She had her mom and her siblings and even, on some level, Latham. The blessing of those relationships did not escape her, but she’d be lying if she didn’t admit to a little twinge of envy at her brothers’ rock-solid relationships.
The baby in the cradle whimpered, her tiny cries like the mew of a cat. She’d had a bottle. Now what?
Whimpers turned to a wail, and Wynn wanted to join in. What kind of madness had she just volunteered for?
Chapter Eight
Wynn sat at Claire’s kitchen island with the chart detailing where the kids were and when to pick them up, making her battle plan. Claire had the schedules color coded and separated by days of the week. Apparently picking them up at school wasn’t the end of it. There were doctor’s appointments, therapy appointments, caseworker visits and visits with the biological family.
She turned to baby Maureen, who was snuggled into a bouncy seat in the middle of the island in front of Wynn. Dark blue eyes blinked at her. “Auntie Wynn is not prepared for this, little one.”
Changing Maureen’s diaper, she took a second to marvel at the tiny fingers and toes and knees. They were precious down to the itty-bitty fingernails. Looking at this baby’s fingers reminded her of her own baby, uncurling minuscule fingers inside her. It was the most amazing thing she had ever seen. And in a few short months—very few now—she would be changing her own baby’s diaper.
Her stomach churned at the thought. She knew where they would be living right after the baby’s birth, of course, but she still had no idea what she would do to make a living for them. She had a law degree and she’d passed the bar exam, but she hadn’t practiced, instead going straight to Washington, DC. Her mom kept telling her that God had a plan. If He did, she wished He would fill her in on the details. She wasn’t very good at trusting that things would work out. And maybe that was the point?
She was saying, God, I want a map of my future, right now. Maybe God was saying, Learn to wait on My timing.
It took her three tries to get all the snaps on the baby’s onesie—or was this a sleeper?—snapped correctly. By the time she finished, she had a fine sheen of perspiration on her forehead and felt like an imbecile.
She strapped the infant into the car seat—another feat for which she needed an engineering degree—and was just picking her up when she heard a knock. She walked into the kitchen, expecting to see her mom at the door, but instead, when she pulled it open, Latham stood on the other side.
Her stomach did one crazy flip at the sight of him standing there. He had sawdust on his cheek, and her fingers itched to brush it away. She opened the door wider. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
“Joe called me. Your mom had an emergency at the diner—a dishwasher or something. I’m fuzzy on the details. Jordan has clients back-to-back all day. Mrs. Matthews is on her way back from her sister’s, but it will be tonight before she gets here.”
“Okay, that’s fine. It’s just one day, right?” Surely she could handle this for one day. Actually, she wasn’t sure at all. She’d needed electrolytes after a simple diaper change.
“I only had one job this morning, so I’m free until class tonight.” He nodded at the infant car seat on her arm. “Where are you headed?”
“Preschool pickup. Then back here for two hours while the little ones nap, then carpool again for the older kids. First the elementary school for Penny and Matthew and then the upper school for Amelia and the other two, brother and sister...” She was usually so good with names. It was a required skill in Washington. She snapped her fingers as it came to her. “Aleecya and Jackson.”
“Impressive. Can I ride shotgun?”
It was just one day, and diaper bags and preschool carpool would be her life in a few months. She would have to learn to handle it because there wouldn’t be anyone else to handle it for her. “Please ride shotgun.”
In Claire’s enormous van, Wynn snapped the baby’s car seat into position, dropped the diaper bag under the seat and noticed a small cooler between the two front seats. “Any idea what that cooler is for?”
“Maybe drinks and snacks to keep the kids happy in the car?”
Brilliant. “Good thought. I’ll run back in and see if I can find some sippy cups.”
In the refrigerator, she found the cups filled and color coded in the same colors as the chart. Her sister-in-law was a master of organization, but then she would have to be with so many children and schedules to manage. Wynn was going to have to take lessons.
