Mother In The Making

By Ellen James

HOME ON THE RANCH

"Ellen James writes with warmth, wit and style. I look forward to each new book."
Debbie Macomber

The Blue Mesa Ranch, near Stillwell, New Mexico

Hallie Claremont She's the Blue Mesa's owner. Not that this is anything to brag about as far as Hallie's concerned. She inherited the place, and even she who knows nothing about ranching can tell the ranch needs work and lots of it. Still, she doesn't have any choice. With no money to her name, an adopted baby and a rebellious teenage brother to support, Hallie is now a rancher in the making. Of course, she's also a mother in the making, but she can be both she's sure of it!

Too bad that Hallie's new neighbour Dr. Gabe Miller doesn't see it that way. But no, the handsome doctor persists in seeing Hallie as a crisis in the making. Still, that doesn't explain why he's taken it upon himself to set her straight!

HOME ON THE RANCH

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jul 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781460879078

Ellen James

Ellen James has always relished a story about true love, and she was very fortunate to find her one and only true love when she moved to New Mexico several years ago. However, inexplicably cold feet almost prevented her from walking down the aisle. She balked at her wedding date not once, but twice, causing her future mother-in-law to throw up her hands in despair. Fortunately Ellen did muster up the courage to take her vows, and has been fabulously happy ever since. With her husband, Ellen shares a passion for history and the outdoors. The two of them can usually be found poking around ghost towns, as well as camping and hiking in the gorgeous mountains of the southwestern United States. And, of course, Ellen is also busy pursuing her dream career-writing Harlequin romances.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

MIXED BLESSING. That was the only way Hallie could describe her new life. She cantered along on her horse, Scamp, her gaze sweeping across the rolling stretch of prairie that belonged to her now. The subtle greens of mesquite and yucca blended into the mocha brown earth, while the endless New Mexico sky arched overhead, so brilliant it shone like sapphire.

Hallie pulled on the reins in what seemed a useless fashion, yet Scamp eventually slowed to a grudging halt. In the short time she’d owned the sorrel, she’d learned just how stubborn and intractable he really was—she had to tempt him with a candy bar in the morning just to get him going. She’d inherited Scamp and a few other equally cantankerous horses, along with the Blue Mesa Ranch. She’d also inherited several hundred head of cattle. Horses she understood a little, but cows—that was a different set of hooves entirely. She was in well over her head when it came to cows, and she damn well knew it.

Hallie had reached the north pasture, where a portion of the herd grazed among broomweed and ta-bosa grass. She noted the new calves sticking close to their mothers. Already her crash course in ranching had taught her to be always on the lookout for potential trouble: cattle that had strayed, calves trapped in sinkholes, mothers laboring vainly to give birth. No such problems were apparent at the moment, but Hallie felt her muscles tense nonetheless. With virtually no money and a new family to support, this small struggling ranch was all she had. Somehow she would have to make a go of it—the ranch and the family.

Mixed blessing, indeed. Because never, in all her impetuous adventure-seeking life, had Hallie felt more daunted and determined at the same time.

THE DOCTOR WAS OUT. Hallie had no choice but to wait, and she sank into a chair—a rocking chair, to be exact, made of dark oak and adorned with a colorful burgundy cushion. Hallie almost smiled in spite of her weariness. Who would expect to find an old rocker like this in a doctor’s waiting room of all places?

Nine-month-old Lia stirred in her arms, giving a tired little yawn. Hallie shifted the child’s weight, trying to find a position that was comfortable for both of them. She smoothed Lia’s silky black curls. Poor sweetheart, she murmured. You’re even more exhausted than I am, aren’t you?

Lia stared up at her, brown eyes solemn yet shimmering with tears. So many tears… Hallie felt the too-familiar guilt swirl inside her. She must be doing something terribly wrong! Why else would Lia cry so frequently—and so disconsolately? Lia, the baby Hallie had adopted with such hope, such love. Hallie still had all that hope and love. But she also had a whole lot of worry and self-doubt she’d never experienced before. She’d never experienced anything like this before.

Hallie rocked back and forth in the solid comfortable chair. Miraculously Lia’s eyelids drifted downward, delicate black lashes fanning against tawny skin.

