An Unexpected Christmas Baby

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  She didn’t know where he’d gone or what he was doing. Maybe seeing to the baby, although she hadn’t heard a peep.

  Then she heard his voice, speaking calmly. “Lie back and close your eyes.”

  An odd request, but he’d asked her to trust him. And she did. Implicitly. She lay back. Closed her eyes.

  “Take me back to the day Ryan was born,” he said, coming closer. She opened her eyes and he turned away. “No, please, Tamara, close your eyes and tell me about that day. Everything you can remember. Even if it’s just about running out of tape.”

  She didn’t like this. At all. But the tape? He’d focused on the mundane for a reason, so she did, too. Because she trusted him.

  She was safe with him. Emotionally safe. And so she did as he asked, sharing that day with him in the little things, things that hadn’t mattered to anyone else who’d talked to her since her son’s death. She remembered that she’d had chocolate for breakfast—in the granola bar she’d eaten. That she’d shaved her legs. She’d had a day off work. Had gone in for a haircut and had wanted to leave the salon. To be home.

  Her car had half a tank of gas.

  The weather was warm, balmy. The sun shining. She’d thought about picking a cucumber from her garden to have with cheese and crackers for lunch. Wanted to remember to call her mom.

  He asked her what she was wearing that day, his voice so soft she almost didn’t hear him. So soft, he didn’t break her spell. And she told him about the pregnancy pants. Not leggings, but real pregnancy pants with the panel. Her friends had teased her, but she’d wanted them because she was actually showing enough to need them.

  The maternity top had been blue with little white, red and light blue flowers.

  She talked and talked. Remembering so much. Relaxed from the wine. And the goodness of the feelings that had welled up in her that day. The hope.

  But it didn’t stop there. In the same soft voice, closer, right next to her on the couch, Flint asked her to talk about the first labor pain she’d felt. What she was doing. What she was thinking.

  One second at a time, through the little things, the thoughts she could remember, she went through that horrific afternoon with him, including every moment she remembered in the hospital, talking about the sounds, the voices she heard, other people’s conversations.

  A conversation about babies who’d been born at her gestational time period surviving and eventually thriving.

  She took him with her through the pain of the birth, the silence when she’d expected to hear a baby’s cry. The look on the doctor’s face. On Steve’s face. She’d known. They hadn’t had to tell her, she’d known. Her precious baby boy hadn’t survived the birth. Tears streamed down her face as she felt the hysteria building inside her. Steve told the doctor to give her something and—

  Just before the darkness came... “Stop.” Flint’s voice was still soft. The command was not to be denied. She lay there, eyes closed, and waited.

  “Do you want to hold him, Tamara? Just once? To say goodbye?” His voice. She started to sob. To sit up. To lash out and—

  Gentle hands against her face. “Keep your eyes closed, Tamara. Stay with me. Trust me. It’s okay to cry, sweetie. Just tell me if you want to hold him.”

  She was back in that hospital room, right before the darkness.

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I want to hold my baby.”

  “Here.” Flint’s arm slid behind her back, supporting her weight as he lifted her, straightening her a little. Something touched her chest and she reached up automatically, cradling it.

  The weight was slight. He was only four pounds.

  “He’s in a blanket, Tamara, wrapped up and warm. He looks so peaceful. Don’t be afraid to hold him tight. You can’t hurt him.”

  Of their own volition, her arms closed around that bundle. She didn’t think to question, to wonder what it was. She just held on for all she was worth. Crushing it to her. Aware that it had more give when she squeezed than a human body would, but she was holding him. Eyes closed, lying there against Flint, she was holding her baby boy.

  She cried. Hard. And Flint held her. She lay there until Diamond’s cries broke the spell. And then, when Flint didn’t move, she opened her eyes, told him she was okay and urged him to go care for the baby.

  He didn’t bring Diamond in to her. She’d thought he might, but knew he’d made the right choice.

  She was still sitting there, holding what she now knew was a teddy bear, weighted and stuffed with a gel-like pillow pad.

  Her trials weren’t over. She was well aware of that, and Flint was, too. His gift to her hadn’t been a cure, hadn’t been meant as one. Flint was too much of a realist for that. And it was clear he’d done a lot of reading she hadn’t known about. Studying her situation. Giving her the gift she needed most of all. He’d given her what no one else had even tried. A chance to hold her own baby boy.

  Mostly, Flint had just sat with her in her pain. Taking some of the weight of it from her.

  * * *

  Flint grilled the steaks. He picked at his dinner just like Tamara did. And when she said something about maybe heading home, he asked her to spend the night.

  Not to have sex. Just to lie in his arms and sleep.

  Diamond was old enough to spend a night in her nursery. He’d keep the monitor beside him.

