The Baby Beneath the Mistletoe

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Yeah,” he muttered evasively. “It probably is. Don’t let it go to your head.” With that, he walked away.

  There went a man who would never be accused of having a silver tongue. she mused with a shake of her head. Hell if she knew what the attraction was.

  But it was there, all the same.

  Chapter Seven

  Kicking off her shoes as she walked into her kitchen, Mikky pressed number three on the automatic dialer of her portable telephone. She shifted the receiver from one hand to the other as she shrugged out of her denim jacket, listening to the ringing on the other end.

  “Narcotics, Detective Rozanski.”

  Thad’s voice always sounded deeper over the telephone. At times it was hard to reconcile that deep voice with the little boy who’d always begged her to leave the light on because he was afraid of the dark. Now he was six foot four, and the dark was afraid of him, she thought with a smile.

  “Hi, Thad, it’s Mikky. Have you found anything out for me yet?” She undid the buttons of her shirt quickly, eyeing the bathroom in the distance. If she didn’t take a shower soon, she was going to leap out of her skin.

  There was a patient sigh on the other end. “Mikky, you only called me yesterday. I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

  She draped the shirt over the back of the sofa. “I always said that about you, little brother.”

  He laughed and then paused, debating getting into a futile conflict. But he had to try.

  “Mikky—”

  She straightened, alert. She’d thought long and hard before turning to Thad with this. Marino had trusted her with a secret. For the best of reasons, she’d bent that trust. But she wasn’t about to break it.

  “I know that tone, Thad.” Her voice grew serious. “This is strictly off the record, do you understand? We’re not even having this conversation.”

  “And while we’re not having this conversation, do you want to tell me again why this guy hasn’t come forward with the baby?”

  She hadn’t gone into it with him last night, asking only that he trust her and look into the matter for her. She appealed now to the good-hearted, sunny-faced boy she helped raise. For a good chunk of their lives, she’d been more his mother than his sister, even though she was only eleven months older.

  “He’s been through a lot, Thad. His wife and son were killed in a car crash a year ago. Drunk teenager, out joyriding. Marino didn’t cope very well with the loss.” Unsnapping her beige jeans, she stepped out of them. “I gather that this is the first signs of being human he’s exhibited since the accident. He wants to help.” Mikky picked up her jeans and sent them to join her shirt on the back of the sofa. “He really thinks that the mother will show up to take the baby back.”

  Thad could understand the motive, but it was still against his better judgment. “Abandonment’s a crime, Milk.”

  “‘The quality of mercy is not strained, it fall—’”

  “Don’t quote Shakespeare at me, Mik, just promise me that this isn’t going to somehow come back to haunt me. I really like being a cop.”

  She knew that It was all he’d ever wanted to be. She wasn’t making the request of him lightly. “I promise.”

  “I feel better already,” he quipped dryly. Then a note of seriousness entered his voice. “You never broke your promise to anyone.”

  She felt it was a point of honor not to. “Keeper of the flame, that’s me.” Taking a fresh towel from the linen closet, she slung it over her shoulder and made her way to the bathroom. “Look, I gotta go. Call me if you find anything.”

  “You got it.”

  Yes, she thought, pressing the off button on the receiver and placing it on the sink counter, she had it, all right. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she traced the outline of her lips, tbe outline of Tony’s mouth, with the tip of her finger.

  Problem was, what exactly was “it” and what was she going to do about “it” once she found out?

  She stood under the hot, pulsating water of the shower for a long time.

  “Where is your mind, Tony?”

  “Hmm?” Realizing that he’d been staring out the window instead of listening to his aunt, Tony had the decency to blush. As he turned to look at her, he gave her the most innocent expression he had. “Did you say something, Aunt Bridgette?”

  Bridgette suppressed a laugh as she put the last of the baby food jars into the cupboard. It seemed as if each one of them had brought Tony a week’s supply. They were gone now, taking with them the noise and the laughter. Only the overflow of their good intentions had remained behind in their wake.

