Could babies feel doubt and uncertainty churning in the breast that held them?
Just in case they could, she pulled herself together and made a special effort, smiling at the little girl and talking gently.
‘So, Steffi,’ she said as they went down to her apartment, ‘you’re, what? Nearly a year old? Ten months? You’re gorgeous, do you know that?’
The little girl smiled and that was it for Bill as well—besotted!
Oh, dear.
Falling in love with this particular baby would not be a good idea. This was Nick’s family, not hers.
* * *
She’d expected Nick to phone so the knock on the door when she’d just got Steffi to sleep on cushions on the floor surprised her.
‘I had to phone Bob to find out where you lived,’ Nick said, running his hand distractedly through his hair. ‘You’ve no idea, Bill, you just won’t believe it. Where is she? Steffi?’
Bill led him inside, pointed to the sleeping child, then took him through to the kitchen for coffee.
‘Sit,’ she ordered, ‘and drink this before we start.’
She handed him a fresh coffee, made one for herself, then sat opposite him at the breakfast bar.
‘So?’
Nick was still shaking his head, and she understood the depth of his disbelief when he began.
‘Having told me she’d have the abortion, she goes to stay with Alex, the Russian photographer who worships the ground she walks on, and he throws up his hands in horror, not at her destroying a human life but because this is the photographic opportunity of a lifetime, something he’s always dreamt of doing, and here’s his favourite subject, his muse, presenting him with the opportunity!’
‘What is?’ Bill asked, totally bewildered.
‘Well you might ask,’ Nick growled. ‘A coffee-table book detailing nine months of pregnancy—well, seven and a half months, in actual fact. Nude photos of Serena in all poses, in all lights, the bulge growing ever larger. Imagine how Steffi’s going to feel about that when she’s growing up.’
Bill had to laugh.
‘Right now I think you have more to worry about than what Steffi’s going to think as a teenager. Why didn’t Serena tell you she’d changed her mind and was going ahead? You’d offered to marry her—you wanted a family.’
Nick groaned.
‘Yes, I had and, yes, I did, but she really didn’t want to be married, and apparently my talk of family had frightened her because it was the last thing she wanted. A family would tie her down and she needed to be free to pursue her career. I know that makes hers sound cold and uncaring, but she isn’t really, she’s just got the most total self-focus of anyone I’ve ever met.’
‘So what was she thinking, going ahead with the pregnancy?’ Bill demanded, wondering where uncaring finished and self-focus began.
‘Oh, that’s easy. You have to remember that Serena thinks differently to ninety-nine per cent of the human race and it turned out she knew this wonderful couple in New York who wanted to adopt so she knew the child would go to a good home, and she could keep in touch as a kind of surrogate aunt.
‘Only Serena could think something like that was okay. The woman has a warped mind—I always knew that, even when I was going out with her. Her career is the be-all and end-all of her life, and everything else, even romance, is incidental. I blame her mother, who had Serena appearing in ads from the time she was born, but as an adult Serena’s had choices and the number-one choice has always been her career.’
The disbelief and despair in Nick’s voice shocked Bill so much she came round to give him a hug.
‘It’s okay. For whatever reason, she did keep the child, and Steffi’s here.’
‘It’s not okay!’ Nick roared, then turned quickly to see if he’d woken his daughter, and quietened his voice when he added, ‘The only reason she didn’t give my daughter up for adoption—apparently that old goat Alex had intended putting his name down as the father for adoption purposes—was that he suddenly decided he could document the child’s life as well, but, you know what, once she grew from a swaddled bundle to a chubby six-month-old, she wasn’t photogenic!’
Nick was right, the behaviour of two so-called adults defied belief, and he had every right to the anger she could feel in the tight muscles and sinews of his body.
‘So, Steffi’s now surplus to requirements,’ Bill muttered, as a murderous rage began to build inside her.
‘Well, not entirely. I think Serena, in her own way, probably loves her, and Serena’s mother was always around, but who knows what would have happened to Steffi if that Amy woman hadn’t seen us at breakfast yesterday and phoned Serena, whose pea-brain immediately came up with a solution to the dilemma of this offer in New York right when her mother’s off on a honeymoon, and whatever nanny she had decided to leave at a moment’s notice. Give Steffi to her daddy for a while!’
‘For a while?’ Bill repeated.
Nick looked at her and shook his head.
‘Apparently we can “talk”—Serena waggled her fingers in that silly way to make the inverted commas—when she comes home. I’ll say we’ll talk!’
‘Let’s worry about that later,’ Bill suggested, hearing the exhaustion beneath the anger in Nick’s voice and hugging him again. ‘Now, at least, Steffi’s landed in a proper family, with you to love her, and Gran, and me, and twenty-two kind-of cousins, and a plethora of aunts and uncles. All we have to do is sort out how to manage.’
‘Manage?’ Nick repeated, looking up at her as she went back round the bar and resumed her stool, aware that hugging Nick was not a good idea, no matter how badly he had needed to be hugged.
