Nobody's Baby but Mine Page 7

  Now, Dylan trotted on field as though nothing had happened, smacking his fist into the palm of a new leather glove. His resilience and enjoyment of t-ball warmed Noah’s heart.

  When the game ended, with the Speedsters on top by that solitary run, Noah walked Charlotte to her car where they’d agreed to meet up with Dylan following a brief team meeting. He pinned her gently against the driver’s side door, lost in her eyes, his fingertips dancing against sun-warmed cheeks softer than silk. “I’ll see you for dinner?”

  “You bet.” She caressed his forearms then circled his waist loosely with her arms.

  Noah nuzzled her neck; his lips skimmed her throat, her jaw, before he gave her a quick, but savoring kiss. “Nice.”

  “Very nice,” she whispered back.

  They parted, reluctance texturing the separation, but Dylan charged for them, waving happily as a duffle bag bounced against his hip. Noah waved back but returned his focus to Charlotte. “I’ll pick you up at six. Let’s try that new pizza place on Western Avenue. Damiano’s.”

  “Sounds wonderful.” Her smile hit with enough power to send sizzles of pleasure against his skin. “This has become something of a habit, you know.”

  “Dinners together?”

  Charlotte nodded.

  Noah grinned. “Mostly it’s Dylan’s fault. He tells me he’s addicted to your stroganoff.”

  Charlotte snorted. “Sure, he is.”

  At the apartment a short time later, Dylan dove into the shower, singing loud while the water splashed and sprayed. Noah shook his head and snickered at the exuberant antics, checking his cell phone for the first time since the game started. There was a missed call and voicemail from his mother. Frowning, he keyed into the message.

  “Noah, it’s Mom. Please call me when you get a chance. Your dad and I have been thinking about you a lot. You and Dylan. Please get a hold of us when you get this message. We’d like to talk.”

  ****

  Connected with his mom a couple hours later, Noah’s stomach tossed. He paced the kitchen as she continued their phone conversation.

  “Noah, I know your father and I haven’t been engaged the way we should. I know we’ve made mistakes and pushed back when we should have pushed forward—especially when it comes to Jennifer and Dylan.”

  “The rejection stung them both, Mom. They needed you.”

  “And all I can do with the regret I feel is atone for it by trying to make amends.”

  Touché, Noah thought. His mom continued. “I don’t want to dwell in the past. After all, this isn’t the time to inhabit a world of what might have been. What I want to do is think about Dylan, and what’s best for Jennifer’s son. And you.”

  “Meaning what, exactly?” He didn’t bother to keep a heavy dose of suspicion from his tone. He cast a glance over his shoulder, relieved that Dylan played in his room, happily occupied with a big batch of plastic building blocks and the companionship of his friend Ricky from baseball.

  “Meaning we’d like to help. It can’t be easy for you to step in and attempt to be a father. We want to help. We want to give you and Dylan the support you need.”

  “How so?”

  “I think it would be a good idea for you and Dylan to consider a move. A permanent move. To Marietta.”

  Noah’s back went stiff.

  “That way, your dad and I could be there for you. We can build the family we should have been in the first place. The way we see it, you need to put down roots, but why do so in a place so full of sad memories for Dylan? If you start fresh, it would give Dylan a new beginning as well. He’d thrive here. It’s time, Noah. It’s time for us to be a family.”

  Noah had no idea how to respond. It was so like his mother to be analytical and straightforward to the point of being blunt, but the offer to find common ground, to establish a relationship, knocked him into a land of confusion. He certainly couldn’t fault her logic.

  “I appreciate where you’re coming from, Mom, but upheaval isn’t something I think Dylan will tolerate well. He’s struggled to find his way, but I think we’re about to turn a corner. We’re pretty much settled, and—”

  “Settled? Noah, you’ve simply moved forward in Jennifer’s shadow. So has Dylan. Furthermore, is living in her apartment—an apartment that’s full of nothing but his mother’s memory—going to serve the boy well over time?”