  She had chosen to remain behind a little while, knowing Tony would find it easier to ask her for help than the others. Wanting to assure herself that he would be all right before she, too, went home.

  She’d been talking about Dottie’s little bombshell when she’d realized that Tony had probably heard perhaps every tenth word.

  “I said a great many ‘somethings,’ but you have not heard any of them.” Closing the cupboard, she smiled knowingly at him. She’d mothered countless children, she knew the signs. “So, where do you know her from?”

  “‘Her’?”

  “The woman who has stolen your thoughts.” When he still gave no acknowledgment that he knew who she was talking about, Bridgette elaborated, even though she knew it wasn’t necessary. “The little blond thing who was here.”

  “Work. I know her from work,” he said, turning away from Bridgette. “She designed the high school we’re building.”

  Bridgette knew all about Mikky, having garnered the information from the others. But she wanted to hear it from Tony, wanted to get him talking about the young woman with the pretty smile. Wanted to get him thinking even more about her than he apparently was. “Oh, she must be very smart, then.”

  Tony knew that tone, had heard it often enough when he was growing up. His aunt was up to something. Something that had to do with Mikky. He wanted to nip it in the bud before whatever it was got out of hand. “Not so smart, Aunt Bridgette. She got a lot of things wrong with the design.”

  It was the first thing that came into his head. But it wasn’t the design he was really thinking of. It was a soft female form that had no business occupying his mind.

  Bridgette nodded thoughtfully. “And you—you will show her how to make them right, yes?”

  As if it could ever be that easy. Feeling suddenly very drained, he sank down on the sofa. “I would if she listened once in a while instead of arguing.”

  Bridgette took a seat next to him, her eyes telling him that he had her full attention. “This Mikky, she argues with you?”

  He laughed shortly. “I don’t think she knows how not to argue.”

  Cocking her head like a little bird contemplating making breakfast out of the worm it saw before it, Bridgette appeared to think his observation over. “She seemed to be very agreeable to me, but then, I am only an old woman, not a handsome young man.”

  Coming from his aunt, the compliment embarrassed him. He shrugged it aside. “What I look like, or don’t look like, doesn’t have anything to do with it.” And then he smiled at her. “And you’re not an old woman.” He brushed a kiss on her cheek. “You’re a knockout.”

  The term brought forth a nostalgic smile as she remembered another voice telling her the exact same thing. “So your uncle Sal used to say.” Bridgette patted his hand. “So, is she coming back, this smart young woman who likes to argue with you?”

  He supposed that’s why he kept glancing toward the window. Watching for her. Because he wanted her to return? Or because he didn’t?

  “I don’t think so.” Mikky had left over four hours ago, at the height of the bedlam. Hot and cold running children wherever he’d looked. “She probably thought I had all the help I needed.”

  Bridgette leaned forward, cupping his cheek affectionately. Once, when they had first gotten married, her Salvator had promised her a house resounding with the laughter of childr
en. Because of medical complications, they could only have Angelo. Rather than bewail the cruel turn of fate, she and her husband had made up for it by opening their hearts to a legion of foster children and to her brother-in-law’s motherless son. Tony was as much hers as the others were.

  “This is true. You do. You will always have us.” She allowed a pause. “But sometimes a person needs even more help than that. Leave yourself open to it, Tony. You won’t regret it.”

  Tony knew what she was saying, knew she meant well. Knew, too, that it wasn’t going to happen. Not for him. He wouldn’t let it. Love was too much trouble and hurt too badly. He was satisfied with where he was. And that’s where he would remain. Emotional desolation suited him. And it was preferable to pain.

  The sound of the doorbell ringing just then, as if taking some heavenly cue, had her smiling. “Ah, there she is, back again.”

  “You’re wrong.” He crossed to the door, opening it. “She has better things to do than—”

  Stunned, he stared at Mikky standing on the newly placed Welcome mat Dottie had insisted on making him accept. His first response was to look over his shoulder at his aunt

  “How did you do that?” he wanted to know.

