by Dana Cameron
“Hey there, Joy, don’t you worry. We’ll get Mommy all fixed up and back to normal in no time.” He talked to the baby in soothing tones; she smiled at him and thumped the dog against her mattress.
While he was hustling around he thought to look in the fridge for a baby bottle and was rewarded. He came back to Carol, who was still not with it, and offered up the cold bottle to Joy.
“Sorry, baby, I’d only screw it up if I tried to warm it.”
Joy flung her tiny arms open to him. He picked her up and sat down in the rocking chair across the room. He could watch Carol and make this kid feel better at the same time.
She grabbed the bottle out of his hands and skillfully fed herself, tipping backward in his arms. At no time did her eyes leave his face, and once she grinned at him, milk spilling out of the corner of her mouth. Her yellow footy sleepers felt a little damp, but he figured that was the least of their problems at the moment.
“Hey, cookie, you’ve got some kind of appetite, don’t you?” He looked into her baby blue eyes and got very curious. This baby looked a whole lot like Holly with that mop of pale red hair and those blue eyes, but wait, Holly’s eyes were green. Maybe Carol was related to Holly like he thought, and red hair ran in the family.
Or maybe Holly had been busier in Carmel than he figured. That would explain a whole lot regarding Holly’s recent appearance in his life.
The sirens made Joy look frightened, but Nick was never so glad to hear anything in his life. He realized the front door was locked and jumped up to open it, carrying Joy with him like a squirming sack of potatoes.
Within seconds the paramedics were taking Carol’s vital signs. They brought in a gurney and lifted her into place. She moaned when they moved her and cried out “Joy?” several times. The lady paramedic kept talking to her and told her the baby was fine.
When they’d taken her out, the woman turned to him. “Are you the husband?”
“No, just a friend.”
“Well, you probably saved her life. She’s seriously dehydrated, and it looks like she’s got pneumonia. I hope she pulls through.”
“Is there a doubt?”
“We’ll take her to Monterey General. It’s the closest hospital. Do you know any relatives? Otherwise…”
Nick had seen enough television to know what they’d do if there were no relatives. They’d place Joy in temporary foster care. Somehow he just couldn’t let that happen. “I’m related,” he blurted out.
“Oh, I see,” she said, and looked from him to the baby and back again. Let her think what she liked, he certainly wasn’t sent across two states to let this woman’s child, or whomever’s child she was, be put in some strange place on Christmas Day.
Oh my God, it was Christmas Day.
“I’ll keep her,” he said; “Here, here’s the mother’s name and address.” Nick pulled the Christmas card envelope out of his jeans pocket and handed it to her.
“Okay, we’ll get more information later. I’ve got to get the mother transported. Just head north on highway 101 and you’ll see the signs for the hospital.”
“Thanks, I’ll be there shortly. I’ve got to pack this munchkin a bag.” He held the squinny child firmly as she tried to escape his grasp. Nick smiled reassuringly.
The woman took one more look at him, grabbed her bag, and ran out the door.
Nick was alone with Joy, who wasn’t too joyful anymore. She shrieked at him and tried to escape. He held her out in front of him and gave her a good talking to. “Now, Joy, your mom is sick and she’s got to go to the hospital. Unfortunately that leaves me in charge. And hey, we’re going to have to do something about those soggy drawers of yours. But first, let’s heat this place up, shall we?”
Joy yelled at him, followed by bubbled spit, then some screams that clearly broke the sound barrier. “Holy crap, that’s some set of lungs you’ve got there.” He carried her by his side, arm around her middle, and found the thermostat.
It looked to him like Carol had been trying to save money by taping the setting down to fifty-five. Well, this was an emergency. He hiked it up to seventy-five and strode down the hallway with his sidekick, who was kicking his side at the moment, flailing both her arms and legs.
There was a nice padded changing table in the bedroom he’d found Carol in, and he plopped Joy on top. Her little legs went out stiff and she looked like a redheaded devil about to show him who was boss. He made a funny face at her. She turned pink then let out a huge earsplitting shriek.
“Hey, hey, keep it down, I’m new at this!”
