by Loree Lough
“What can I do for you, Mitch?”
“Well, I have a big favor to ask, sir.”
“If it’s within my power, it’s yours. We owe you that much, son….”
Wait till Ciara hears the news, Mitch thought later, grinning. Merely imagining her reaction caused him to quicken his pace down the corridor. That and the fact that he couldn’t wait to hold his firstborn in his arms….
“I’m so proud of you. You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever known.”
Ciara giggled. “You act like I’m the first woman on earth to have given birth.”
“You’re the first woman to give birth to my child.” How good it felt to say that, and know for certain that it was true. Mitch knew that he would spend the rest of his life making it up to her for so much as thinking that she could have betrayed him.
“She’s so beautiful,” Ciara sighed. “Just look at her, Mitch.”
“She’s beautiful ’cause she takes after her mommy.”
She met his eyes. “What are we going to call her? I didn’t think up many ‘girl’ names—everybody kept saying ‘he’ and ‘him’ and ‘his,’ and I guess I got caught up in it myself.”
“How ’bout Carrie, for old-time’s sake?”
She branded him with a playfully hot glare. “You think I want a reminder, right under your nose, of your first love? No way, José.”
He kissed the baby’s round little head. “She smells so sweet. We could name her after a flower…Rose or Tulip or Daisy….”
“I’m glad you’re having fun with this. At least one of us should be, I suppose.”
“I want her to have a strong name. Something memorable. Like Hannah or Eden or Shana.”
Ciara nodded. “Now that’s more like it. Let’s look them up in my baby book….”
Mitch dug around in her overnight bag. “It opened to the Ms,” he said, narrowing one eye suspiciously, “all by itself.”
“Well, I have a confession to make,” she said, flushing. “I did sneak a peek at a few girls’ names…just in case….”
“Is that so?” He placed the book on the edge of the bed. “Let’s see if I can figure out which name you chose.” His thick finger ran down the pulpy paper page. “‘Mildred’ means ‘gentle strength,’ but I don’t think so. ‘Misty, Mitzi, Molly,’” he recited.
Suddenly, he thumped the book. “I know which name you picked.”
“Which?” she asked, eyes twinkling with mirth.
“‘Worthy of admiration,’” he quoted, then said with meaning. “Miranda.”
“Do you like it?”
“I love it.” He took the baby from her arms, held the tiny bundle tight against him and kissed her soft pink cheek. “Now,” he said, drawing his big face close to his daughter’s tiny nose. “I’m going to read you your Miranda rights. Number one—you have the right to have a healthy, happy daddy all the days of your childhood—number two—you have the right to the bravest, most loving mommy in the world—number three—you have the right to—”
“Mitch, what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about my new job. I’ve been thinking,” he announced, “and you’re right. I’ve built up a lot of seniority at the Bureau. I can retire earlier if I hang in there….”
She lifted her chin and smiled.
Lord, I love her grit and determination, he said to himself. She thinks she’s in for a lifetime of same-ole, same-ole, but wait till she gets a load of this:
“I talked to the director, not half an hour ago.”
“The director? Of the FBI?”
“Hey,” he said, looking wounded, “don’t act so surprised. He takes calls from agents who bring in the big tuna….”
Ciara stroked the baby’s head. “Did you hear that, Miranda? Your daddy has the big boss’s ear.” She wiggled her eyebrows and bobbed her head coquettishly. “Ooh-la-la…. So why did you call him?”
“To quit.”
Her eyes widened.
“But he begged me to stay. He’s putting me in charge of assignments, Miss Smarty Pants…or should I say Mrs. Smarty Pants.”
She wasn’t smiling when she said, “Sounds dangerous.”
“Yeah. I guess it does,” he said, squinting one eye. “But it isn’t. It’s the best of both worlds. I don’t have to take a boring desk job, but I won’t be on the front lines anymore.”
Her eyes brightened. “You won’t?”
“I’ll have to do some minor investigating, so I’ll know which agents should work on what cases, but I won’t have to go undercover ever again.”
She gasped. “Never?”
