Counting Stars

by Michele Paige Holmes

  “I haven’t eaten yet.” Pete glanced at his watch. “It’s only 6:45. Do you always get up so early?”

  “Usually.” Jane bent down to pull the weed. “I like to come out in the quiet and work in the yard. It’s one of my favorite times of the day. I guess you could say I’m a morning person.” She stood again and began to walk toward the house. “What about you?”

  “Night owl,” Pete said, following her. “Though the military has done its best to change that. But normally I prefer to stay up late. I enjoy being outside then.”

  “What do you do outside at night? Do you have a garage you like to putter in or—?”

  “Stars,” Pete said. “I really enjoy watching the stars. I have a great telescope.”

  “Oh,” Jane said, remembering fondly the times she’d sat on the roof of her cottage and counted the stars on clear nights. “I can see how that would be enjoyable too.” She reached the sliding glass door and opened it.

  “You’ll have to wait a bit for breakfast,” she warned. “Around here it’s babies first, then grown-ups. Come on in and you can earn your food.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  “Hello, handsome,” Jane said, scooping Mark from his crib. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and went to the other crib, where Madison stood babbling as she clung to the bars.

  “Good morning, beautiful.” Jane used her free hand to lift Madison. She turned to Pete. “Okay, pick one.”

  “Umm—is there a right or wrong choice here?” He looked at the twins. “What are we doing?”

  “Changing diapers,” Jane said with a smile. “First thing in the morning both babies need to be changed. And, as you can guess by the smell, at least one of them is more than wet.”

  Pete looked at them warily. “Which one?”

  “Don’t know,” Jane said. “You’ve got fifty-fifty odds, though—unless they’re both stinky.” Her smile broadened.

  Pete rubbed his hands together. He looked at Mark and Madison. “All right, guys—and girls—sorry, Madison. Actually, you know, I think I’d better start with Mark first. I’m a little more familiar with the anatomy.”

  Jane laughed. “I understand. You can use the changing table.”

  Pete took Mark and laid him on the table. He watched as Jane put a blanket on the floor, laid Madison on it, and grabbed a diaper from the shelf. Kneeling beside the blanket, Jane began unsnapping Madison’s sleeper. Pete looked back at Mark.

  “Maybe, for this first time, I’d better get some coaching over here.”

  “One second. I’ll be right there.”

  Pete watched carefully as Jane unfastened the diaper, folded it down, wiped Madison, and slid a clean diaper under her. She had Madison’s new diaper on, her pajamas snapped up, and the whole process complete in less than a minute.

  Pete whistled. “You’re fast.”

  Jane tossed the diaper in a pail next to the changing table and squirted some hand sanitizer on her palms. She gave Madison a toy and stood. “Ready?”

  Pete rubbed his hands together. “Ready.” How hard could it be? He unsnapped Mark’s pajamas and pulled them up, out of the way like he’d seen Jane do. So far so good. He reached for the Velcro fasteners on the diaper.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jane said.

  “How come?” Pete asked, looking over his shoulder at her.

  “Little boys are a bit different. The air hits their—their . . . The air hits them and they start to go.”

  Pete’s eyebrows rose. “So what you’re saying is—”

  “Just have another diaper open and ready to cover him up in case he squirts,” Jane said quickly.

  “You speak from experience,” Pete said, unable to hide his amusement at her word choice. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one feeling a little out of his comfort zone.

  Jane pursed her lips and nodded. “Yes, and let me tell you, it hurts when you get hit in the eye.”

  “Good to know.” Pete turned his attention back to Mark. “All right. Open and ready.” Pete pulled a diaper from the shelf and began unfolding it.

  “Uh-uh.” Jane took it from him. “This is Maddie’s. See the pink edging?”

  “Well, yeah, but does it really matter? I mean, we live in a society where women serve right beside men in the military. So what’s the big deal with diaper color? Can’t Maddie wear a blue diaper and Mark wear pink?” Pete frowned as he continued in mock seriousness. “Is this really what we want to teach these children? Don’t you want Maddie to feel she can do anything—even wear blue diapers?”

