First Comes Baby...: The Loner's Guarded Heart by Michelle Douglas Page A

‘You should ask her to bring this shawl over to show you. In fact, you should make something for the baby too.’
    She didn’t look up from her cards. ‘Me?’
    He frowned. ‘And so should I.’
    ‘You?’ A snort accompanied the single syllable.
    He cracked his knuckles. ‘I might not be able to knit or sew, but travelling in the remote parts of the world forces a guy to become pretty handy.’
    Handy? Ha! He could fashion a makeshift compass, build a temporary shelter and sterilise water, but what on earth could he make for the baby that would be useful? And beautiful. Because he’d want it to be beautiful too. An heirloom.
    ‘A crib.’ As the idea occurred to him he said it out loud. He knew a bit about carpentry. ‘I’ll build a crib for the baby.’ He laid out his trio of threes, a trio of jacks and placed his final card on Elsie’s sevens. ‘Gin.’
    Elsie threw her cards down with a sniff.
    ‘Best of three,’ Ben announced. ‘You’re rusty. You need the practice. Though it’s got to be said those Alaskan fisherman took no prisoners.’
    Elsie picked up her second hand without a word. Ben mentally rolled his eyes. Meg was right. This was hard work. But he found a certain grim enjoyment in needling Elsie too.
    As they played he found himself taking note of Elsie’s movements. Her hands were steady and she held herself stiffly erect. No signs of a debilitating disease there as far as he could see. When she won the game in three moves he had to conclude that, while she didn’t say much, her mind was razor-sharp.
    ‘Gin!’ There was no mistaking her triumph, but she still didn’t crack a smile.
    He snorted. ‘I went easy on you.’
    Her chin came up a notch. Her eyes narrowed.
    ‘Oh, and by the way, we’re having dinner with Meg and her father tomorrow evening at the club. I said we’d be ready at six.’
    ‘Right.’
    They played in silence for several moments, and then all in a rush it suddenly occurred to Ben that he might be cramping the older couple’s style. He cleared his throat. It wasn’t easy imagining Elsie and Mr Parrish wanting—needing—privacy. But that didn’t change the fact that they were engaged.
    ‘Do you mind me staying here while I’m in town?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Look, if it’s not convenient I can arrange alternative accommodation. I might be staying a bit longer than usual.’
    ‘How long?’
    ‘I’m not sure yet.’
    Oh, he was sure, all right. He was staying for good. Meg should be the first to know that, though. ‘I’d certainly understand it if you’d like me to find somewhere else to stay.’
    ‘No.’
    He stared at her. She didn’t say any more. ‘Did my mother really never contact you, not even once, after she left me here?’
    The question shocked him as much as it probably shocked Elsie. He hadn’t known it had been hovering on his lips, waiting to pounce. He hadn’t known he still even cared what the answer to the damn question might be.
    Elsie folded her cards up as tight as her face and dropped them to the table. ‘No.’
    Without another word she rose and left the room.
    ‘Goodnight, Ben,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Goodnight, Elsie,’ he forced himself to call out. ‘Thanks for the card game.’
    * * *
    Ben and Elsie strolled across to Meg’s the next evening at six on the dot. At least Ben strolled. Elsie never did anything quite so relaxed as stroll. Her gait was midway between a trudge and a march.
    They waited while Meg reversed her car—a perky blue station wagon—out of the garage, and then Ben leant forward and opened the front passenger door for Elsie.
    ‘I insist,’ he said with a sweep of his arm when she started to back away. He blocked her path. Her choices were to plough through him or to subside into the front seat. She chose the latter.
    ‘Hey, Meg.’ He settled into the back seat.
    ‘Hey, Ben.’ She glanced at Elsie. ‘Hello, Elsie.’
    ‘Hello.’
    He didn’t need to see Elsie to know the precise way