by Holly Jacobs
He might not have thought it would come to this, but the baby was his responsibility. He wasn’t going to fail Marion or her child. Marion’s baby would never know her mother’s love, but Mac would see to it she was placed in a home where she would know love. He wouldn’t trust her care to strangers. Until he found her a new home, he’d watch over the baby.
“I promised her mother and I have an ethical obligation to personally see to the baby.”
“But—”
“Ms. Lindsay, unless you can come up with a legal reason why I can’t take the child, then this conversation is over.”
The woman sighed. “Would you at least take my card and phone if you need anything?”
“Listen, I might be stubborn,” he flashed her a smile, hoping to charm her out of her annoyance, “but I’m not stupid.”
He took the card. “I’ll call regardless and let you know how we’re doing and what I decide.”
“Fine. There wasn’t much at the apartment. Not even a crib for the baby. I don’t think her mother had much.”
“I don’t either,” Mac said. “I offered to write her will pro bono, but she refused.”
Marion O’Keefe had been a proud, loving woman. She’d made payments. Five dollars every week, like clockwork.
Mac would make sure Katie knew that about her mother.
“The super said he’d pack all her personal items and ship them to you for Katie.”
“That’s fine.”
The social worker started toward the door. “Mr. Mackenzie, do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”
“She’s how old?” he asked, knowing it was less than a year since Marion O’Keefe had sat in his office.
Ms. Lindsay glanced at her chart again. “Seven months.”
“Seven months.” He laughed. “How hard could it be?”
This time it was Kim Lindsay who laughed. “I’ll talk to you in a couple days and you can let me know your answer then.”
Ms. Thomas came back down the hall, carrying a bag. “I put her clothes and stuff in here. There’s only two more diapers, so you’d better stop and get some.”
“Thank you, Ms. Thomas.” He took the bag.
“Let me go get her.”
It would have been so much easier if Mac had allowed Ms. Lindsay to place the baby with someone who had experience with children. Social Services shouldn’t have much trouble finding someone to adopt a baby.
Yet, he couldn’t entrust her care to someone else.
He might not know this baby, but he knew that she was special.
So, he’d find a loving home for her. Someplace where she’d never want for anything, emotionally or financially.
“Here she is,” said Ms. Thomas. She held the baby in a clean, soft blanket that looked out of place in the run-down apartment.
Mac took it and looked down at an angelic-looking face. Sleeping, her thumb tucked into the corner of her mouth, Katie O’Keefe was a beautiful baby. He ran a finger across her small pudgy cheek and something inside him twisted. She was so small, so vulnerable.
He pulled the blanket away from her head and revealed an amazing shock of red hair. She reminded him of her mother. He felt a surge of sympathy for this baby who would never know her mother, would never remember how much she was loved.
He’d find her a home—the perfect home. Until he did, he’d watch out for her.
“Thank you again, Ms. Thomas.”
The old woman humphed an inarticulate reply.
Mac started toward the door.
What on earth was he going to do now? He’d assured the social worker and the baby-sitter that he could handle this. He knew the child had immediate needs, but he didn’t even know where to begin.
He needed help.
But asking for help wasn’t Mac’s forte.
He tried to imagine who he could go to. He could call Mrs. Z., who was the closest thing he had to a mother, but she was in Pittsburgh. Not that he doubted she’d come help, but he couldn’t impose on her.
The head of the firm, Leland Wagner, had grown daughters, or maybe even his wife would give him some pointers. But the idea of going to Mrs. Wagner for help didn’t sit well.
There were other women attorneys and wives of attorneys at the firm. He could call one of them and ask for help in getting the baby settled.
He tried to concentrate on asking one of them, but the whole time, a mental image kept forming in his mind. It wasn’t an attorney, or a spouse.
It was Amelia Gallagher.
Why on earth had asking her for help even crossed his mind? She didn’t like him and went out of her way to show it. Which was fine, because he didn’t like her either.
Oh, she was a beautiful woman…very beautiful. But she didn’t seem to notice it. She was completely unaffected. But any red-blooded man noticed. Short blond hair and amazing blue eyes. Pleasant enough features. But that was just a laundry list of Amelia’s physical attributes.
They weren’t why she was beautiful.
It was her smile. He swore when her lips moved to the small upturned curve, it shot something right into her eyes and actually made them shine.
Katie made a small noise, interrupting Mac’s thoughts, which was a good thing, because to the best of his knowledge he’d never thought anyone had shining eyes before. And he sincerely hoped he never did again.
Shining had nothing to do with his point.
Katie gurgled.
“What is my point?” he asked her.
She gurgled again.
His point was, Amelia was a woman, so she must know something about babies. And he’d pay her. Goodness knows she always snapped at the chance to work overtime.
Paying her.
Hiring someone to help was better than asking someone for a favor.
Mac realized he’d reached his car. He looked down at the baby, the bag and car seat.
How on earth was he going to manage all of this?
It was four fifty-five. Five more minutes and Mia could call it quits.
