m starting with a return visit to the hospital, where I’m hoping Chelsea—the girl they found up near Kenelty Mountain—has recovered enough from her ordeal to the point she’ll be able to answer some of my questions. Something she wasn’t able to do when I rode in the back of the ambulance with her a couple of days ago.
Alex is waiting on the porch when I get to the ranch, and I’m able to hand off my daughter and get out of there without bumping into Dan again. After last time, I hope to avoid a repeat of that uncomfortable encounter. Hearing the bitter disdain in his voice once was enough.
A car pulls out right next to the main doors to Cabinet Peaks Medical Center, and I slip the Jeep in the vacated parking spot. I grab the small stuffed lion I found at the gift store around the corner, and head into the lobby.
The woman who gets up from the chair next to the girl’s bed must be her mother. She looks a little worse for wear, like she hasn’t slept in days. Chelsea herself looks better than she did last time I saw her. A little more aware of her surroundings, her eyes no longer hold the blank look but follow me into the room.
“Mrs. Littleton?”
I never met her and am aware I’m not wearing a uniform, so I hold out my hand to introduce myself. She takes it tentatively as she nods.
“I’m Sloane Eckhart. I’m a detective with the Lincoln Sheriff’s Department. I rode along in the ambulance with your daughter on Tuesday.”
Understanding replaces her suspicious expression.
“Yes, Sheriff Ewing shared as much when he dropped in yesterday. He also mentioned you would be by this morning. Nice to meet you, but please call me Donna.”
Then I turn to the bed, where Chelsea looks to have been following the exchange between her mother and me.
“And how are you today?” I ask the girl. “Do you remember me from a few days ago?”
For a moment I don’t know if my question registers.
“Horses.”
“Yes, the guys who found you were on horseback, and you got to ride out of the woods on one of them. You remember that?”
This time she nods.
“I brought you something.” I hand her the stuffed animal.
“Lion,” she identifies it as she tucks it against her chest.
“Yes, I saw him and he made me think of you. Did you know the lion is a symbol for courage?”
Chelsea shakes her head.
“It is. That’s why I got it for you, because I thought you were pretty courageous yourself.” I flash her an encouraging smile. “Do you think I could borrow your mom for a minute?”
She looks at her mother, who nods and tells her, “We’ll be right back.”
“How is she?” I ask as soon as we step out in the hallway.
“I’m not sure,” Donna says, running a distracted hand through her messy hair. “The doctor says there doesn’t seem to be a physical reason for her state. No sign she hit her head or has a concussion or anything, but she can’t seem to put together a complete sentence and she seems so confused.”
She certainly does. From all accounts Chelsea is a spunky teenager, a bit of a rebel with a sharp tongue. The girl in the hospital bed does not seem like the same person. Of course, we still don’t know the full extent of the ordeal she’s been through, although the attending physician who saw her when we first came in already told me she suspected sexual assault and would be doing a rape kit.
Bloodwork would’ve been standard procedure, and I’m curious to know whether anything was flagged on those labs.
Could some drug be causing this lingering fugue state?
Dan
“Sit down a spot, son.”
I glance up to see the old man sitting in a corner of the porch, rocking his chair and having his daily drink.
“I should go wash up before dinner.”
“Oh, bull hickey. Sit yer sorry ass down and keep an old man company.”
Ninety-two years old, a serious heart condition, can barely get one foot in front of the other, but his mind is still sharp as a tack. I don’t think any of us—least of all Jonas—would’ve expected him to still be kicking around, but here he is, issuing orders and making demands.
I love this old man. Enough to forfeit my shower.
The moment I sit down beside him on the porch, he picks up the bell next to him on the small table and starts swinging it. Hard.
In a matter of seconds, Ama comes flying out of the house.
“Keep it down already, old man,” she barks. “What do you need?”
The mischievous look on Thomas’s face has me bite the inside of my cheek not to laugh out loud. He loves getting under Ama’s skin, and most of the time she gives as good as she gets. Today she looks a bit frazzled.
“I’m running low, and young Dan here could do with a beer.”
Ama is about to give him what I suspect is an earful, when a high-pitched squeal sounds from inside. She shoots Thomas a dark glare before she ducks back in the door.
Less than a minute later she returns, a bottle of beer in her hand and a baby on her arm. I’m pretty sure it’s the same baby I saw Sloane carry out of the house a few days ago. The only difference is this time the kid’s bright blue eyes are wide open. If Sloane hadn’t already mentioned she had a daughter, the bright pink outfit would’ve given it away.
“Where’s my drink?” Thomas asks as Ama hands me the beer.
