Page 7 of The Mountain Man's Valentine Baby

I press my hand to my stomach, remembering all those times my mom called me a mistake and a burden. “So, um, hi. I don’t know if you can hear me yet, but I wanted you to know…” I pause and blink, willing the tears not to fall. I have someone else to be strong for now. “No matter what happens, you’ll always be a little miracle to me, OK? You’ll always be safe and loved.”

I pass the rest of the day in a daze, ordering Chinese food only after I’ve looked it up to make sure it’s safe for me to eat. I make endless lists of things to do and things to look up. My Kindle is filled with baby and parenting books. I’m not going to mess this up.

But it’s the article that comes across my social media feed that stops me. It’s a list of things to do not long after learning you’re pregnant. One of the top things to do is to tell the father.

That’s not something I can imagine sending over text message. I can’t even imagine calling him on the phone. No, I need to see him. I need to see the gruff mountain man again and let him know I’m carrying his baby.

Chapter5

Jasper

Ipull my jacket closer as I trudge up the icy sidewalk to Ma’s house. It’s been five weeks since I had the best night of my life. I’ve hired a private investigator and gotten a full report on Thea. I know she’s the top talent manager in Nashville and that she lives in an expensive apartment on the better side of town.

I have her phone number and all of her contact information, but I haven’t reached out. Every time I start to, I remind myself she asked me not to. Her request is the only thing that keeps me from charging into her life and demanding she marry me right now. She had to have felt our connection too…didn’t she?

“Oh, look at you. You’re the bestest boy,” Emma May croons as she feeds another one of the cats on her front porch. I swear, I think she’s adopted every lost cat in a five-mile radius.

There’s something about Emma May. She’s one of those people that was clearly meant to be a mother. She had five children of her own. When she was done raising them, she began fostering, too. I was one of the foster sons that she took in.

“Hey, Ma,” I call out softly, so I don’t startle her.

She looks up from the gray cat she’s stroking with obvious affection. “You’re early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” I explain. I don’t sleep now that Thea isn’t in my arms. For months after my leg was gone, I’d wake up in the middle of the night feeling that something was missing. The loss of my limb haunted me for a long time.

Losing Thea feels the same way. The pain wakes me up in the night. My body and my heart know I’m missing something. Something that’s vital to my survival.

She frowns at her car then at the driveway. “Have you been coming around my place putting salt on my driveway and scraping the frost off my car? Happens every winter. Then in the spring, the gutters are always clean.”

I shake my head. I have no idea who’s doing something so nice for her. “I’m here because you called me about the bookshelves.”

She glances one more time at her car then sets her newest adoptee onto the soft, cushioned bench. “Whoever it is, I’m sure God knows. He’ll bless them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I agree quietly. She’s always been a person of faith. She doesn’t attend church regularly, but the way she talks about Jesus, you’d swear the two of them are best friends. I’ve never had that kind of faith. Always been a little too scraggly and a little too scarred to reach for that.

I follow her into the house where she’s already pulled two eighty-pound boxes into the house. She’s done it by herself. She didn’t need my help, but I still settle on the floor with the power drill. She could have put these together by herself in an hour or two.

Ma is fearless and despite her sixty years of age, she’s still independent. She does whatever she wants, and no one can tell her what to do. Not even Dr. Cash, who’s been begging her to slow down for the past two years.

She settles on the floor too, her body creaking as she does. The arthritis gets worse in the cold weather. I bought her a little space heater for this drafty house a few months ago. She gave it away a month later to a family in need.

She reaches for the instruction booklet, bifocals perched on the end of her nose. “Do you want to tell me why you’ve been moping around lately?”

“I’m looking for D3. It connects to E3. Do you have that piece?” I ask, instead of answering her. I should have known she would have picked up on my mood by now. There’s not much that gets by Ma.

“Got it.” She goes to hand the white shelf to me. But when I reach for it, she pulls it back. “You talk as you drill. That’s the deal.”

I take the piece from her, slipping the screws into place as I explain, “Met a girl. Liked her. She lives far away. The end. Now you know everything.”

“Is that all?” She clucks her tongue.

I finish drilling the first set of screws into the wood, angry at myself for letting her get away. Should never have gone out to cut that damn firewood. “Half my heart is missing, but yeah, that’s all.”

“Then move. Go wherever your girl is. You can do your work from anywhere, but love is precious. It’s worth changing your whole life for.”

Of all the things I’ve considered over the last five weeks, moving wasn’t one of them. It never occurred to me that I could. Courage County has been my home for so long that I guess I’d forgotten I could live outside of it. “But what about…?”

She shakes her head. “Don’t you finish that sentence by asking about me. If my Donny were alive, I’d move heaven and earth to be with that man again. You go find your love.”

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