Nick handed her a squeaky duck. She took it then threw it so hard it hit the wall and squeaked a long, last squeak. As she yelled he saw a few little teeth in her mouth and decided to steer clear of that area. She looked dangerous.
Changing a baby. This was a completely new experience for him. One that his PhD in economics could not solve. He unzipped her sleeper and clumsily pulled her out of it as she made that as difficult as possible.
Thank God she was only wet. Her diaper looked like a balloon, though. He stripped it off and noticed the diaper wipes on the shelf below, plus a stack of disposable diapers.
This called for a consultation. He whipped out his cell phone and autodialed his mom.
“Merry Christmas, Mom.”
“Honey! We’ve been dying to hear what you found in Carmel,” his mother said.
“A very sick woman and a very difficult baby. I need emergency instructions on diapering, Mom.”
His mother was more than happy to give him more child-care information than he’d use in a lifetime. He balanced the phone on his shoulder while she went over the direction that diaper tapes go and what to do if the baby had gas or spits up all over him. More information than he really wanted to know.
After some rather stupid attempts, he managed to get the kid taped, wrapped, and tidied up, not necessarily in that order. Joy gave him a smirk and he again felt like he’d seen that face somewhere before.
“Okay, Mom, I’m going to drive to the hospital and find out how Carol is. Carol Chandler, the baby’s mother. I don’t know, it’s just a miracle I made it down here when I did. That must be what our ghost was trying to tell us. Yes, that too, and strangely I’m okay with being unengaged. Bye Mom, I’ve got to run.” Nick managed to get off the phone with his mom.
He picked up the diapered but naked child and held her with one arm while he rummaged through the nearby dressers to find her some clothes. For once she cooperated and looked curious. He came up with a red sleeper, just like the pale yellow one. Red for Christmas.
He also ran across a drawer full of Carol’s undies, which were quite delicate, pale, and silky. Just like her.
He wriggled the baby into her red sleeper and gave her a pat on the diapered behind. “Ta-da. Now shall we see what Santa brought you?”
Joy clapped as if she understood, poor little darling. He took her into the tiny living room. Now that the morning sunlight streamed through the windows, he could see things more clearly. There was a small, fairly lame tree with tons of homemade ornaments and a pile of presents underneath, all for Joy. A toy kitchen with a big red bow on it sat to one side.
He laughed a bit at the mom that would put a kitchen together for a baby this young. It looked way to old for Joy. This must be her first child. Some presents are for the mothers anyway.
He set her on the floor and she crawled over to the presents, then pulled herself up on the table that held the tree and stared at the paper snowflakes and glittered pinecones.
Maybe he should let her mother do this. Oh hell, the poor kid had been through too much already. Her mother was in good hands, and he couldn’t really tell them anything more about her. Joy would be a handful in the hospital, and the kid hadn’t eaten anything for breakfast yet. Hey, a little Christmas wouldn’t delay them too much. “Here, let’s tear into this stuff. I’ll show you how.” He got down on the floor and started ripping into the prettily wrapped boxes.
Joy babbled to him in her foreign, baby language and brought each item to him as it emerged, setting it into his lap. Pretty soon he had piles of plastic pots and fake food on him and around him. He was getting hungry enough to try the fake pork chop.
For a rundown beach shack, the little place was very clean, except for where he and Joy had made mounds of wrapping paper mess. There were vintage forties curtains and a sofa that probably had its best days back then as well. But it was homy and the paintings were truly wonderful. He looked closely at a couple of them and saw they were mostly by Carol, but one very amazing painting of cypress trees bending over the ocean in the wildest colors imaginable was signed Holly Townsend. It was so Holly.
Joy was now deeply involved in the box that the plastic pots came out of. She put it on her head and looked out at him from the cellophane window. Weird kid.
He freed himself from his pile of pretend pots and went into the small kitchen. It was yellow and white and very cheery. A collection of large white pitchers took up a corner china hutch. He opened up a few cupboards and found canned fruit, a box of oatmeal, some jars of applesauce, and not a whole lot of much of anything else.
