The trail narrowed and she had to either step behind or in front of him.
He paused.
She nearly stumbled.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
She denied the truth. “I’m not scared, I just like being prepared.” That said, she came up with a plan. “We’ll need to run if we see a coyote and I’m not sure of the way.”
He chuckled. “Do you have any idea how fast a coyote can run?”
“No. Do you?”
“Yes. Faster than both of us put together.” He tugged on her arm and started walking again. “You really are a city girl.”
She hung close to his side, and chose not to reply. She might be a city girl, but also had good reason to be afraid of the dark. Chicago might not have had coyotes, but it had all sorts of things that could attack you late at night.
In the dark.
Like this.
“Don’t fret, we’re almost there.”
She forced her feet to keep moving as they grew closer and closer to the cluster of trees.
* * *
Jack bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He might never have seen someone as scared as she was right now. Someone who’d never heard the sound before could be scared by a coyote’s howl. There was an eeriness to it like no other. But it was also easy to get used to. He remembered falling to sleep to the sound. It had been a long way between towns while his parents had been acting in playhouses across the center of the nation. During good years, they’d traveled by trains. Not so good years, it had been a wagon and horse. Once it had been a mule, one that had been too stubborn to move most of the time.
He and Joe had spent hours pulling that stupid critter forward, and had slept a lot of nights beneath that wagon. Remembering listening to coyotes was a good memory. That meant it hadn’t been raining or snowing. There had been nights he’d probably have frozen to death if Joe hadn’t snuggled up against him. Kept him warm.
A walk down memory lane wasn’t what he needed right now.
“So,” he started, looking for something else to focus on. “You lived in Chicago your entire life, but don’t have any family there?”
“No. None.”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything because concern tickled his spine. He should be able to see lights on at Julia’s house. It was just on the other side of the grove of trees.
Side by side, they stepped through the trees, and he surveyed the house. The dark house. “Julia must have already gone to bed.”
“Is it that late?” Her voice quivered slightly.
“No, actually, her car is gone,” he answered, nodding toward where it was usually parked. “She must have had somewhere to go tonight.”
“Maybe someone borrowed her car,” she said hopefully.
“Let’s go see,” he said, stepping forward.
A few minutes later, Jack wasn’t sure if he was happy or not. No one answered the door and the place was locked tight. He couldn’t leave them here, not without Julia home, and Grace was getting fussy. Hungry. Wet. Both maybe. He didn’t know.
He had offered to take them to his apartment, and would, if necessary, but he wasn’t so sure that was a good idea.
Grace let out a solid wail.
Helen talked softly to the baby, but her fussiness continued. Not an all-out cry like before, but it sounded like that’s what she was working up to.
Good idea or not, he didn’t have a choice. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“To my apartment.”
“But—”
“Julia’s not home, and Grace is hungry, or wet or something.” He took hold of Helen’s elbow again and turned her back toward the trail that led through the grove of trees. “I’ll give you a ride back here in the morning.”
This time she was too busy dealing with Grace to worry about coyotes. He led her all the way to his car in the studio’s parking lot, and held the door open while she climbed in, trying her best to hush the fussy baby.
“It’s not far,” he said, dropping the bag in the backseat before closing the door and walking around to the driver’s side.
The three miles to the apartment went quickly, in some ways. To Grace, it appeared, it was way too long. She was crying in earnest by the time he parked the car.
“She’ll quiet down as soon as she’s fed,” Helen said, as if apologizing.
Like before, the sound of Gracie’s sobs did something to his heart. Though his niece would never remember this night, she was far too young, he could remember being hungry. It was a miserable feeling.
“This way,” he said, grabbing the bag out of the backseat as soon as Helen had climbed out. “Through that door and up the stairs.”
There was a total of sixteen apartments in the building. His was on the second of four floors. Solidly built of bricks, the walls were thick so he wasn’t overly concerned that Grace’s crying would disturb anyone. If it did, too bad.
Helen talked quietly to the baby, telling her everything would be all right very soon, as they hurried to the building and up the stairs. He unlocked the door and let them in, then hit the light switch, kicked the door shut and set the bag on the table near the door so he could open it all at the same time.
He found the bottle, milk and can opener. Unsure what to do, he set them on the little table. “Here, I’ll take her. The kitchen is straight ahead. You get the bottle ready.”
“Thank you,” Helen said. “I’ll hurry. I’ve rarely heard her cry like this.”
The moment he took Grace and placed her up against his chest, she stopped crying. Her little body shook slightly from the remnants of her sobs, but as her eyes met his, her little petal-shaped lips formed a smile.
A warmth like he’d never known filled his chest. It was as if his heart opened up. He hadn’t felt anything like that in a long time. It was like an explosion of emotions he’d forgotten lived inside him.
“You must have a way with her,” Helen said, picking up the can of milk and the bottle.
“No,” he answered honestly, “I think she has a way with me.”
She frowned slightly, but then smiled. “She’s very easy to love. I’ll be right back.”