Back in the van, Wynn tossed the cups into the cooler with the icepack she’d retrieved from the refrigerator and a few random snack bags. She started the engine, took a deep breath and looked at her unlikely partner for the day. Meeting his eyes, she felt her stomach do another insane flip that, once again, had nothing to do with the chaos of tasks facing her.
Latham smiled. “Here’s to adventures.”
She snorted a laugh. “No. No adventures. Calm, that’s what we’re after.”
He laughed, too, as he put on his seat belt. She reached over and rubbed the sawdust off his cheek with her thumb, and when he met her eyes, she wished that things were different, that she was the kind of person whom he should be interested in.
But she wasn’t.
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, Latham sighed in relief when Wynn pulled into the van’s parking spot beside the house at Red Hill Farm. Navigating even these country roads in this enormous van that happened to be full of squalling children was not an easy task. Thirty minutes of crying, starting when the preschool teachers buckled the two babies into their respective seats and they looked to the front only to realize that the inhabitants of the van were not whom they expected. Mama Claire wasn’t in the driver’s seat, and that was not okay with them.
Two minutes from the farm, the wails had turned to snivels, and sixty seconds from home, blessed silence had fallen as the two very unhappy toddlers drifted into exhausted sleep.
He very much could use a nap himself at this moment.
Wynn pushed the gearshift into place and sat back with a sigh. “Wow. That was intense.”
Latham laughed softly. “No kidding. Do you want to take them inside?”
“Not a chance.” She rolled the windows down and turned off the ignition. As she did, the baby in the carrier, who had slept through the entire debacle, began to squirm, eyes still closed.
“Uh-oh.” Latham raised an eyebrow. “This plan may be short-lived.”
Wynn reached behind her and snagged the diaper bag. “If you can get Maureen, I have a bottle in here somewhere.”
Latham walked back to the seat where the baby’s carrier was locked in. He pushed back the handle and unbuckled the straps, wondering at the tiny little body that they protected. She was still sleeping, but her mouth was working, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before she, too, would be shouting her displeasure.
He lifted her out of the seat. Her whole body fit in one of his wide, rough hands, and for the first time in his life, he wished that they were softer.
Easing into the seat, he held the baby out to Wynn, who shook her head and handed him the bottle.
“It’s okay, I’m good. You can feed her.”
He raised a skeptical eyebrow but stuck the bottle in the baby’s mouth. She grabbed on with a zeal that was surprising. He grinned down at the diminutive face. “She’s pretty cool to be so little.”
Wynn leaned back in her seat. “Claire said she was born a month early. The foster parents who will have her for the long term couldn’t take her just yet, so she came here for a week first as an emergency placement.”
Maureen finished sucking down the bottle and, when he lifted her to his shoulder, let out a decidedly unladylike burp. A laugh rumbled out of his chest. He reached down for the lever for his seat and eased it back, letting the baby lie on his chest. Her breath hitched out in a tiny sigh, and his
heart melted a little.
“I think you have a knack.” Wynn’s voice was soft in the quiet car. “I’m not nearly as easy with her as you are.”
“When’s your baby due?” As soon as the words were out, he regretted them.
A guarded look came over her face as her hand curved protectively around her still small baby bump, but she answered him. “I’m getting close to halfway. I have twenty more weeks or so to go.”
The baby in his arms stirred, and he patted her until she settled again. “Have you thought of a name for her?”
Wynn smiled softly, relaxing into her seat. “Maybe Eleanor, or Margaret. Something feminine, but strong.”
“Like you.”
She cut her eyes at him. “My mom named me Edwynna and called me Eddy until I was old enough to choose my own name. I climbed trees and skipped rocks and played in the mud. Not exactly feminine.”
“You had an awesome childhood. Everyone wanted their mom to be like Bertie.” He grinned. Like just about every man in Red Hill Springs, he’d had a crush on Bertie Sheehan for as long as he could remember.
