Baby Makes Four
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Cynthia Thomason
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17,2K
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21
Chapter One
SALTY’S FEED AND GRAIN was busier than usual this Monday morning. Trucks were lined up against the loading dock. Camryn recognized about half the drivers. Not bad considering she’d only lived in the area for two months. Bufflehead Creek, South Carolina, was filled with friendly people, cotton fields and lots of animals.
Camryn found a narrow spot and backed her truck into the space. She stepped out of the cab and marveled again at the wonder of a beautiful day. October was a prime month in the low country. Warm days, cool nights, promising harvests and hopefully no more hurricanes like the Category 1 storm that had blown through two weeks ago.
Becky Johnson, one of the feedstore’s friendliest clerks, came to the edge of the dock. “Hey, Cam. How are you? Nice day, isn’t it?”
“Sure is.”
“I’ve got your order right here. Let me finish up with this other customer, and I’ll get to you in a minute.”
“No hurry,” Camryn said. “I’m not in a rush. Still got a few more errands to run in town, including delivering one hundred copies of Alphabet Days to the elementary school.”
“One hundred?” Becky said. “That’s more than your publishing company has ever sent. Enough for all first and second graders, I’d say.”
It was true. Camryn had worked a deal with Southern Square Press, publisher of elementary school magazines for Charleston schools. She’d been designing the covers for the magazines for several years, and had gotten the idea to have extra copies sent to her in Bufflehead Creek in exchange for giving up a small raise in pay. Well worth it, she thought. Just because Baycomb County didn’t have as much money to spend on activity books as Charleston schools, it didn’t mean local schools shouldn’t introduce their kids to the wonder of words.
“Can I see a copy?” Becky asked.
“Sure.” Cam went to her truck and pulled half a dozen issues from the cab. “This month’s title is Ollie the October Owl,” she said. “Give them away to kids that come in the store.”
Becky scanned the cover quickly. “That’s adorable, Cam. I wish I could draw like that.”
“I get quite a bit of help from a computer program,” Camryn said. “But this job does feed my creative spirit and keeps Esther’s Barbie doll in the latest fashions.”
“How is your daughter? Is she still happy at the grade school?”
“She’s making friends,” Cam said. “That was my biggest worry after leaving Charleston.”
Checking off a supply list on her clipboard, Becky asked, “And how are you feeling?”
“Great,” Camryn said.
Becky was the only person in town who knew about Camryn’s pregnancy and the only one besides Camryn’s family and the baby’s father. Cam had just about reached the first trimester mark, and maybe she could relax a bit. Though after two miscarriages in recent years, she didn’t think she’d be fully free of anxiety until she was holding a healthy baby in her arms. But buying a small farm and moving to Bufflehead Creek had been a step in the right direction.
She leaned against the hood of her truck, feeling the warmth of the engine seep into her back. She almost felt like moaning with pleasure, but figured she’d get odd looks from the farmers and ranchers around her. The 2003 Ford truck was another good investment she’d made recently. She and her daughter, Esther, had named the truck Energizer Bunny, which seemed to suit its personality and coordinated well with the sign on the front of her property, Cottontail Farm.
“Okay, darlin’, I’m ready,” Becky called out to her. Becky was only about ten years older than Camryn’s thirty-two years, but she had such a store of down-home sentiments that Cam had gotten used to being called “darlin’,” “sweet pea” and “sugar bear.”
“Your order’s right here,” Becky added. “I’ll load it up for you.”
“I can help,” Camryn said.
“No way,” Becky insisted. She lowered her voice, respecting Cam’s privacy. “After four kids I remember what I could and couldn’t do when I was in your condition. And we’re not taking any chances with that precious little bean growing inside you.”
Becky called out the sacks as she dropped them in the truck bed. “Ten pounds of chicken feed, twenty pounds of goat pellets and ten pounds of kibble for Rooster.”