‘Nick, you have a baby and you work and the ER at the local hospital isn’t the kind of place where you can take your baby to work.’
He turned to look at his sleeping child and the expression in his eyes caused a stab of pain in Bill’s chest.
‘I work nights,’ he said softly. ‘I don’t suppose there’s such a thing as night care.’
Bill saw the complexity—the enormity—of the situation dawn on his face so wasn’t surprised when he turned to her, anguish in his voice.
‘What will I do, Bill? How can I manage?’
With a great deal of difficulty, Bill thought, but she didn’t say it. The poor man was bamboozled enough as it was.
‘We’ll manage,’ she said firmly. ‘Serena was right about one thing. While Gran might be a bit beyond minding a baby full time, you’ve a whole herd of de Grootes out there who’ll be only too willing to help. But first you have to decide just what help you want.
‘Full time, part time? I know you’ve just started a new job, but there’s such a thing as paternity leave. We can make some temporary caring arrangements until the hospital replaces you, if you want to be a full-time dad for a while so you and Steffi can get to know each other. Then there are well-trained nannies you can get, even in Willowby, again either full time or part time, live-in or daily, and they can be contracted short or long term.’
He stared at her and she knew he hadn’t taken in much of what she’d said, his mind still reeling from shock and disbelief.
‘You’re exhausted. Give me your keys then go into my bedroom and go to sleep. When Steffi wakes I’ll take her back upstairs and get things set up for her there.’
Oh!
‘You do intend she lives with you?’
That woke him out of his daze.
‘Where else would she live?’ he demanded.
‘Good! Now go to bed?’
It had to be a measure of his shocked state that he obediently handed over his keys and went into her bedroom, shutting the door behind him, no doubt so she wouldn’t see him slump onto the bed and bury his head in his hands as he tried to come to grips with this massive change in h
is life.
A measure of his state that he didn’t argue that she, too, needed to sleep, but Bill knew it would be easier for the hospital to find another nurse to take her night shift tonight than it would be to find another doctor.
Bill looked towards the closed door. In her heart she knew she should be getting less involved with this child, not more, but Nick was in trouble and she’d reacted automatically—helping out in times of trouble was what they’d always done for each other.
Nick sat on Bill’s bed, head bowed, his fingers running through his hair as if rubbing at his scalp might stimulate his thinking.
What thinking?
His brain was numb!
He had a daughter?
What was he going to do?
How could he look after her even for a short time?
What did he know about bringing up children?
He didn’t even know her birthday...
He gave a despairing groan and slumped back on the bed, surprised to find that he might actually go to sleep.
His body handling stress by shutting down his mind, the doctor in him suggested as he drifted off.
He woke mid-afternoon to find a note from Bill beside the bed.
We’re at your place, here’s a key.
‘We’re at your place...’ he read again, this time aloud, and felt dread and panic surging in his stomach.
What should he do?
What could he do?
But even as he asked himself the question he remembered the feel of that little body against his chest and he headed into Bill’s bathroom, took a shower, used her far-from-adequate razor to scrape stubble from his cheeks, then, clad in a rather ragged towelling robe he found behind the bathroom door, he grabbed his dirty clothes, and the key, and headed up to his apartment.
Except it wasn’t his apartment, it was a nursery school. Colourful toys and strange objects were strewn around the place, and in the midst of this chaos a small person stood, holding onto his glass-topped coffee table—he’d have to get rid of that—and waving a chubby hand in his direction.
‘Hey,’ he said quietly, squatting down—not easy to do decently in the robe—and moving carefully towards her. ‘How are you, Steffi? How are you, little girl?’
Wide-set eyes studied him intently, the little face serious as she took in the stranger talking to her. Then one chubby hand reached out for his and as he took it he felt his heart breaking right in two. Suddenly she let go of the coffee table and with grin as wide as the universe she toddled towards him, her delight in her forward progress bringing a gurgle of laughter as well as the smile.
He caught her as she toppled, and sat on the floor with her in his arms, picking up a floppy doll and making it dance in front of her.
But she was more interested in him, probing at his glasses, studying his face again, touching his hair, his ear, his lips until he felt his chest would burst with the love blossoming inside it, and he knew tears were forming in his eyes.
Bill must have been watching from a distance because as Steffi’s crawled off his knee to stand up at the glass table again to practise her walking, Bill came in and sat down on the sofa, waving her hand at the chaos around them.
‘I’m sorry about all this,’ she said, ‘but you know the de Grootes, competitive to a man—or woman in this case. I phoned Bob’s wife to ask about a cot and a high chair and next thing I knew every one of the sisters-in-law had turned up, all bringing something for Steffi. You should see the bedroom. As well as the cot you have chests of drawers, colourful mobiles, pictures on the wall, a change table and some kind of bin that wraps up dirty nappies. That is, of course, if you’re going to use disposables, which are a lot more eco-friendly now.’
For about the fortieth time today Nick was dumbfounded.
‘Disposable nappies? I have to make decisions about things like that?’
Bill laughed.