  The boy. In a blinding flash, Noah considered the way this whole odyssey had begun—in the elegant though sterile confines of an attorney’s office, when in the cold light of unemotional truth, Jennifer’s lawyer had referred to Dylan as ‘the boy.’ It didn’t sit well with Noah then, and it certainly didn’t sit well with him now coming from his mother.

  He buttoned up his hostility by squeezing the phone tight and breathing slow. “Mom, I’m sure you mean well, but I don’t know if your suggestion is the best route to take.”

  Her sigh crossed the length of their connection. “Is there ever a best route…or a best time? Especially given what’s happened? I want to try. I’d like to have the chance to build a relationship. We made mistakes when we backed away from Jen. You’ve made mistakes by avoiding life through an itinerant, ungrounded lifestyle. You’ll get a great deal more support here than you would by living in some sad and sorry apartment. Let’s think this over and consider the benefits for everyone. I can send you information about schools and options for homes you might rent or own…”

  Her words faded to static. Support? Itinerancy? Living life in a sad and sorry apartment? His existence was anything but sad and sorry. The people he had met at Heart’s Haven could write encyclicals on the topic of loving care and spirited support—so much so that his vagabond existence now cycled to an abrupt halt.

  True as that might be, fissures of doubt widened into cracks that stirred a trembling against the foundation Noah struggled to uphold. Did his mom make a point? Of late, Dylan’s life had been marked by turmoil and precious else. Would they thrive in a new environment? Would the benefit of being near his grandparents help Dylan prosper?

  Confusion built to a tumbling roll. Noah’s spirit screamed just one word. Charlotte. Following the call from his mother, he called Cade Magnusen and begged his friend and fellow Haven resident to take Dylan for a couple hours of play time with Gracie. He needed one-on-one time with Charlotte to a degree that bordered on desperation.

  ****

  “I have a question to ask you, in a professional capacity.”

  Noah’s opening statement left Charlotte to puzzle. Professional capacity? They meandered along the dips and curves of a gravel pathway that edged a burbling river in a setting that spoke of anything but the professional. Water-song echoed against rocks and brush. The soothing sound carried through the air as they hiked the outer edge of the Angelina National Forest just behind the Haven.

  Not knowing how else to respond, she opted for a lighthearted reply. “Fire away. Nothing warms my heart like being called upon for my professional expertise. I aim to be of service.”

  Noah didn’t respond to that slice of sass. She couldn’t wait to tell him about Dylan’s fresh progress at school, but waited patiently on whatever question, or circumstance, Noah needed to share.

  “I don’t know much about matters of the mind,” he said. “Not like you. Still, I wonder. Do you think it hurts Dylan to be here, to stay here in Angel Falls, in the place where he lost his mom?”

  The question shocked Charlotte and foreboding chilled her blood. “Ah…I’m not sure…I suppose it all depends on…”

  Bypassing her stammer, Noah continued their walk. Just beyond the footpath, a cypress tree draped by silvery lengths of Spanish moss trailed its branch tips into the shimmering water. An iridescent glow came to life within the vegetation as a cooling breeze slid past, the evocative beauty of it all so at odds with her sudden tumult.

  Noah continued. “I wonder if it might be best to leave. To go somewhere new and move forward, to refresh Dylan’s perspective.”

 
Charlotte’s steps came to a stop. A four-word refrain beat against her temples. But what about…us?

  She longed to pose the question aloud but bit her tongue until physical pain eclipsed the emotional storm that raged. Why hadn’t she seen this coming? Had love…for Noah…so blinded her heart? Clearing her throat, she assumed a professional disposition, which was about the only thing that would see her through this staggering moment. After all, that’s what he wanted, right? “Are you considering a change?”

  A thick, fallen log afforded them a spot to sit. Noah sank and slumped, leaning forward against his knees. “I don’t know what to do, Charlotte. I’m confused, and there’s no easy way forward to do what’s best.”

  From there he filled her in on the phone call from his parents, and her heart ached—then splintered. He was seriously considering leaving, for a number of very good and valid reasons.

