“I know.” His jaw went tight. “And it would be an easy answer one way, wouldn’t it?” He looked up and met her gaze. He read sympathy and understanding in her troubled look. “But then what if something weird happens? What if the court denies me custody, or Adrianna’s parents contest it and I have to give her to them? I can’t imagine putting her and Mack through that.”
“I agree totally. But I saw how hard it was on you and I wanted you to know I think you’re a very special man to do this.”
He wasn’t one bit special. Not in his estimation. “I’m not special, Corinne.” He said the words firmly. “I’m barely good by some standards. And just all right by others.”
“You’re wrong.” She laid a cool, soft hand against his cheek, and the gentle touch made him look up. “Whatever it is that makes you feel that way is wrong, too. But at this moment, the pragmatic task of dinner calls me back to my kitchen. And consider this an invite because there’s plenty of sauce and meatballs to go around.”
He hadn’t bothered with food the night before. And he’d never given it consideration this morning, so the thought of a home-cooked meal sounded better than good. It sounded wonderful.
His life had changed instantly, much like the fall weather. He’d been trudging along, minding his own business and then...
Jessie cooed from the floor. She dimpled, writhed, frowned, then burped. And then she dimpled again, smiling at him.
He couldn’t do this. He knew that. And yet—he couldn’t not do it, either.
Once the house cleared he’d call his mother and discern what she knew, but for now...
He sank onto the floor while Kate started a load of baby laundry and Pete wrestled the crib into a more usable state.
For now, he’d sit and marvel at the tiny blessing cooing on the floor before him.
Chapter Seven
Don’t get attached, not to the cop or the baby.
The mental warning repeated itself every time Corinne thought about the abandoned baby in Gabe’s living room.
Her job brought her face-to-face with a full spectrum of situations and lots of parents, some good, some bad. She’d witnessed young mothers as they gave their newborns up for adoption, and she’d witnessed grievously sad pregnancies gone wrong.
But much of her workload brought happy endings to scared parents facing medical trauma. She clung to that reality during dark days.
She’d just finished arranging hot garlic bread on a platter when Gabe walked through her lakeside door. “Kate commandeered the baby, and I thought you might need some help.”
“Your timing is perfect.” He looked pained when she said that, but there wasn’t time to delve. Not when freshly cooked pasta and sizzling garlic bread was involved. She laid a sheet of aluminum foil over the bread and tucked the ends as Pete followed Gabe through the door.
“Mom said I should make myself useful, but I think she was just trying to get rid of us so Jessie would fall asleep,” he announced. He leaned the door shut. “It’s getting colder out there. If it frosts tonight, we’ll say goodbye to the last leaves.”
“And hello to the holidays and snow and the festival,” added Corinne. “Gabe, can you set those plates on the table? The girls were recording their harmonic version of ‘Santa Claus Is Coming to Town’ upstairs, and I promise you that we’re all better off with them up there and Tee’s door closed.”
He set the plates onto the table, then the bread. He glanced around as if worried. About the house? The girls? The baby? Germs?
She wished she could tell him it would all be all right...to relax, let go and “let God,” a favorite saying in the Gallagher house, but she understood the reality too well. He’d just been handed an unexpected and very precious situation to handle on his own. She understood that scenario better than most. It would take a dull-witted person to miss the struggle on his face. In his bearing. The verse she loved came to her, telling and true. “There is a time for every purpose under the heaven.”
Brave words from the book of Ecclesiastes.
She tried to live the simplicity of the verse, but it wasn’t easy. Her faith had been thrown a challenge when Dave died. She’d felt bereft and alone, watching his metal coffin be lowered into the ground, a toddler clutching one hand while pregnant.
What purpose had Dave’s death served? She saw the downsides. No, scratch that, she lived them, but if everything had a purpose, what reason was there in a young officer’s death?
None that she knew of, and that reality challenged the wise words.
“Have we got everything we need?” Pete asked as she set the large bowl of meatballs and sauce in the center of the island.
“I think so. The kids can serve themselves at the island and that frees up some room at the table.”
“Corinne.”
“Yes, Gabe?”
He moved toward the door. “I know this will sound like I’m being overprotective, but I’m going to keep Jessie over at the house for now. She’s little and with so many kids around...”
A shout from one of Tee’s girlfriends punctuated the air, and his voice trailed off.
“That’s not being overprotective,” she told him. “It’s smart. I’m not a big fan of dragging tiny babies who haven’t had all their shots out into public all the time. Let’s let them build up some resistance. And it will give the two of you time to get to know one another. But give me two minutes to dish you up some supper. From one neighbor to another.” She dished up pasta and sauce into a plastic container and handed it to him, calm and cool.
“Here’s bread, too.” Pete hadn’t bothered with anything as civilized as a knife. He’d torn off a man-sized hunk of bread and wrapped it in a piece of foil. “I’ll walk over with you. It might take two of us to pry Kate away from that baby.”
“I’d appreciate the help, sir.” He turned at the door and lifted the container. “Thanks for this.”