Thank goodness.
This had been a long, exhausting day.
First the copier had broken down.
Then the copier repair guy said he couldn’t possibly come repair it until Monday, which meant half the firm came down to her desk clamoring for copies of life-or-death documents. So, Mia had forgone her lunch hour and taken a stack of papers to a neighboring copy center.
Phone calls, messages, and then there was the one distraught woman who’d left the office in tears. She hadn’t said what the problem was, but it had taken Mia a good fifteen minutes to get her calmed down.
The only highlight of her day was her argument with Mac.
Four minutes.
Mia stood and started to straighten up her desk.
A hot bath.
With bubbles and a good book.
Oh, she had such plans for the evening.
She pulled her boots from the coat closet and slipped off her heels. They weren’t the most elegant-looking boots, but Mia didn’t care about elegance. She cared about warmth. The heater in her car was broken, and most days she was lucky if it warmed up enough to keep ice from forming on the front windshield. It never truly got warm enough to take the chill off.
She slipped on her boots.
Three minutes to go.
“Night, Amelia,” Donovan and a couple other attorneys called as they all headed out together.
“Night.”
Two minutes.
Leland Wagner, the firm’s senior partner followed close on their heels. “You’ll lock up, dear?”
“Sure thing.”
“Would you like me to stay and make sure your car starts?”
Her battery had died last week and she’d had to wait for AAA to come and jump start her car. “No, sir. I had a new battery put in. I should be fine.”
“Very well. Good night, and drive carefully.”
“You, too.”
Five o’clock.
She was ou
t of here.
She bundled into a sweater, and then her thin jacket.
Maybe before she bought a new car she’d buy a new coat.
Ah, but if she had a new car, she wouldn’t need a new coat. If she got the auto-ignition and seat-warmers it would be toasty before she ever got out there.
Pondering which was the wiser course, she wrapped her scarf around her neck again and again, then stuffed a woolen hat on her head.
Feeling stiff beneath her layers, she picked up her bag and walked toward the front door. She flipped on the security alarm, and then let herself out, checking that everything was locked up tight.
The world was white.
Snow was falling in big, thick flakes. There was at least a couple inches of snow since she’d left the office at lunch. It wasn’t a blizzard yet, but she had no problem imagining it turning into one.
Mia had just started down the steps when a blue Explorer pulled up at the curb.
The passenger window descended. “Amelia, I’m glad you’re still here,” Mac called.
“What did you need, Larry,” she said.
“I need you,” he replied, not even commenting on her use of his first name.
Mia managed to keep from choking at his reply, but barely. “Pardon me?”
“Not you, your help,” he corrected himself. “Get in the car, please?”
“But—”
“Please, Amelia?”
There was something in his voice that told Mia that now was not the time to argue or taunt him. Something was wrong.
She waddled her well-layered self toward the car, and as she got closer she heard noise. Lots of noise. It wasn’t music. Or if it was, it was the most awful music ever.
It sounded like—
She opened the door and peeked in the back seat.
It was.
A baby.
And a crying baby, at that.
Chapter Two
“What did you do now, Larry?” Mia accused loudly as she leaned into the car and stared at the car seat.
“Just get in and buckle up, fast. She cries whenever the car stops. If it’s moving, she’s okay.”
Mac had learned that the hard way. The entire trip from Esther Thomas’s home to the office was fraught with red lights.
As a matter of fact, every single traffic light he came to was red. And it stayed red for an inordinately long period of time.
Or maybe it just seemed like eternity because Katie O’Keefe screamed every time the car stopped.
Speaking of eternity, he watched Mia settle herself in the passenger seat, taking more time than he liked. She was moving rather stiffly.
“Are you in yet?” he asked, practically shouting to be heard over the baby.
She nodded.
Mac threw the car in gear and started down the street. The baby quieted immediately.
“So, what’s going on, Mac?” Mia asked, obviously disconcerted enough not to tease him.
As a matter of fact, she sounded genuinely concerned.
“You know that call you took today? That woman, Kim Lindsay? She was calling to tell me I had a baby.”
“Oh, Larry, how could you be so careless?”
He glared at her. “I wasn’t, but of course you’d assume the worst. Kim Lindsay is the social worker. I’m the baby’s guardian.”
She was silent a moment, then softly said, “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.”
Amelia Gallagher apologizing? That was certainly out of character.
He nodded his acceptance and concentrated on the driving. He didn’t even glance in her direction as he said, “A woman came into the office last year wanting me to draw up a will. She named me her executor and guardian of her unborn child. I know it’s not normally the way things are handled, asking a lawyer to serve as guardian. It’s not something I’d normally agree to, but…” he paused. “There was something about her, about her story. She had no family, the baby’s father had died, and top it off, she was new in town. She was completely alone in the world. She worked at the courthouse and had heard about some of the cases I’ve done involving kids and…well, I just couldn’t say no.”
Mac had felt the now familiar stab of empathy for Marion O’Keefe.