  “My mom e-mailed me a detailed rundown from a psychologist friend of hers that explains the benefits of removing a child from the pain-point of a major trauma, so long as family support remains intact, or increases. A family relationship is what she’s pushing.”

  Charlotte knew she needed to choose her next words with caution. She was a trained professional, but all she wanted to do was scream, to shake Noah for even thinking about leaving.

  “That’s an acceptable school of thought, and given Dylan’s struggle to overcome grief, that avenue may seem appealing.” Leaning back, she squeezed her hands into fists, working hard to channel tension into tight confinement. Instinctively, she knew she had to react with calm and objectivity even though her nerve endings sang.

  Words stalled against the onslaught of an emotional hurricane, and the things she most longed to say—like: You’ve been alienated from your family. You’re not even that close. How can that count in the overall balance when you’ve been welcomed and accepted right here, right now, by so many people who love you?

  Like me.

  In that moment, her world shifted; her heart lurched. Don’t leave, Noah. Please. Don’t leave…

  “He’s loved, but he needs a steady grounding,” Noah continued. “He needs stability. Up until recently, he’s gotten nothing of the sort.”

  “Then would it be a good idea to leave what’s familiar when he needs to find the kind of even footing you’re talking about? You’ve given him so much. Don’t stop now.” On a roll, Charlotte drove on. “Have you noticed how hard and how fast he runs to you? I have. It’s beautiful. You’re his safe harbor, his sanctuary. So is his home. Yes, there are sad memories, but there are happy ones too. Lots of them. I know, because I witnessed many of them.”

  “Exactly.” Noah blew out a breath. “Still, the idea makes me wonder if I should move into the type of place and relationship my folks are after. I just don’t know. I’m at home here in ways I never have been before. I like the people, and understand why Heart’s Haven became part of Jennifer’s soul. I think…just maybe…I’ve found the place where I need to be. The place where I want to be.”

  The words stroked calmly across her troubled spirit. Charlotte dove into his eyes, floated and swirled…and she prayed. “What…what exactly are you saying?”

  A pause beat by. Then another. “What if I stay?”

  “Permanently?” The word released on a breath of air, and he nodded.

  “There are a lot of things I count in the balance of why I’d be happy to put down roots in Angel Falls, and I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. You and me. Us. Wanderlust doesn’t equal a lack of emotion or commitment. Dylan’s taught me that. And so have you.”

  She took in a measured breath that stilled her soul, quieted her to a place where God’s touch could prevail. “That honors me more than I can ever say, Noah. Where you take that realization next, though, is completely up to you. And Dylan.”

  8

  Dylan swung a virtual bat with all his might. Gaze trained on the flat screen, he grunted with exertion, and a wonderful cracking sound filled the air. Noah grinned as a video game-generated baseball sailed high and strong across a dark green field, over the heads of players who raced backward in chase. The roar of the crowd soon followed, along with enthusiastic high-fives that took place between nephew and uncle in the real world when a grand-slam homerun was recorded.

  “Great one, buddy! You’re a total natural at baseball. I’m so proud of you.”

  Dylan’s smile split his face, and his eyes flashed in happy victory. “Thanks! I love it a lot.”

  “I can tell.”

  Game over, Noah toppled onto the couch, dragging his young charge right along with him. They laughed and wrestled for a few seconds before Noah turned his attention—and heart—to the issue that had haunted him for days. Dylan was relaxed and comfortable, and there was no time like the present to begin figuring out the road ahead.

  “I have a question for you, Dylan.”

  “What’s up?” Dylan twisted and shifted until they were eye-to-eye. A fresh sense of optimism seemed to envelop the moment. Dylan looked so happy these days. Noah lifted a prayer of gratitude before stepping into a potentially murky bed of quicksand.

  “I want you and me to make a decision. Together.”

  “OK. About what?”

  “Well, it goes like this. I really like it here in Heart’s Haven.”

  “Me too. Know why?”

  “Why, buddy?” More than happy to get Dylan to take the lead and share his truest answer, Noah waited, his skin prickling with expectant energy.

