Jackpot Baby

by Muriel Jensen

  He grinned. “In L.A. I often saw the results of skiing accidents sent to us for sophisticated surgery and decided that unless I could ski in a tank, it isn’t for me. I’m more of a putterer.”

  “You mean…gardens and home repairs?”

  He nodded. “I’m looking for a house with a shed or a garage big enough to hold a workshop.” He sipped at his wine and looked around her living room as though checking for what should be repaired. “It’s embarrassing, but at heart I’m the typical suburban guy who’s happy with a house to work on, a yard to mow and bicycles to fix.”

  Shelly was charmed by that revelation. He should fit well into life in Jester, where the biggest dream was to see the community thrive.

  “What do you do when it’s time to play?” he asked.

  “I have evenings and Sundays off, and I usually spend that time trying to catch up on the personal stuff there isn’t much time for during the week.”

  He frowned. “That doesn’t sound restful.”

  She shrugged. “I do have a cook at the restaurant who’ll watch things for me if I have to leave. And during busy times, there’s a high school girl I call on to help out. But mostly, I work. It’s what my parents did, and it’s what I’ve done most of my life. By the time I was six I was doing dishes and helping to clean up and prep for the next day. By the time I was ten I could replace a waitress and prepare chili or stew on my own. It was a happy life, but I worked all the time.”

  He looked sympathetic. “Not precisely a childhood.”

  She’d thought about that a lot and had come to what she considered a sane conclusion. “It wasn’t,” she agreed. “And sometimes when I was an adolescent or a teen I was resentful that other kids could play baseball in the park or go to the movies while I was chopping vegetables and waiting on tables. But I realized early in high school that one of my friends was always free to do what she wanted because her mother didn’t really care where she was, and another one got to do all kinds of things I couldn’t because she had a little brother who had leukemia and her parents were so busy with him, they didn’t worry much about her. So I got over my resentment.”

  “Nobody’s life is perfect,” he agreed. “My father was a brilliant researcher in oncology, and my mother a pediatrician. They were warm and loving, but I seldom saw them. I had my own resentments, then I felt guilty because I knew they were out saving the world and finally decided to just appreciate what I had. But I think it’s okay to admit that you wish things had been a little different. It isn’t disloyal, it’s just healthy.”

  “I know,” she agreed with a self-deprecating smile. “I just value their memory so much, I don’t want them to guess even now that the life they worked so hard at deprived me of a few things. Are your parents gone?”

  “My father is,” he said. “My mom just retired and is living in Arizona with her sister.”

  “Have you been to visit?”

  “Haven’t had time so far.”

  She nodded. “Makes you almost understand how they got so busy, doesn’t it?”

  Curiously, he hadn’t made that connection. Did that suggest he was unconsciously engaging in payback? He didn’t think so. He had really been busy with his work, with two nights of call a week and every other weekend, then with the divorce and relocating. Of course, he’d had time to visit Nathan here in Jester over the summer. He would have been able to make it home.

  Dinner was the best meal he’d had since he’d started driving west a week ago. He entertained the baby while Shelly cleaned up, then helped her bathe him, give him a bottle and put him to sleep.

  She gave Connor the bedroom off the kitchen and put the baby down in a large quilt-lined basket in her room upstairs.

  “Now, don’t second-guess my question,” he said, seeing three other empty rooms upstairs, “but shouldn’t I be up here, too, if my purpose is to help you with him tonight?”

  She laughed lightly. “I wouldn’t second-guess that question. I know we’re not each other’s type. If he’s just fussy, I think I can handle that, and if you were on call last night, you probably could use some sleep tonight. I agreed to this mostly to placate Luke, who was so determined to make peace between us.”

  He didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused. On one hand, while she was probably right about their having little in common, it offended his male pride to be dismissed so easily, and on the other, if this was the first night she’d ever spent with a young baby, she was in for a few surprises about how easily it could be handled.