“Never. Probably won’t ever fire my weapon again, except on the gun range.”
“Never?”
“Never.” Balancing Miranda in the crook of one arm, he slid the other across Ciara’s shoulders. “So what do you think of that, pretty Mommy?”
“I think God works in mysterious ways.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, you know the story ‘Gift of the Magi’ don’t you?”
Mitch nodded. “The one where the guy sells his watch to buy combs for his wife’s long hair, and she sells her hair to buy a chain for his watch?”
“That’s the one. It’s a direct parallel to us, don’t you see?”
He gave it a moment’s thought, then said, “Ahh, because you were willing to live the rest of your life in fear, so I could be happy, and I was willing to give up the job that made me happy, so you wouldn’t worry.”
“Exactly! Neither of us has to make a sacrifice. God has seen to it we both have our heart’s desire. It’s a miracle, Mitch. He has given us a bona fide miracle.”
“I can’t very well deny that, now can I?” He slid the tray table aside, and laid Miranda in her mother’s arms. “But let’s make that miracles, plural, because I’m lookin’ at two more, right this minute.”
Ciara smiled sweetly. “There’s a present for you…in my bag.”
“Another present, you mean,” he said, one hand on his daughter’s head. He dug in her suitcase, pulled out the needlework project she’d been working on for weeks. “Except for your nightie, this is the only thing in here.”
“That’s it.”
Mitch handed it to her.
“I’m going to have it framed and hang it over our bed.”
“Lemme see this thing,” he said. To Miranda he added, “It’s been a big secret, for weeks.” He turned it around, read aloud: “I am my beloved, and my beloved is mine.”
“From the ‘Song of Songs,’” she explained.
“From the bottom of my heart,” he said, and kissed her.
She saw a wistful look and then a radiant smile come across his face. “Mitch, what is it?”
He met her eyes. “It suddenly struck me,” he said, grinning happily, “I’m a daddy!”
Dear Reader,
When people ask where I got the idea for the Suddenly! series, I tell them, “It came to me—suddenly!” Seriously…I was perched outside the yogurt shop, eating a chocolate swirl cone drenched in rainbow sprinkles when a handsome man sat down beside me. Totally captivated by the beauty in his arms, he was oblivious to everything around him.
“First baby?” I asked. Without looking away from his baby girl’s face, he nodded. His loving, awestruck smile reminded me of the way my uncle looked as he recalled the day he found out he was going to be a daddy….
One of many soldiers aboard an aircraft carrier, Sam was on his way home from World War II. “I was standing at the rail, looking out to sea,” he said, “thinking of my sweet Margie.” Except for a weekend pass, Sam had barely seen Margie during the past two years. “The last time I’d seen her,” he said, “she was slim as a dime.” Imagine Sam’s surprise when he stepped off that boat to find that Margie “looked like she’d swallowed a watermelon!”
What must it have been like, I wondered, to find out in such a sudden and surprising way that you’re going to be a father?
The answ
er conceived the idea that gave birth to the Suddenly! series. If you enjoyed Suddenly Daddy, please drop me a note c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279. I love hearing from my readers, and try to answer every letter personally.
All my best,
SUDDENLY MOMMY
To the members of my First-Monday-of-the-Month Writers’ Group for their never-ending support and encouragement, and to Anne Canadeo, for her never-ending willingness to share her editorial expertise.
Chapter One
Jaina read the anguished expression on her mother’s face and held the baby boy tighter. “What do you mean,” she whispered, “his mother is gone?”
Rita ran a trembling hand through graying hair. “I mean, she isn’t here.”
Seemingly oblivious to his mother’s absence, the baby filled his hands with Jaina’s long dark curls.
“Did you look out back?” Jaina’s father wanted to know. “In the parking lot?”
“Yes, Ray,” Rita sighed, “I’ve looked everywhere.”
Blowing spit bubbles, the child wrapped Jaina’s gold chain around a stubby forefinger and cooed. “Well, I’m sure she’ll be right back,” Jaina said. “She couldn’t have left without this precious little—”
“I found this in the ladies’ room.” Rita slid a note from her apron pocket. “She isn’t coming back.”
