Cherokee Baby Part 18

She had no idea what Bobby's wife had looked like, but Julianne's brain filled in the blanks, creating a flesh-and-blood woman from a ghost. Which, she knew, wasn't a healthy thing to do.But Bobby's cautious manner when discussing his wife made her curious about the Cherokee woman he'd married.

Too curious.

She cleared her mind, and just as the printer completed its task, the doorbell pealed.

She rose to answer it and found Bobby on the other side, carrying a load of groceries.

She smiled at him. "More artichokes?"

He nodded and grinned. "Frozen pizza and candy bars, too."

"Then hurry up," she teased, anxious to delve into the chocolate. He'd been keeping her cravings in

check, plying her with her favorite goodies. After he entered the cabin, he proceeded to unload the bags, making himself at home in a kitchen that used to belong to him.

Julianne tore the wrapper on a candy bar and sank her teeth into chocolate, caramel and peanuts.

She moaned and he watched her with an amused expression.

"You have no idea how good this is." She moaned again and then realized how o.r.g.a.s.mic she sounded.

Had she been this noisy when she and Bobby made love?

Yes, she thought, looking up at him. Yes.

He reached out and smoothed a strand of her hair, and she swallowed the food in her mouth, wis.h.i.+ng

she could taste him instead. Lick and touch and taste.

Just one more time.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" he asked, withdrawing his hand. "You've been cooped up for days."

"Okay. But I need to get my boots." And she needed to clear her head, to redirect her thoughts.

Ten minutes later she and Bobby strolled along a dirt path. The air was fresh and clean and she inhaled it

generously.

He turned to look at her. "Do you want to go window-shopping on Friday? Maybe check out some baby furniture? Get some ideas for the nursery?" She pictured them spending an afternoon in the city, gathering paint swatches and wallpaper samples.

"I'd love to." "Great." He stopped to pluck a lavender-colored flower from the gra.s.s and tuck it behind her ear. "It matches your top," he said when she merely stared. Did he know how romantic he was? How easily he touched her heart? She wanted to take his hand, but she wasn't sure if it would be the right thing to do. Friends didn't normally hold hands. And neither did former lovers. "This is one of my favorite trails," he said. "It is pretty," she agreed. They pa.s.sed a thicket of trees, where branches reached for each other and swooped overhead. Sunlight s.h.i.+mmered through the leaves, dappling the ground like pools of glitter. They continued walking and she realized she'd gotten used to his limp, that she barely noticed the glitch in his stride anymore. "Does this area seem familiar to you?" he asked. No, but everything about him had become familiar. The way he squinted in the sun, adjusted his hat, smiled when she least expected it.

She gathered her thoughts, tried to pay attention. "Not really. Should it?"

"We're near the main road that leads to the lodge." He guided her up a small incline, where a jackrabbit skittered by. "See?"

They stood on the side of the road and she tried to get her bearings. Pointing, she asked, "Is that the way to the lodge?"

"Nope." He turned her around. "It's this way."

As she tried to access her surroundings, a battered pickup chugged down the road, belching as it made its way toward them. When the driver spotted them, he parked on the side of the road and climbed out of his vehicle. Tall and lanky, his face weathered from age and too much sun, he wore a dusty hat, dark jeans and a frayed s.h.i.+rt. He was older than his truck, considerablyolder, with eyes the same faded shade of blue.

"Bobby," the man said. "Glad I ran into ya." He turned, glanced at Julianne. "You showinga guest around?"

"No. This is Julianne McKenzie. She's going to manage the new boutique at the lodge. Julianne, this is Lloyd Carlton. He works at the ranch."

The older man tipped his hat and she nodded, wondering if this was how Bobby intended to introduce her to all of his employees.

Lloyd turned back to Bobby. "Where'sSharon? I ain't seen her for a while.She been commuting to the city again?"

Bobby's expression fell and suddenly he looked ill. "Sharonisn't ... don't you remember, Lloyd, she..."

The old cowboy waved his hand. "It ain'tno emergency. I've just got a box of pinecones for her. You tell her to swing by my trailer to collect them when she can." He tipped his hat to Julianne again. "Ma'am."

She watched him walk away, with Bobby standing beside her as haunted as an unmarked grave.

As the truck disappeared down the road, he didn't say a word. He just shoved his shaky hands into his pockets.

"What's wrong, Bobby? What just happened?"

He blinked and s.h.i.+fted his gaze. "Sometimes Lloyd confuses the present with the past."

The present. The past. Someone namedSharon. Dear G.o.d, she thought, as Lloyd's confusion became clear.

"Was Sharon your wife?" she asked, even though she already knew.

"Yes." He blew out an audible breath. "Lloyd's never done that before. He's never mentionedSharon, not once since she died."

"I'm sorry, Bobby."

"I can handle his ramblings. I can. This just..." He released another breath. "Sharondecorated pinecones during the holidays. And now Lloyd's collecting them for her, stuffing them away in a box." Julianne waited for Bobby to say something else aboutSharon, but he didn't. He clammed up, silent and grim. "You must have loved her very much." He frowned. "Of course I loved her. A man is supposed to love his wife. He's supposed to..." Supposed to what?she wondered, struck by the torment in his eyes. They stood silently for a moment and it almost seemed like a period of bereavement, a time for a quiet prayer. "I guess it was just as well," he said suddenly. "Now you've met Lloyd. Now you'll understand if he doesn't make any sense." "Does he have Alzheimer's?" she asked, stunned by how quickly Bobby masked his emotions. "No. He came back from the Korean War that way. In those days they called it sh.e.l.l shock, but no one uses that term anymore." Bobby removed his hands from his pockets and wiped his palms on his jeans, as if they'd turned sweaty. "Some doctors believe he has a form of post-traumatic stress syndrome, but others say it's more of a mental illness than an anxiety disorder. Either way, Lloyd gets confused. Not all the time, though. He'll be fine for weeks, even months, then it just kicks in again."