He slid Grace higher onto his shoulder, so her little face was in the crook of his neck. Easy to love. He could believe that. Patting Grace’s back gently, he crossed the room to the window that was opened a few inches. A sense of protectiveness filled him as he stood there, holding his niece.
His niece.
Joe’s daughter.
“I’m here, Gracie-girl,” he whispered softly. “Don’t fret. No matter what happens, your uncle Jack will always be here for you. I swear you’ll never go hungry. Never be cold.” He dipped his head and kissed the top of the soft curly blond hair covering head. “Never be alone. Not as long as I’m alive. I swear.”
She nuzzled the side of his neck and then lifted her little head, looked up at him with a pair of big brown eyes. A couple of teardrops still sat on her cheeks, yet she grinned. An adorable, toothless grin that would have stolen his heart if she already hadn’t accomplished that.
He stood there, holding her, thinking, until Helen reappeared, with a bottle in hand.
She used the tip of one finger to wipe away the last teardrop from Grace’s face. “She’s going to fall asleep while drinking this bottle. Do you mind holding her a moment longer? I’ll get a diaper and change her now that she’s calmed down. Then she’ll be ready to sleep for several hours.”
“I don’t mind. Get whatever you need.” He nodded toward a door on his left. “The bathroom is right there. The other door is the bedroom.”
Helen glanced toward the doors and then back at him. An odd quiver tickled Jack’s spine as their gazes locked. His attention had been focused on Grace, but suddenly the full magnitude of the situati
on came to light. Of the two of them living here. With him.
There would be consequences to that.
It’s only for one night, he told himself. One night.
Chapter Six
Helen’s mouth was dry. Completely dry. Like towels left on the clothesline with no wind to soften them. Her heart was thudding, hard and fast. The sight of Jack standing there, holding Grace, shouldn’t affect her this way. He was just a man holding a baby. But he was doing so with such care and attention.
Grace made a cooing sound. It was soft, but enough to kick Helen’s senses into gear enough that she pulled her eyes away.
She then spun around, and though her legs trembled, she walked over to the bag on the table near the door and collected a diaper. Purposefully not making eye contact with Jack, she walked back across the room and told herself not to notice how carefully he handed Grace to her.
Once in the bathroom, she took a moment to collect herself, and then quickly changed Grace and returned to the front room.
It was empty.
The bedroom door was open. She peeked into the room. He wasn’t in there.
Quietly, she crossed the room and looked into the kitchen.
He wasn’t there, either.
Her sigh of relief didn’t last long. Uncertainty took its place. Where could he have gone? As much as she didn’t want to admit it, his presence had become reassuring.
That was now gone.
As gone as he seemed to be.
Grace must have noticed as well, because she started fussing again.
“It’s all right, sweetie,” Helen whispered. “Let’s get you fed.”
Picking the bottle off the short table in front of the sofa, she sat down. The softness of the furniture practically surrounded her. It had been a long time since she sat on something so comfortable. The upholstery was a soft velvet and dark green. There were two chairs of the same material, with high backs and wooden arms and cushions as thick as those she sat upon. Leaning back, she held the bottle up to Grace’s lips.
Grace latched on to the nipple like she hadn’t eaten in years rather than hours. Helen had to smile, and nestled down into the softness, enjoying the sweetness of the moment. That’s what happened when she sat like this, holding Grace. The baby made it possible for her to block out the rest of the world.
The bottle was almost empty by the time Grace’s hunger was satisfied. Her eyes were closed and her lips moved only now and again. Experience had taught Helen not to remove the nipple too soon, so she sat still for a few minutes, or longer, waiting for Grace to fall completely asleep.
Helen leaned her head back as her own eyelids grew very heavy. She was so tired and the sofa was so comfortable. She would just rest her eyes for a few moments. Not fall asleep. That wouldn’t happen. She hadn’t slept in weeks. Certainly not on the train. Before that, between taking care of Vera and then Grace, and working nights at Amery’s store, she’d learned to survive on catnaps.
Even though she wondered where Jack had gone, the apartment, with its thick brick walls, made her feel secure. It was odd to feel that way in the heart of the city, but that’s how it had been back in Chicago, too. It was much harder to be found, picked out, in a crowd.
There was a sound. A soft one. She considered ignoring it, but then snapped her head up, realizing she couldn’t let her guard down. Not anywhere.
Jack was walking through the door, carrying a box. Helen released the air from her lungs as relief once again washed over her. Heat rushed into her face too, at the way he smiled. She glanced down at Grace.
“Is she asleep?” he asked while quietly closing the door.
“Yes,” Helen whispered in return, lowering the empty bottle onto her lap.
“I got her a case of canned milk.” He carried the box toward the kitchen.
Surprised, and feeling a sense of guilt, she said, “I didn’t mean you had to do that tonight.”
“I know, but I also knew Nick would still be at his store.”
She watched as he disappeared into the kitchen. “His store is open this late?”