“What!” Ray thundered. “You mean she walked off and left this boy with total strangers? How does she know we’re not murderers or…”
He stomped toward the counter. “Well,” he growled, “how far could she have gone?” He pressed the receiver to his ear. “I’m callin’ the cops, and I hope they throw the book at her. People like that don’t deserve to have kids.”
Jaina’s dark eyes filled with tears and her heart ached for this abandoned child who clung almost greedily to her. She would likely never have a child of her own, but if God saw fit to reverse her physical condition and bless her with a baby, she couldn’t think of any reason sufficient to walk away from him…to leave him with strangers.
“Ray, sweetie,” Rita said softly, a hand on his forearm, “calm down. You’ll frighten the boy. Besides, I promise you’ll feel differently once you’ve learned what’s in this note.”
Their eyes met, then held for a moment on a look of understanding that linked them heart to heart.
He hung up the phone. “Okay, Rita. What’s in it, anyway?”
She stood on tiptoe to kiss his chin. “There’s just one way to find out, isn’t there?” Turning to Jaina, she held out her arms and smiled lovingly. “Now, give me that dollbaby.”
Jaina traded the baby for the slip of paper and took a seat at the counter, swiveling her red-cushioned stool until she faced the diner’s parking lot. “It’s so dark out there,” she said, more to herself than to her parents. And staring through the mirrorlike black window, she added, “The weather reports are predicting a terrible thunderstorm. Where could she have gone, all alone on a night like this?”
“Where was that last bus headed?” Ray asked.
“I think the driver said he was headed for Chicago,” Rita answered.
Jaina crossed the room and peered through the screen door. “There’s lightning off to the north. I hope she’s all right….”
Ray slipped his arms around his wife, hugged her and the baby she held. “C’mon back and sit down, sweetie,” Rita said, “and read the note.”
Silently, Jaina returned to the stool and took a deep breath. “‘Dear Jaina,’” she began, “‘I came to Ellicott City to meet my uncle for the first time. He’s a lawyer on Main Street. I was planning to ask him if he’d take care of Liam for me. But I overheard him on the telephone, yelling at the top of his lungs. Something about a baby being an albatross around his client’s neck. I couldn’t leave my boy with a man like that!
“‘I had thought he was my last chance at finding a good home for Liam. He’s my only living relative. If I couldn’t leave Liam with him, I didn’t know what I was going to do!
“‘And then God reminded me how kind you were yesterday when the bus stopped at your diner…the free meal, the way you played with Liam, the cheese and crackers you packed up for us to take with us when we left….’”
Jaina met her mother’s damp brown eyes, her father’s misting gray ones, and swallowed hard. It wasn’t difficult, remembering the sad-eyed girl whose pride made her pretend she’d lost her wallet rather than admit she had no money for food.
“You okay, honey?” Ray asked, handing her a glass of water.
Jaina nodded, thanked her father and, after a quick sip, continued reading. “‘I prayed harder than I did when I found out I was dying of leukemia.’”
Gasping, Jaina pressed a palm to her chest. “Dying?” she repeated. “But she couldn’t be a day over eighteen!” Tears burned behind her eyelids as she looked into the baby’s innocent, unsuspecting face. She took another drink.
“‘The doctors say I only have a few months to live at best. Seems I spent my whole life trying to act grownup, and here I am, talking like one. I think I would have been a good mom, if only…well, anyway, none of that matters now. The important thing is that the Good Lord led me to you. I’ve had to travel light, coming all this way on a bus. You’ll find a couple of outfits in Liam’s bag, some of his favorite toys and his birth certificate. Now that I know he’ll be taken care of, I can go to the Lord in peace.’”
With her free hand, Jaina covered her eyes.
“You want me to finish it, honey?” Ray offered.
She met his loving eyes and smiled slightly. “No. It’s okay, Dad. I can do it.” She focused on the young woman’s round-lettered script and began again.
“‘My picture is in the side pocket of the diaper bag. When he’s old enough, please tell Liam that I never would have left him if things had been different. You’re probably thinking that I’m a terrible mother, that there must have been something I could have done besides leave Liam with strangers. You’ll just have to trust me, the way I’m trusting the Lord.