“We’re even,” she said lightly, not looking his way, because that’s how they needed to leave things. Neighborly. Nothing more. Nothing less. “Thanks for helping with the lights. Hey, guys!” She focused her attention upstairs and not on the handsome man standing in her kitchen. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Coming!”
“Great!”
Callan came up from the family room while Tee and her two friends dashed down from upstairs, and when Corinne turned around, Pete and Gabe were crossing the deck.
She watched them go.
Gabe touched something inside her. A longing or yearning she couldn’t afford to let happen. And when Tee, Callan and the other girls had slipped into the chairs she’d placed around the table, she saw validation for her concerns in her children’s faces.
They were too young to know what they’d lost twelve years before. She knew. And it was her job to make sure they never had to go through that again.
Once Tee’s friends were picked up by their parents, she popped through the hedge. She wasn’t dashing over to help, but to make sure that Gabe knew help was available, if needed. She tapped on his side door. When it swung open, he looked surprised and pleased to see her. “Supper was great. Best meatballs I’ve ever had.”
“Going without food for a day might have shaded your opinion my way, but I’ll take the compliment as given. Listen, I’m not interfering...”
“That’s what people say when they’re about to interfere,” Gabe cut in. “It’s like saying ‘It’s not about the money’ when of course it’s absolutely about the money.”
She laughed lightly. “Fair enough. I figured I’d come by and collect my container and remind you that I’m right next door. If you need my help with the baby overnight, I’ll have my phone by the bed. Or if you want to do shifts, Gabe.” She turned to face him. “I’ll be glad to help.”
* * *
Did she sense the gut-clenching fear inside at the thought of being left alone, responsible for an infant’s well-being? She seemed to, and that understanding helped lighten his load.
“You’ll be fine. Babies aren’t as scary or as fragile as they look.”
He knew that wasn’t true. He’d known ultimate failure once.
His heart knotted, but what could he do? He’d already refused Susie’s offer of help, and that would have been an easily justifiable lifeline, except he couldn’t put her in that position. He’d broken enough hearts in his time.
“Call if you need me.” She lifted her phone as a reminder. “I’ll come running.”
“I will.”
She slipped out, sent him a quick salute and crossed their connected yards. He watched her disappear inside, then stood there, disjointed, staring at nothing until a peep brought his attention around.
Jessie had rolled over. She had both hands stuffed into her little mouth, peeking up at him with just enough interest that he figured he better mix a couple of bottles ahead of time.
His hands shook.
He breathed deep, through his nose, wanting them to stop.
They didn’t, and when he sloshed the first bottle onto the countertop, he righted it and gripped the counter edge so tightly that his knuckles strained white.
He wouldn’t be able to sleep.
How could he?
Responsibility rose like a Saturday matinee monster, all-consuming.
He breathed again, released the counter and got two bottles ready before she set up a fuss. He put one in the fridge and brought the other over to the living room.
He needed noise. Something to make it seem like he wasn’t here, alone with his greatest fear, a needy child.
She fussed a little louder, announcing her growing impatience.
He clicked on the Sunday night football game, then crossed the room to the patterned Pack ’n Play. He looked down.
Sky blue eyes stared up at him, round and wide. She looked worried.
Well, that made two of them.
She batted little arms as if wondering what was taking him so long. Then her lower lip trembled slightly, leaving him no choice.
He bent low and picked her up.
So light.
So small.
So precious.
Adrenaline rushed through his system.
He shoved it aside.
Every self-preservation instinct he’d been honing for nine years told him to run next door, hand this baby to Corinne and head for the hills.
Of course he couldn’t do that because Adrianna had trusted him to oversee things. Small matter that her judgment was obviously twisted.
He snugged Jessie into his left arm in a hold he’d never forgotten and adjusted her bottle. She drank eagerly, fists bound tight as if worried that food might not arrive on time. He muted the TV, turned his phone on speaker and called his mother. If anyone knew the background story, it would be Linda Cutler. This time the call went right through.
“Gabe, hey!”
Her voice made the baby lurch, and he fumbled to turn the phone volume down.
“You never call on a Sunday night. What’s up?”
“Mom, did you know that Adrianna had a child?”
She sighed and went quiet. For long seconds the only sound was the baby’s murmurs of growing contentment as she slurped a bottle in what might be record time. “Yes, I knew. She’d gone to an agency to give the baby up for adoption in her last trimester, and then I heard nothing. I’m sure the baby’s in good hands with a family longing for a child. We have to commend her for that.”
“Did Aunt Maureen and Uncle Blake know she was pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“And they did nothing to help?”
“They’d given up on her, Gabe. They didn’t want her or that baby around. They considered the thought of the baby a culmination of sin. They made that quite clear.”
Anger rose within him. He was thirteen years older than Adrianna, and they hadn’t known each other well, but Gabe was pretty sure her parents had given up on the girl a long time ago. “Who does that, Mom? Who gives up on a kid because they’ve made mistakes? She’d been clean for nearly two years.”
