Montana Dreaming. Karen Rose Smith

locked herself in her room for days at a time. Mark had always figured his sister was depressed because the SOB she’d married had left her barefoot and pregnant. But his parents had been too busy to seek help for her, counseling. Something.

      “You’re probably right,” Juliet said, causing him to wonder what it was that he’d said. “It’s normal to have some depression after birth. Some people call it the baby blues.”

      She sniffled, as if the crying jag were all over.

      Whew. This childbirth stuff was so new. So out of his league.

      As he loosened his embrace and let her go, she glanced at the bookshelf, ran her hand along a watermark on the wood. “Manny made that stain. He…”

      She sniffled again, then batted away a new tear. And then another.

      The next thing Mark knew, he was holding her again. And she was trembling in his arms. “Come on, honey. Let’s take a walk into the other room.”

      Of course, the only other room was the bedroom, where Marissa slept. This apartment was so damn small there was no escape from the memories of the past. But maybe the baby would offer her a promise of the future.

      When they reached the bed, he used his thumbs to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Why don’t you lie down? You ought to rest while the baby is sleeping.”

      “Will you lie down with me? Just for a minute or two?”

      He nodded, willing to do anything to make her feel better. To see that pretty Pollyanna smile again.

      “Sure.” He joined her on the bed, fully clothed, his loafers still on his feet.

      He tried his best to comfort her, as they lay there for the longest time, not talking. Not needing to.

      When she finally fell asleep, he continued to hold her.

      And he didn’t have the foggiest idea why.

      Chapter Eight

      Juliet slept better than she had in years.

      She’d missed human contact, the warmth of a touch, the comfort of an embrace, the steady beat of a heart. So she nestled in a sweet dimension, somewhere between dreamland and reality, relishing a peaceful slumber.

      Until Marissa fussed and began to root into the sheets of her cradle.

      Juliet opened her eyes, ready to reach for her daughter and feed her. But she couldn’t move.

      Mark had one arm under her neck and the other around her waist, holding her close.

      They’d left a lamp on in the other room, which allowed her to see, and she sought the lighted dial of the clock on the dresser.

      Almost midnight.

      They’d lain like that for nearly three hours, like lovers. Like husband and wife. New parents.

      For just a moment, she let herself go, let herself pretend that Mark loved her, that she loved him in return. And that her daughter had a devoted family in which she could grow up.

      But love was a game of pretend Juliet didn’t dare play.

      “Mark,” she whispered softly.

      He grunted, then drew her closer. His chin nestled in her hair, the faint mountain-fresh scent of his cologne riding gently in the night air.

      “Mark,” she said again, this time louder. “I need to feed the baby.”

      “Huh?”

      Marissa let out a cry, and the poor guy nearly jumped through the ceiling.

      The mattress wobbled as he braced himself on an elbow and scanned the room. “God, I’m so sorry. I fell asleep. I must have been more tired than I realized.”

      Juliet smiled, as she climbed from bed and retrieved her hungry daughter. “That’s okay.”

      He glanced at the clock and blew out a sigh. “I guess it’s too late to go back to the inn. But I…uh…can go out to the sofa.”

      She smiled at his sheepish expression, at his thoughtfulness. “Don’t bother. Go on back to sleep.”

      “Are you sure?” He sat on the mattress and glanced at the single loafer he wore, probably wondering where he’d kicked off the other one.

      “I’m not sure what’s happened between us,” she said, as she shushed Marissa. “But it’s pretty safe to say we’ve become close friends in the past week or so.”

      He raked a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. “I guess you’re right.”

      “So if you don’t mind if I nurse her, I don’t mind if you’re in the same room. After all, you’ve seen me at my worst.”

      He kicked off his remaining shoe, which thumped onto the floor, then laid back down, on top of the comforter, and rested his head on the pillow.

      As Marissa cried, anxious to eat, Juliet unbuttoned the front of her gown, releasing a breast and offering it to her child. Within moments, the baby latched on. Juliet’s milk was just starting to come in—at least she suspected it was. Her breasts were fuller, and Marissa seemed to be swallowing more than she had before.

      The lamplight from the living room cast a dull glow through the bedroom door, making it easy to see, easy to marvel at her pretty, dark-haired baby.

      Juliet looked over her shoulder, saw Mark lying in bed, eyes open, watching her. She wasn’t sure there was much to see, other than an outline of her breast. And interestingly enough, she didn’t feel shy or embarrassed.

      She felt womanly.

      “Do you want me to get you anything?” he asked. “A diaper or a glass of water?”

      She offered him a smile that came from her heart. “How did I ever get by without a friend like you?”

      He didn’t answer. And that was just as well, because the underlying reality echoed in her mind.

      Once Mark was gone, she’d have to get by on her own again.

      Ever since Mark had fallen asleep with Juliet and wakened with her in his arms, he’d gone back to the Wander-On-Inn each night at bedtime.

      In the past, he’d always enjoyed the quiet hours before turning in. But lately, he worried about what was going on at the apartment across the street, about whether Juliet was okay, whether the baby was sleeping longer between feedings.

      He supposed Juliet had been right about their friendship. They’d definitely forged some kind of a bond in the past two weeks. A bond that was just as frightening as it was appealing.

      Somehow, the pretty young mother had touched his heart—as a friend, of course. And her daughter had done the same thing.

      So that was why, a week after Marissa was born, Mark drove Juliet and the baby to the clinic for a weight check.

      Juliet had said she could probably drive herself, since she’d had an easy birth and hadn’t needed any medication or an episiotomy. But Mark had still insisted on going. To be honest, he wanted to make sure that Marissa was gaining weight and that everything was all right.

      He secured the car seat in the back of his rented sedan, while Juliet carried the baby down the steps. And moments later, they were on their way to the Lone Pine Medical Building, which was located on White Water Drive, just past the entrance to the hospital.

      Several different doctors, including Doc Emerson, Juliet’s primary physician, housed their offices in a single building that shared a large, single waiting room. A registration desk sat in each open doorway. They signed in at the pediatrician’s office and took a seat near the entry.

      Their appointment wasn’t supposed to take long, since it was with the nurse and not a full-blown checkup.

      About ten minutes after they signed in at the pediatric