After a moment, he followed her, sure she was going to plead her case with her uncle.
But when he entered the family room, there was no sign of her. “Did Debra come through here?” he asked.
Bill looked up in surprise. “She said good-night and went upstairs.”
John was stunned. Why hadn’t she pressed him? Come to think of it, Elizabeth had never asked for groceries. Her requests had always been personal. Was the kitchen missing some key ingredient Debra needed?
After pacing the room for several minutes, ignored by his men, he decided to go upstairs and find her. That was probably her plan, anyway.
The hallway was dark, but he saw a light shining under one door. That must be the bedroom she’d chosen for her own. He rapped on the door.
A soft voice answered, “Who is it?”
“It’s John.”
After a hesitation that irritated him, she opened the door about an inch. “I’m getting ready for bed, John. What do you want?”
“What did you want at the grocery store?”
She sighed. “I wanted to get some baby cereal and some chocolate chips for making cookies.”
“Baby cereal? Why do you want baby cereal?”
“I’m guessing Betsy is at least nine months old. She should be eating cereal in the morning and adding solid foods during her meals. It will mean she’ll sleep through the night.”
“She will? Are you sure?”
“Yes. Haven’t you taken her to the doctor for her checkups?”
“She went while Elizabeth— She went early on, but I didn’t see any need. She’s healthy!”
“Yes, I know. But he would’ve advised you about her feedings, if you had.”
“So you mean baby food? Those little bottles?”
“Well, I can make a few things. I wasn’t going to ask for too much at once. I wanted the chocolate chips to make cookies for Andy and to put in your lunches.”
John put up his hand to stop her. “The car’s in the garage. The key is on one of the hooks by the door. Sign the receipt at the general store and Charlie will put it on my account.” He turned away and walked down the hall to the stairs.
So she really wanted groceries…. She was probably starting out slowly, hoping to lull him into acceptance, said a warning voice inside his head. Not Elizabeth’s style, but you couldn’t trust a woman. Any woman.
No one was late for breakfast the next morning. Maybe they were encouraged by visions of fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage and hot biscuits with jam that she’d found in the pantry, along with hot coffee.
Debra had gotten up at five-fifteen so she’d been able to make their lunches, too. The bags were all ready, sitting on the kitchen cabinet for them when they finished their breakfast. Of course, since March in Wyoming was cold, their lunches wouldn’t be warm, but they would be filling. She was proud of the food she’d provided. She couldn’t imagine going all day, working as hard as these men did, without lunch.
“This is great, Debra,” Bill said with a big smile. “Especially the hot biscuits.”
“I’m glad you like everything, Uncle Bill.”
Jess and Mikey paused, then Mikey asked, “He really is your uncle?”
“Yes, of course,” Debra replied while her uncle protested. “Why wouldn’t you believe that I’m Bill’s niece?”
“Well,” Jess said with a wink, “’cause you’re lots prettier than him and you cook tons better.”
Everyone but John laughed.
“Thank you for the compliments, but everyone has talents in different areas. Otherwise, life would be very dull.”
As they filed out of the kitchen, Debra handed each of them his lunch. John was the last to leave and he didn’t even pause. “No, thank you.”
“You might as well take it since I’ve already made it for you.” She held out the bag.
He glowered and hesitated. She held her breath, hoping he’d take it. Somehow it seemed important to her, as if his taking the lunch would be an act of approval.
“I don’t have time for lunch,” he muttered, and walked out of the house.
Debra stood there, tears forming in her eyes. She hadn’t expected her new life to be easy, had she? Of course not. The best thing she could do was her job. Keep the house clean, cook and take care of Betsy, as well as Andy.
And not expect anything else. Especially not a husband.
She put the load of clothes in the dryer and then went upstairs to wake Andy. “Honey, it’s time to get up and come eat breakfast.”
“I want to stay in bed,” Andy protested. “Eileen let me stay in bed as long as I wanted.”
Which explained why she’d always had trouble getting him to bed in the evenings, she thought. She’d always assumed her son required less sleep. But, as usual, her mother had chosen the easiest path.
“There’s no Eileen here, my dear. I’ll put your clothes out while you go wash your face. Get dressed and come to the kitchen. I’ll have breakfast ready.”
She gently propelled her son into the bathroom. After she laid out his clothes, she went into Betsy’s room. The baby was just stirring, stretching and yawning.
“Good morning, angel. Did you sleep well? First, I’ll change your diaper, then we’ll have breakfast. After that, you get a bath. If you’re not too modest, I’ll let Andy help. Then we’ll go grocery shopping. How does that sound?”
As if she approved, Betsy smiled at her. Her whole face lit up and her eyes gleamed. She had the same eyes as her father, sea-blue, only his never sparkled in a smile.
Debra shrugged her shoulders and changed Betsy’s diaper. Time to get things done, not think about John.
“How was Betsy this morning?” Bill asked John as they rode out a short time later.
John jerked back on his reins, startling his horse. Staring at Bill, he frantically searched his brain. “She—she didn’t wake me up! Damn, she’s probably sick or something. I’ve got to go back. I’ll catch up with you!” he called over his shoulder as he urged his horse back toward the barn. All the way, he was telling himself he was the worst daddy in the world to leave his child without being sure she was all right.
He rode right up to the back door of the house and tied his horse to the limb of a tree nearby.
Opening the back door, he ran into the kitchen where he heard voices. There he found his baby daughter sitting in a high chair, babbling away and banging her fist on the tray.
“Just a minute, sweetie,” Debra called over her shoulder. She set a plate of scrambled eggs on the table in front of Andy and gave Betsy a bottle.
Andy leaned forward and whispered something John couldn’t hear, but he gathered the little boy mentioned his presence because Debra’s gaze flew to him. “John? Is something wrong?”
As if hearing his name alerted Betsy, she began cooing and waving her arms. “I think your daughter is trying to say hello.”
John crossed to the high chair. “Hello, Betsy. Did you miss Daddy?” He picked her up and kissed her cheek.
“Um, she hasn’t had her bath yet, so she may not smell too good. I thought it best to bathe her after breakfast.”
“That’s fine. But she didn’t wake me up at