Tamra wondered how this could be the same man who’d allowed Spencer Ashton to influence him, to guide him, to mold and shape him into the adult he’d become.
She couldn’t imagine Spencer buying toys for a baby’s grave. Or, heaven forbid, worrying about the emotional welfare of a white lamb or a pink bear.
“Thank you, Walker. This means a lot to me.”
His gaze locked on hers. The cozy flower shop, with its festive colors, refrigerated cases and vinedraped displays, made him look even more masculine. Bigger, broader, stronger in the sun-dappled light.
“Jade is going to be happy to see you. To know you’re here,” he said. Then he paused for a moment, mulling something over in his mind. “When we get back to Napa Valley, we should take my mom to my dad’s resting place.”
Tamra couldn’t quit looking at him. A strand of hair, loosened from the San Francisco breeze, cut across his forehead, slicing over one dark eyebrow. She had the notion to smooth it into place. Just to touch him, she thought. Just to tempt her fingers.
“Charlotte will probably do that,” she finally said.
“You’re right. She probably will.” He cradled the stuffed animals. “I’ll go put in our order. Let the saleslady know what we want.”
While they waited for the floral arrangement, she inhaled the gardenlike fragrance, the softness in the air. Walker stood with his hands in his pockets, his designer suit and silk tie still in place.
Tamra wore the same clothes she’d had on earlier. She hadn’t changed to go to his office, but she hadn’t needed to. Her denim dress and tan cowboy boots reflected her style, who she was and who she would always be.
They arrived at the cemetery, silence fluttering between them. He carried the roses, and she led him through grassy slopes, where ancient trees burst with summer foliage. The headstones scattered across the lawn varied, some fancy, others simple. The one that belonged to Jade was white, with an eagle feather etched upon it.
Tamra knelt, dusting away leaves that had fallen.
“Jade Marie Winter Hawk. Beloved daughter.” Walker read the baby’s marker, then placed the basket on the ground. Nestled among the flowers, the bear and the lamb faced each other, smiling like friends on a preschool playground.
“Marie was my mother’s name.” She envisioned Jade the way she might look today—a three-year-old with mixed-blood features, a sweet, beautiful, half-Lakota child.
“It’s a pretty name. All of it.”
“Thank you.” Memories clung to her mind like cobwebs, but she didn’t want to cry, to let her daughter know she was sad.
“Will you tell me what happened?” Walker asked.
She nodded, then took a deep breath. “Most fetal deaths occur before labor begins, and that’s what happened to me. I suspected something was wrong because she’d stopped moving.”
“I remember you mentioning that before. I can only imagine how scared you must have been.”
“Afraid and alone. Except for Mary. Your mom was there to comfort me.” She dusted another leaf from Jade’s grave, where the wind had stirred it from a nearby tree. “An ultrasound confirmed my suspicion, and that’s when the doctor broke the news to me.”
He reached for her hand, slipping his fingers through hers. Grateful for his touch, she continued her story, wanting to share her past with him. “There was no medical reason for immediate delivery, so they gave me the option of inducing labor or waiting for it to happen on its own.”
“Did you induce?”
“Yes. Most women in that situation do. It’s too traumatic to wait.” She searched his gaze and noticed how closely he watched her, how much he seemed to care. “After I delivered, the hospital did an extensive evaluation, an autopsy and some other tests. They discovered that Jade died from a birth defect. But it wasn’t caused by something that’s likely to recur in another pregnancy. The risk that I’ll deliver another stillborn baby is low.”
He brought their joined hands to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “You’ll have more children someday.”
“Yes, someday.” Tamra decided she was going to tell Walker that she loved him. Tonight…tomorrow morning…she wasn’t sure when. But one way or another she was going to summon the courage to say those three little words out loud.
Just so he knew how she felt. Just to hear his response. Just to see the reaction in his eyes.
Ten
At dusk Walker and Tamra sat on his deck, sharing takeout Chinese food. A mild breeze blew, awakening the aroma of kung pao chicken, sweet-and-sour pork, egg rolls and fried rice.
They used paper plates and plastic utensils, something Walker did often. He rarely fussed in the kitchen, cooking or dirtying dishes.
“I was wrong,” Tamra said.
“About what?” He stabbed a piece of the kung pao chicken, a spicy Szechuan dish with just enough kick to ignite his taste buds.
“I thought we’d be tearing off each other’s clothes before the sun went down.”
He glanced up at the sky and saw a small stream of light drifting through the clouds. “There’s still time.” He watched the golden light shift and fade, then sent her a teasing grin. “But we’ll have to hurry.”
She managed an appreciative laugh, and he was glad to hear the uplifting sound. He’d been worried about her all day, hoping her anxiety would lessen.
He knew that Edward’s proximity, the home her ex-lover owned in the area, had triggered her emotions. This town held a lot of sadness for her. A lot of grief. But Walker wanted to change that. He wanted to give her some warm and caring memories.
He figured that a casual dinner was a good start. His redwood deck offered a romantic ambience, with outdoor lanterns and citronella candles. A wind chime near the back door created a melodious tune, and the hot tub was ready and waiting, steam rising from the water. Plants flowered all around it, vines twisting and twining on the gazebo lattice. He liked the jungle effect, as well as the privacy it afforded him.
Tamra ate another small helping of the sweet-and-sour pork, and he watched her add extra chunks of pineapple to her plate. They occupied a rustic wood table that complemented her unpretentious beauty, her blue-jean dress, the slightly scuffed boots she favored.
He shifted his gaze to the hot tub, thinking about the conversation they’d had earlier. “That isn’t the spa I made love in.”
She looked up from her food. “It isn’t?”
“No. It happened somewhere else.”
“Thank goodness.” She reached for her bottled water. “Now I don’t have to envision you and another woman splashing around in there.”
Her envy, or whatever it was, pleased him.
He smiled and stole the biggest piece of pineapple from her plate, stuffing it into his mouth before she could stop him. “My spa is safe.”
She shook her head, but he knew she was enjoying his company, the lazy evening he’d created.
Should he admit where the hot tub rendezvous happened? Break his kiss-and-tell policy? Give her details about his past? The infrequent wildness? The few-and-far-between times he’d sown his rich-boy oats?
Oh, what the hell, he thought. “It was at a college party. A drink-until-you-drop sort of thing.”
Tamra