Involuntary Daddy

by Rachel Lee

  Then he and the baby left.

  Angela stared after him. Her appetite was gone, too, but unlike Rafe, she had to finish her meal. She’d already taken her insulin, and failing to eat could make her very ill. But the tuna tasted like sawdust now, and the bread wanted to stick in her throat.

  All she’d done was try to express some common human concern, and the jerk had bitten her head off. See if she ever made lunch for him again. See if she ever even talked to him again.

  Reaching across the table, she picked up his uneaten sandwich and hurled it into the sink. Then, feeling better, she managed to choke down the rest of her sandwich with the aid of a glass of milk.

  Jerk. From now on, she was going to act as if he didn’t even exist.

  “This stuff smells like dead fish,” the woman at the pharmacy cash register said. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  Rafe looked at the tube of ointment. He supposed if he was a woman, the cashier never would have asked him if he was buying the right thing. He could get resentful, he guessed, but on the other hand, he really didn’t want the kid to smell like dead fish. “I thought this was the best,” he said finally. “Is there something better?”

  “I don’t know if it’s better, but it doesn’t stink. Did your wife tell you to get this? I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

  “I don’t have a wife.”

  The woman’s eyebrows lifted; then her gaze became friendly and genuinely concerned. “So...you’re going from the baby books?”

  “You could say that.”

  She nodded. “I did, too, and I learned a whole lot the hard way. Let me take this stuff back and get you something else. Trust me, not only will the baby stink like dead fish, but you’ll never be able to get the smell off your hands.”

  The stink could have advantages, though, Rafe thought. Maybe Manny wouldn’t want a baby that smelled like dead fish. The thought almost made him laugh aloud.

  The peanut, once again fed, burped and changed, was sleeping contentedly in his carrier/car seat, looking for all the world like an angel. No one would guess the kid’s bottom was fireengine-red right now.

  The cashier returned with a different tube. “A little more expensive,” she said, “but worth it.”

  He paid without complaint for the ointment, another dozen cans of infant formula and two more packages of diapers. Then there was nothing to do but go back to the Dalton house, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that. He hadn’t been very pleasant to Angela, and she would probably stare daggers at him. Which was exactly what he wanted, he supposed, but he still didn’t like it.

  But maybe she’d gone on her drive and he could collapse peacefully on his bed for a snooze to get ready for tonight’s round of feedings. Or just read a book. It had been a long time since he’d had the leisure to just sit and read.

  Or he could sit and ponder why it was he was getting involved with a total stranger just because the man happened to be his half-brother. He had a feeling that while the baby might have precipitated his action, he wasn’t the real reason for it.

  He knew that whole chunks of himself were deeply buried, but he had always figured he knew what those parts were. Now he was discovering that he might not know himself as well as he had always believed.

  It was a miserable feeling.

  On the way home he stopped at the library to get a copy of the most recent novel by one of his favorite writers. Emma was there at the circulation desk, talking to an elderly man. She gave a little wave as he came in with the baby, and he waved back.

  He found the adult fiction section with little difficulty and began to peruse the stacks. Even though he knew exactly what book he wanted, he decided to waste some time. Anything to keep from going back to the house and running into Angela.

  He wasn’t usually such a coward, but since the kid had come into his life, he was doing all kinds of strange things. No question but what the baby was a bad influence.

  By the time he finished, he had chosen three books. He figured if he kept his nose in them, Angela and he could just ignore each other politely, which was the only safe thing to do. He went to check out.

  “Oh, that’s a good one,” Emma said, pointing to the techno-thriller that topped his stack.

  “Can I borrow them? I guess I need to get a card. Can I get a card when I don’t live here?”

  She gave a quiet laugh. “You know the librarian. That’s all the card you need.” She looked at him. “Are you dying of boredom yet in our quiet little town?”

  “I haven’t had time. It’s a whole different pace of life, though.”

  “I imagine. I’ve always wanted to go to Miami.”

  “Why?”

  She laughed again. “The urge usually hits sometime around February or March, when the winter starts to seem too long.”

  “You and ten billion other people.”

  “It would be crowded, wouldn’t it?”

  “It’s always crowded,” he said. “And in a lot of ways, it’s not the nicest town. Listen, you ever decide to come that way, give me a call. I’ll make sure you see the best side of town.”

  “That would be wonderful.”

  He felt a lot better when he stepped back out onto the street Angela might be annoyed with him, but his conversation with Emma had somehow made up for it.

  Which was probably proof positive that he really was losing his mind.

  Late that afternoon, an autumn storm began to work its way across the mountains. As the sun sank lower in the sky, heavy gray clouds approached. The wind took on a sharp bite, and Angela decided that she had to go home.

  It was nearing time to test her blood sugar again, and to take more insulin. She might have been able to safely postpone it, but she had promised herself that she was going to adhere strictly to her schedule. She was certainly not going to get herself into trouble simply to avoid Rafe Ortiz a little longer.

  When she got back to the house, she found Emma in the kitchen, humming as she prepared dinner. Rafe was invisible, and so was the baby.

  “How was your day?” Emma asked.