How beautiful and fragile Lia was. She slept now in Hallie’s arms, all sorrow spent for the moment.

Hallie leaned her head back. The room was quiet, no sound except for the nurse rustling papers in the reception area, and birds chattering just outside the window. It seemed to Hallie that she hadn’t rested in a very long while. Not since taking over the ranch, at any rate. So many things demanded her attention. The horses nickering for their oats, the cattle bawling for their feed. Creditors hungry, too, and bills waiting to be paid. Baby Lia, crying with a different sort of hunger, as if Hallie’s love would never be enough… and then Brian. Sixteen-year-old Brian, so resentful and secretive, needing someone surely, no matter how he rejected Hallie.

If only she could rest…

Perhaps she actually slept. Perhaps she only hovered on the tantalizing verge of sleep. But eventually a voice intruded on her consciousness.

Ms. Claremont? it asked.

No, Hallie murmured. Not now. Nana will take care of it…

Nana’ the voice echoed doubtfully.

Hallie came fully awake with a start, clutching Lia close. What on earth had she said? But she didn’t have any time to think about it. She stared at the man leaning over her.

He had russet hair, thick and vibrant and just a bit unruly. His eyes were the dark gray of storm clouds, with only a promise of blue.

You’re Hallie Claremont, I take it.

Yes. She went on staring. He was dangerously handsome, the kind of man who looked as if he could lead you down forbidden paths. A restive intensity seemed barely contained behind the hard set of his features, and he gazed at Hallie with a hint of impatience, as if she’d distracted him from far more important problems.

Usually Hallie was confident when it came to men. Too confident, certain members of her family liked to remind her. But now she simply rocked back and forth, clutching drowsy Lia in her arms.

Yes, she repeated. I’m Hallie Claremont. And you are…?

Gabe Miller. Dr. Gabe Miller.

Of course. The doctor. Hallie wasn’t thinking straight, and she tried to blame it on the fact that for the past few days she’d hardly slept at all. Besides, she hadn’t expected the local M.D. to be quite so attractive.

Yes, well, I’m here for an appointment, she said. That is, I’ve brought Lia for an appointment.

I know, he said. Halhe heard the unexpected gentleness in his voice now, as if he was speaking kindly to someone a bit dense. She grabbed her bulging tote bag and struggled up from the chair, all the while cradling Lia. Unfortunately her foot had gone to sleep and she pitched slightly. Gabe Miller reached out to steady her. For a moment they stood together, Lia anchored between the two of them. Dr. Miller was tall and powerfully built. Hallie became aware that his hands felt warm against her skin, and she looked at him again. That was a mistake; she couldn’t seem to look away.

He frowned a little and stepped back. I’m sorry you had to wait so long, Ms. Claremont, he said, the careless arrogance in his tone negating the apology. I was making an emergency house call.

A doctor who makes house calls, she remarked. That’s certainly old-fashioned. Except that there was nothing remotely old-fashioned about Gabe Miller’s appearance. He wore a loosely knotted tie in checked silk, a crisp broadcloth shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms, and well-tailored pants. He looked like a business tycoon on lunch break, not a small-town New Mexico doctor.

Already he was leading the way down a corridor, and Hallie followed. For once Lia hadn’t cried upon awakening. She rode along in Hallie’s arms, gazing about with interest. Apparently she, too, was fascinated by Dr. Gabe Miller, focusing on his broad-shouldered back as he walked ahead.

He ushered Hallie into an examining room. She tightened her arms instinctively around Lia. She could tolerate routine visits to the doctor for herself, but when it came to Lia…well, when it came to Lia, nothing seemed routine. Today Hallie felt a fierce unreasonable protectiveness. The logical part of her mind knew this visit was necessary for her child. The emotional part didn’t want anyone poking and prodding Lia ever again.

Hallie stood in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped defensively around her baby.’’Lia hasn’t had an easy time of it with doctors, she said. When I adopted her several months ago, she was still suffering the effects of malnutrition. She had to undergo a lot of tests, and she was even hospitalized for a few days. It frightened her. It frightened me," Hallie added, surprised at herself for making the admission out loud.

