Chapter 3
JOSEPH
My gaze slides to the rearview mirror and Trish sitting in the backseat.
Blonde hair falls over her face as she gazes down at her baby. The motion of the pickup seems to have lulled it to sleep, and a smile spreads over Trish’s lips as she watches her daughter.
There’s something warming in the way she’s looking at the baby that I can’t look away from. She’s the picture of motherhood, despite the dark shadows under her eyes and unwashed hair. Her expression is serene when she watches her daughter.
Trish must feel my gaze on her, because she glances up and our eyes meet.
I look away quickly, but not before I see the haunted expression in her eyes.
She may appear serene when she watches her daughter, but there’s a restless energy about her at other times.
She’s running from something, but I don’t know what.
I take the drive easy, aware of my precious cargo in the back seat. Trish’s nose twitched when she got in next to the deer, but she had the good grace not to say anything about her bloody companion.
There’s not a lot I can do about the deer carcass riding alongside her. I don’t know how long Kobe will be away, so I didn’t want to leave it. I’ll stick it in the deep freeze and give it to them when they get back.
We arrive at my cabin as the sky is turning grey with dusk.
Trish bites her lip when she sees my ramshackle cabin in the woods.
It’s not a nicely constructed cabin like Kobe’s.
My cabin was put together with my own two hands.
I felled the trees, cleared the small area of land, and built it myself while living in a temporary shelter nearby.
Solar panels cover the roof, catching the rays that come through the clearing, and water comes from a well I dug in the ground.
It’s one bedroom, all this single man has needed, until now.
By the time we get out of the car, the baby’s crying again. This time it’s angry cries, and even I can tell the poor little thing is hungry.
“What do you need?” I ask Trish as soon as we get inside. I dump her bag in the entryway and switch on the lights for the kitchen.
The cabin is an open plan with the kitchen on the right and the living room on the left. A small table sits against the wall and there are two steps that lead to the bedroom and the bathroom.
“Hot water to heat the bottle or a microwave if you have it.”
I’m not big on appliances, so I get the kettle boiling for the water. Trish crouches next to her bag and attempts to open it with one hand while cradling the baby. I haven’t seen her put the thing down, and I wonder if she ever does.
“Let me help.”
I crouch down to open the bag for her, but instead she holds the baby toward me. Its tiny mouth is wide open, and the noise emanating from it makes my ears bleed.
Trish gives me a reassuring smile. “Can you take her while I fix the bottle? It’ll be quicker.”
I’m touched that she trusts me enough to hold the infant, but I’m not sure she should. I’ve never held a baby before. I’m more used to wielding axes and hunting rifles, not tiny babies who wiggle and cry.
“You’ll be fine. Just hold her like you would a football.”
I take the infant uncertainly, and I must look terrified because Trish laughs. For a moment, the haunted expression leaves her eyes and they sparkle like sun reflecting on a mountain lake. Then she turns her attention to getting the things she needs from her bag.
I hold the baby in front of me, not sure what to do. She’s staring at her momma and wiggling like a hare caught in a trap. There’s an acrid stench coming from under the blanket that must mean she needs a diaper change.
I glance at Trish, but she’s busy in the kitchen mixing formula into a bottle. I’m on my own.
“Hey,” I say to the baby.
She looks startled by my voice and her head turns to look at me, the crying stopping for a moment.
Warmth spreads in my chest. I made the baby stop crying. We stare at each other, her curious blue eyes looking at me expectantly. I don’t know what to do. I’m not much of a talker at the best of times, and I know fuck all about talking to a baby.
When I don’t say anything, her eyes scrunch up and her mouth opens.
“Hey,” I say quickly. I guess my voice is lower and gruffer than what she’s used to, because she stares at me again.
Her little hand reaches out and grabs my beard. She looks surprised at the texture, and her brow furrows in an adorable frown.
I don’t know what to say to a baby, so I smile and introduce myself.
“I’m Joseph. Some people call me Lone Star.”
Her face squeezes up, and just when I think I’m winning her over, she lets out a howl that would scare the bears from the woods.
Trish comes over and takes her off me, and it’s a relief to hand her over. I can coax a wild deer out of a trap, but I’ve got no idea how to calm a human baby.
“Let’s get you changed while your milk’s warming.”
She looks around the cabin, and I wonder how it looks through the eyes of a mom.
There’s an open fireplace with a deerskin rug on the wooden floor and a sharp-edged coffee table.
On one wall is my gun rack, and on the other are floor to ceiling windows, clear glass that looks straight into the depths of the dark forest.
Nope, it’s not designed for babies, and I have a pang of regret. When I built this place, it was with myself in mind. Now I wonder what it would be like to have Trish and the baby around for good.
I shake the thought out of my head. It would be noisy and stinky if the last few minutes are anything to go by.
“Is there somewhere I can change her?”
I stare at her blankly until I realize she’s talking about changing the diaper.
“The bedroom? Or the floor or the kitchen table?”
I don’t know what she needs. I’ve never had a baby in my cabin before.
“Any flat surface will do.” She slings her bag over her shoulder. “But probably not the kitchen table.” Her nose crinkles up in an adorable way, and she smiles.
“You can use the bed.”
She throws her bag over her shoulder and follows me into the bedroom. “I don’t have a changing mat. Do you have an old towel or something I can throw down, just in case?”
I don’t want to know what the just in case is. I grab a towel from the hallway closet and put it on my bed.
Trish lays the baby down, and I avert my eyes before I see something that can’t be unseen.
“The bathroom’s through there.” I indicate the closed door as I shuffle out of the room, trying not to see the unwrapping of the diaper. “There’s a bath if you want to bathe her. Or yourself.”
An image of Trish naked and in my bath fills my head, and I practically run out of the bedroom. This woman’s got me thinking about things I thought I was done with in my life.
I grip the kitchen counter and breathe hard, trying to control the storm of emotions inside me. How can one woman and one tiny baby make me feel so out of control?
“Get it together,” I mutter to myself. She needs shelter, not a man ogling her and imagining her naked.
There’s a stack of wood by the fire, and I get the fire going to warm the place up.
Trish comes out a few moments later and tests the milk, then settles with the baby on the couch to feed.
With a dry diaper and milk in her belly, the crying finally stops. A content silence settles on the cabin. It’s a lovely sight, Trish feeding the baby in front of the fire, the only sounds the crackle of the flames and the baby suckling.
The silence is golden, and I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Do they always cry that much?”
Trish glances up. “It’s been a long day. Her routine is out of whack.”
I want to ask why her day has been long and what she’s running from. But at that moment the baby stirs, and Trish’s attention is back on her daughter.
I leave her to it while I get busy in the kitchen. Trish looks like she needs looking after just as much as the baby. And I’ll be the one to take care of her.