by Sabrina York
Brendan collapsed into a kitchen chair. “My daughter.”
He blinked. “What?”
Brendan was busy stripping off his heavy coat. “I can’t believe how cold it is out there. I thought Topeka was bad, but I had forgotten how damn cold Oregon can be.”
Dom watched his brother’s eyes shift. “What are you doing here?”
His brother waved to the baby. “You have to take her.”
His mouth dropped open. “What?”
“I can’t take care of a baby. I’m going to Lisbon, then Tokyo. I can’t be dragging a br—baby all over the world.”
Dom found himself sinking into a hard wooden chair. “Where’s her mother?”
Brendan’s eyes narrowed. “She can’t raise a baby. Cari is completely messed up—drugs and prostitution, for a start.” He shook his head. “She nearly got Jessica killed by taking her joyriding at three in the morning with her drunk boyfriend at the wheel.”
“Why were you ever with a woman like that?”
Brendan shrugged. “I was only with her a short time. I didn’t know what she was like.” His lips trembled. “She left one day without a word. It’s a miracle I ever found out about Jessica.”
Dom tried to take it all in, but found himself lost. “I’m confused.”
“She hid her from me,” he said bitterly. “But not anymore. I have custody now.” His face sagged. “I can’t take care of her, bro. I’m almost as bad a choice as Cari. You’re the only option.”
Dom shook his head, trying to block out the sounds of the baby wailing, while hoping his mother hadn’t been awakened. She’d had a rough night; finally giving in and taking a pain pill less than an hour ago. Yet, he knew her mother’s instincts must surely have heard the baby by now. He hoped the medication kept her in a deep sleep. “I can’t take care of her. I’m not married—”
“What about Lisa?”
He shrugged. “Nothing firm there. If there was, a baby isn’t the best wedding gift.”
Brendan looked sympathetic, but his shifting eyes gave him away. “You have to do this. I can’t.”
“How long have you tried?” Dom asked in a biting tone.
His brother shrugged. “I’ve had custody for a little more than a day, and she’s screamed the entire time.” His mouth twisted. “I thought they were going to kick us off the plane.”
“Get a nanny.”
Brendan stood up, lifting his coat from the chair. “No time for that, Dom. I’m due in Lisbon tomorrow morning, and I can’t take her. You hire one. I’ll send for her once things are settled.”
Dom’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t do this, Brendan. You’re an adult—don’t think you can drop all your problems in my lap these days.”
Brendan looked at his watch. “There’s a taxi waiting for me, and my plane leaves from Portland in little over an hour. The roads are hell, and I have no time to debate this. She has to stay here.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Brendan. His brother’s attitude was confident, as always. He knew Dom would step in and rescue him. How could he not when they were talking about a baby? He sighed, accepting that he couldn’t leave the fate of a helpless child to his irresponsible younger brother. “Fine, but if you leave her, she stays here. No sending for her later or dropping in and out whenever you feel like it.”
Brendan nodded. “That’s fine with me.”
“I want it in writing.” His smile was cold. “We’ll write something temporary tonight, and I’ll send you custody papers in Lisbon when they’re drawn up.”
His brother shrugged. “Hurry. I haven’t got much time.”
Dom strode from the kitchen, back the office, where he quickly typed a succinct agreement and printed it on the laser printer. When he returned, he was disgusted to find the baby screaming louder than ever, and his brother making no move to lift her from the carrying seat. He signed the makeshift document, and then watched Brendan do the same. He felt a moment of hope for his brother when Brendan turned to the seat, pulling off the blankets. He frowned as Brendan laid them on the table, and lifted the baby to put her on top of them with all the care he might show a bag of potatoes. “What are you doing?”
“The car seat is a rental from the airport. I need to return it, or I’ll lose $85.”