“I did. My mom’s amazing. She didn’t want me or Jules to ever be overlooked just for being female. I didn’t appreciate it as a kid but I can now, especially since I know I’m carrying a daughter.”
He and Wynn weren’t alone sitting here in the driveway at Red Hill Farm, not even close. Across the backyard, Jordan was in the arena doing a therapy session with several kids on horseback, and she had three volunteers working with her. A couple of parents watched from the fence line. Even so, the van felt like it was insulated from the real world. Maybe it was that feeling that gave him the courage to ask, “Were you happy in Washington before...you know, you came home?”
Wynn turned wide blue eyes to his. “Was I happy? I don’t know—what does that even mean?”
He lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “I don’t know. It’s just a question.”
“I was busy.” Her voice dropped. “I think sometimes maybe I confused busyness with happiness. What about you? Are you happy with your life?”
I would be if you were in it. The words came, uncalled, into his mind. He pushed the thought away and tried to answer her question. “I’m content, I guess. I like that my roots are in Red Hill Springs and I’ve chosen to live here.”
He looked away from her eyes that seemed to see so much, but he told her the truth, because if anyone could understand the way he felt, Wynn could. “I had dreams for my life, but things changed and here I am.”
Her soft voice washed over him. “Things like your gran died and Pop needed you?”
“Yes.” He shifted in the seat, and he wasn’t sure if he was uncomfortable from sitting or uncomfortable with the conversation. “I wanted to teach full-time. It wasn’t my plan to be a carpenter, but I have the skills and it gives me the freedom to set my own schedule, which is important to me right now.”
“You’re so good at what you do, it never occurred to me that it wasn’t what you wanted to do.” She reached out with one hand, her fingers lacing with his in a completely unconscious gesture.
He looked at their joined hands, hers soft and pale, his rough and work-hardened. His other hand held the baby to his chest. “I don’t resent having to change my plans for my life. This sounds really cliché or cheesy or something, but it’s my honor to be with Pop. He and Gran raised me, and I guess I just figure it’s my turn to take care of him. I have a feeling that when your baby comes, you won’t think about the circumstances anymore, you’ll just know what a gift she is.”
Her eyes, when she looked up, were glossy. “I wish things were different, Latham. I wish—” One of the toddlers in the back woke up with a gasp and looked around with wild, questioning eyes.
Wynn jumped up, looking relieved that she didn’t have to finish that sentence.
“Looks like rest time is over. Hey, little man, you ready to go in and get a cookie?” She unbuckled the seat and lifted the little boy into her arms. “I’m going to take him in for a diaper change and cookie. You good here?”
“Yeah.” He watched as she bounced the little boy across the yard. He kicked up a fuss, but Wynn persisted, stopping and kissing his belly. Latham laughed himself when she finally got a smile to appear on that small cross face.
He had no idea what she’d been about to say, but he wished things were different, too.
He’d never wished that more than he did right now.
* * *
Wynn peeked around the door to Claire’s birthing suite. It wasn’t like any room she’d ever seen, the decor less like a hospital and more like a living room. She knocked softly, and her sister-in-law looked up with a smile. “Come in.”
“Mrs. Matthews got back about an hour ago and Mom came to help her put the children to bed.” And just in time, too. Wynn felt like a wrung-out dishrag after all those hours with Claire and Joe’s eight—now nine—kids. She took a few steps forward and tried to see into the blanket-wrapped bundle in Claire’s arms. “No one would tell me if you had a boy or a girl.”
Claire looked up at Joe, standing beside her. “Should we tell her?”
“Tell me!”
Joe grinned and nudged his thirteen-year-old daughter, Amelia, on his other side. “You tell her.”
“It’s a girl. Your baby’s gonna have a girl cousin just her age.” Amelia beamed. “I bet they’re close, like sisters.”
Wynn’s breath caught in her throat. Amelia didn’t mean anything, but the words felt like plans, and plans felt really big and really final. Making decisions about her future and the weight of it all sometimes threatened to suffocate her.