An image of her lumbering forty-pound mutt popped into Camryn’s head. The dripping wet dog had shown up at her house one rainy night, and after an exhaustive search to find his owner, Cam and Esther had just decided to keep him. When he started chasing the chickens around the barnyard, Camryn had joked, “He must think he’s a rooster and he needs a girlfriend,” she’d said.
Giggling like a typical nine-year-old, Esther had firmly declared that Rooster would be the dog’s name. Unfortunately for Rooster, he had to learn right away that chicken hunting was not an acceptable practice at Cottontail Farm. Not when the owner made part of her living selling free-range eggs. But Rooster learned quickly and gave up pestering the chickens for a cozy spot in the house.
Once she was loaded, Camryn drove her truck around to the front of the feedstore where she would pay her bill. Becky met her at the cash register. “Are you using a card, honey?” she asked.
Camryn longed for the day she could pay everything by cash, but operating a small farm did not lend itself to a cash budget right now. She slipped her credit card into the reader and waited for her receipt. Good thing Mark had sent Esther’s child support payment on time.
“Have you met your new neighbor?” Becky suddenly asked her.
Taken aback a moment, Camryn said, “Do you mean the Boldens? I sold them ten of my hundred acres a month ago. Did you forget?”
“I don’t mean the elder Boldens. I mean their son.”
“Their son? What are you talking about?”
“Haven’t you seen activity on that parcel? The son—Reed’s his name—is having a modular home built. There should have been trucks coming onto the property.”
Yes, of course Camryn had seen the commotion. And heard it. Hammers pounding, saws screeching. She’d just figured the Boldens had decided to give up their luxury motor home life and build a more permanent structure. But she’d been so busy she hadn’t even gone over to see what was going on. “I had no idea their son was building there. It’s awfully close to my property line.”
When she’d sold ten acres of her land to the Boldens, she’d needed the fifteen thousand dollars to make improvements on her farm and to set up a nursery for the baby. She hadn’t put any stipulations on the sale that would have prevented the Boldens from selling part of their purchase or even giving it away. She wondered now what she had gotten herself into. What if this new neighbor didn’t like the sounds of chickens clucking and a dog barking?
Then he shouldn’t have moved to South Carolina, she thought with a smile.
“I wouldn’t worry about how close the man’s house is to yours,” Becky said. “He’s only been in the area about a week and obviously you haven’t seen him.”
No, she hadn’t. In fact, Camryn hadn’t even come to town in the last seven days. Her routine was now the new normal in her life. Up at six to feed the chickens. Fix breakfast for Esther, braid her hair and make sure she was ready for the school bus when it stopped in front of the house. The rest of her day was spent working on graphic designs for Southern Square Press and on planting and fertilizing the organic gardens that added a bit of income when she sold the healthy produce.
Right now, aside from her regular paycheck from Southern Square, most of Camryn’s money came from eggs and what she sold at the Saturday farmers market in Bufflehead Creek. But as soon as she persuaded a few leading hotels in Beaufort and Charleston to buy vegetables from her regularly, the money squeeze would ease up.
Becky fanned her face. “Let me tell you, Cam, if I wasn’t married, I’d set my sights on that fella.”
“Who?” Camryn asked, bringing her mind back from her money situation.
“Reed Bolden,” Becky said. “I was just talking about him.”
Camryn laughed. “Sure you’d set your sights on another man, Beck. I can just see you leaving Judd for the latest man du jour.”
Becky sucked in a quick breath and adjusted her posture. “Don’t look now, sweetie, but Mr. Hunkystuff just walked in.”
Camryn switched her attention to the door of the feedstore, where a tall man in a cowboy hat seemed to fill the entrance. Rugged-looking in jeans and boots, he appeared to belong in the country, as if he was born to it, actually. Not like Camryn, who’d been raised in classic comfort in historic downtown Charleston.
“Hi, there, Reed,” Becky called. “Come on over here, hon, and meet your new neighbor.”
Camryn felt her face flush—the same face that probably still had hay stuck to a cheek and smudges of dirt everywhere else. “Becky, what are you doing?”
“No time like the present.” Becky’s smile was a mile wide.