Open-mouthed, Dom watched Brendan tuck the seat under his arm and walk to the door. Without a backward glance for the baby, his brother opened the door and slammed it behind him when he left. Dom dropped into a seat at the table, eyeing his niece as she squirmed and screamed. He gathered his courage enough to lift her into his arms, rocking her gently. She stopped crying and fastened bright green eyes on him. She still didn’t look happy, and she whimpered as she flailed her tiny arms. Her red cheeks were marred by tear tracks, and Dom found his breath catching in his throat.
She was so perfect. Each of her tiny fingers ended in shiny nails. She had delicate features, from what he could tell anyway. She was small and helpless. How could his brother and the baby’s mother be so callous? Dom shifted her onto his shoulder, hoping he held her properly. He remembered hearing somewhere that a baby’s neck had to be supported, so he was careful to position her head against his neck. Then he rose from the table to return to his office, hoping to get some work done.
As soon as he laid her on the couch in his office, her infrequent whimpers turned to lusty sobs again. He got up from his chair to lift Jessica and returned to his seat behind the desk. “This sure is difficult,” he whispered to his niece as he tried to hold her and write in a file at the same time. Finally, he gave up and shut the folder. “Maybe I can get you to sleep, and then get some work done?” He kept his tone gentle, with a hint of cheerfulness.
A delighted laugh escaped him when her lips curled into a small smile. He was suddenly overcome with emotion, finding it difficult to swallow. There was an aching in his chest, and his eyes burned with suppressed tears. As he sprawled on the black leather sofa, cradling her against his chest, Dom had the sinking feeling this little scrap of humanity was going to change everything. Leave it to Brendan to bring turmoil to his life once again.
A smile curved across his lips as she sighed softly while settling into sleep. For once, maybe Brendan hadn’t brought something bad with him, but rather something good. To his surprise, a yawn overtook him, quickly followed by another, until he had a hard time keeping his eyes opened. Eventually, they both slept.
Caris’s chest ached, and her eyes burned with suppressed tears. She sat on the floor of the room she shared with Jessica—used to share, she silently amended. She held Jessica’s teddy bear in her arms as she stared into the thick shadows of the unlit room, longing to feel her baby in her arms again. She wondered how much Jessica had grown in the week since she had seen her. She wondered if Brendan was taking good care of her. Did he cover her up to go outside? Did he know to feed her every four hours? Had he hired a professional?
She bent forward, wrapping her arms around her burning stomach. The not knowing was killing her. She had phoned Brendan’s old number, but got a message that it had been disconnected. Somehow, she had survived the last day-and-a-half, knowing the case worker would contact Brendan first thing on Monday to arrange her first visit.
How was she going to survive seeing her baby for only a stolen hour here and there? She bit her lip, once again considering giving into his emotional blackmail. Whatever he did or could do to her didn’t seem nearly as bad as living without Jessica. What was she going to do?
Sobs overtook her, tearing themselves from her with rasping, hoarse sounds that echoed through the small room. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and Caris pressed her face against the worn carpet to absorb them. Somewhere in the night, her baby slept in a different room, cared for by a stranger who claimed to want to be her father, and it was completely his fault he was a stranger. Brendan had never been worthy to be called Jessica’s father, and it tore up Caris to think he was now responsible for her. Instead of abating, Caris’s sob
s escalated until she was breathless and dizzy. Even then, she couldn’t stop crying. Sometime in the night, her eyes closed, although she wouldn’t know later if from exhaustion or losing consciousness.
“What in the world?”
Dom blinked his eyes open at his mother’s alarmed question. He groaned as assorted aches and pains accrued from a night of sleeping on the sofa made themselves known. He lifted his head from the sofa arm to eye Jessica, pleased to see she was awake, but quiet. “Good morning, Mom.” He turned his head to look at her, groaning as the muscles protested.
Her hands were planted on her hips, and her dark eyes were full of confusion. “Is that a baby? That’s a baby!”
“Yes.” Gingerly, Dom swung his legs to the floor, causing Jessica to protest. “Brendan gave her to us.”
Elena’s mouth dropped into an O. “What?”
“Apparently he got custody, but decided he wasn’t a much better parent than the mother.” Dom shuddered, remembering Brendan’s description of his niece’s mother. “As usual, he dumped his problems on us.”
