Read Online A Mother's Love by Ruth Wind - Free Book Online

“this thing between us. I feel…like I know you. Like I’ve always known you.”
    â€œPlease, don’t,” she whispered. “I just don’t have any faith left in me. I’m sorry.” Gently she pulled out of his grasp and ran away.
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    O VER THE NEXT FEW days they fell into a pattern of activity. Kyra walked and did yoga on the beach before breakfast, then Dylan picked her up and they went to his mother’s house, where Kyra absorbed the lessons of the older woman—how to bathe the baby, how to tell when she had gas or was hungry, how to listen for the differences in her cries.
    In the afternoons the baby slept, and Dylan showed her the local sights. The ease between them never slipped, and it was sometimes difficult for Kyra to remember why she didn’t let down her guard. She learned many things about him—that he was kind and well regarded. That he liked cartoons. That he never drank more than a single bottle of ale.
    They returned to Emma’s cottage for supper, and Kyra put the baby to bed while Emma rested and watched television.
    On her sixth morning in Wales Kyra awakened to a sense of great clearheadedness and only then realized that she’d been feeling very jet-lagged. Of course she’d been clumsy and made mistakes and felt her judgment was not quite right. She walked on the beach early and came back to have a shower and her breakfast, telling herself that the lightness in her chest had nothing to do with Dylan and everything to do with little Tommie. Amanda? She wasn’t sure yet.
    And was that weird to not know what the baby’s name was? Neither one felt quite right yet.
    After a hearty breakfast of eggs and bacon—she didn’teat the bacon, though she had to admit it smelled wonderful—she waited for Dylan in the foyer, reading a women’s magazine full of short stories of a type she didn’t see in America much anymore. Her mother had liked stories like this—simple stories with a heartwarming message about a woman and her life.
    The minute Dylan stepped through the door, she caught his scent. She was reading an article about how to perfectly blanch almonds when that soft scent of sea and rain and man, so particular to him, wafted over her body like a hand. And despite her lectures to herself, despite her resolves, she was much too glad to see him.
    â€œAll right,” he said. This morning he wore a simple rugby shirt with white and blue stripes, and jeans. It made him look casual and prosperous at once, if it hadn’t been for that rakish hair. Not so long as to be odd but long enough to be wild.
    â€œGood morning,” she said, primly putting aside her magazine.
    There was reserve between them this morning, the boiling kiss of the other night heavy in her mind. Maybe his, too, she thought. Or maybe he was thinking of her running away.
    Outside, he said, “I thought what might be best is to take the baby out, away from my mother so you are not so nervous. We’ll have a picnic, and you can have some time to get to know your daughter.”
    He opened the door to his car, and Kyra spied a proper wicker basket in the backseat, next to the baby’s car seat. Touched, she looked up at him. “Thank you.”
    A shrug. “You should see a little of the coastline, at least. It’s a beautiful place.”
    â€œI walked on the sea this morning.”
    â€œOn the sea? Wish I’d seen that.”
    She grinned. “Ha-ha.”
    They headed out to the point where his mother lived. “Is this where you grew up?” Kyra asked. “It seems very small for a family.”
    â€œIt is, but we managed. There are a couple of rooms in the attic and we bunked together all right.”
    The baby was lying quietly in her cradle when they came in. Kyra could hear her cooing, and the sound went right through her, settling deep in her ribs and heart.
    Emma, however, was fast asleep on the couch, a