Dr. Miller perused a few sheets of paper attached to a clipboard. You’ve provided a very thorough his- tory on the child. It appears she had excellent care in Philadelphia.

The best, Hallie said. Of course, there had been a time when she could afford the best of everything, for Lia, as well as for herself. How quickly things had changed.

Hallie sat down in a chair—not a rocking chair this time, just the regular straight-backed type. With her free hand she rummaged in her large tote for her notepad. She found it and stared at the questions she’d jotted there. They were careful detailed questions, the ones she’d asked in Philadelphia when she was first shopping around for a good pediatrician. But in the small quaint town of Stillwell, New Mexico.. well, the shopping was a bit limited.

Dr. Miller, I realize you’re the only doctor practicing in town, but—

Not quite the only one. I’m in partnership with my father, Dr. Samuel Miller.

Maybe Hallie was imagining it, but she thought she heard just the slightest tension in Gabe Miller’s voice when he mentioned his father. She glanced at her notepad again.

That’s one of my questions, she said wryly. How many physicians there are in your practice, how your answering service handles after-hours calls—

After hours, Ms. Claremont, you call my house and I answer. Or you get me on my car phone. That’s about as sophisticated as it gets, I’m afraid. There was no mistaking his tone this time—pure irony.

Look, maybe you can understand my concern. Lia has been through some rough times already, and she’s learned to fear doctors. That’s one reason it’s so important for me to have…options.

I do understand your concern, Ms. Claremont. You’re absolutely right to have it. No more irony that Hallie could detect, but he didn’t say anything more. He just stood there in that lordly manner, as if waiting for her to make up her mind about him on her own. Clearly he was so sure of his own abilities he felt no need to win Hallie’s confidence. But he was also a puzzle, with his air of dissatisfied intensity. Hallie couldn’t get a fix on him, and that disturbed her. She was used to sizing up a man quickly, making a judgment about his character—and then dismissing him from her mind if need be. But so far she could say only one thing for certain about Dr. Gabe Miller: he wasn’t the type of man any woman could dismiss from her mind.

Hallie went on holding Lia a moment longer, cherishing the warm little body curled against hers. But then she was dismayed to hear Lia whimper.

She really is scared, Hallie said softly.

I won’t hurt her. There it was again—the gentleness in his voice. Deftly he took Lia from Hallie’s arms. She stiffened, sure that Lia would begin sobbing in earnest. Instead, Lia immediately grew quiet and stared at the man holding her.

Hey, kiddo, Gabe Miller said easily.

Lia continued to stare at him in apparent wonderment. Hallie couldn’t help a little wonderment of her own. It should have been an unlikely sight—this tall vigorous man holding a baby. But it seemed quite natural somehow. Maybe that was because Dr. Miller didn’t make any silly noises. In her short career as a mother, Hallie had noticed that when people didn’t know what to do around young children, they ended up babbling or cooing in the oddest manner. Not Dr. Miller, however. He kept his dignity, and Hallie could only be grateful for that.

He set Lia on the examining table. She seemed to think his stethoscope was a toy, her small fingers grasping for it. Hallie almost shook her head in disbelief. She’d never seen Lia like this with anyone before—immediately relaxed and trusting. It didn’t make sense.

Hallie watched skeptically, as if Dr. Miller were a magician and she could discover an ordinary explanation behind the illusions he created. She looked at his hands. They were large yet graceful, conveying both hardiness and elegant power. It was also a restrained power, for he handled Lia with a great deal of care.

Adeptly and efficiently he proceeded with his examination. For once, Lia didn’t seem to mind being poked and prodded by a doctor. She behaved as if the whole thing was a game, waving her arms in the air and trying to grab hold of Dr. Miller’s nose.

When it came right down to it, Hallie could find no fault with Dr. Gabe Miller. To her practiced eye, he performed a thorough and expert examination, not neglecting to weigh and measure Lia. But he seemed to be thinking something over, his eyebrows ridging as he drew them together.

What’s wrong? Hallie asked immediately.

Lia’s chart says she’s approximately nine months old.

Yes.

Dr. Miller lifted Lia up, still as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to hold a child. I believe she’s closer to a year, he said gravely.

Hallie straightened in her chair. The doctors in Philadelphia came up with her age. They made the most precise calculations possible.