He remembered her vividly, even after all this time. She’d been pale. More pale than redheads normally were. He should have known something was wrong with her physically. He should have tried to help her.
Kim Lindsay said that she’d died of a brain aneurism. It was fast and painless. There was nothing anyone could have done. But Mac still felt guilty, as if he should have known and been able to do something.
His voice lowered. “I never really expected it to come to anything. She passed away yesterday and this is her daughter.”
“Oh, the poor baby.” Mia peeked into the back seat.
Mac was pretty sure he caught the glitter of a tear in her eye, but she brushed her hand across her face, so he wasn’t sure.
“What can I do?” she asked.
He’d expected he’d have to cajole her, to bribe her…heck, maybe even threaten her into helping. He hadn’t expected such an immediate offer of assistance.
“I don’t know anything about babies,” he admitted.
“I don’t know much myself. I mean, I’ve baby-sat, so, I guess I know more than you, but it’s been years. I’m no expert.”
“Do you know enough to help me buy what she needs? At least, enough to cover her most immediate needs? She’s only got two diapers and one bottle of formula. There wasn’t much in the apartment, not even a crib. I know what they sent with me won’t get me through the night, much less the next couple days. I can pay you.”
Amelia glared at him, as if she was insulted. He knew it wouldn’t take him long to annoy her. Even when he wasn’t trying, annoying Amelia came pretty easily to him.
“I don’t need your money,” she said, frowning at him.
The baby made a soft cooing noise in the back and Amelia’s expression softened. “But I suppose I can help you get set up. Does this mean you’re keeping her?”
The light ahead of them turned red, and as the car stopped, right on schedule, Katie started to scream.
When they started moving again and the baby quieted, he answered, “No, of course not. I mean, I’m not equipped to take care of a baby for a few days, much less, take care of her long-term.”
“So why didn’t you just let that Kim Lindsay take her? That’s what Social Services does, right?”
His stomach clenched at the thought of sending Katie O’Keefe into the foster system, even if it would be only for a short time. He remembered what it was like being shuttled from house to house. Not that he was in the foster care system, unless you referred to his extended family in that respect.
When he was ten his parents took off for California with dreams of fame and glory, at least that’s what they said. Mac had always felt as if they’d simply become bored with playing a family. They’d sent him to live at his grandmother’s for a short stay. They’d promised to send for him, but they never did. Oh, he got an occasional call or letter, always filled with empty promises. His parents couldn’t handle the responsibility of a kid.
His grandmother passed away when he was twelve, he stayed with his aunt for a year, but she wasn’t thrilled with having the responsibility of looking after a child.
Finally, he ended up moving in with a friend’s family during his freshman year of school. The Zumigalas had let him stay until he left for college. Despite the fact they’d treated him as a son, he’d always known he wasn’t. He’d always known he was living there at their discretion and any day they could decide to kick him out. He’d expected it, had waited for it. But they never had.
They still invited him home to Pittsburgh for every holiday. They were the closest thing Mac had to a family.
He had never understood why they’d taken a stranger into their home, taken on the responsibility of another child. After all, his own family didn’t want
him, why had they?
He’d never really figured it out. But he was thankful. They had given him more than a house to live in, they’d given him a home.
He was going to find for Katie O’Keefe what the Zumigalas had given him…stability. A place to belong.
She might be too young to understand on an intellectual level how precarious her position was, but she’d have to recognize what was happening on an emotional level. And he wouldn’t do that to her.
No, she’d stay with him until he found her a family of her own. A permanent family. People who would love her and never desert her.
“Her mother left her to my care,” he said. “She trusted me to find her a suitable family, though neither of us really expected me to ever be in charge of the baby. But I am, and I will personally care for her until other arrangements can be made.”
“What kind of arrangements?” Amelia asked softly.
“I’ll find some family to adopt her. I mean, how hard can it be? She’s a beautiful baby. She’s only seven-months-old. There has to be hundreds of prospective families who would love to make her their daughter.”
Another red light, and the car filled with the baby’s screams.
“Do you think she’s hungry?”
“I don’t know. Basically, the old lady watching her just handed her and that diaper bag to me.”
“Why don’t you pull over somewhere and let’s try feeding her. Maybe she’d be happier then?”
“Okay.” He’d do anything to calm the baby down. Her pitiful wails were breaking his heart.
He pulled into a gas station. “I need to fill the tank anyway. I think the weather reports were right, and I want the tank topped off if it’s going to storm.”
Mac got out and started pumping the gas. He watched Amelia get out and climb into the back seat with the baby. He couldn’t help glancing in the back window as she opened up the diaper bag and found the bottle. She leaned over and started feeding Katie.
He watched her lean closer to the baby, saying something, though he couldn’t make out just what. She was smiling at the baby. He knew, even though she was looking at Katie and not at him, that her eyes were sparkling. Alight with that special something she had—that certain quality Amelia Gallagher had, that drew people to her.