“Maureen and Blake have strict beliefs.”
He knew that, but didn’t Christ forgive sinners? Didn’t he bring the outsiders into his realm purposely?
“I told Adrianna I’d be glad to help her, but she sent me a nice note about the agency, then disappeared. And that’s all I knew until...” She sighed again and when she spoke, her voice went thick with regret. “Until she was gone.”
The image of his younger cousin, who’d tried to straighten herself out after a two-year stint in women’s prison, haunted him.
“How did you find out, Gabe? I’ve never said anything to anyone, and I can’t imagine Maureen and Blake are talking about it.”
“I found out because someone dropped off a four-month-old baby girl on my doorstep yesterday afternoon. She came with a handful of diapers and an envelope of custody papers tucked into a diaper bag.”
“That can’t be.” He could almost see his mother standing, pacing. “She was giving the baby up for adoption. She told me her plan and it didn’t include robbing places at gunpoint with a baby. Gabe, are you sure?”
He glanced down at the baby girl snugged into the crook of his arm. “Reasonably certain. I’m giving her a bottle right now. Her note said she didn’t want strangers to have her baby. So she chose me. You really didn’t know that she hadn’t given up the baby?”
“No. I’m sure no one knew. Oh, Gabe.” She sighed softly. “Wait until her parents hear this. They wanted nothing to do with their own daughter when she was less than perfect, and the thought that they could put those demands on another generation is scary, isn’t it? My sister was never cut out to be a mother, I’m afraid.”
He frowned, confused by her assumption that his aunt and uncle would want—and be awarded—guardianship of Jessie. “Why would they get custody?” he asked bluntly. “Adrianna clearly signed the baby over to me, complete with witnesses and a notary.” Jessie blinked up at him. A tiny dribble of milk ran out of the corner of her mouth, and when he dabbed it away with a soft towel, oh, that smile!
His heart softened, and his resolve firmed up. “Mom, there’s no way Aunt Maureen and Uncle Blake are getting their hands on this baby. They don’t know she’s here. They don’t know where she is, and I don’t think they care.”
“But we’ll have to tell them,” she said softly. “It’s the right thing to do.”
Was it?
Gabe wasn’t so sure, and the whole thing was too new to figure out right now. “Well, they don’t need to know right away. I’ve got enough on my plate right now.”
“I can come help.”
He’d like that, actually. His mother had always been a voice of common sense in the middle of her crazy family dynamics. “Can you come next weekend? We’ve got the Christkindl festival, and I’m working the whole three days. If you could drive up here and take charge of Jessie, that would be wonderful.”
“Jessie. That’s her name?”
“Jessica Anne, according to the birth certificate, but Adrianna called her Jessie in the letter. She’s beautiful, Mom.”
“Of course she is.” She sighed. “I’ll come Friday morning and spend the weekend. But you need to think about telling your aunt and uncle. At some point,” she added softly.
He would, but not now. Not yet. “I will. But the thought that they might fight for custody and mess up her life...” He passed a hand over the nape of his neck, then brought the baby up for a burp as naturally as if he’d been doing these things right along. “I can’t wrap my head around that, Mom.”
“We’l
l talk next weekend. And we’ll pray, Gabe. For you, for this baby—and for guidance.”
He could use prayer for all of the above. “Thanks, Mom. I’ve got to go, she needs a diaper change.”
“All right. I’ll call tomorrow to see how things are going. Are you okay with this, Gabe?” He sensed the hesitation in her voice. “I mean really okay?”
He wasn’t, but worrying his mother didn’t cut it. “Fine. Yes.”
“Then I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I can’t say this was the phone call I ever expected to get, but there’s a part of me that’s proud of what Adrianna did. She took steps to ensure her baby’s well-being in the thick of poor choices. For all of her faults, that shows a mother’s love.”
“It does. Good night, Mom.”
“Good night, son.”
He stood and paced the room, patting the baby’s back.
She belched, then brought her head around to smile at him, thoroughly pleased with herself.
A text came in. He looked at the phone. Call or text if you need me. Walking that baby around the living room might get old around 1 a.m.
He moved toward the window.
Corinne was silhouetted in her living room window, watching him. She waved, and he waved back, suddenly not as alone.
He texted back, Appreciate it. Thanks.
You’re welcome, came the reply.
Her window went dark, but knowing she was there, ready to help, meant more than being a good neighbor.
It meant everything.
Chapter Eight
Corinne got home midday Monday.
She hadn’t heard from Gabe during the night. Had things gone well? She hoped so.
She needed to check on him.
Needed or wanted?
Both, she decided. She’d grabbed a submarine sandwich at the deli. A man who moves into a new house, then gets a baby dropped on his doorstep, all within twenty-four hours, probably didn’t have time to shop for groceries. She tapped lightly. He swung open the door, looking positively haggard. She frowned in understanding and sympathy. “No sleep, huh?”
The Lawman's Yuletide Baby Page 7