  He’d had it all worked out and was still surprised when she agreed.

  Leaving a T-shirt and boxer shorts on the end of his bed, with a cellophane-wrapped toothbrush—compliments of the dentist—on top, he told her he’d get the baby fed and down and would be back.

  “Just get in whatever side you’d like,” he said, growing hard as he pictured her in his bed, and yet, not achingly so. Some things were more important than sex. “The remote is on the stand there. Find whatever you’d like to watch.”

  By the time he got back, she was asleep.

  * * *

  Tamara woke with something warm against her back. She couldn’t figure it out at first and then memory came crashing back.

  Flint. He was spooning her. In his bed.

  She had no idea what time it was, but felt like she’d been sleeping for days. Deeply. It was still dark outside.

  Diamond Rose. Had he fed the baby?

  Listening, she heard a little sigh and then even breathing coming through the monitor.

  It was a good sound.

  A very good sound.

  There were other good things, too. Like the arm looped over her side, holding her close. The...ohhh...pressed up against her.

  It was growing.

  In his sleep, or had she woken him?

  She wanted him awake.

  Turning her head slowly, she kissed his chin. Or what she thought was his chin. He moved and caught her lips with his.

  He must’ve said something because she was back in a trance again. Letting him take her away, to a different place this time.

  A much happier place.

  With an incredible ending.

  But when they lay together, exhausted and complete, she didn’t feel as though anything was over.

  “Marry me,” he whispered in her ear.

  “I want to, Flint, so badly, but I can’t do that to you or Diamond. That little girl deserves to have a mother who can hug her all the time and let her know how much she’s loved. Kids need to be hugged.”

  “She needs you,” he said. And when she shook her head, he asked, “You want me to tell you how I know?”

  She nodded.

  “When it comes to Diamond, you’ve got a mother’s instinct. That’s what makes mothers special. It’s not something you buy. Or even learn. It’s something you have that makes a kid feel okay even when things aren’t okay. It’s what my mother had.”

  “I don’t have that.” He was romanticizing now.
So not like him.

  “When you came into my office that day, I couldn’t do it for her. I didn’t know what she needed. You did and you didn’t hesitate. She quieted immediately. That was no mistake, Tamara. Surely you’ve been around crying babies in the past few years, but you’ve never walked over to pick one up and quiet him or her.”

  Yeah, but...

  “Anytime I talked about Diamond, you seemed to know instantly what she needed. What I needed to do.”

  Well, that had just been common sense.

  “And in court, I was going to lose her...we were going to lose her. And you swooped in and saved us. Not just by being there, but when she started to cry...she needed a mother to seal the deal and you became one. You are one. She looked at you, laid her head down and closed her eyes.”

  “I—”

  He put a finger to her lips. “I don’t have all the answers yet,” he told her. “I don’t have any more at all right now. I might not ever have them. But I know that you’re meant for us, Tamara, and we’re meant for you. It’s all up to you now.”

  He knew what he was getting into and wanted to take it on. Take her on. Maybe even needed to. He’d never even told her he loved her. She imagined that didn’t come easily to a man like Flint. But he’d showed her. In a million different ways.

  Mallory had told her to let herself be happy.

  No one could do it for her.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, it’s up to you now?”

  “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  She was done with letting her past prevent her future.

  They made love a second time and still didn’t fall asleep afterward.

  Maybe he was waiting for Diamond’s next feeding. A couple of hours had passed. She had too much on her mind to let sleep take over.

  “I want to try again,” she said, feeling sick to her stomach even as she said the words. “Not right now. Not anytime soon, but I want to have your baby. Our baby.”

  “We have our baby, Tamara,” he told her, sitting up and pulling her against him. “Biologically she has two other parents, but she’s all ours. And if at some point, we’re sure you’re ready, then we’ll face whatever happens together.”

  Whatever happens. Because you couldn’t control life. You could only control what you did with what you were given.

  Which was why Flint had grown out of an environment of crime into a remarkable man.

  Diamond’s whimpers came over the baby monitor. Slipping into a pair of shorts, Flint went in to change her.

  “I’ll get her bottle.” Tamara, wearing an oversize T-shirt of Flint’s, was already on her way to the kitchen. She was the bottle-getter when she was in the house.

  But when she went to the door of the nursery to drop it off, she didn’t let it go.

  She wanted to hold the baby. To sit in the rocker and know she could be a mom.

  She started to shake.

  “Bring her in with us,” she said. “Just while she eats. I’ll sit up to make sure we don’t fall asleep.”