  He knew what he’d like to do about the first issue, but that would be counterproductive because she was right. They weren’t each other’s type—though his body didn’t seem to understand that. The second issue, he’d just have to let her see for herself.

  “Okay, then,” he said. “I’ll just see that the fire’s out and go to bed. And I’ll lock the front door.”

  She nodded and offered her hand, Max asleep on her shoulder in the other arm. “Thanks for picking up those things on the way home.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m usually out of here by five-thirty because I open at six, so come down to the restaurant when you’re up and I’ll give you breakfast. Okay?”

  “Okay. Thank you. And thanks for dinner.”

  She nodded and headed upstairs while he went to the living room to kill the fire.

  IT WASN’T EVEN MIDNIGHT when Shelly woke Connor the first time. “I think he’s choking!” she said urgently, shaking him awake.

  He was out of bed in a flash and chasing her up the stairs, expecting to find a blue-lipped baby gasping for air.

  She’d moved Max from the basket to her bed where he lay on his back. His little arms were spread out and he was breathing rhythmically. Connor sat beside him and put a hand to his chest.

  “He’s snoring, Shelly,” he said, all his adrenaline coming to a stop and puddling in the middle of his stomach. He noticed that the side of the bed on which he sat was still warm from her body.

  “Babies don’t snore,” she said, then winced. “Do they?”

  “They do. Particularly if they’ve had a cold.”

  “You mean he’s fine?”

  “Yes.”

  She sighed. “I’m sorry. I thought something was terribly wrong.”

  He smiled. “It’s okay. That’s why I’m here. Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  It was almost two when she woke him the second time. She had Max in her arms and he was screaming bloody murder.

  “He’s been crying for almost an hour,” she said desperately. Her hair was tumbled, her eyes red, the shoulders of her robe hanging down to her elbows. “I don’t know what to do! I’ve changed his diaper, I’ve tried to give him a bottle, I’ve rocked him until I’m dizzy. You’re sure he’s just teething?”

  Connor blessed the days of residency and the nights on call that allowed him to wake out of a deep sleep relatively sharp.

  He swung his legs out of bed and stood, then took Max from her. He leaned him backward in his arms, supporting his head, and thought that he looked fine, if a little pink-cheeked. He was slightly warm, but teething could make babies feverish. The textbooks denied it, but mothers swore to it. He touched his index finger to the tiny bottom lip and rubbed the little buds of teeth pushing through red and angry gums.

  “Yes,” he said, walking toward the kitchen. “If you’ll put on some coffee, I’ll see if I can get him to sleep.”

  “He won’t sleep,” she said. “I’ve tried everything.”

  “Yeah, but you’re not another guy. He may just have issues only another man would understand. You know. Women, the state of the NFL, clicker control.”

  She looked puzzled for an instant, then asked in surprise, “You’re joking? How can you be joking? I just woke you out of a deep sleep for the second time tonight, and he’s screaming in your ear!”

  “I’m a pediatrician,” he reminded her. “Some little critter is always screaming in my ear.” She stood
in front of the refrigerator and he pushed her gently aside to reach into the freezer for the teething ring he’d bought along with the diapers and other things. He’d put it in the freezer after dinner. “This might help.”

  He put the ring in the baby’s mouth. Max shook his head, trying to avoid the cold stick pacifier.

  “I told you,” Shelly said, filling the coffee carafe with water.

  “Have faith. It’ll take him a minute to realize it makes his gums feel better. Come on, sport. You’re going to like this.” He paced the kitchen, patting Max’s back, waiting for a widemouthed scream that would allow him to insert the teething stick again.

  Max rejected it again, and Connor paced and patted and just kept trying. The baby finally took it into his mouth and bit down, holding the cold plastic there. By the time the coffee was ready, Max was quiet, though wide-awake.

  “I should have bet money on it,” Connor said with a grin as Shelly put a steaming mug in front of him but out of the baby’s reach. “You’d owe me big.”