  Jane folded her arms across her chest and suppressed a grin. “Go ahead,” she urged, waving Pete on. “Put the pink one on. But you’re the one who gets to change Mark’s clothes and the crib bedding and do all the laundry when his diaper leaks.”

  Pete, his hand on the Velcro of Mark’s diaper, stopped. “What do you mean?”

  “The diapers are different,” Jane said. “Boys are different than girls. The diapers are padded differently based on where the absorption is needed.”

  “Really?” Pete asked. He looked at the diaper, impressed. “I didn’t know.”

  “Now if you’d like to lobby the diaper companies to change their color scheme to include pinks and purples for boys and maybe reds and blues for girls, feel free to do so. In the meantime, the pink and blue trim keeps things pretty simple. Not to mention that Madison is wearing a size larger than Mark right now.”

  Without a word, Pete put the pink diaper back on the shelf and took a blue one. He unfolded it and laid it aside, ready to grab it should he need to.

  “Okay. Here goes.” He unfastened the tabs on both sides and peeled back the diaper. “Well, hey. That’s quite a mess there.” He quickly pulled the diaper back up and turned his face aside. “Now what?”

  “Now you wipe everything off.” Jane walked toward the bedroom door.

  “Where are you going?” Pete called, trying not to sound too anxious. “I mean, come on, if I can’t even figure out the right diaper to use, I should probably have you demonstrate—”

  “You’ll be fine,” Jane said. “Just make sure to use plenty of wipes and sprinkle some powder on him when you’re through.”

  Pete began pulling wipes from the dispenser. When he had a good-sized wad in his hand, he peeled back the diaper again.

  Jane stood in the doorway trying not to laugh. “It’s usually more effective if you use one at a time. Otherwise, you’ll go through the whole box at one changing.”

  Pete shook several of the wipes out of his hand. “This looks like it’s going to take a whole box,” he muttered.

  “Good luck,” Jane called. “I’m going to get the twins’ breakfast ready. Bring them to the kitchen when you’re done.” She paused in the hall and turned back. “Oh, and Peter—”

  “Yes?”

  “Mark always has a messy diaper first thing in the morning.”

  * * *

  “Where do you want them?” Pete asked somewhat grumpily as he walked into the kitchen a few minutes later, a twin in each arm.

  “In the high chairs. Mark needs to sit in the one with all the rolled-up towels.” Jane stood at the counter, mashing something in a bowl. “Everything go okay?”

  “Fine. It only took me five tries to line up the snaps right on Mark’s pajamas. How come they design baby clothes to be so confusing? Whoever heard of pants that snap all the way down to your foot?”

  Jane laughed. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “What’s on the menu?” Pete asked. He walked to the breakfast nook and tried putting Madison in her seat. The tray was pushed in too far though, and he couldn’t figure out how to get it off without putting one of the twins down. Reluctantly, he asked for help again. “Jane, could you come here a minute?”

  She wiped her hands on a towel, walked across the kitchen, and took Madison from Pete. “Observe,” she said, putting her free hand behind her back. “With practice, many things can be done while holding ba
bies.” Balancing Madison on her hip and putting her arm around her, Jane bent over and used the same hand to spring the tray loose. “Now you try,” she said, nodding to Mark’s high chair.

  Pete put one hand behind his back, secured Mark with his other arm and tried to unlock the tray. It wouldn’t budge. Mark began sliding down Pete’s leg.

  “It’s okay,” Jane said as she buckled Madison into her chair. “It takes practice, and women do have better hips for the job.” She walked over and unlatched Mark’s tray.

  “It would seem I can’t do anything right,” Pete grumbled.

  “Oh don’t say that,” Jane said brightly. “You haven’t tried feeding them yet.” She went into the kitchen and returned with two bowls. “Mashed bananas with rice cereal for Mark.” She handed the bowl to Pete. “And Maddie can feed herself banana slices and Cheerios for a few minutes.” Jane put the other bowl on Maddie’s tray. “If you’ll supervise here, then I’ll go make french toast for us.”