  Not waiting for an invitation, Mikky walked in. “Do what?” She looked to Bridgette for an answer, wondering whether she would like it once she received it.

  Bridgette wore her triumph well, like a regal queen who knew the extent of her powers. “I told him you would be back.”

  Mikky could see why Tony had been surprised. She hadn’t even known that she was going to return—until the restlessness had gotten too much to bear. It had urged her to her car and coaxed her to drive to Tony’s apartment, She looked at Bridgette uncertainly. “How did you know that?”

  Now that it had transpired, Bridgette could afford to downplay it. “It was easy.” Taking Mikky’s chin in her hand, Bridgette raised her head and turned it toward Tony to underscore her point. So that he could see, too. “You have kind eyes. Kind eyes mean a kind soul.”

  Against his will, Tony looked at Mikky’s eyes. They weren’t kind, they were bedeviling. And maybe just the slightest bit hypnotic.

  He blew out an impatient breath. Right about now he could have used Justin’s crying to rescue him from this. But for once the baby was silent. It figured. Where was a good set of lungs when you needed them?

  “I think you’re thinking of someone else. Aunt Bridgette.”

  Placing her hand on Mikky’s forearm to ensure her attention, Bridgette leaned into her. “Be patient with him,” she confided. “He is still, how do you say, a work in progress, yes?”

  Mikky couldn’t help laughing. That would sum Tony up to a T. “Yes.”

  Tony didn’t particularly care for being the subject under discussion. “I’m not a work in progress. I’m finished.” The moment the words were out, he glanced toward Mikky and had the uneasy feeling he’d just uttered a prophesy. “What are you doing here?”

  But it was Bridgette, not Mikky, who answered his question. “That is simple, she knew your cousins would have to go home. That I would have to go home. And that you would refuse all of our offers to come stay with us. So she has returned to help you care for this good fortune, the Christmas baby the angels have brought your way. Understand?”

  Where did he begin to unravel that? He went for the obvious. “It’s not Christmas yet, Aunt Bridgette.”

  “Soon.”

  To prove her point, she waved at the little, decorated Christmas tree Dottie had brought with her. Although it was artificial, the spirit was still there. Frankie had decorated it for Tony. Alessandra had helped, when she hadn’t been covertly staring at the young man as if he had just made the journey across the ocean from Hawaii to California on foot.

  “And it is never too soon to give a Christmas gift, eh? It spreads the spirit.” With what sounded like a stage sigh, Bridgette picked her purse up from the table. “I will be going now.” But instead of going toward the door and leaving, she picked up Tony’s hand and examined the fingers carefully.

  Aware that Mikky was grinning broadly, he tried to pull his hand away. Bridgette did not release them. “What are you doing?”

  “Checking to see that they are not broken. Good, you can use them for pressing buttons on the telephone.” She set his hand free. “Remember, call me if you need anything.” She looked at Mikky. “He is very stubborn.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Without missing a beat, Bridgette nodded. “All right, I will. He is a good man and worth the trouble.” She looked at her nephew. “Eh, Tony?”

  He wasn’t entirely certain what was going on here, only that it was making him exceedingly uncomfortable. He indicated the window. Outside, dusk was beginning to finger the scenery.

  “You’d better go before it gets dark.”

  “They worry about my eyes, he and the others.” Bridgette crossed to the door, Mikky and Tony following her. “My eyes are fine. They see things he does not.” She winked at Mikky. “But I go.”

  Bemused, Mikky turned from the door to look at Tony. She didn’t know if the red tinge was due to annoyance or embarrassment, but she suspected a little bit of both. “I like her.”

  “Everyone does.” He turned away. “She talks a little too much, though.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “That’s because compared to you, Aunt Bridgette’s a mute,” Tony said, laughing.

  “I didn’t come here to argue.”