  “I’ll pay you anyway,” she said, falling into the chair opposite him with her own cup. “Bet or no bet. I’m a complete failure with him. It’s a good thing it’s only for one night.”

  “You’re just inexperienced,” he corrected.

  “But isn’t there maternal instinct? I don’t seem to have it. I mean, I feel I have it because I hurt for him and I want to make him feel better, but instinct doesn’t tell me what to do.”

  “It would if you had time with him. It’s like all relationships. You have to get to know each other to know how to help.”

  She took a sip of coffee, her expression dispirited. She leaned her chin in her hand and looked at him as though he were an interesting specimen. “Is that what made you become a pediatrician? Wanting to get to know children?”

  “It was an accidental thing,” he said, sitting Max on his knee and rubbing his back as the baby played with his watch. “I went to school, intending to be a neurosurgeon, make a fortune and retire early. But in my pediatrics rotation, I fell in love with children. They’re courageous, resilient, ever hopeful and fun to watch. Unless things go bad, and then it’s the worst kind of hell for all involved.”

  She could see that he meant that in all sincerity. Unable to think about dying children, she diverted the conversation.

  “I suppose neurosurgery requires that you live in a big city near a major medical center. I mean, it isn’t something you could do from Jester.”

  He nodded. “That’s about right.”

  “And you probably won’t get to retire early here.”

  “I know. But that’s all right. Lisa wanted that more than I did.”

  “Lisa?”

  “My ex-wife. She left when I made the switch to pediatrics.”

  Max began to fuss and whine. Connor stood him up on his knees so that he could look around. The baby stopped crying and studied Shelly with interest. She made faces and the baby laughed. Connor laughed, too.

  Shelly sobered and shook her head at Connor. “I’m sorry. It must be hard to lose someone because of the change in a dream you once had in common.”

  “Oh,” he said with a sigh, “by the time all was said and done, it was pretty clear that her interest in me was more dependent upon what I could give her than what we could do together. She wanted to be a clothing designer and she told me, in a fit of anger as she was packing, that my income was supposed to support that.” Max began to fuss again and Connor put him to his shoulder and grinned. “That diminished my grief considerably.”

  “How awful.”

  “It wasn’t so bad. I was probably as much to blame. I thought having a beautiful woman on my arm was a measure of success. And in trying to fill that spot, I mistook sexual attraction for love. Hard to blame someone else for that. But I’m doing fine on my own for now.”

  “But you want children,” she reminded him.

  “Maybe I’ll just adopt a few.”

  That was possible, of course, but sounded as though it could fall short of the goal of family. “I know that’s the perfect solution in some situations, and if you have no choice but to be a one-parent family, then you deal with that. But family should be about two people loving and nurturing the children they either made together, or invited into their lives together.”

  He focused on her in mild surprise. “I thought you didn’t want children?”

  “I don’t.” She thought about that a minute, as though she’d surprised herself. “But you do. I just think if you’re intending to make that kind of move in your life, you should do it in the right way.” Then she sighed and stood. “Why am I telling you what to do? I must be tired.”

  He stood, too, Max now sound asleep on his shoulder. “Want me to keep him with me for the rest of the night?” he asked. “You haven’t gotten much sleep.”

  “No.” She replied firmly and took the baby carefully from him. “People’s lives are in your hands. If I mess up a burger, nobody dies.” She added with a grin, “Well, hopefully. Good night.”

  Max was awake and screaming before she was halfway up the stairs, but she kept going, determined to get him back to sleep on her own.

  He finally drifted off twenty minutes later out of sheer exhaustion. She tried to do the same but seemed to have reached a point where sleep was no longer even possible.

  A few hours later, with Max’s carrier in a shadowy corner of the kitchen, Shelly made him a bottle, packed the diaper-bag-briefcase and the sack of things Connor had brought into the car, then, with a hand on the carrier in the passenger seat, drove the one block to the coffee shop and unloaded everything.