“No, but the speakeasy in the basement is, and he’s usually there until ten.” He returned to the living room. “Nick owns the store at the end of the block. If you need anything, just tell him I sent you. He knows I’m good for it.”
Although she doubted she’d ever go to the store, she nodded. “That will be enough milk for several days.”
He rested his elbows on the top of the tall-backed chair. “Where does she sleep? In bed with you?”
Helen hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I held her on the train, before that she slept in a basket.”
“A basket? How big of a basket?”
She shrugged. “A regular basket.”
“That couldn’t have been big enough for her to even roll over.”
“She hasn’t rolled over yet.”
“Because she’s never had room.”
Helen grinned at his logic. “That may be. The book says it should happen soon. Her rolling over.”
“What book?”
“The one I bought about babies.”
“Didn’t know they existed. Books about babies. It makes sense though. I might have to borrow it.”
He was grinning and nodding his head. Once again, Helen had to pull her eyes off him. “The book explains that babies should sleep in something with sides on it, so when they do roll over, they don’t fall on the floor. It’s in my suitcase.” Her suitcase was still at Julia’s. That wasn’t the end of the world. Other than a few articles of clothes, the book was the only thing in it.
He was now scratching his chin. Then, as if he’d just thought of something, he held up a finger and walked toward the bedroom. “I’ll be right back.”
The light clicked on, but she couldn’t see into the bedroom. There was noise. It wasn’t loud or disturbing, but she was curious as to what he was doing. She set the bottle on the table, careful to not jostle Grace, and leaned over, trying to see into the room, but it was to no avail.
He appeared in the doorway a few minutes later. “Bring her in here.” Frowning slightly, he then asked, “Do you need help?”
“No,” Helen replied, standing up carefully. “Just don’t want to wake her.”
He stepped into the room as she walked around one of the tall-backed chairs. Helen was curious, yet moved slowly, cautious as to what he wanted her to see.
She crossed the threshold. The room was rather large. A bed, with decorative metal head and foot rails and neatly made with a rust-colored chenille bedspread, sat in the middle of the room with a window near the head for the breeze to blow on whoever slept there. There was a large tan-colored vanity, complete with padded stool and mirror on one wall, and a matching chest of drawers on the other. That’s where he stood.
“Bring her here,” he said, grinning so broadly a dimple had formed in one cheek.
Helen looked at him and the dresser again. The bottom drawer had been removed and was sitting on top of the dresser. “Why?” she asked, even while walking across the room. Like in the living room, the floor was mostly covered with a large patterned rug that was so plush it completely muffled her footsteps.
“To see if she fits. I put a folded blanket on the bottom and covered it with a sheet. It’s larger than a basket, and has to be more comfortable.”
Helen couldn’t say exactly what happened inside her, but it felt as if something was melting. Warmth bubbled beneath her breastbone at his thoughtfulness and ingenuity.
“Lay her down. See if she likes it.” He grasped the edge of the drawer. “It’s solid.”
Gently, Helen laid Grace into the drawer. The baby let out a little sigh, and as if knowing she had more room than ever before, she flopped her little arms out at her sides.
“Look at that,” he whispered. “I think she likes h
aving more room.”
“I think you are right.” Helen’s eyes smarted at how kind his actions had been. The milk. The drawer. Not wanting him to notice, she glanced around.
“She’ll sleep like a baby in that.” He chuckled softly at his own pun.
She pinched her lips together, keeping a smile at bay. “You are probably right again, but you won’t get any sleep.” Helen glanced toward the neatly made bed with matching lamps hosting marbled glass shades sitting on small tables on each side of the bed. “Not with her in here. She wakes up in the middle of the night for a bottle.”
“That won’t bother me,” he said. “And you’ll easily hear her from the bed.”
Helen’s heart rate increased. “I c-can’t sleep in your bed,” she sputtered, her cheeks on fire.
“Yes, you can, and will,” he said. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Helen’s cheeks burned hotter at the way he was looking at her, as if she’d just implied they would be sleeping in the same bed. That wasn’t what she’d been thinking. It was his apartment. His bed. “I’ll sleep on the couch. We can carry the drawer to the other room, put it on the table. It’ll be near the kitchen for when she does wake up and I need to fix her bottle.”
“The two of you will have more privacy in here,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard her explanation.
“She usually needs to be changed in the middle of the night, too.” Helen followed him out of the room. “You can sleep in the bedroom with the door closed, so none of that will wake you.”
“None of that will bother me.” He picked up Grace’s flour sack of possessions and walked toward the bedroom again.
She turned around and followed. “But it’s your bed.”
“Exactly. So I get to say who sleeps in it.” He set the bag on the bed and grabbed a pillow. “I’m assuming your things must still be at Julia’s?”
Taken aback by the change of subject, she merely nodded.
“All right, then, it’s late, and we are both tired.” He walked to the door. “Let’s get some sleep and we’ll face tomorrow when it arrives. Good night.”
Baby On His Hollywood Doorstep (Brides 0f The Roaring Twenties Book 1) Page 6