The new neighbor ambled over. The closer he got, the more Camryn realized he wasn’t all country. His hat didn’t have any of the customary sweat stains on the brim. His skin showed signs of a new, and probably painful, sunburn, different from the “farmer’s tans” so many of the guys around Bufflehead sported. When he took his hat off and brushed hair off his forehead, Cam noticed a neat style and no oily strands. Obviously, this guy put grooming at the top of his list of priorities. When he settled the hat back on his brow, he returned to Mr. Meltaway Country Cool.
“Reed, this is Camryn Montgomery,” Becky said. “She’s the gal who sold the property to your parents.”
Reed extended his hand. His fingers were surprisingly clean. Cam felt like hiding her own hand behind her back. “Hi. Nice to meet you,” she said.
“I’ve been meaning to drop by and introduce myself to you,” he said. “That piece of property you sold my parents is great. They’re letting me settle on five acres of it.”
“Look at this,” Becky said, handing him the latest issue of Alphabet Days. “Camryn designed this cover. Isn’t it cute?”
Camryn wanted to find a counter to crawl behind. But her new neighbor handled the obvious flattery with grace. “Yeah, very cute. Who doesn’t like an owl?” he said.
Becky handed him two copies of the magazine. “Give these to your boys, compliments of Camryn.”
He smiled. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”
After an awkward moment of silence, Camryn said, “I saw building materials being unloaded a couple of days ago. Becky tells me you’re building a house?”
“Just a modular for now. Need a place for myself and my two sons. If everything works out, I’ll think about a bigger structure down the line.”
“Sounds like you’re here to stay,” Camryn said.
“Hope so. Trying to get a few details straightened out so I can move my family out of my parents’ motor home. It’s a big RV, but space is still tight.”
His family... Becky hadn’t mentioned a wife. Maybe that little detail had stayed off Becky’s radar. Oh, well, Cam was just recently divorced. The last thing she needed was another man, another complication in her life. She had enough going on just managing her farm.
Becky handed Camryn her receipt. “You’re all set, darlin’. What can I do for you, Reed?”
“I’m hoping that colic medicine I ordered is in,” he said. “My horse and pony should be here soon, and I don’t want to be without emergency medications.”
Cam should have moved on, but she stayed near the cash register to hear as much of the conversation as she could. After all, this man only lived a short distance from her, and she’d no doubt be running into him.
“Got it right here,” Becky said, producing a package from under the counter. “You use our address as long as you need to, hon. Happy to oblige.”
He took the package and leaned toward Becky. “Thanks, Becky. Maybe you can help me with something else.”
“Sure, I’ll try.”
“It’ll probably be a few months before my paddock and barn are constructed.”
Paddock and barn? This man was building more than a house and keeping horses on his property? Camryn appreciated her solitude and didn’t know how she’d feel about so much activity next to her property.
“I need a home for my horses in the meantime,” Reed said. “They’re ready to be hauled up from Atlanta as soon as I say the word. I’d like to find a place close to where I’m building the house, if possible.”
Cam started to walk away. She sensed Becky’s enthusiasm aimed directly at her, and she didn’t want Becky getting any ideas. Oh, well. Too late.
“Hold on, Cam. You’ve got an old barn and fenced area just sitting empty, don’t you?”
Ah, yes, she did. When she’d bought her real estate, the land had come with a small farmhouse and a few outbuildings. None of the structures were fancy, but they were definitely serviceable.
“This is truly an act of fate,” Becky said. “If Camryn agrees, you can lease her barn. Heck, you can walk over there in just a few minutes.”
“I don’t know anything about taking care of horses,” Camryn said. “My livestock is limited to chickens and a couple of goats.”
“You wouldn’t have to do a thing,” Reed said. “I’d come over every day to feed, clean and exercise my animals. All I really need is a place to keep them out of the elements. I’ll pay you rent, of course.”
No doubt she could use the money. But did she really want this man coming over on a regular basis? Camryn was establishing a comfortable, worry-free zone for herself and Esther. Her main priority was ensuring an anxiety-free pregnancy for herself, delivering a healthy baby, keeping Esther safe and working to expand her organic gardens and hen farm. Did she need strangers coming on the land whenever they wanted to?