“How many hands does it look like I have?” she bites off. “Not to mention I’ve got better things to do than play bartender for you. Today has been a shitshow of epic proportions. Sully’s truck broke down twenty miles outside of Coeur d’Alene so Jonas is driving out there to pick him and the trailer up. Then Alex was supposed to help me look after this little one today, but she was called away for an emergency at the rescue. I have three loads of laundry still to do and have barely had a chance to start the dinner y’all will be bugging me for shortly.”
No wonder she looks stressed.
“Well, all you had to do was tell me,” Thomas sputters, which doesn’t do much to appease Ama.
So I set down my bottle and put my hands on my knees.
“What do you need me to do?” I offer.
Next thing I know, my arms open automatically when she shoves the baby at me.
“Take her.”
Ama disappears inside before my brain can come up with an objection.
Any baby experience I have began and ended with Carmi, Sully’s daughter, and Fletch’s son, Hunter, and that was twelve or thirteen years ago. It’s not that I don’t like babies, because I do, but the fact this is Sloane’s baby is making it a little awkward. Still, I settle her a little better in the crook of my arm.
Then I hear the creak of the rocking chair and Thomas’s raspy chuckle and look up. The old fart clearly thinks this is funny.
“You should see the look on your face,” he points out as he continues to rock his chair. “I’m guessing young Sloane becoming a parent was a surprise to you as well?”
“Yes,” I grumble, just as a little hand slaps against my chin and catches on the short hairs of my beard.
I drop my eyes to Sloane’s baby, who has her little face turned toward me. I don’t know who the dark hair belongs to, but those blue eyes are unmistakably her mother’s.
“Aspen. That’s her name,” Thomas shares. “Pretty little thing, ain’t she?”
She is, especially when her little mouth spreads in a wide, toothless smile.
“You look good holdin’ that baby,” he continues. “Too bad you let her momma slip away, or that wee one could’a been yours.”
Fuck . That stings.
Should’ve known the old man wouldn’t hesitate to poke his finger in the sore spot.
“I’m not the one who left.”
The bitter comment slips out before I can check it.
“No, you weren’t. You’re just the one who let her walk.”
Agitated, I get to my feet, shifting the baby to my shoulder as I start to pace the porch.
“It wasn’t that simple.”
“It never is, son. It never is.”
I stop at the railing and look out at a couple of the yearlings fooling around in the front pasture we just moved them to.
I’m still making excuses for my lack of action when it comes to Sloane, but none of that matters anymore. Not when I’m standing here holding the baby she had with another man.
The regret I feel now is too little and much too fucking late.
For a while, the only sound is the creaking of the rocking chair on the wooden boards of the porch. Then Thomas pipes up again.
“It’s not too late, Daniel. Never is, when it’s important enough.”
I open my mouth to point out the pink-clad, pint-sized, proverbial elephant in the room—currently with her little head resting against my shoulder—when I hear the sound of a vehicle coming up the driveway. It’s Sloane’s Jeep.
She doesn’t see me at first—I’m partly obscured by one of the massive beam posts—but her eyes find me as she comes up the stairs. She comes to an abrupt halt when she notices her daughter in my arms. Then a corner of her mouth tilts up in a soft smile.
“She’s asleep,” she points out.
I have to tuck my chin in to see Aspen’s little face. Her eyes are closed, dark lashes fanning on her pale cheeks.
“So she is,” I rumble, keeping my voice low in an attempt not to wake her.
“Hi, Thomas,” she says, peeking around me. “Is Ama around?”
“In the kitchen,” he responds.
“Would you mind hanging on to her for a few more minutes?” she asks me. “I’m gonna pop inside to check in with Ama and grab her things.”
“Sure.”
I watch her walk inside, and drop a cheek to the top of the baby’s head. She’s like a little oven, warm against my chest, and her fine hair tickles my beard. Behind me the old man starts chuckling again, but I choose to ignore him.
As promised, Sloane is back in a few minutes with a diaper bag and a car seat.
“Do you want her in there?”
“Would you mind? The less we juggle her the better the chance she stays sleeping.”
I wait for her to pull the straps aside before I lean forward and carefully place Aspen in her seat. Her face scrunches up a bit but she continues sleeping as Sloane straps her in.
“I’ve got it,” I tell her when she goes to pick up the car seat, and carry the seat down the steps to her Jeep.
Sloane opens the driver’s side back door and I lift the seat in, clicking it firmly into the base.
“Thanks.”
She throws me a faint smile as she carefully shuts the door.
“No problem.”
I have a million questions I’d like to ask her, but instead, I shove my hands in my pockets and take a step back as she gets behind the wheel.
She gives me a little wave before she drives off, and I head back up the steps to finish my beer.
The old man is still sitting in the corner, rocking back and forth, clearly not done with the commentary.
“I guess it’s a start.”