  “Wonderful. I took a great drive up in the mountains.”

  “It’s beautiful up there right now.”

  “Are we supposed to get snow tonight?”

  “Why? Does it look like it?”

  “There are some heavy clouds moving in, and the temperature’s falling fast.”

  Emma pursed her lips. “It’s possible. Early, but possible. I wouldn’t think we’d get much, though.”

  “I need to go test my sugar. What time is dinner?”

  “I figure around six-thirty. Do you need to eat earlier?”

  “I’ll just put off my shot for a little while. It’s no problem. As soon as I come back down, I’ll help you, okay?”

  “Help is always welcome.”

  Upstairs, she was relieved to see that Rafe’s door was closed. At least she didn’t have to face him right now. Driving around had managed to make her feel better, and she was afraid the mere sight of him would irritate her.

  Her sugar tested right on the money, and she was proud of herself. It had been a while since she had seen a reading this good at this time of day.

  She took a few minutes to freshen up, then went back down to the kitchen. Gage was there now, and Angela felt her heart lurch as she came upon the two of them. They were locked in a tight embrace, completely oblivious to the rest of the world.

  Envy and an ache of longing filled her with sudden strength, and she slipped quickly away into the living room, not wanting to disturb them.

  And there was Rafe. He was stretched out on the couch with an open book on the floor beside him, sound asleep. The baby was on his chest, also sleeping soundly, protected by one large hand on his little back.

  Angela suddenly had the worst urge to throw back her head and howl. The ache of longing was overwhelming and she wished she could run from it. But there was no escape. No one would ever hold her the way Gage was holding Emma r
ight now, and no man would ever snooze on her couch with her baby in his arms.

  That was not for her and never would be, and she thought she had learned to accept it. Instead, all she had learned to do was bury the pain.

  She started to hurry blindly out of the living room, feeling almost wild with the need to hide and compose herself before she faced anyone.

  As she turned, she came up hard against Gage’s chest. He caught her and steadied her. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Behind him she could see Emma, and though she couldn’t see it, she could swear that she felt Rafe’s gaze on her back. Everyone was looking at her, and all she wanted to do was hide somewhere and lick her wounds until she could face the world again.

  “I’m fine,” she said thickly, and turned to flee up the stairs.

  No one followed her. And never, ever, in her life had she felt as alone as she did right then.

  “Angela?” There was a gentle knock on the door, and Emma’s quiet voice reached her. “Angela?”

  Rubbing her tear-reddened eyes, Angela opened the door. “I’m okay, Emma. Really. Just decompressing.”

  Emma nodded and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “You want to tell me what upset you?”

  “Nothing, really. I’m just having a hard time...dealing with issues in my life.”

  “Which issues?”

  “I really don’t want to discuss it, Emma. Honestly. They’re old issues. Sometimes they just reach up and bite me. That’s all.”

  Emma searched her face, her green eyes kind. “I’m here if you need to talk. You know that, right?”

  Angela nodded. “I’m sorry, I meant to help you with dinner.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I put Gage to work chopping. He likes it. Says it helps him work out his frustrations.”

  A little laugh escaped Angela. “Maybe I should chop some things, too.”

  “Probably. It’s great therapy.” Emma reached out and touched her shoulder gently. “How about a hug? Those usually help.”

  Emma’s hug did help, Angela thought. Her life had been terribly empty of hugs since her mother died. She wanted to burrow into those arms and cry her eyes out.

  “It’s okay to feel sorry for yourself,” Emma murmured gently. “God knows, I’ve done it often enough.”

  She stepped back and sat on the bed, patting the mattress beside her. “Come on, let’s talk about it.”

  Angela sat, but found she didn’t want to talk about herself. She was bored with herself. Besides, talking about it would do nothing to make anything better.

  “Sometimes,” Emma said, “I still cry because I can’t have a baby.”

  Angela took a long ragged breath and nodded. “I know. How do you deal with it?”

  “I remind myself it wouldn’t be good for Gage.”

  Angela looked at her. “What? Why?”

  “Because Gage lost his wife and young children in a car bomb attack. He told me he’d never be able to sleep at night again if he had children to worry about”

  “God, that’s awful!” And it made her feel small to be whining about her own problems.

  “Lately he’s mentioned adoption a few times, but I’m not sure if he’s just saying that for my sake.” Emma shrugged. “All I know is, I’m grateful to have Gage, and I feel awful for wanting any more.”

  Angela nodded. “I know. I mean... I get so down about my diabetes at times—lately, I’ve just been wallowing in my own misery—but I have to remind myself that there are lots of people who get diabetes as children who don’t live to be my age...or if they do, they’re sick and disabled. I’ve been really lucky. I just need to remember that.”

  “Easy to say, hard to do.” Emma smiled sadly. “Besides, it isn’t just luck that got you here. You’ve always been good about taking care of yourself.”

  “Until lately.” Lately she had been flirting with the possibility of everything from loss of vision to loss of a hmb by letting her blood sugar go out of control.

  “But you’re fixing that now, right?”