He looked into the other room to check on Space Girl and saw her banging her plastic spatula against a pink pot. “Can you cook?” he asked. He picked her up and brought her where he could keep an eye on her. She hit him with her spatula a few times, but took the move fairly well. He deposited her in her high chair and she kept on with her spatula, beating the metal tray noisily.
There was bread in the refrigerator. “Raisin bread. Well, that’s Christmasy, isn’t it?” He made up six pieces of toast for the little one and himself and even found butter in the cupboard. No coffee, but tea. He also found cheese in the fridge and cut some in sticks for his pal Joy.
“Hey, Joy, let’s eat raisin toast and cheese.” She seemed quite agreeable to that and discarded her box-head to stuff fistfuls of squished raisin toast into her mouth. Probably not the best baby food, but hey, it was a holiday.
Nick watched her with interest. She was quite a corker. Joy really reminded him of Holly. Was it her baby? A wave of anger surged over him as he thought about Holly getting involved with someone so soon after their breakup. Someone who left her alone and pregnant with only her friend Carol to support her. He wished he knew the truth.
As he thought that, a tiny flame-up came out of the burner he had the teakettle on. A fizzle of smoke came from the spot.
“Oh, so we’re back, are we? What did you do, fall for the first guy that handed you a latte line? And thanks for leaving your poor friend Carol with your wild-child. I got here just in time. You could have started haunting me a little earlier, you know. It would have saved me a whole lot on airfare.” Nick looked around self-consciously to make sure no one heard him talking to the air. Joy looked at him calmly, as if people did this sort of thing all the time in her world.
Well, it wasn’t Miss Messy’s fault if her mother had been a little too free and easy. He supposed Joy could be Carol’s child, but the more time he spent with her, the more Holly he saw in the little dynamo.
———
“Let’s pack it up, Miss Thing, we’re off to check up on Mommy.” He mopped her off with a pile of damp paper towels and took the toddler with him to the bedroom, putting her in the crib to keep her confined. She held the sides and jumped up and down, singing some kind of baby song.
He hunted up a diaper bag, stuffing clean clothes and diapers in till it weighed as much as his briefcase back at the college.
He went back to their pile of Christmas toys and picked up a homemade doll that Carol must have made for Joy. It was colorful felt and rather amazing really, like an artist’s version of a rag doll. He stuffed it in the bag to amuse Joy on the trip.
Damn, no car seat. Surely she owned one. He looked everywhere and finally found one in the laundry room out on the back porch. A few swear words later he’d wrestled the thing into his car, and the baby too, only having to completely stop once to change the stinking diaper Joy presented him with. “No more of that, young lady,” he told her. She giggled at him, stuck out her tongue, and made raspberry noises. He put her in a clean sleeper with flowers on it and added two baby sweaters and a hat. “There, you’re bundled to go.”
———
Nick stood by Carol’s bedside with Joy in his arms. He waited quietly for Carol to wake up. She was still as pale as the sheets but very beautiful, even with an oxygen mask on. He’d stopped by the gift shop and picked up a bouquet of red roses to brighten up her room. That, and a very large stuffed poodle for Joy, who was now busy chewing the ears.
The doctor had informed him they’d started Carol on IV fluids and meds just in time. She’d perked up nicely over the last few hours and showed signs of being very strong-willed.
He couldn’t remember ever being so mesmerized by a woman before. She was Sleeping Beauty. He leaned over and kissed her cheek in a spontaneous moment of relief that she was alive and he’d gotten there in time.
As he straightened up, Joy gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks a bunch, Joy.” He grabbed a tissue out of the nearby box and mopped his cheek. When he looked back at Carol, her eyes were open. Her beautiful pale hazel green eyes.
“I’m Nick Fredericks. Don’t worry.” He didn’t know what to say. Holly sent me? I just happened to drive by your house on Christmas Day all the way from Seattle?
Her eyes. Nick was suddenly struck with the oddest thought. He took Joy over to the bathroom door to the small mirror hanging there and looked hard at the reflection. First Joy, then his own face.