She eased forward carefully, using the cane in her gnarled hands for support. “What will we do with a baby?”
Dom sat up, carefully balancing Jessica’s head. He looked at his mother, sighing. “I don’t know.”
Her face crinkled into a smile, and Elena pushed back her black hair, streaked with gray. She eased herself onto the couch, placing the cane beside her, within easy reach. “I would like to hold her,” she said as she lifted her arms.
He felt a pang as he passed the infant to his mother. Jessica’s eyes widened as Elena adjusted her position, and then her mouth fell open. A cry loud enough to wake the dead burst from the tiny maw, and she began to kick against the constraints of her layette in earnest.
Looking upset, Elena gently rocked her. “She’s probably hungry.”
Dom nodded. “I’ll go see what Brendan left.” He padded into the kitchen, accompanied by the sounds of Jessica’s screams. He looked around for a bag, having a vague idea that diaper bags accompanied babies. He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, frustrated to realize Brendan had never heard that. After searching the floor, he went to the pile of blankets still on the table, looking through them methodically. He found an empty bottle for his trouble, but no formula, and nothing else.
Still carrying the bottle, Dom returned to the office, where he found his mother struggling to calm Jessica. “Brendan didn’t bring anything for her. It looks like I’m going to have to drive into Corvallis.”
Elena’s dark eyes glimmered with moisture. “She hates me.”
He patted her arm. “Don’t feel bad, Mom. She was screaming when Brendan brought her in. She’s probably starving and needs a change.”
“Maybe I should drive in and leave you with the baby.”
He looked at her, noticing how stiffly she held herself. “You can barely walk this morning, let alone drive.” He shook his head. “No, I’ll have to go. While I’m gone, see if you can line us up some nannies to interview.”
His mother frowned. “Are you sure this is the right thing, Dominick? Perhaps we should call the social people.”
He scrunched his eyebrows together, mentally repeating social people. “Oh, you mean Social Services?”
She nodded, still absently patting Jessica’s back. “You aren’t married, and I can’t take care of a baby. This arthritis takes more out of me everyday, and she’ll only get more active as she grows.”
Dom’s hand lifted of its own accord to stroke the soft cheek of his tiny burden. “From what Brendan told me about this baby’s mother, she hasn’t had a great start. With a father like Brendan, she never will.” He took a deep breath, gathering his nerve. “No, she’s family, and we owe it to her to take care of her.” He shifted at the uncomfortable feelings welling up inside at the thought of giving away the baby. He had never believed in love at first sight, but it felt like he had bonded with Jessica in an instant.
Elena sighed. “If you think it’s for the best.” She smiled down at the fussing baby. “I suppose she’ll get used to me.”
“That’s the spirit, Mom.” Dom searched for his shoes, finding them under the desk. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Hurry.”
He paused at the doorway. “Er, what do I buy for a baby?”
“Just the basics for now, dear. Ask one of the sales clerks for help.”
Dom turned into the driveway, grateful he had taken the Tacoma. The bed of the truck was now filled with baby items. It was amazing how quickly things could be accomplished with unlimited funds and fawning sales girls, he thought with a twist of his lips. They had crammed and stuffed the truck to capacity in under twenty minutes.
He parked the truck in the garage and slid out. As he lifted the sack with clothes, diapers, and a bottle, he cast a doubtful look at the myriad furnishings stacked in the back of the truck. Was that really the basics for a baby?
When he entered the house through the mudroom, he immediately heard the sounds of Jessica screaming. There was a frantic edge to her cries that he recognized from last night, when she first arrived. He hurried into the office, freezing when he didn’t find his mother and the baby. “Mom?”
“In the sitting room,” she called.
Dom went down the hall, resisting the urge to kick off his shoes as he went. He still had the truck to unload before he could get comfortable. When he entered the sitting room, he found Elena perched in a straight-backed chair covered with peach brocade silk. Jessica lay on the blankets that had been on the kitchen table. She was kicking and flailing her arms, and her face was an alarming red. “Shouldn’t you be holding her?”