  “Yes. But you know what? I hate myself. I haven’t rebelled like this since I was first diagnosed. All of a sudden I hate having to do all this stuff.” Angela shook her head. “I’m being childish, and I know it.”

  “We all get childish at times.”

  “I feel like such a failure!”

  “But you’re not. You’re actually very successful.”

  “Yeah, right.” Angela shook her head.

  “I’m not kidding, Angie. It’s not your fault that you got diabetes, but it would be your fault if you didn’t take care of yourself. You’ve been very successful in doing what you need to. That’s not failure.”

  After Emma left, Angela laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to fight the feelings that threatened to swamp her. Maybe she could call it success that she had lived this long and was still reasonably healthy. Or she could look at the fact that she could die at any moment and therefore couldn’t allow anyone to get close to her and call her life a total failure.

  Right now, it was looking an awful lot like failure.

  Chapter 4

  “Wanna go to lunch with me today?” Rafe asked. He and Angela were cleaning up the kitchen after breakfast Gage and Emma had already gone off to work. The baby dozed in his seat, perched in the middle of the table.

  Angela looked at Rafe as if he’d just lost his mind. “Why?”

  He shifted to his other foot and studied her with apparent perplexity. Clearly, Angela thought, he wasn’t used to being questioned about his motives when he asked a woman out.

  “I have to meet the sheriff and his wife for lunch I just thought you might like to go, too. It beats hanging around with nothing to do.”

  There was an ulterior motive there somewhere, Angela thought. She wondered what it would take to pry it out of him. Then she decided that the only way she was ever going to know was to agree to go. On the other hand, she could be stubborn when she was feeling manipulated.

  “I could just watch the baby for you.”

  “No, no, I want to take the kid.”

  “Oh.” Why? This sounded like a business lunch. Well, no, not if the sheriff’s wife was coming. Perplexed herself, she looked out the window. “I guess,” she said finally, giving in to curiosity. It wasn’t the most gracious acceptance she’d ever given.

  He didn’t seem to notice. “Thanks.”

  “Sure.”

  They went back to washing the dishes in silence.

  She had cut back her morning insulin, which meant she had to take her run instead of hanging around the house and trying to pry information out of Rafe. Not that he would have told her anything. She was beginning to recognize that he was completely locked inside his defensive walls, even more than she was.

  The day was bitingly cold under leaden skies, and from time to time she saw a single snowflake fall. As long as she kept moving, it wasn’t too bad. More importantly, running cut her free of all her worries. While she ran she felt good, far removed from the faces that had been haunting her dreams lately, the faces of the people whose dreams she’d had to foreclose on.

  She was tempted to run farther than usual but didn’t dare allow herself. Her damn blood sugar was like a leash around her neck, restricting her in every direction. Only when she had had it under strict control for a while could she dare press farther to see what happened.

  Back at the house, she showered and changed, then made herself a small snack. While she was eating a couple of crackers and a piece of cheese, she heard Rafe come down the stairs. He and the baby appeared in the kitchen a few moments later.

  “Listen,” he said, “I don’t really have any cold weather clothes for the peanut.”

  She had to smile. “Coming from Miami, I can understand that.”

  He absolutely astonished her with a smile in response. “Yeah. Anyway, can we leave a little early and go to the department store? I want to get the kid a jacket or something. Actually,
I could use one myself, too.”

  “Just let me finish my crackers.”

  He hesitated. “You gonna be okay if we do it this way? I mean, I know about your schedule and all. Do you need to come back here and get your insulin before we go to lunch?”

  Part of her was reluctantly touched by his concern, and part of her was embarrassed by it. She would have liked to tell him to mind his own business, but that would have been insufferably rude. “I’ll just bring it with me. I can take the shot in the ladies’ room.”

  “Okay. I just didn’t want you to get into trouble on my account.”

  He stood there for a minute more, looking as if he wanted to say something; then his eyes grew as cold as the day outside. Angela had the distinct feeling that he’d pulled back into some isolated place inside himself.

  “Ten minutes?” he said.

  “I’ll be ready.”

  He still didn’t move. Finally, in a burst of frustration, she took the bull by the horns. “What’s this lunch about, anyway?” She’d already learned that he didn’t like questions, so she didn’t really expect an answer. She wondered why she even bothered to ask.

  But he surprised her. For an instant his face seemed shuttered, then he sighed and said, “I haven’t told anybody this, but the sheriff is my half-brother. We just met for the first time.”

  Angela’s frustration seeped away. “Really? That’s awesome.”

  He gave her a half smile. “Awkward as hell, too.”

  “So you want me there to kind of help out?”

  He nodded.

  Angela looked down at the cracker in her hand, feeling ridiculously touched that he’d wanted her help. And feeling kinder toward him for having the gumption to admit it. When she looked up, she was smiling. “I’d be glad to help out, if I can.”

  “Thanks. So eat up and start helping.”

  She had to laugh.

  The trip to Freitag’s Mercantile proved to be a lot of fun. Rafe picked out a jacket for himself quickly and with total disregard for anything except whether it fit, but when it came to picking out something for his son, he was a lot choosier. They waded through bunting, snowsuits, jackets, impossibly tiny mittens and caps.