Waiting for Baby. Cathy Mcdavid

would have to watch himself closely in the coming weeks and months. Lilly deserved more than he could give her. She deserved a man ready, willing and able to commit.

      Chapter Three

      “Put your seat belt back on, Jimmy Bob.”

      “But we’re here.”

      Lilly turned around and gave the young man a hard stare. She sat in the front passenger seat of the center’s specially modified van. Beside her, driving the van, was Georgina. The student volunteer accompanying them sat in the rear.

      “Not yet,” Lilly told Jimmy Bob. “We just pulled in to the ranch entrance. The stable is another mile from here.”

      Jimmy Bob rarely rebelled but he did so today, his normally cherubic face set in stone, his arms folded. Lilly attributed his stubbornness to excitement. Since he’d learned yesterday morning that he’d be one of the six people accompanying Lilly on the center’s first trip to see Big Ben, he’d been bouncing off the walls. His high-strung behavior earned him frequent reprimands from the staff members and his family. This morning, he’d reached emotional overload, becoming surly and rebellious. Not uncommon behavior for individuals with Down’s syndrome.

      Lilly couldn’t allow Jimmy Bob to ignore the rules, today or any other day. Anyone riding in the van obeyed them or wasn’t permitted to go on the next outing.

      “Pull over,” she said.

      Georgina slowed and eased the vehicle safely to the side of the bumpy dirt road. She knew the drill, and once they were stopped, she put the van in Park and shut off the ignition.

      “Damn it to hell, Jimmy Bob,” the woman sitting beside him shrieked. “Put your freakin’ seat belt on.”

      “Don’t swear, Miranda,” Lilly scolded.

      “He’s screwin’ it up for everybody.” Jimmy Bob’s seatmate clutched the sides of her head in an exaggerated display of theatrics. A lock of wildly curly hair had come loose from her ponytail and stuck up like a rooster’s comb.

      “Jimmy Bob,” Lilly implored in a tone that was midway between firm and coaxing.

      “Can I ride the mule first?”

      “We’re not riding Big Ben today. The farrier has to put new shoes on him.”

      “When we do get to ride the mule, can I be first?”

      “Oh, puleeze!” Miranda banged her head repeatedly against the padded rest behind her. “Quit being such a damn baby.”

      “Miranda. You’re not helping.” Lilly aimed a warning finger at her.

      Miranda slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her groan.

      Lilly cautioned herself to remain calm. Though her patience was often tested by the people in her care, she hardly ever lost it. Had her son lived, she would’ve made a good mother.

      Her throat closed abruptly and tears stung her eyes. Lilly didn’t know why. It had taken a while, but in the two and a half years since Evan’s death, she’d finally stopped crying at every reminder of him.

      “What’s wrong, Miss Russo?” Jimmy Bob didn’t miss a thing.

      “Nothing.”

      He grabbed his seat belt and buckled it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad at me.”

      “I’m not mad.” She smiled at him, still fighting her unexpected weepiness. What had come over her today and why?

      She wondered if seeing Jake so often lately and the memories stirred by those encounters had anything to do with her fragile mood. Lilly had come to care deeply for him during the six weeks they’d dated, which was why she’d pressured him for a greater commitment, ultimately triggering their breakup. And as much as she’d wished things could be different, she was afraid her feelings for him were as strong as ever.

      Visiting the ranch two or three times a week wasn’t going to be easy and made her wish that her boss was around more to share the responsibility.

      Georgina started the van and pulled back onto the road.

      “It’s about freakin’ time,” Miranda exclaimed, flinging her arms every which way.

      Lilly didn’t react to the outburst, which was done solely to attract attention. She spent the rest of the drive preoccupied with her own thoughts. Maybe Jake wouldn’t be there. He’d informed her that his manager, Gary Forrester, would oversee their visits and the chores they performed.

      She’d just about convinced herself that the likelihood of running into Jake was nil when the stables came into sight—and so did his familiar pickup truck.

      Lilly’s heart involuntarily raced. With anticipation, not dread.

      Georgina parked next to Jake’s truck. Jimmy Bob was first out the door. No surprise there. Lilly went around to the side of the van and, along with Georgina and the student volunteer, helped the remaining five clients out.

      “Stay together.”

      She’d gone over the rules with each of them repeatedly. Nonetheless, she anticipated disobedience. Jimmy Bob didn’t disappoint her.

      “Look! There’s the mule.”

      “Jimmy Bob, come back!

      Big Ben was tied to the same hitching post as the previous day. Tail swishing, he stood calmly, demonstrating what Lilly hoped was a personality ideally suited to her clients. He didn’t so much as blink when Jimmy Bob came charging at him.

      “Hey! Don’t ever run up to an animal like that. You’ll get yourself kicked.”

      The reprimand came from a teenage, female version of Jake. His oldest daughter, Briana. Lilly recognized her from the Labor Day cookout at the ranch. The girl cut in front of Jimmy Bob before he reached the mule. The young man came to a grinding, almost comical, halt.

      “Just because an animal looks calm,” Briana scolded Jimmy Bob with an authority beyond her years, “doesn’t mean he is. Be careful.”

      He gazed down at her, slack-jawed.

      “Did you hear me?”

      “You’re pretty.”

      She shook her head and huffed in exasperation. “Come on,” she said after a moment. “I’ll introduce you to Big Ben.”

      Jimmy Bob followed like a devoted puppy.

      Lilly considered intervening, then decided against it. Jake’s daughter seemed capable of handling herself, and while Jimmy Bob might be stubborn sometimes, he was trustworthy and didn’t have a mean bone in his body.

      “Are you ready, Mr. Deitrich?” Lilly shoved the sliding van door closed after the elderly man had climbed out.

      “Where are we?” He gazed around in obvious confusion.

      “Bear Creek Ranch. Remember? We’re here to visit our mule, Big Ben.”

      “There are no mules at Gold Canyon,” he scoffed. “Everyone knows the old man won’t have the sorry beasts. Claims they scare the cows.”

      “We’re not at Gold Canyon Ranch.” She grasped his arm securely and guided him toward the mule, where the rest of their group had gathered to gape in awe. At a respectable distance, thanks to Briana. “We’re at Bear Creek Ranch.”

      Mr. Deitrich had Alzheimer’s disease. It began when he was in his early sixties and, sadly, progressed rapidly. During his youth, he’d worked on a cattle ranch in Wyoming. His wife hoped the familiar setting of stables and horses would stimulate him mentally and possibly improve his condition.

      Lilly didn’t know if it would work, but was more than willing to try. As the only adult day care center of its kind in town and with a wide variety of client needs,