A Child for Christmas by Allison Leigh

Author:Allison Leigh [Leigh, Allison]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Fiction, Contemporary, Amnesia
ISBN: 9780373242900
Google: SRvd0mnmLwYC
Amazon: 0373242905
Barnesnoble: 0373242905
Goodreads: 1040315
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 1999-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

She didn’t wait for Sawyer to respond. She turned away, sweeping up her gloves and her car keys. “Lock the door on your way out,” she said in the moment before she stomped out the back door, slamming it shut behind her.

Her boots crunched across the snow, and she didn’t get over her fear that Sawyer would follow her until she was in her Jeep and driving down Main toward the Fieldings’ home. And then, she was shaking so badly, she had to pull over and stop on the side of the road.

Engine still running, Rebecca folded her arms over the top of her steering wheel and pressed her forehead to her hands. What on earth had she been thinking when she’d moved to Wyoming? When she’d voluntarily planted herself and her son in territory that held more danger than a minefield?

The urge to collect Ryan and just keep on driving nearly overwhelmed her. They could go north to Canada. East, back to New York. Anywhere, as long as it was away from Weaver, Wyoming—and Sawyer Clay, who had broken her heart once, and would do it again if she didn’t do something to stop it.

At the Fieldings’ home, she found Ryan and Eric thoroughly involved in some project in Eric’s room. Eric’s mother added her pleas to the boys’ that Ryan be allowed to spend the night. So Rebecca cornered her son for a hug that was much too quick to satisfy her maternal needs.

“Jeez, Mom.” Ryan rolled his eyes and grimaced, when Rebecca lingered. “I stay here all the time, what’s the big deal?” He suddenly grinned, his eyes sharp and miles beyond her in scheming. “I bet Sawyer would eat supper with you,” he suggested.

“I don’t think so.”

“But Mom, when I talked to him at four—”

“Something you had no business doing,” Rebecca interrupted quietly. “If you want permission to do something, you don’t run your plans by just anybody—you talk to me.”

“Sawyer isn’t just anybody,” Ryan defended. “He’s—”

“My patient and a motel guest,” she said abruptly. “That’s all.”

Her son’s eyebrows drew together in a painfully familiar fashion. “I don’t know why you don’t like him,” he said hotly. “You were probably mean to him and now he’ll go away just like Dad and—”

“That’s enough.” Grateful that she and Ryan were alone in Eric’s room, she sat on the edge of one of the twin beds and pulled her son, front and center. “This has nothing to do with liking or disliking.” Her words were brittle. “This has to do with you following our family’s rules. You know you should have asked me for permission to come to Eric’s house. And you know that comparing Sawyer to...to Tom is absolutely unfair. Tom didn’t ask for cancer, darling. He didn’t want to leave us any more than we wanted to lose him.” Her heart ached over the impossible mess she’d made of things.

Sawyer was the one person her son would talk to about Tom, and he was the one person Rebecca knew was capable of walking away from people without a backward glance.

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