“I don’t know, Mr. Bol—”
“Reed,” he said.
“I don’t know, Reed. I’m planting organic vegetables. I’m also allowing my chickens to run range free. I couldn’t risk having horses trample over any of the land right now.”
“They wouldn’t,” he said. “If you’ve got a fenced area, I’ll take them there for outside time. And I can ride them on my property. They shouldn’t interfere with what you’re doing.” He smiled. “Are you married, Camryn?” he asked.
“Ah, no. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just curious,” he said. “I’d be happy to lend you a hand from time to time.”
Camryn wasn’t used to asking for help she didn’t pay for. Was this man suggesting that he had handyman skills he could offer for a price?
“I don’t need help,” she said. “I can do pretty much everything on my own.”
“That must make things simpler. I was just offering. I’ll need to come over and check out the barn of course,” Reed said, “but assuming it meets my needs, how does four hundred a month sound? I’ll supply whatever my horses need, so there wouldn’t be any expense for you.”
Four hundred a month sounded like manna from heaven. “I should be home in a couple of hours,” she said. “Come on over if you like.” Good grief, she’d just practically committed to this deal. And an ongoing relationship with this man’s family, however many there were!
“Great. I’ll see you later.” He tucked the package of medicine in his pocket and left the store.
“What did I just get myself into?” Camryn said to Becky. “For all I know, this guy has a wife and several kids, and all of them might soon be swarming over my new cultivation.”
“In the first place,” Becky said, “he’s only got two kids. And no wife. As far as I’m concerned, that’s the best news.” She grinned at Camryn. “Really, darlin’, you should try to keep up with neighborhood gossip. You never know when opportunity is going to come knockin’.”
Camryn thought about Becky’s words as she drove to the elementary school. She hoped Reed Bolden hadn’t noticed how not-a-bit-subtle Becky had been. “Look at Camryn’s drawing... Camryn has a barn...” Good grief, Becky had done everything but said, “Camryn is a lonely divorcée who could appreciate a neighbor like you, Reed.” Wasn’t true. Camryn wasn’t lonely. She was actually happier than she’d been in a long time. Well, maybe not happy, but definitely content. And who would argue with content?
FEELING SOMEWHAT OPTIMISTIC about his chance meeting with his neighbor a few minutes ago, Reed headed out to the highway, where he would find the stores he needed to fill his mother’s shopping list. Especially since he and his boys were currently living in her motor home, he hadn’t the heart to deny his parents any reasonable request, including running errands. So he checked the list on the passenger seat of his SUV.
Bed Bath & Beyond for a copper griddle. Walgreens to pick up a prescription. And the supermarket for all the items that would keep his mom and four males sufficiently fed for a couple more days until the modular home was finished. Then, Reed reasoned, he’d have to learn to cook in a minimalist kitchen far different from the gourmet one he’d enjoyed in Georgia—not that he’d ever used it much.
In Atlanta he and his ex-wife had had a Sub-Zero double door monstrosity of a refrigerator. The unit in the modular was going to be eighteen cubic feet. Reed stepped on the accelerator and let the powerful engine in his Escalade chew up the miles. As long as the fridge had room for all the snacks his sons liked and a couple of beers for himself, he’d survive.
With any luck the horse problem would be solved by this afternoon. Camryn Montgomery seemed like a nice lady, willing to help a newcomer to South Carolina in need. She had “good neighbor” written all over her, and his mother had said only positive things about her. He’d have to make her barn work for his horses. Come hell or high water, those four-legged beasts would be here soon.
Finished with his errands, he swung by the elementary school and got in line to wait for dismissal time. He figured he might as well pick up his sons and save the bus driver the headache of having to deal with the Bolden boys.
He knew his sons had problems with discipline, and he supposed it was as much his fault as it was his ex’s, but he didn’t like to think it was. Being too busy supporting a family to be a superdad was better than being a neglectful mother, right? Anyway, he was definitely going to up his daddy game here in Bufflehead Creek. Maybe soon someone in authority might refer to the Bolden boys with something other than cringing disdain.