  Pete looked at the bowl of mashed banana and cereal. It didn’t look very appetizing, and he imagined Mark would feel the same way. “Any tips?” Pete asked hopefully.

  “Airplane noises and small bites,” Jane called as she returned to the kitchen.

  Pete picked up the spoon. “Airplane, huh?” he asked. “How about a helicopter, Mark? Those are more fun.” Pete dug the spoon in and began twirling it around in his fingers, making a whirring noise. Mark’s eyes followed the motion, and after a few seconds Pete flew the bite into Mark’s open mouth. Surprisingly, he ate it. Encouraged, Pete tried another “helicopter” bite and got the same results. Remembering to keep the spoonfuls small, he continued feeding Mark, and in a few minutes’ time the entire mashed concoction was gone. Pete looked over at Madison and winked. “I think we’ve got this one down,” he whispered.

  He turned around in his chair to watch Jane. She stood at the stove with her back to him, flipping french toast. She’d brought the CD player in from the patio, and Shania was still singing. This song he was less familiar with—something about a woman not being impressed by money, nice cars, or Brad Pitt. Curious, he listened as he watched Jane gather the syrup, butter, plates, and silverware and bring everything to the table.

  “So if movie stars, rocket scientists, and nice cars don’t impress, what does?” he asked.

  “Hmm . . .” Jane considered as she set the table. “I’m not sure.”

  “There must be something,” Pete coaxed.

  Jane returned to the stove and took the last of the french toast from the skillet.

  “I really don’t know.” On the way back to the table, she grabbed a carton of orange juice and a half-eaten jar of baby food from the fridge. “Maybe nothing does. Maybe that’s why I’m single.”

  “Ever been married?” Pete asked.

  “No. You?” Jane set the plate of steaming bread in front of him.

  Pete shook his head. “Never.” Engaged once, he could have added but chose not to. He used his fork to take a piece of bread from the plate. “This looks great. My mom used to make french toast on really thick bread like this.”

  “Texas toast,” Jane said. “I grew up with it too. Good stuff.” She reached for the butter, then stopped, seeing Mark’s empty bowl. “He ate it all?” she asked, astonished.

  Pete grinned. “Every bite.”

  Jane got up and walked over to the high chair. She made a point of looking in Mark’s hair, under his chin, beneath his bib, and at his lap. Finding nothing, she folded her arms and smiled at Pete.

  “Now that impresses me.”

  Chapter Forty

  Monday morning Pete walked into the office and went straight to Joan’s desk.

  She smiled up at him. “Good morning, Mr. Bryant.”

  “Morning,” he said, returning her smile. Leaning closer, he spoke in a quiet voice. “I was wondering if there might be a file on Jane Warner. I thought maybe Richard—”

  “Right here.” Joan held a folder out to him. “Richard said you’d ask for it.”

  “He did, did he?” Feeling chagrined, Pete took the folder.

  Joan nodded. “Yes. And I’m also supposed to break the news that your office has been temporarily taken over by the interns. Richard suggested you use the library until they finish up next month.”

  “No problem,” Pete said. “Thanks.” He waved the folder and headed in the opposite direction, reminding himself he was simply grateful to have a job after spending so many months away.

  Once in the library, he resisted the urge to look through Jane’s file and instead got busy preparing for his Wednesday meeting. He still couldn’t quite believe Richard had given him a custody case. Pete grimaced as he opened his laptop. He didn’t particularly enjoy court, and this time it was likely to be downright unpleasant.

  He’d been working for about half an hour when Richard strolled into the room.

  “So, aside from getting arrested, how was your weekend?” He put a stack of folders on the table and sat in the opposite chair.

  Pete leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “It was incredible. Absolutely incredible.”

  “Really?” Richard seemed surprised. “Tell me about it. And sorry I missed your call on the cell Friday night. I’d promised Candice I’d turn my phone off during dinner.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Pete said. “Everything worked out fine. Jane gave me a ride home.”

  “Wasn’t she the one who put you there in the first place?”

  Pete nodded. “Yeah, but it was just a misunderstanding.”