"How long has he worked for you?"

"Since the beginning. The bank foreclosed on his ranch about the time I built Elk Ridge. He was a neighbor of Michael's, someone the boy and his mother cared about. I had to give him a job. I had to do something."

Because you're a good man, she thought. A kind, generous, tortured man. She wanted to take him into her arms and hold him, but she knew she couldn't.

His shoulders were rigid, the muscles tense.

"Some folks in the area were leery of Lloyd," he said. "Calling him crazy and such. But Michael and his

mother weren't afraid of him. His condition didn't scare them." "What about your guests? Does he ever frighten them?" "He doesn't work directly with our guests, and those who do come into contact with him seem to like him. Lloyd's an authority on the Old West, and that fascinates most of our visitors." Julianne wondered if Lloyd would mention the pinecones again or if he would simply forget why he'd been collecting them. "Was he close toSharon?" Bobby looked away. "As close as he could be, I guess. She only lived here for a year. He didn't know her that well." He s.h.i.+fted his stance, glanced back. "Maria looks after Lloyd. She spends a lot of time with him."

"Maria? Your receptionist?"

"Yes. She and Lloyd are friends."

"The way we're friends?" Julianne asked.

"Yes."

Lloyd and Maria had been lovers, she realized. A long time ago, before Lloyd had gone off to war, before his mind had scattered.

"Let's go," Bobby said. "I'll walk you back."

As they headed down the path on which they'd come, Julianne glanced at his hand and saw the gold band s.h.i.+ning on his finger.

Suddenly her heart ached. It hurt with a feeling she couldn't define, a feeling that jumbled her emotions.

No wonder Lloyd thought Bobby's wife was still alive. His wedding ring probably confused the old man.

As much as it confused her.

* * * Bobby felt the need to talk, so after he walked Julianne home, he looked for Michael and found him right where he was supposed to be. The younger man sat at his cluttered desk at the lodge, his computer screen displaying the spreadsheets he'd been working on. He spent more time in Elk Ridge's primary office than Bobbydid, a works.p.a.ce much bigger than the one they shared at the barn. Michael looked up. "What's going on? "Nothing. Just checking on you," he said, not quite sure what he expected to accomplish by this visit.

The boy had his own problems, his own demons to contend with. "How's your lady?" Michael asked. Bobby frowned. "She's not my lady." "Really?" Michael gave him an innocent look. "And here I thought you were the one who got her pregnant. Gee, now I'm wondering how that baby got in her belly." "Smart a.s.s," Bobby muttered back, even though he wanted to smile. Michael shrugged and then grinned. "At least tell me when it happened." "How? When? What difference does it make?"

"Was it on her birthday? You two were pretty cozy at the bar that night. Stayed later than everyone else, as I recall."

"So?"

"So I'll bet that's the night you did it. Boy, that's some birthday present you gave her."

Bobby shook his head, waiting for his nephew's self-serving grin to vanish. "I didn't come here to discuss the details with you, wise guy."

"No, I guess not." Michael turned and shut down his computer. "So why are you here? What's really going on?" "I was with Julianne today, and then we ran into Lloyd." "And?" "And he said some odd things. He mentionedSharon,spoke about her as if she were still alive." "Oh, man. I'm sorry." "It was strange, especially in front of Julianne."

"Are you okay?" Michael asked.

"I'm fine," he said, unable to voice his fears. What would Julianne think of him if she knew the truth? If he told her what he'd done to his wife? No one knew the dishonorable details about the accident, not even Michael.

"She's important to you," his nephew said.

"Who? Julianne? Of course she's important to me. She's having my baby."

"Funny how history repeats itself. First my dad and now you."

Bobby met Michael's gaze, knowing exactly what he meant.Camhadn't married Celeste and Bobby

wasn't going to marry Julianne.

"It's complicated," he said, studying his nephew's strong, chiseled features.

Michael looked so much likeCam, so much like Bobby's brother, with his long, loose hair and dangerous

charm. When Bobby was a kid, he'd wanted to be likeCam. To walk with a swagger, to talk fast and hard, to make tough men wary and beautiful women hungry. But that had been idol wors.h.i.+p, a younger sibling in awe of the older one. "Do you still wish your dad would have come through for you?" he asked. "Or doesn't it matter anymore?"

"It still matters. But you matter more. You're the one who changed my life." Michael leaned forward, his dark eyes flecked with emotion. "If it weren't for you, I'd probably be in jail. Or trying to escape the law. We both know I was headed for trouble."

"You turned yourself around. You were willing to change."

Michael shuffled some papers on his desk, but his gaze never wavered. "That's true. But at least you never gave up on me."

Because he loved Michael, even more than he'd lovedCam. Probably more than he'd ever loved anyone.

"I was hard on you."

"You had to be."

And at times he still was. Bobby would always worry about Michael. The boy still had a restless side.

He looked at his nephew's desk and shook his head. Folders, flies, memos, unanswered mail, discarded junk food wrappers. The boy had a messy side, too.

"I think you should marry her, Uncle."