  Dan was already there, warming the grill, slicing fruit, putting away last night’s final load of clean crockery. He came to help her with the baby.

  “About that check, Shelly,” he began, apparently prepared to argue. “That was very generous of you, but I think you should make sure you’ll have enough to—”

  “I’m sure.” She pulled off her coat. “Dan, you’ve done so much for me over the years, personally and professionally, that I couldn’t begin to show my appreciation in ways that really count. So…the check.”

  “But, you…”

  “I don’t want to hear any more about it, okay? Just do something fun with it.”

  “Shelly…”

  She put a finger to her lips. “Don’t wake the baby or I’ll take the check back.”

  He finally smiled and gave her an awkward hug. “Thank you. How come you’ve still got him anyway?” Dan asked, putting the carrier on a corner of the counter.

  She explained about Luke being unable to reach Pine Run, and the new pediatrician spending the night at her place.

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you didn’t self-destruct with a man that close.”

  She made a face at him. “I have a lot of male friends, and you know it.”

  “Friends, yes. Men who sleep over, no.”

  “He stayed because I have no experience with babies and he hasn’t found a place to live yet. It was Luke’s idea.”

  “Yeah, but I’ve met the doc. Nice guy. Isn’t it time you got serious about what women are really meant for?”

  She froze to stare at him with a horrified expression, pulling off her scarf. “Daniel Bertram. I can’t believe what I’m hearing! I thought you were more enlightened than that. Your daughter wants to be an aeronautical engineer, for heaven’s sake. And you’re going to stand there and tell me a woman’s destiny is to satisfy a man?”

  “No,” he replied, rocking the carrier as the baby shifted fitfully. “I’m telling you, her destiny is to love a man, so he can love her in return. Each achieves the most, personally and professionally, while in a devoted relationship. And if there’s great lovemaking involved, that’s all to the good.”

  She carried her coat to the small office in the back, then returned, tying on a blue cobbler apron patterned in snowflakes.

  “I’m committed to this place, just like my parents were,
” she said. “It doesn’t leave much time for anything else.”

  “There’s always time for something else,” he insisted, straightening carefully away when the baby quieted. He lowered his voice. “Work is stimulating and fulfilling, but love is the reason we endure.” He smiled wistfully. “And sometimes it’s just the memory of love. But if it was good, it’s enough.” He patted her on the shoulder as he walked back to the grill. “Get yourself some before it’s too late.”

  Chapter Four

  Shelly glanced at the clock above the counter. Almost six o’clock. She was on time for the regulars who would be arriving any moment, but she was too late for love. She’d built a life around The Brimming Cup and the people of Jester. This was her world. There wasn’t room for anything else. Except for the occasional trip, now that she had the means.

  Dean Kenning arrived just after six, newspaper under his arm, and greeted her with a cheerful “Good morning!” as she poured him a cup of coffee. His habit was to take his cup to the booth on the window side at the farthest end of the restaurant where his cronies would soon be joining him. They would discuss world events, the sad state of baseball today, and the oppressive presence of the press in Jester. They’d been meeting here every morning since Shelly was a child, and discussing the same issues, though the presence of the press was something new.

  But this morning, he was waylaid by the sight of the baby carrier.

  “What’s this?” he asked Shelly. Then he shouted toward Dan, “You get some girl pregnant, Dan, and she left you the baby?”

  “Ha! Ha!” Dan replied. “Thanks for your faith in me. Over or scrambled?”

  “Over. And bacon. I’ve got a big day ahead of me.” He refocused his attention on Shelly, who came to touch the sleeping baby and tell Dean his story.

  He nodded. “So that’s why the doc spent the night at your place.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I was hoping it was passion and lewd behavior.”

  She gave him a punitive glance. “Nothing of the sort. It was mixing formula and walking the floors. And how did you know Dr. O’Rourke stayed with me?”