A Baby in His Stocking. Laura Altom Marie

purple and pink stripes?”

       “Exactly. See?” he said with a playful nudge. “This generation could learn a lot from an artistic genius like me.”

       She rolled her eyes. “At the moment, they could learn more from your muscles. Want to help lug the cooler and milk?”

       “If you’ll admit what a great stunt that zebra bit was.”

       The grin she shot his way turned his insides to mush. Had she always been so pretty? “Since there aren’t any impressionable young minds around, I’ll admit our rival’s zebra never looked better, but if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”

       “Whatever.” He answered her grin with one of his own. “Show me what you want me to carry.”

       Following her into the school, Wyatt couldn’t help but wonder if her backside had always been so juicy.

       In the massive school kitchen, they filled a cooler with ice and kid-size cartons of milk. Wyatt carried it outside, Natalie beside him with napkins and a huge bowl of apples.

       Midway down the school’s front hall, Natalie tripped. As she went down, so did the apples, rolling in bursts of red, followed by an elegant snow of napkins.

       “You okay?” Instantly by Natalie’s side, Wyatt set down his load to help her.

       “I think so,” she managed through a messy sniffle. Crying? Over a few apples? “B-but I made a huge mess and the PTA president is waiting for all of this and—and—”

       “Hey…” Cautious in his approach, he eased behind her, awkwardly patting her back. “In case you missed the memo, you shouldn’t cry over spilled milk or apples.”

       “I—I know,” she said, laughing through more tears while taking a tissue from her pocket to blow her nose. “But lately, everything seems to be going wrong and all I wanted to do this morning was sleep in, but I love helping out with events like this, but I’m so tired and emotional and all because I’m…” Rather than finishing her sentence, she waved her hands around as if announcing her next batch of tears.

       “You’re what?” he pressed, more than a little concerned by her uncharacteristic emotional meltdown. “Sick? You don’t have cancer, or anything, do you?”

       “N-no.” Her answer launched a fresh round of wails. “I—I’m pregnant.”

       As if she’d delivered a physical blow, Wyatt recoiled. “Pregnant?”

       She nodded.

       “Wow. Ah, I guess congratulations are in order.”

       “Thanks.” Though she’d stopped crying, her voice sounded defeated. “Could you please help me with this mess? The apples are going to have to be rewashed.” On her knees, she gathered all of the nearby fruit and napkins.

       “Sure.” Her condition had nothing to do with him, so why were Wyatt’s eyes now stinging? Things like this—random reminders of his own shortcomings as a man—were why he had to get out of Weed Gulch. At times, it seemed as if the whole damned town was turning up in this condition.

       Just after Dallas’s evil twins, Betsy and Bonnie, had been born and their mother, Bobbie Jo, had died, Wyatt suffered his own near death with a hellish bout of mumps. At the time, he’d been holed up in a dorm on an Alaskan North Slope drilling field, knowing there was no medical cure. So he’d stayed in his room, doing his damnedest not to infect others. Best he could figure, he’d caught it from a suspiciously snotty kid at Fairbanks International. A few months ago, during a routine physical, he’d mentioned the incident to Doc Haven, who in turn had worried aloud about the disease being a cause of male infertility. Always having assumed he’d one day have a big family, Wyatt opted to have his “equipment” tested.

       Bad call.

       Ever since, he’d felt like less a man.

       The more babies his brothers and sister had, the more of an outsider he’d become. He’d tried to forget about the fact that he’d never have what they had. He’d tried to forget with willing women like Starla. It hadn’t worked.

       Now, with Natalie’s joyous news, Wyatt’s own inadequacies once again slapped him in the face.

       “Think we got ’em all,” he said once her load had been reassembled. “But how about you find a nice place to sit down, and I’ll get this stuff outside.”

       “I appreciate the offer, but I’m good. My ego’s more bruised than my body. Sorry about flipping out on you like that.”

       “No problem,” he said on the return trip to the kitchen. “We all have our moments.”

       Standing alongside her at one of the kitchen’s commercial sinks, Wyatt couldn’t stop his mind from racing. He should be home, studying geographical charts. Instead, he wanted to know if that UPS dude Natalie had been dating was her baby’s father. If so, why wasn’t he here with her today? Where had he been at the christening? Had she mentioned they’d had a fight? Most of all, Wyatt wondered why he cared.

       He’d known Natalie forever, yet it was funny how when it came right down to it, they hardly knew each other at all. Not the way it mattered. “You and your baby’s father tying the knot?”

       “Nope.” She quickened her pace, in the process dropping the fruit she’d been trying to wash.

       “But you two have been together for a long time. What’s the problem?”

       Upon placing the last apple in the bowl, she turned off the water. “Short story, Craig had no interest in becoming a father.”

       “What the hell?” What was wrong with that guy? Here, Wyatt would’ve given anything to have his own son or daughter, yet the loser Natalie had hooked up with was running away?

      How is that any different from what you’re doing?

       The thought stung. But Wyatt knew damn well his reason for leaving was far from cowardly. He wasn’t so much shirking responsibility as chasing self-preservation.

       The faint grin tugging the corners of her pretty lips contained the sadness of an abandoned basket of kittens. “Yeah, what the hell pretty much sums it up. Craig initially tried the whole commitment thing, but in the end said he wasn’t ready to be a father and that was that.”

       “For what it’s worth,” Wyatt said, “I’m sorry.”

       She shrugged. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.”

       “I get that, but you shouldn’t have to just be fine. You should be over-the-moon happy.” Wyatt couldn’t imagine the joy he’d feel were he in this Craig character’s position. His heart would feel so full it’d hurt. Thing is, he’d never get the chance.

       “Really,” Natalie said, “I’ve got this whole single-mom thing figured out. Sort of,” she tagged on with a sad little laugh.

       “Aw, you’re going to make a great mother.” Wyatt abandoned the napkins he’d been straightening to give her a hug. In his arms, she felt small and fragile. The man in him wanted nothing more than to protect her and make everything okay. She smelled of sweet apples and barely there floral perfume. She reminded him of the kind of take-home-to-mom girl he’d always planned to marry—at least until fate had thrown him a screw-you curveball. Now, no kids. No marriage. No life he’d always imagined.

      “LADIES…” WYATTTIPPED his cowboy hat.

       “Hey.” Was it wrong that a simple grin from the man had Natalie ready to swoon? The Buckhorn Halloween extravaganza was in full swing, and the chilly night air came as a welcome reprieve to the stuffy, kid-loaded barn.

       “You’re just in time,” Josie said to Wyatt. “If we’re going to keep to Georgina’s schedule, we need to hitch the horses to the wagon ASAP.”

       “Yes, ma’am.” He gave his sister-in-law a salute,