That may be. But my own calculations put Lia at a year, not nine months.

Hallie tried to argue. No one can know for certain—not you, not anyone. As you’ve read in her chart, Lia’s from Guatemala, and I have little real information about her. She was abandoned on the doorstep of some American missionaries in Guatemala City. The missionaries arranged for her to be sent to the States, and eventually she came to me in Philadelphia. Hallie stopped. She still couldn’t tell this story without her insides clenching with emotion. In spite of all the confusion and turmoil of motherhood, she wanted desperately to believe that Lia had been meant for her—only her.

A difficult divorce only a few years ago had shaken Hallie’s faith in marriage, but not her desire to be a mother. When a friend of hers began working for an international adoption agency and told stories of so many babies in need of a home, Hallie couldn’t help dreaming that one of those babies would be hers. She’d put in her application at the agency. She’d hoped and planned, and dreamed a whole lot more… and Lia had finally come to her. She tried again. The point is, Lia’s age is a guess by anyone’s standards. I recognize that. But surely she’s much too small to be a year old. Too small, too delicate, too fragile. Dr. Miller couldn’t be right.

But once again he made no effort to convince Hallie, and that alone gave his pronouncement an air of authority. I’m going to recommend you try Lia on a new formula, he said next. Let her follow her own rhythm for feedings, but I’ll want to monitor her closely for weight gain during the next few weeks.

Then you believe Lia’s size is a serious problem?

I believe it’s a problem we can do something about, Ms. Claremont. Lia’s already proved she’s a fighter. His tone was matter-of-fact, carrying quiet conviction. And for a few brief seconds Hallie did feel better. Dr. Miller regarded her steadily, his gaze seeming to hold all the assurance she needed. It was an oddly intimate moment, and then it was over. Dr. Miller handed Lia back. Hallie opened her arms gratefully to her child, but Lia herself didn’t seem happy with the changeover. Her little face puckered and she started to cry.

In an instant Lia was sobbing as if her heart would break. Not only that, but she sobbed as if Hallie’s embrace could never provide her with comfort or solace. As if she simply did not recognize Hallie as her mother.

The guilt twisted through Hallie, an all-too-familiar torture. Lia had been crying like this more and more often the past few days, for what seemed no reason at all. Why couldn’t Hallie soothe the child she loved more than anything in the world? Why?

Today there was an added humiliation. Today Hallie was sitting here in front of Dr. Gabe Miller, her inadequacies as a mother painfully exposed. Lia continued to weep as if from some deep well of sorrow. She wriggled in a futile effort to free herself from Hallie’s embrace. And Hallie whispered futile endearments.

Hush, sweetie. There, there, it’s all right…

Dr. Miller sat down across from Hallie. Thank goodness he uttered no platitudes. He simply seemed to be waiting for Lia’s storm to subside. And so Hal-lie waited, too, cradling her child but no longer murmuring those useless reassurances.

After what seemed an endless time, Lia’s sobs dwindled into mournful hiccups. Then even the hiccups faded, and Lia rested her head against Hallie’s breast. Hallie took an unsteady breath of her own. She’d always considered herself an adventurous person, eager for challenges of any kind. But in the past few months this small bundle of a child had introduced her to fears she could never have imagined. Most of all, the fear of not being good enough as a mother.

Dr. Miller spoke, his attitude straightforward. Ms. Claremont, I have a feeling there’s something else you’d like to talk about today.

Hallie tensed warily. She knew she should stand up, thank Gabe Miller, pay her bill and walk out the door. But she didn’t seem able to do any of those things. She remained seated where she was, and Dr. Miller continued to wait.

Ms. Claremont, he repeated after a bit, leaning back informally in his own chair. When I…woke you up today, you referred to someone as ‘Nana.’ Maybe you could tell me a little about this Nana.

Hallie had a crazy urge to laugh. She’d actually snatched a few moments of sleep—only to start muttering about Nana. And this man had heard her do it. That was bad enough, but she found herself blurting out more.

Nana—Mrs. Spencer. I suppose you could call Nana my surrogate mother. My own mother was a little too busy for the job, what with the family empire and all.

Dr. Miller looked skeptical. Family empire?