Well, hell’s bells, staring back at him were his own blue eyes, same as Joy’s, same as his mother’s. Cornflower blue. Joy even had his chin. But she had Holly’s red hair and freckled nose.
“She’s my Joy,” he exclaimed. He carried her back over to Carol. “She’s my baby, isn’t she?” He couldn’t believe he hadn’t done the math. Him, the math whiz. But this wasn’t a math moment, it was a moment of the heart.
Carol smiled at him and nodded. She reached her hand toward him. He took her hand and squeezed it gently. Joy balanced herself on his leg and bounced while he kept her from falling. She grabbed on to his hair and pulled it till Nick’s eyes watered.
“Why didn’t she tell me, Carol? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Carol whispered, so he leaned over closer while Joy pulled on his hair.
“She made me promise. She was angry.” Carol shook her head sadly.
Suddenly everything became clear as a Christmas bell to Nick. Holly had made a terrible mistake and she’d come back in spirit to fix it. She’d made her best friend promise never to tell him Joy was his, and Carol had taken on the burden of raising Joy alone.
As this flashed through his mind so did the familiar scent of Holly’s perfume. The fluorescent lights in the room flickered. He heard the now-recognizable wind-chime laughter of Holly.
“Yeah, and I forgive you, too. Merry Christmas,” he said to the air.
The sun filtered through the hospital curtains in the oddest way.
And here he was with his own Joy. He hugged her to him as she shrieked with laughter. Her Holly berry red hair and her Fredericks’ blue eyes and chin were all his.
He closed his eyes and put his cheek against her little cheek. She tried to bite his nose. He was going to take care of this little angel for the rest of her life. He was going to take Carol out of her cold little cottage and give her a beautiful art studio and a warm, comfortable home. Well, if she’d let him. They’d have to work out the details. Joy needed Carol; he knew that. And Carol needed him. For the first time in his life he felt needed.
He looked at Carol, the beautiful Carol, who had helped Holly through her pregnancy and mothered his child for the last year, alone and brave. Who had reached out to him with a little hand-painted Christmas card, and done everything she could to make Joy’s Christmas special.
Carol smiled at hi
m and he saw tears in her eyes. He reached over and took her hand again.
“Everything is going to be fine now,” he said. “I’ll make sure of it. Merry Christmas, Carol.”
Chapter 1
“It’s over, Don Orlando.” Maggie O’Brian lowered her gaze. The tears that blurred her vision had little to do with the role she was playing—Jessica Goodwin, mortal doctor, hopelessly in love with a vampire. Like any good soap opera actress, Maggie turned her back to the person she was addressing and looked sadly at the camera. “You must never come here again.”
“Don’t say that!” Don Orlando rushed to her side and sank gracefully to one knee. He seized her hand and kissed it. “My darling Chiquita, I could never let you go.”
Chiquita? What sort of cheesy person was writing this nonsense? Maggie inwardly cursed the writer while trying to ignore the way Don Orlando was brushing his lips against her knuckles. Sweet Mary, now he was nibbling her fingers.
But it meant nothing. He was only acting. Rumor had it he’d nibbled a lot more than women’s hands in the last few years.
The tear that rolled down Maggie’s cheek was worthy of a daytime Emmy. Unfortunately, her lack of a pulse during the day precluded her from attending the ceremony. And how could they give Emmys to a group of actors they didn’t know existed? Only a few mortals employed at the Digital Vampire Network knew about vampire soap operas, and they were sworn to secrecy. The mortals knew if they blabbed, they would pay in blood. Literally.
Maggie yanked her hand from Don Orlando’s grasp. “I’m sorry, but it was never meant to be.”
As Don Orlando rose, he flipped his black silk cape over one shoulder, revealing half of his muscled torso and a thatch of very black, very thick chest hair. Maggie knew this movement caused Vamp viewers at home to sigh in ecstasy. She should know. She’d been one of them. And if Don Orlando executed the famous double flip, throwing both edges of his cape over his shoulders to reveal his entire chest in its muscle-rippling glory, his female fans were known to swoon. No doubt, a few male ones, too.