When he saw his sons exit the school, Reed got out of his vehicle and hollered. “Over here, boys. Don’t get on the bus.” Phillip, with an eleven-year-old’s bravado, pretended to trip the kid walking next to him. Justin laughed at his big brother’s antics.
They were both still laughing when they got in the car. “Why are you picking us up, Dad?” Phillip asked.
“We’re going somewhere this afternoon,” he said. “After I drop off the groceries at Gran’s, we’re going to see our closest neighbor.”
“I don’t want to go,” Justin said. “I’ll stay with Gran.”
Totally bad idea. “No, you won’t.” Reed knew his mother loved the boys and she tried to bond with them. Truly she did. But it was only a matter of time before she called out to her son, “Reed, get in here and talk to these boys!”
“Why can’t I?” Justin asked.
Short of admitting that his youngest was about to drive his Gran crazy, Reed said, “You need some time outside without video games. When we get where we’re going, you can run around, let off some steam.”
“What does that mean?” the nine-year-old asked. “It’s not even hot today.”
Reed smiled. “It’s an expression. I’ll let you know when I see steam coming out of your ears.”
“What?”
Of his two sons, Justin took everything literally, which made teasing him so easy.
Reed pulled into the manicured drive that led to his parents’ elegant black-and-tan motor home. His father had done some landscaping to the spot, but kept the low country oak trees lining the drive. Maybe not quite as impressive as the two-story, three-thousand-square-foot home his parents had owned in upstate New York, but it looked darn nice anyway.
And his parents never stopped bragging about their decision to minimize responsibility and live the life of wanderers of the open road. True campers. Right. How many motor homes had dishwashers and washing machines and dryers? All in all, Reed was happy for his mom and dad. They had raised two kids, helped put him and his sister, Penelope, through college, and they deserved a posh, carefree lifestyle if they wanted it.
“All right, boys,” Reed said to his sons. “Let’s get these packages inside for Gran, and we’ll head over to our neighbor’s place.”
Justin made one last attempt to stay in the motor home instead of going “somewhere so boring,” but one glance from his mother told Reed she wasn’t up for the idea. “It’s not a good time, Justin,” Bertie Bolden said. “Your grandfather and I are just settling down to watch our shows.”
The prospect of spending an hour with the cooking channel convinced Justin that he was better off with his father. So away they went, the three Bolden men, on a quest to find a barn.
Reed stopped outside a simple wrought iron gate with a bunny medallion in the center of the swinging arms. The words “Cottontail Farm” made him smile. The woman he’d met this morning seemed like just the type to pick a quaint, cutesy name like Cottontail for her patch of paradise.
He soon realized that paradise wasn’t really an apt description. The split-rail fencing around the front of the property looked new, and the porch itself appeared to have been freshly painted a gleaming white. However, the rest of the modest structure seemed to have suffered years of low country perils, salt water breezes and high humidity. The clapboard siding had faded to a sickly gray.
But the twin front windows were large and airy, and the gray metal roof provided adequate protection from the sun and rain. A screened-in side porch gave the small house a homey look, and a single dormer window indicated the dwelling at least had an attic.
Camryn came out of the house to meet him. She was followed by a medium-size, unpedigreed, shaggy dog with a friendly face, though Reed had never met a dog he didn’t like. When the dog saw him, his ears perked up, and a low growl came from his throat. Camryn put her hand in front of the dog’s face and said, “No.” After that, the animal was content to sniff Reed’s pant legs.
As for Camryn, she looked different yet the same—natural and unadorned. But gone was the sweatshirt she’d had on at Salty’s, replaced by a solid yellow T-shirt tucked into well-fitting jeans. Her face was clean, and her hair, which had been stuffed into a careless bun this morning, was now gathered into a neat blond ponytail. In short, Camryn Montgomery looked darned good considering his first impression of her was only that she would be a good neighbor.