But then, Claire turned the little bundle to reveal a tiny red, wrinkled face—and Wynn could breathe again. “Oh, guys, she’s beautiful.”
Joe kissed his wife on the forehead. “Claire was a champ. You want to hold her?”
“Oh, no. I can’t stay—oh—oh, wow.” Wynn closed her arms around the baby as Joe handed her over and she looked down into the surprisingly alert eyes of her newest niece, tears gathering in her own. “Did you decide what to name her?”
“Her name is Abigail Frances.”
She looked for Joe through the haze of tears. “After Dad?”
He nodded, swallowing hard himself. “We decided as soon as we knew we were having a baby that, boy or girl, our baby would be named after Dad. We’re calling her Frankie.”
Wynn laughed. “Of course you are. He would be so proud of you, Joe. I’m proud of you.”
With a kiss on the head of the sweet baby girl, she passed Frankie back to him. “I’m not going to stay. I know you’re all tired. Reinforcements have arrived for the children, but if you need anything tomorrow, please let me help.”
She hugged Amelia and walked out the door, closing it behind her. The tears that she’d been holding back coursed down her cheeks, a sob catching in her throat. She had to get out of here.
She was so overwhelmed with the namelessness of what was rushing in at her, she couldn’t breathe.
Waiting for the elevator, she swiped the tears off her cheeks and rubbed the mascara out from under her eyes. When the doors opened, Latham stood there, a large takeout bag from a local restaurant in his hands. He took one look at her face and took her by the arm. “What’s wrong?”
His face swam before her. “I’m fine. I just need to go.”
He searched her face, his deep brown eyes filled with concern. “Wait here. I’m just gonna drop this food with Joe and I’ll be right back. Promise me you’ll wait.”
The sobs were coming again, welling into the back of her throat, and she nodded, unable to speak for fear of completely breaking down. She leaned against the wall, her hand across her eyes.
He was back in just a moment and put his arm around her, leading her into the elevator. She buried her head in his chest and he didn
’t speak, just held her close, until they got outside the hospital.
He sat her on a bench. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
She didn’t know where he thought she would go. She couldn’t even see.
He came back a few seconds later with a noncaffeinated soda. “Drink. I don’t like how pale you are.”
She took a few sips of the soda and a few deep breaths, trying to get her mind around why she was so upset. “Thanks. I thought you had class tonight.”
“I did. It’s over. Want to talk about what’s bothering you?”
She shot him a look. “Not really. I think I’m just—so tired.”
“It was a long day.”
“It’s not that. Or maybe I’m tired because of that, and the other stuff just bubbled to the surface.” She looked at him, and her throat clogged again. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He put his arm around her and leaned back on the bench. She relaxed into the embrace, taking that little bit of comfort, even though she knew she shouldn’t, not with the way things were. “Tell me what you’re thinking. Maybe talking it through out loud will help.”
She stared at the small pond in front of the hospital, where ducks swam serenely. “They’re such a unit. It’s so obvious when you’re around them.”
A furrow formed between his brows. “Joe and Claire?”
“All of them. I’m so happy for them, Latham. You understand that, right?”
“Of course.”
“They named the baby after my dad.” The tears started again. “What is wrong with me?”
“Nothing’s wrong with you. It’s perfectly normal to be emotional about a new addition in the family.” He paused. “And it’s perfectly normal that it brings up questions and thoughts about your own upcoming addition to the family.”
“I don’t want to do this by myself,” she whispered, watching the ducks waddle out of the pond and settle to sleep on the bank. “I can feel her, you know.”
“Your baby?”
“I can feel her moving. At first, it felt like a butterfly, but now I feel her moving and kicking. She’s an actual human being, Latham, and I’m in charge of her happiness. It’s terrifying. And when I see Joe and Claire and Amelia surrounding that little baby up there with love and security, I think I’m doing it wrong.”
Their Secret Baby Bond Page 8