‘About a lot of things, Daddio!’ she teased. ‘There’s home-cooked or scientifically balanced bottled food, there are about ten different kinds of baby formula and you have to choose one, there’s how early to start swimming lessons, there’s day care or a nanny, which kindy to put her name down for, which school will she go to, how young’s too young to have boyfriends—’
‘Okay!’ Nick said, and as he held his hand up to stop Bill’s teasing, Steffi grabbed it as support and again walked towards him, collapsing happily into a giggling heap on his lap.
He was in love!
‘From a purely practical point of view,’ Bill continued, ‘I’ve told the hospital I won’t be in for a week and can mind her while you’re at work and when you’re sleeping during the day. She’s so good about going down for a nap—on the cushions at my place and in a totally strange cot—I think she’s used to being passed around to different carers—but I think it would be best if she gets settled into her bedroom so, if it’s okay with you, I’ll sleep over here until you’re sorted.’
‘Okay with me? Until I’m sorted?’
Nick rested his chin on his daughter’s curly hair and looked up at his friend, and smiled.
‘You realise that might be never,’ he warned, ‘the sorted bit. And when did we ever have to ask about staying over at each other’s places?’
He looked around at all she’d achieved while he’d slept, and added, ‘Thank you, Bill, from the bottom of my heart. I was in such a blind panic I had no idea where to turn or what to do, and you’ve calmly worked everything out—made it easy for me. I owe you, big time!’
Bill smiled at him, but he thought he saw a hint of sadness in the smile.
The broken engagement? Had she been looking forward to a baby of her own?
In which case was this fair, relying so much on her to be Steffi’s carer while he worked things out?
‘Well, now you’re up and about, I’ll introduce you to your new belongings—the physical ones.’ Bill’s voice was carefully neutral, nothing to read there, so maybe he’d imagined the sadness. ‘You can bring Steffi,’ Bill continued, ‘because learning to do things with her on one arm is all part of fatherhood training.’
Which was all very well but how did he stand up with a baby in his arms? What if he fell?
He solved this dilemma by putting Steffi on the floor, standing up then lifting her, although he knew full well he could have performed the feat with her still in his arms. In the kitchen he was introduced to bottles, formula, baby food in small jars, yoghurt in the refrigerator, a sterilising machine that would have held its own in a hospital, bibs, baby bowls, baby spoons, baby cereal.
He took it all in, realising it was far less complicated than it had seemed at first glance, but it was Bill’s attitude that was bothering him. Nothing overt, nothing he could put a name to, but it seemed as if she was distancing herself from him.
From him or from Steffi?
The Bill he remembered had been passionate about small children, babysitting all through their teenage years, so while he wasn’t actually doing her a favour by letting her mind Steffi while he got sorted, he’d have thought she wouldn’t mind. And, after all, she’d suggested it!
But there was something off—something too matter-of-fact in all this—
‘Are you listening?’ the person he was worrying about demanded.
‘Boiled water,’ he repeated diligently, then had to admit, ‘No, I wasn’t. What do I do with boiled water?’
Bill frowned at him.
‘According to the notes, you still have to boil the water to mix with her formula for her bottles and she has three a day, one before each nap and one before bed. She’s got to be, what, eleven months old, so I would have thought maybe by now ordinary water would do, but I’ve written Kirsten’s number on the notes, she’s Andre’s wife and the most sensible of my sisters-in-law and won’t talk on for eve
r if you ring to ask her something.’
Nick looked at the notes, then back at Bill, thinking of the expression he thought he’d seen on her face—thinking too that, with the other strange stuff happening when he was around Bill, he should be seeing less, not more of her.
‘Are you sure you want to take this on?’ he asked. ‘After all, I could just tell the hospital I can’t work for a while, they’d battle on, and once I’ve read the notes, how hard can it be?’
She shook her head.
‘You’ll soon find out. I’m going to have a sleep, but I’ll be up before you go to work. You can organise whatever you like with the hospital once you’ve thought it through.’
She tapped the notes to remind him to read them, and departed, leaving his bunch of keys and taking the single spare he’d used when he’d come up from her apartment.
And, despite the warm body he held in his arms, the place felt cold now Bill had gone...
Exhaustion hit Bill as she left the apartment, tiredness so strong it sapped her energy and she barely made it home, throwing off her clothes and climbing into bed, unfortunately conscious enough to pick up the scent of Nick on her sheets.
Damn it all. She had to sleep!
But emotion churned inside her—an emotion she’d never felt holding one of her nieces or nephews. This was a new emotion—a heart-rending sorrow that Steffi’s mother hadn’t really wanted her, while she, Bill, had so longed for the baby she’d conceived, her arms had ached for a year.
And were aching again...
Go to sleep, she ordered herself, and training held true. She fell asleep but dreamt of empty cots and abandoned babies and Nick with his daughter in his arms.
She woke, barely refreshed, at six, and knew she’d better get upstairs so Nick could go to work. Showering, she told herself that if anyone in the world deserved to have his own family it was Nick, and she should be glad for him—was glad for him!
One Baby Step at a Time Page 5