  “Because it’s my home.”

  “It is. You lived right here with your mama.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “But I know that’s made you sad sometimes.”

  Dylan picked up one of the video game controllers from the spot on the cushion between them and fidgeted with the buttons. He shrugged. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

  “Do you still like living in this apartment, or do you think you might want to live somewhere else? Somewhere different, where maybe you could see your grandparents?”

  He stopped pressing buttons and met Noah’s gaze. “Y’mean grandma and grandpa Talbert?”

  “Yes.”

  Dylan seemed to puzzle at that and returned to jiggling the remote and pushing buttons. “I dunno.” Noah waited, forcing himself to be still and wait on his nephew. “I’ve talked to them before, but I don’t really know ‘em. Would they like me?”

  Noah dissolved. “Oh, Dylan, they’d love you. They already do. In fact, I talked to them the other day, and they’re anxious to see more of you, and me, and spend time together.”

  “That’d be OK, I guess.” He hesitated, so Noah returned to wait mode. “But, I like it here best of all. I mean, you’re here. My friends are here. I know I got mad about Miss Charlotte and having to talk to her, but she’s really cool, and...and…my mommy was here.”

  “And part of her always will be, buddy.” Dylan’s admission helped Noah to realize how important that foundation remained.

  “Where do Grandma and Grandpa Talbert live again?”

  “Georgia.”

  “Is that far?”

  “Not too far.”

  “Can we visit them? Can they come visit us?” He squiggled and huffed. “Uncle Noah, I like this place best of all. It’s home.”

  Home.

  For the first time in his life, Noah thoroughly understood and embraced the concept. God’s fingertips touched his soul, gradually illuminating His will. Dylan had a great deal to do with Noah’s newfound recognition of home, sure, but so did the person Dylan had called by name, the one whose tender heart had helped transform their lives…and win Noah’s love.

  Charlotte Latherson.

  ****

  During the week that followed, Charlotte enjoyed spending time with Noah and Dylan. There were trips to the municipal park and canoe rides along the gentle curves and dips of the river behind the Haven; there were picnics, hikes, and moments measured by laughter. Best of all, there were the home-cooked dinners
and even the occasional pizza party at Damiano’s.

  But there was no further mention of plans to move…or stay.

  Charlotte refused to push. Pressure was the last thing any of them needed. Noah would raise the topic when he was ready. All the same, curiosity ate away at her peace of mind.

  “You’re distracted.”

  Noah’s observation grabbed her attention, helped her refocus on something that had become a bit of a tradition for them—an after-dinner walk around the complex with Dylan and Yoda.

  “Just lost in thought.” She shaded her eyes and smiled at him, trying all over again to disguise her disquiet.

  “That’s been happening a lot lately. For both of us.” His tone was deep and soft. Easy.

  Charlotte didn’t know how to respond to that, so she kept quiet, giving Yoda’s leash a subtle tug to bring him close as they rounded a curve in the path that led past the rec center and storage shed.

  Noah wove his fingers through hers. “Come with me. I want you to see something.”

  “What’s that?”

  Noah didn’t answer with words. Instead, he gave her a mysterious smile and directed their steps toward the storage shed. Puzzled, Charlotte followed his lead. Dylan skipped next to her.

  “Miss Charlotte, can I please walk Yoda and play with him over at the gazebo?”

  The structure wasn’t far away, and she didn’t figure they’d be long, so she surrendered the leash. “Stay close and keep him hooked up, OK?” Dylan nodded with eager eyes.

  Noah ruffled Dylan’s hair. “You’re not to leave the gazebo, and we’ll meet up with you in just a couple minutes.”

  “Yay! Thanks!”

  Dylan marched off with Yoda in tow. Still confused by Noah’s request, Charlotte turned her focus back to the shed as he opened the door. She stepped inside, and Noah flipped on the light switch. She covered her gaping mouth with trembling fingertips while her gaze traveled the length of a now fully outfitted workshop. Lathes, drill presses, skill saws, hammers and nails, stacks of light wood, dark wood, cherry and oak…