  “So why did you come?”

  Why did you? a small voice asked. The same small voice that had asked the question before, as she’d been driving over here. She had no more answer now than she’d had before.

  But she couldn’t tell Tony that. Couldn’t tell him that restlessness had propelled her here, because he might mistake her motives or make something more out of it than it was: a gesture of goodwill from one human being to another.

  “Because I had a sudden vision of you trying to give Justin a bath and maybe accidentally drowning him.” It sounded lame to her, even though her tone was cloaked in bravado. She supposed that part of the reason she’d returned was because she couldn’t get the image of Tony holding the baby out of her mind.

  Seeing him like that told her a great deal more than his words did.

  “A bath?” he repeated. “Why does he need a bath? He didn’t go anywhere and every time he had his diaper changed, my aunt practically sterilized him. It’s even money whether or not he’ll ever be able to have kids of his own.”

  Mikky laughed. “I didn’t think you had a sense of humor.”

  Tony bristled at what he took as a negative criticism “Everyone’s got a sense of humor.” Shoving his hands into his front pockets, he wondered whether or not she expected him to offer her dinner or something. He supposed it would do no harm, especially since Justin was sleeping. There was suddenly enough food in his refrigerator now to see him through a month-long hibernation. “Not too much I find funny these days, that’s all.”

  Mikky knew he was referring to the accident. Knew, too, that he had to get past it if he was ever going to live life again instead of just going through the motions. “There’s humor in almost everything, you just have to look for it.”

  Before they could get into a debate on the matter, she looked around. The army of boxes was gone now, leaving a nicely decorated apartment in its wake. She wondered if the sofa, which hadn’t been there before, was a donation or something Tony had allowed to be brought out of storage. There was a self-storage unit not far from where he lived.

  “They did a pretty nice job,” she enthused. There were a couple of paintings on the wall, a matching chair facing the sofa, and now that she thought of it, she didn’t remember whether or not the TV set had been by the window earlier or not. The boxes had tended to overwhelm the field of vision.

  “There’s more room,” he acknowledged carelessly.

  Did the man ever show any kind of feelings b
esides anger?

  “You know, it really wouldn’t hurt you to agree with me once in a while.” She heard Justin fussing in the next room. Showtime, she thought. “I promise not to hold it against you.”

  “Wouldn’t want to set a precedent,” Tony murmured. But there was something in her eyes that wouldn’t let him just leave it at that. “All right,” he allowed, “they did a nice job.”

  Amusement curved her mouth, but a victory was a victory, no matter how small. “There, was that so hard?”

  “You’ll never know.”

  “Probably not.” She hooked her arms around one of his, leading him to the bedroom. “C’mon, let me give you your first lesson in how to bathe a baby.”

  In their largesse, it seemed that everyone had forgotten to bring a small tub for Justin. Tony thought that would put an end to it, but he realized he should have known better. This was Mikky. Nothing seemed to stop her once she made up her mind to do something.

  “Mothers used kitchen sinks way before they came up with kiddie tubs.”

  “The sink?” He looked at her incredulously as he followed her to the kitchen. She held Justin captive against her. “Like a dish?”

  “Like a cute, messy little dish,” Mikky cooed, talk ing to Justin.

  It didn’t surprise him that she talked all through the baby’s bath, alternating between directing her words to him and to Justin. Justin at least seemed to enjoy the nonstop barrage that came his way. Tony, on the other hand, found it annoying. At least, that was what he told himself. It was easier feeling annoyed than feeling something else. Anything else.

  The last thing he wanted was to see Mikky in a flattering light He chalked it up to his sense of self-preservation.

  Justin was bathed, changed and fed. Tony found himself lingering through all the stages, rather than going off to tackle the work he had brought home with him. Work that he turned toward as a way of numbing his mind so that the thoughts wouldn’t come.

  Watching Mikky with Justin aroused feelings within him he didn’t feel he should have to deal with.