“I need to talk to you.”
Dylan’s words carried a foreboding Shaye only was beginning to understand. Did he want to take Timmy away from her?
Stalling, she asked, “Now?”
“Now.”
Swallowing hard, she turned away from him and on wobbly legs went down the stairs.
In the living room, Dylan sat on the couch. She perched on the armchair next to it. To her surprise, even that still seemed too close.
“Have you started adoption proceedings yet?”
Her dreams for Timmy were huge, her mind filled with scenes of the two of them facing the world together until Timmy could do it on his own.
She didn’t like where this was headed. “I want to. And I know that’s what Julia would have wanted, too.”
“It is, Shaye?” he returned quickly. “Or deep down in her heart did she want to leave Timmy to me?
“Did she want me to be his father?”
Custody for Two
Karen Rose Smith
KAREN ROSE SMITH
read Zane Grey when she was in grade school and loved his books. She also had a crush on Roy Rogers and especially his palomino, Trigger! Around horses as a child, she found them fascinating and intuitive. This series of books set in Wyoming sprang from childhood wishes and adult dreams. When an acquaintance adopted two of the wild mustangs from the western rangelands and invited Karen to visit them, plotlines weren’t far behind. For more background on the books in the series, stop by Karen’s Web site at www.karenrosesmith.com or write to her at P.O. Box 1545, Hanover, PA 17331.
To Liz Conway—
Thanks for being my lifelong friend.
With thanks to Char Rice who welcomed us
to Cody and enriched our stay there.
With appreciation to Ken Martin who knows
and understands the mustangs so well. I’ll never forget Grey Face and his band.
For information about wild mustangs,
visit www.wildhorsepreservation.com. For adoption information, go to www.wildhorseandburro.blm.gov.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter One
He couldn’t believe his sister had entrusted her son to Shaye Bartholomew rather than to him. Still in shock even after two days of traveling, Dylan Malloy stepped inside the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. His gaze focused intently on the woman seated by Timmy’s tiny bed…the woman who had custody of his nephew.
Walter Ludlow’s call had been a severe blow, and Dylan was still reeling from it. His lawyer and long-time mentor, calling Tasmania from Wild Horse Junction, Wyoming, had hastily told him, “There’s no easy way to say this. Julia and Will were in a serious accident. Will died on impact. Julia hung on until Timmy was delivered, then we lost her, too.”
We lost her, too.
The words wouldn’t fade out. They’d been a shout in Dylan’s head ever since he’d heard them. Seconds later Walter had followed them with, “Julia gave Shaye Bartholomew legal guardianship. She didn’t want to burden you again.”
Dylan couldn’t wrap his mind, let alone his heart, around losing Julia. The grief enveloped him like a dark shadow that continuously seeped through him, leaving no room for anything else.
“Fight, Timmy. Fight.” Dylan heard Shaye Bartholomew encouraging Timmy, her voice breaking.
The doctor had explained Timmy’s condition to Dylan. Born twenty-eight weeks into Julia’s pregnancy, he was on a ventilator to help him breathe normally. He had a good chance to survive. But with so many tubes and wires connected to him, that was hard for Dylan to believe.
Did Shaye already think Timmy was hers? he wondered.
She hovered beside the baby, her lips moving silently. Maybe in prayer?
Dylan’s work as a wildlife photographer had taught him stillness and patience. But now he had questions, and Shaye Bartholomew held the answers.
After crossing the room, he pulled her attention from the infant bed. “Miss Bartholomew?”
She gave a small sound of surprise when she saw him and recognition dawned. They’d met at Julia’s college graduation. Shaye had been a year ahead of his sister, and the two women had become friends.
“Mr. Malloy. I’m so sorry about Julia.” Her eyes brimmed with tears.
Why did he suddenly feel as if he wanted to take this woman into his arms to give both of them some comfort?
Dylan knew he looked unkempt. He hadn’t shaved in two days, his hair was disheveled and needed a cut, his sweatshirt was streaked with lines from being slept in.
“I got here as soon as I could.” He’d been photographing kangaroos when he’d gotten the call. That seemed like eons ago.
Standing, Shaye let him come in closer to Timmy’s bed. Dylan could see the reflection of the fluorescent light on her shoulder-length, coffee-brown hair and noticed the sheen in her amber eyes. When their gazes locked, the grief inside him shifted a bit, but he let it settle back into place as he broke eye contact and stared down at his nephew.
Timmy had sandy-brown hair and green eyes…like Julia…like himself.
Softly, Shaye said, “During Julia’s pregnancy we talked about baby names. She said she wanted to name a girl after her mother, a boy after her father. Your mother and father.”