  “Some misunderstanding,” Richard said sarcastically. “What else incredible happened this weekend?”

  Pete leaned over the table. “I have two adorable children. They’re a hoot—so fun to watch—so much work to care for,” he added. “Seeing them for the first time, the whole experience, everything was amazing—and very overwhelming.”

  “Most people have a bit more time to adjust to the idea of parenthood.”

  “I’ve had a couple of months,” Pete said. “But nothing could prepare me for this. I had no idea . . .”

  “I told you,” Richard reminded him.

  “Yes, you did,” Pete agreed. “But I’m not just talking about all they require. I didn’t realize how fast I’d become attached to them. I spent Friday morning with Mark and Madison and then a short while that night—until the police said I had to go.” He grinned, knowing Richard was curious to hear the whole story. “Then I was with them most of the weekend. I changed diapers and fed them. We rolled around on the floor. It was the most fun I’ve ever had. I can’t wait to see them again tonight.” Pete tapped his pencil on the desk and looked at Richard expectantly. “Is it always this way with babies? Or do you think it’s because I see a bit of Paul and Tamara in them?”

  Richard shrugged. “Don’t try too hard to figure it out,” he advised. “Just enjoy it. They become teenagers fast enough.” He frowned as if thinking of the teens in his house. “Meanwhile, remind yourself how much those cute little babies cost. You’re going to use your paycheck like never before. So earn it. Here are a few more files for you to look at.”

  “Not custody, I hope,” Pete said, reaching for the folders.

  “No,” Richard said. “Just some probate that needs to be taken care of. It’s enough to keep you busy for a while. Sorry about your office, by the way.”

  “This is all right.” Pete glanced around the library. “I’m just grateful to be employed.”

  “You wouldn’t be if you weren’t such a good attorney.” Richard eyed Jane’s folder as he rose from the table. “Read about Miss Warner yet?”

  “No. Thought I’d do that at lunch. Anything in there that’ll make me lose my appetite?” Pete asked, joking.

  Richard gave him a curious look. “No. But more than likely, you may find something that will whet it.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Jane parked the Jeep in front of her parents’ house. Getting out, she took Madison from the se
at behind her, then walked around the car and got Mark from the other side. After the gagging incident last week, she’d switched their car seats, wanting to see Mark all the time in case he ever threw up like that again.

  With a baby on each arm, Jane walked to her parents’ door. She felt a little guilty she hadn’t invited Peter to come to the monthly family dinner, but he’d only been home a short while—she’d only known him a week—and she was afraid her family might swarm him like a bunch of hungry vultures.

  It was better, she reasoned, for her to come alone today so she could explain to everyone about the change in her circumstances. She’d simply tell them that she was trying to be a willing participant in this whole co-guardianship thing. If anyone in her family interfered or tried to make it something that it wasn’t, everything would be ruined.

  Jane extended her thumb to hit the doorbell. She knew the door was probably unlocked and she could just walk right in, but now that she wasn’t always carrying the twins in their car seats, she couldn’t set them down for a moment to open the screen and the door. A high-chair tray was one thing, but she couldn’t do everything by herself while holding both babies. Sometimes a little help was nice.

  She smiled, thinking about the previous day. Pete had stayed over for most of it, helping with mundane things like folding the twins’ laundry and changing their sheets. He’d played with Mark and Madison, worked on the swing set, and gotten Mark to eat solid food for all three meals. Jane was thrilled and felt he’d more than made up for their rough start the Friday before. She’d told Pete so and thanked him before he finally left at nine o’clock, after they’d put the twins to bed and shared a pizza.

  Life was good, Jane realized. Really good. Instead of the nightmare she’d envisioned, she found herself genuinely happy to have some help. The past week had given her hope. Joint custody might just work after all.

  Jane’s mother opened the door. “Hello, dear.” She gave Jane a kiss on the cheek. “Where’s Mr. Bryant?” She peered around Jane.

  “I didn’t invite him, Mom. I didn’t want to overwhelm him with the mob.” Jane walked past her mother and into the living room.