“So she’ll be worrying about why you haven’t shown up.”
Fay shook her head. “Aunt Marie invited me to come stay with her any time I wanted to. She said she wasn’t planning on making any trips for a few months and she’d love to have me there. I knew she meant it, which was why I decided to go. I called her to let her know, but when the answering machine started to kick in, I hung up.”
“You didn’t leave a message?”
“No, I thought I’d call her on the way. You probably think that sounds so impulsive, but that’s the way I am.”
“You’ll get no polite denial from me.”
She tamped down her spurt of annoyance. Okay, she had been a tad impulsive. But she’d badly needed someone who cared about her, someone who would welcome the baby. “I did try to call, but my cell phone battery went dead.
“I planned to use a pay phone and I tried that, too, from a gas station near the Straits. But there was only one phone at the place and the guy using it apparently intended to talk forever. The next place I stopped, just before I crossed the Straits, had an out-of-order phone.”
“What you’re telling me is your aunt didn’t know you were on your way to Duluth.”
She sighed. “That’s one of those Sergeant Friday facts. So Aunt Marie won’t be worrying about me.” Fay eyed him. “I did plan to call once I crossed the Mighty Mac, but by then it had started to rain and I figured I’d just drive straight through. No need to tell me, I realize it was a bad choice.”
When he raised one eyebrow slightly and seemed about to speak, she tried to change the subject. “You must have some kind of police rank.”
“Sergeant, just like Friday.”
Though no expert about the police force, she knew sergeants didn’t walk beats. “That makes you a detective?”
He nodded. “Once over the bridge, the rain got progressively worse, I gather.”
“Yes, but I had no idea it was going to get so bad I got lost.” She glanced toward the makeshift crib. “And I certainly had no warning I was going to start labor.”
“The cabin phone’s still out,” he said. “Can’t expect any repairs ’til the storm blows out. And a cell phone won’t work in this remote area, so it’s just as well your aunt didn’t know you were on your way to her. How about your father?”
“I did leave a message on his answering machine saying I was leaving town and didn’t know when I’d be back. Not that he cares.”
She fielded Dan’s skeptical look and gazed calmly back at him. He had no idea what her father was like. Time to try to turn the tables again. It didn’t seem likely he had a wife if he was out here all alone in the wilderness, but he must have relatives. “Isn’t there anyone who might be worrying about you?”
“Bruce, Will and Megan, my brothers and my sister, know I can take care of myself. They live in Evergreen Bluff, the closest town to this cabin. We’ll be going there as soon as we can get out to the main road. Bruce is a doctor and I’m taking you and Marie to him to be checked out.”
“Oh. Well, thanks.” She waited a minute, then said, “Do you actually live in this cabin year round?”
“I live downstate, in Archer.”
“Archer!” she cried. “So do I. What a coincidence.”
As they stared at each other in mutual surprise, she noticed again how bright a blue his eyes were, really an unusual and attractive color. She also saw, for the first time, a thin scar running from his hairline across his left temple. When she realized she was raising her hand as though to touch the scar, she hastily clasped her hands together. What was the matter with her? Had the baby’s birth addled her wits?
Marie cried, as if on cue, and Dan hurried to change her and bring her to Fay to nurse.
The next morning, though intermittent snow mixed with rain still sputtered from the clouds, the wind no longer howled around the cabin. After making sure Fay and Marie were all right, Dan set out to try to find the wrecked car. He wished Fay would get some color back in her face. The slow and careful way she walked around the cabin and her frequent naps told him she still wasn’t up to par.
He was almost to the creek before he saw the snow-mounded car up against a good-sized pine. He was about to trudge through the snow to it when he noticed the bridge over the creek looked wrong. Wading closer, he let loose with a few choice expletives when he realized what had happened. The no-longer-frozen creek, roiling over its banks with snow melt, had washed out the footings on the far end of the bridge, closest to the main road. Great. Just great. No way to cross the damn thing until it got fixed.
As he slogged his way back to the wreck, he tried to console himself with the fact that at least her car was on this side of the bridge so he had access to supplies for the baby and for Fay. After brushing away some of the snow, it was obvious to him the car would have to be towed when that was possible. It seemed a miracle Fay hadn’t been seriously injured.
He wound up making two trips to transport everything he found inside the car to the cabin. On the second trip he thought about Fay wandering lost and half-frozen through the storm. He gritted his teeth, knowing she and the baby might well have died out here, if he hadn’t thought of his mother’s strange belief about storms and left the porch light on. Though he tried not to think about his mother much, the memory he’d dredged up about the light had saved lives.
But his mother was someone he never talked about, even to his siblings.
“Good thing you brought so much for the baby,” he told Fay, once he was inside again. “Looks like we may be stuck here longer than I figured.” Then he gave her the bad news about the bridge.
“If it can’t be helped, there’s nothing we can do,” she said, much less upset than he’d thought she would be. “You said there was enough food for us, I have breast milk for Marie, and now we have the stuff from the car. We’ll make it all right, the three of us.”
We. The three of us. Her words warmed him even as he tried to push them from his mind. Fay and her baby were his responsibility until he could get the two of them to safety. Still, he was Dan Sorenson, a man who wanted no ties to anyone.
Since Fay was still too weak to trust herself carrying the baby back and forth from the wood-box, Dan continued to fetch Marie for Fay to nurse and, much of the time, to change her diaper as well. He was getting more adept at the latter, especially with the disposable ones. Fay had also included a dozen cloth diapers, which some book she’d read had told her would be welcome in case of an emergency. Dan was sure the author had never figured on this kind of emergency.
He’d thought about and discarded the idea of giving her the only bedroom, in the loft, because he doubted her ability to climb up and down the steep stairs in her condition. Besides, where she was on the couch, near the fireplace, was the warmest spot in the house. Dan had been sleeping in the Morris chair since her arrival since he couldn’t take the chance she or the baby would need him in the night and he might not hear from the loft. He’d never felt such a tremendous urge to protect anyone as he did Fay and her baby.
Watching her sleep, he noticed how attractive she looked with her brown hair now softly curling around her face, in the topaz robe that changed her eyes to the same warm shade. He wondered about the baby’s father, who’d died, and about Fay’s father, who didn’t want his own grandchild. He glanced over at the wood-box, where Marie was sleeping. Though he’d recovered the baby bed from the car and set it up, they’d decided together the baby was better off where she was.
“You’re frowning.” Fay’s voice told him she was awake. “Having bad thoughts?”
“Not as bad as some,” he told her.
“Yeah,