There was moisture on her cheeks. “I’ve tried. It makes no difference. Holding her only makes her cry harder. I think she may be sick.”
He ran a hand through his already mussed hair. “We’ll see how she is after a feeding and change. Being Sunday, I’m not sure we can get her into a doctor today.”
“If we drive to Eugene, we can find an urgency clinic. Or Portland.”
“Damn.”
She frowned at him. “What?”
He knelt on the floor, carefully lifting Jessica, who immediately quieted. “In all the necessities I bought, I forgot a car seat.”
“Oh.” Elena’s worried expression relaxed. “Look at that. She missed you.”
He blushed without knowing why. “No.”
She nodded. “Look how quiet she is now, snuggling against you.”
His nose wrinkled, and he held Jessica away from him slightly. “And how wet and stinky she is,” he said. “Someone needs a bath.” He laid her on the blankets again, once more eliciting a round of cries. “I’ll go fix her bottle, and bring in the rest of the stuff.” He stood up. “Uh, any idea how old she is? One of the clerks told me I wouldn’t need to heat her bottle if she’s older than three months.”
Elena studied the baby for a long moment. “She’s probably around six months, but it’s been so long since you were a baby that I can’t be sure. Didn’t Brendan tell you?”
“No. He was too busy rushing back to the airport.”
“What about papers?”
“Nothing.”
“Not even a birth certificate or custody decree?”
Dom shook his head. “I did get him to sign a paper relinquishing custody temporarily.”
“I’m sure he was only too happy,” she said under her breath as he left the room. Dom heard her, but didn’t refute his mother’s statement. They both knew Brendan too well.
In the kitchen, he poured premixed formula from a can into a plastic bag and tried to slide the bag into the bottle. He cursed as the formula splashed out of the bag, hitting him in the face and spraying the counters. He took a deep breath and filled the bag with eight ounces again. The bottle had no bottom, so he grasped the lower edge as he tried to slide the bag of milk inside. It went well until he realized he hadn’t secured the tabs. The bag fell from the bottle to spill
across the floor and his gleaming black dress shoes.
He wiped a hand down his face and turned around the box of bottle liners to read the instructions. Heat filled his face as he read the very first line: Insert liner into bottle and fill with fluid. “Idiot,” he said softly as he took a fresh liner from the box. He fumbled the easy-open tabs open after a minute of determined separating and slid the bag into the bottle. He almost shouted with triumph when he filled the bag, and the formula didn’t spill. He quickly screwed the purple lid on the Tigger bottle before the tabs could slip. He didn’t remember bottles being so complicated when he was younger—not that he remembered his bottle.
It struck him as ridiculous that he, a man who had rough-necked, worked McNeil World Construction from the ground up, and routinely made million-dollar deals, should take such delight in making a bottle. Still, he couldn’t deny the surge of satisfaction that accompanied his return to the sitting room.
Jessica’s cries had turned piteous, but once again, she calmed as soon as Dom lifted her. He settled on the floor, Indian fashion, and braced her with his left arm while holding the bottle for her. “You like that, don’t you?” He lifted his head when Elena chuckled. “What?”
“You are a natural, my boy.”
He shrugged, eliciting a sound of protest as the nipple was dislodged from Jessica’s mouth. “She’s just so easy to take care of.”
Elena lifted an eyebrow, looking skeptical. “If you have the magic touch.”
He stared down at Jessica as she slurped her bottle, relieved to find his mother had changed her while he was fixing the bottle. He frowned, realizing how much that must have hurt her hands. “Did you get hold of a nanny?”
“I found one agency with an answering service that turned out to be the owner. She promised to send a parade of nannies to us starting the first of the week.”
He hoped it would be a simple matter of picking one so their lives could return to normal. As he shifted the baby to his shoulder, following Elena’s instructions for burping her, he couldn’t help but wonder if things would ever be the same again.