“‘When my own mother died, I learned firsthand all the terrible things that can happen to a kid who doesn’t have a family. I don’t want that kind of a life for Liam. You told me you don’t have any children and that it wasn’t likely you ever would. I could see in your eyes how much you want a baby and I could tell by the way you held Liam and talked to him what a good mother you’ll be.
“‘You’re probably a little afraid right now, finding out that you’re suddenly a mommy. I remember how it felt the first time I held Liam in my arms. I was barely seventeen and was I ever scared! But then he looked at me with those big blue eyes of his, and I fell in love.
“‘Everything that’s happened these past few days is proof to me that God wants you to be Liam’s mommy. For one thing, the bus shouldn’t have broken down. The driver said it had just been overhauled before we left Chicago. For another, he promised we’d be back on the road in no time, but we were stranded for hours while the mechanic worked on the engine. See? God put me in your diner long enough to get to know you. How does it feel to be part of God’s plan? Don’t worry, Jaina, you’ll be a wonderful mommy. If I wasn’t sure of that, I wouldn’t be leaving Liam with you.
“‘Thank you, Jaina, for what you’re about to do for me…and for Liam. I know you’re going to do it because, well, you just have to! Sincerely, Kirstie Buchanan. P.S. He hates strained peas, loud music and thunderstorms, and he loves to watch cartoons on TV.’”
The hand that held the note dropped limply into her lap. “I feel like I’ve just run a four-minute mile,” Jaina said, sniffing.
The adults slumped, sad and emotionally spent, into the nearest booth. For several moments, no one made a sound save Liam, who sat in the middle of the table, babbling contentedly as he tried to depress the buttons on the tabletop jukebox.
Jaina broke the silence. Patting her father’s hand, she said, “I think you’re right. We should call the police, report this
, get them to start looking for Kirstie. Only after they find her,” she said, squeezing his hand, “we’ll keep her right here with us so she won’t have to spend her last days alone.”
Liam popped the salt shaker into his mouth, shook his head and grimaced at it.
“We’re duty bound to try and find her,” Rita agreed, gently prying it from his fingers, “but Kirstie doesn’t want to be found.”
Ray heaved a deep sigh. “Where I come from, this wouldn’t be a problem. Folks don’t need cops and judges and lawyers to tell ’em what’s the right thing to do.”
“Then I wish we were in Abilene, Dad.”
Ray dumped the contents of the baby’s bag on the table. A blue flop-eared bunny, a red squeeze toy shaped like a fire engine, a brown teddy bear, a plain white envelope. Squealing with glee, Liam grabbed the truck and bit down hard on it, snickering when it squeaked. “A picture and a birth certificate,” Ray said, shaking his head at the envelope.
Jaina picked up the birth certificate. “Liam Connor Buchanan,” she said aloud, “born November 2 to one Kirstie Ann Buchanan.” She patted the baby’s hand. “Seven months old.”
“Big for your age, aren’t you?” Rita observed, running her fingers through his hair.
“What’s that his mama wrote on the back of the birth certificate?” Ray wanted to know.
Jaina turned it over, found that Liam’s immunizations were up-to-date. “‘Nine pounds twelve ounces, twenty-one inches long,’” Jaina said, reading the youthful script, “‘forty-two hours of hard labor.’”
“She would have been a good mother,” Rita observed as Jaina slid the girl’s wallet-size color photo from the envelope.
“Such a beautiful thing, and so young,” Jaina whispered, running a thumb over Kirstie’s image. “I wonder how long she’s been an orphan,” she asked no one in particular, “and how she came to be alone in the world?”
Rita smiled. “Reminds me of your publicity photo, Jaina.” Sighing, she added, “Seems like only yesterday that you sang for your supper.”
Traveling from city to city, singing for a living had been fun and exciting, until…. “Let’s not talk about that part of my life. Why don’t we dwell on positive things, like the way Uncle Jesse’s gift was a blessing in disguise….”