  Without saying a word, Flint did as she asked, setting the baby down in the middle of the bed, half lying beside her and reaching for the bottle. Tamara still didn’t give it to him. Kneeling on the mattress, keeping her distance, she leaned over. Diamond Rose looked at her—that little chin dimpled, lower lip jutting out—and started to cry. With the baby watching her, needing what she had, expecting Tamara to give it to her, there was no thought. From her distance, Tamara guided the nipple to that tiny birdlike mouth as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Because it was.

  For a mom.

  * * * * *

  Don’t miss the next book in

  The Daycare Chronicles, available March 2018

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  Fortune’s Christmas Baby

  her first contribution to The Fortunes of Texas,

  coming in December 2018.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Wyoming Christmas Surprise by Melissa Senate.

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  Wyoming Christmas Surprise

  by Melissa Senate

  Chapter One

  “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.”

  Bride-to-be Allie MacDougal Stark stood in front of the mirror in the Wedlock Creek Town Hall’s “Bridal Preparation” room, her sisters, Lila and Merry, on either side of her. Lila, the most traditional of the MacDougal triplets, was insisting that Allie tick off the old wedding poem checklist.

  Even though nothing about today’s wedding was traditional.

  “Hmm, something old,” Lila said, tilting her head and surveying Allie’s reflection. “Ah—got it. You’re wearing Grandma’s pearl drop earrings. Perfect.”

  The earrings were beautiful, and Allie loved the idea of having a part of her beloved grandmother with her today.

  “And the ‘something borrowed’ are my shoes,” Merry pointed out, gesturing at the salmon-colored suede pumps on Allie’s feet. They were a great match for the blush-colored lace jacket and matching knee-length pencil skirt that Allie wore for every special occasion. The usual shoes that went with this outfit had horribly scuffed heels, so Merry and her shoe collection to the rescue.

  “Something new is next,” Lila said. “Sexy underthings perhaps?” she added, wriggling her blond eyebrows.

  Uh, no. Allie made a face at her sister, who knew perfectly well that things between her and her fiancé didn’t—and would likely never—merit a trip to Victoria’s Secret. Honestly, if tonight, their wedding night, she and Elliot watched a movie and played Boggle before turning in early with a peck on the cheek, she wouldn’t be surprised.

  “You know,” Allie said, looking herself up and down, “I don’t think I have anything new on right now.”

  As if she would. As the widowed mother of eleven-month-old quadruplets, new was not a word in Allie’s vocabulary. She hadn’t bought anything for herself in at least two years, and most of the quads’ stuff—and there was a lot of stuff—was hand-me-downs or gifts.

  “You actually do have something new, though,” Merry said, nodding at Lila, who ran over to her purse on the chair in the corner and pulled out a small square box.

  “What is this?” Allie asked as Lila han
ded it to her.

  Merry smiled. “Open it. It’s your wedding present from us.”

  “You guys,” Allie said, looking from one sister to the other and back to the box. She opened the lid. Aww—it was a beautiful oval-shaped gold locket on a filigree chain.

  “Now open the locket,” Lila said.

  Allie flicked open the tiny latch. An itty-bitty photo of her babies, one she recognized was taken just a few weeks ago, was nestled inside. Tyler and Henry were smiling, Ethan was midlaugh, and Olivia had her big toe in her mouth, her trademark move.

  Her heart squeezed. Her sisters were everything. “I love it,” Allie said, grabbing each MacDougal in a hug. “I absolutely love it. But I have to say I’m surprised you got me anything.”

  Her sisters had made their feelings about her marriage to Elliot Talley crystal clear. Don’t marry a man you’re not in love with, Lila had said quite a few times. You have us! Merry had insisted even last night, when the triplets had gotten together for a “bachelorette party,” which meant dinner at Allie’s favorite restaurant for incredible Mexican food and margaritas. We’ll always help you with the kiddos, Lila had said. You don’t have to do this.

  This was marrying Elliot Talley in about twenty minutes.

  “Of course we did,” Lila said. “Because we love you and support you.” She took the necklace out of the box and put it around Allie’s neck. “I can never fasten these things,” she said, frowning. “I have fat fingers.”

  Merry laughed and took over. “We all have the same fingers. And mine are not fat.”

  Allie snorted. “Mine, either,” she said, wiggling hers in the air. The Irish friendship ring Elliot had given her as a symbol of their commitment when he’d proposed barely gleamed in the bright room. Lila wrinkled her nose at it. Hardly traditional, she’d groused the day Allie, newly engaged, had shown it to her sisters.

  Allie didn’t need or want a diamond ring. She had one, the beautiful solitaire in a gold band that her late husband had given her six months before they’d married seven years ago. After Elliot had proposed, she’d moved the diamond ring and wedding band to her right hand, but they didn’t fit comfortably on any of her fingers. So she’d put them away, dropping to her knees afterward in a round of sobs that had shaken her entire body.