Hallie smoothed a finger over Lia’s tearstained cheek. Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? What was it about Dr. Gabe Miller that inspired these confidences? And why did she feel as if she was the patient now, the one m need of treatment?

She went on speaking because she just couldn’t seem to stop. Hotels, office buildings, a resort or two thrown in for good measure. Believe me, my mother had her own empire. But I’m not complaining, if that’s what you think. She hired a wonderful woman named Mrs. Spencer to take care of me and my sister—and later my brother. Nana, we called her. We all adored her. She was funny and bright and she believed in love more than discipline. Hallie paused. She warned herself not to say any more. But Dr. Miller continued to gaze at her with an expression of interest, and somehow the rest of it just spilled out, too.

I had such great memories of growing up with Nana. So when I adopted Lia, well, I hired a nanny first thing. I suppose I thought I could re-create my childhood. Foolish idea, of course. There was only one Nana in the world. I don’t know what made me think I could find another. But I tried, anyway. Perhaps the truth is… I wasn’t ready to handle the full responsibility of motherhood on my own.

At last Hallie managed to stop this awkward flow of words. Unfortunately she couldn’t stop the shame she felt. She’d adopted Lia, and had been in love with her from the start—but straightaway she’d hired that full-time nanny. Motherhood had scared the hell out of her, and she couldn’t face it on her own. Now she’d admitted as much out loud. She’d never done that be- fore. Why was she confessing her shortcomings to this doctor—this perfect stranger?

Lia gave a shuddering little sigh, and Hallie feared she’d start to sob again. Instead, she nestled closer to Hallie, as if burrowing for warmth. Meanwhile Dr. Miller leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

Go on, he said.

It occurred to Hallie that Gabe Miller probably had an excellent bedside manner. He gave the impression that he would gladly listen to a patient’s problems, but would also respect the patient’s privacy. Hallie reminded herself that she wasn’t Dr. Miller’s patient— and then promptly confided in him all over again.

The nanny I hired in Philadelphia was capable. She may not have been Nana, but she was competent at her job. Lia seemed to be feeling secure—that was the most important thing. But then… well, recently, because of certain circumstances, I’ve moved to New Mexico, and I couldn’t bring the nanny with me. Lia’s been crying off and on ever since. I try to tell myself that maybe she’s teething. I try to come up with other excuses, as well. But I know it’s more than that. Hallie took a deep breath. Lia’s not adjusting to our new life together. I can’t seem to do anything to comfort her. The situation’s getting worse, not better. There. It was out—the whole miserable mess. Granted, Hallie hadn’t explained the circumstances that had brought her to New Mexico, but she’d revealed her failings as a mother. She gave a wry grimace. What more could she say?

Gabe Miller nodded slowly. I see, he remarked. And that was all for the moment. Hallie frowned. Exactly what did he see?

I don’t understand why I told you any of this. she muttered.

You told me because you’re afraid you’re doing something wrong, he said with that maddening authority.

Of course I’m doing something wrong, Hallie answered, more sharply than she’d intended. If I was doing something right, Lia wouldn’t cry half the night and then half the day. She’d be happy.

Gabe Miller gave Hallie almost a pitying look. Ms. Claremont, maybe it’s true that Lia is making an adjustment right now. Certainly she’s had enough health problems in her young life to warrant your concern. But there’s another problem here. If you’re tense and worried about being a good mother, you’ll communicate that tension to the child. My advice is simple. Stop worrying—at least now and then.

Hallie shook her head. It couldn’t possibly be that simple. Dr. Miller, do you have any children of your own?

At last she seemed to have jarred his professional attitude His expression became guarded, but not before she saw a flash of discontentment.

No, Ms. Claremont. I have no children. No wife, for that matter… no fiancée. None of the above.

I’m not fishing around for your marital status, she said. I’m just trying to point out that if you were a parent yourself, you’d never tell me to stop worrying. You’d realize that’s impossible.

"I may not be a parent, but as a doctor I’ve dealt with plenty of mothers. Plenty of fathers, too. And I’d say they all worry too damn much. They’re so concerned with proving how good they can be at the job, they forget to enjoy it. Take you for instance, Ms. Claremont. At this particular moment, Lia isn’t crying.