Page 92 of The Cowboy and the Baby

He focused so much on himself that he didn’t see he was doing the same thing to Noelle and Lily. Ignoring their wants and needs. Demanding Noelle’s return to work. Offering no support other than daycare for Lily.

And for what?

Differing opinions?

That’s what made Richard Morgan the most abominable man I had ever met.

30

NOELLE

“She’s still asleep.”

Mom’s statement was a whisper from the kitchen doorway. She stood there, tears in her eyes, hands clasped together. She spoke quietly, as if she didn’t want Dad to overhear, although Dad had stomped back to the Jeep minutes ago and hadn’t said a word to me on the way out.

Mom looked so small, standing there like a rabbit, terrified and stressed. Next, she’d return to Dad, and then he’d probably lambaste her for the rest of the night for taking too long, or breaking their promise to pretend Lily didn’t exist, or whatever heinous action he’d pretend she did to offend him.

He embarrassed me.

I set aside Grandmother’s favorite wooden spoon, wiped my hands on her old apron, and turned to face Mom with Grandma-given courage.

“Thank you,” I said. Mom had rarely been outwardly or physically affectionate because Dad didn’t like it, but I still felt the urge to hug her. She radiated wariness, so I satisfied myself with standing a little closer.

Mom swallowed hard. “I need to go, Noelle, but good luck. Thank you for letting me hold Lily.”

She turned and dodged for the front door. She was through it, and had it shut, almost before I could comprehend that she left. The Jeep headlights were already on, signaling that Dad was clearly waiting for her, as she climbed in. They peeled away. I watched them go, bemused and ruffled.

It had taken me a while to wrap my head around their unexpected arrival, but now this? It added a wrinkle in everything I had already smoothed out. Sighing, I returned to the kitchen.

Well, at least Lily could sleep through it.

Twenty minutes later, the boys tromped into the kitchen after they finished carrying the last load of drywall. Snow flurries dusted their shoulders, wetted their hair. Wyatt laughed when Cody playfully shoved him, and he stumbled into the wall. Cade followed behind them, brow raised in my direction.

“Gone,” I mouthed.

His eyes skimmed the room, narrowing. Eventually, he nodded. Cody draped his coat over the back of a chair near the fire, while Wyatt cracked a joke about working with frost-bitten toes. I cocked my head to the hallway.

“Where’s Lily?” Cade asked.

Good question. She was normally up by now.

Her evening nap, if she had one, was shorter. I left the rowdy boys at the table, where I’d just set the last of their ham-and-potatoes dinner, and crept into the hallway. A feeling crawled up my throat that I didn’t like, so I moved a little faster.

Why wasn’t Lily crying out? She didn’t sit quietly after she woke up; she protested until someone picked her up. I intentionally made noise as I opened her bedroom door. My rising heart lodged firmly in my throat when my eyes arrested on the crib.

The empty crib.

“Lily?”

I rushed over, fussed with the blankets. Of course she wasn’t hiding beneath. She wasn’t here. Not on the floor, the closet. Nowhere. I shoved aside stuffies and clean clothes in a basket with a whimper.

“Lily?”

My call was stupid; she couldn’t respond. Or maybe she could, if she heard my voice. Where would Mom have put her? She said she was asleep. I hadn’t . . .

My blood ran cold.

I sucked in a sharp breath.