Baby Gone Bye

by Marilee Brothers

  Other Bell Bridge Book titles from Marilee Brothers

  The Unbidden Magic series

  Midnight Moon (Book Five)

  Shadow Moon (Book Four)

  Moon Spun (Book Three)

  Moon Rise (Book Two)

  Moonstone (Book One:)

  Baby Gone Bye

  by

  Marilee Brothers

  Bell Bridge Books

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  Bell Bridge Books

  PO BOX 300921

  Memphis, TN 38130

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61194-424-2

  Print ISBN: 978-1-61194-404-4

  Bell Bridge Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.

  Copyright © 2013 by Marilee Brothers

  Printed and bound in the United States of America.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  We at BelleBooks enjoy hearing from readers.

  Visit our websites – www.BelleBooks.com and www.BellBridgeBooks.com.

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Cover design: Debra Dixon

  Interior design: Hank Smith

  Photo/Art credits:

  Doorstep and baby (manipulated) © James Steidl | Dreamstime.com

  :Egbb:01:

  Chapter One

  THE NIGHT GABRIEL Delgado found out he was a father, he was gazing into a mirror and scraping the stubble off his chin. In exactly thirty minutes, he would drive his shiny black Honda Civic—sedately—to the home of Stephi Jones, a semi-hot blonde. On second thought, semi-hot was not an accurate description of Stephi. A better word would be tepid. Not hot. Not cold. More like lukewarm.

  Former bad boy, Gabe, had low expectations for the Friday night date. For sure, there would be no skin-to-skin contact, other than a chaste joining of lips in a goodnight kiss. Gabe’s bad boyness had come to a screeching halt a few months earlier, which, in the annals of Delgado family history, would be known as Gabe’s Summer in Hell.

  It was all because Gabe’s father, Ernesto, aka Papi, was a Boeing engineer and, as such, had prescribed methods for dealing with his sons. For example: There was Papi’s way . . . and the wrong way. Gabe had crossed the line from right to wrong and, therefore, according to Papi, earned his summer in hell.

  When the doorbell rang, Gabe yelled, “Henry! Get the door!”

  Gabe knew twelve-year-old Henry was downstairs, because he’d heard his soccer ball bouncing off the wall for the last fifteen minutes. The sound continued, unabated.

  “Simon! Grab the door, will ya?” Older brother, Simon, was in his room, probably with his nose in a book or jotting page after page of equations. Simon was an engineering student at the University of Washington and most definitely a Papi clone.

  No response.

  “Jesus Christ,” Gabe muttered. As he said the words, he ducked, a conditioned response to the imagined whap of a rolled up newspaper, Papi’s method of dealing with a person taking the Lord’s name in vain.

  “Henry!” he shouted again. “Simon! Papi! Someone, please get the door. I’m buck naked here.”

  The doorbell bonged again and again. Whoever was leaning against it wasn’t about to give up. Gabe scrambled into his jeans and hit the stairs running. He skidded to a stop on the scatter rug in the foyer and threw the door open, just in time to see the taillights of a car speeding away.

  “Great, just great,” Gabe muttered, as the car disappeared around a corner. An icy wind blowing down from the mountains rustled through the pile of dead leaves in the front yard and raised goose bumps on Gabe’s bare arms and chest. He stepped back into the house and started to close the door when he heard a faint sound.

  Gabe froze. Beyond the open door, he saw nothing but a pool of darkness. He flipped on the porch light and stepped outside again.

  “Eeep?”

  Startled, Gabe rotated his head toward the sound and spotted what looked to be a jumble of blankets tucked under the wooden bench next to the door. Gabe watched, mesmerized, as two tiny bare feet appeared, kicking and waving as if to say, “Hey, dummy, here I am.”

  “Meep.”

  Louder this time. More demanding. Gabe took another cautious step and then, another, as if the bundle of blankets contained a ticking time bomb. A ticking time bomb with little pink feet, one of which looked very familiar. Gabe leaned over and stared at the flailing feet for a long moment, unwilling to believe what he saw. His heart sank. No way! Not now. Not when he’d just started down the straight and narrow path to eternal goodness.

  He snatched up the envelope tucked between the blankets and took a big step back. The name GABRIEL DELGADO was typed on the front. His hands were trembling when he ripped it open and extracted a sheet of paper.

  “Hey, guess what?” the note began. “This is your kid. Don’t believe me? Check left foot and right bun. Promise me you’ll keep the kid until the diapers run out. Then, do what you think is best. Don’t try to find me. Good luck.”

  “I am so screwed,” Gabe moaned.

  When he pulled off the blankets, he saw the most comical looking baby he’d ever laid eyes on, and what with Papi’s extended family, he’d seen quite a few. The kid was virtually bald except for a bit of fuzz on top. Two little sprigs of bright red hair sprouted wildly from double cowlicks on each side of its head. Unblinking brown eyes regarded him solemnly. “Oh, sweet Jesus,” Gabe said, and not in a profane way. “Where did you come from?”

  The sound of footsteps pounding down the stairs jolted Gabe out of his trance, and he yanked the door shut, postponing the inevitable. The door flew open and Simon stepped out, followed by Henry. Both their heads swiveled back and forth. When they spotted the baby, both heads stopped, as if their movements had been choreographed. Before they could utter a single syllable, Papi burst through the door, stopped, stared for a full minute and then exclaimed, “Dios mio! What is this, Gabriel?”

  “Looks like a baby,” Gabe mumbled, hanging his head.

  Papi whipped off his glasses, polished them with his shirttail, then snatched the paper from Gabe’s hand and scanned it quickly. Without saying a word, he squatted in front of the baby and picked up its left foot, examining it closely from all angles. The webbing between the second and third toe was clearly visible. Exactly like all the Delgados.

  Papi stood and gave Gabe a significant look, but still said nothing. He didn’t have to. Henry and Simon remained uncharacteristically silent. Gabe averted his eyes and shrugged, aware that his cheeks were growing hot with shame.

  Papi leaned over and unlatched the strap holding the baby secure. Gently, he lifted the child from the car seat, held him against his body, and pulled the diaper down, exposing one round, pink buttock. This time, Gabe couldn’t hold back a groan of dismay. There it was, in living color. The birthmark roughly shaped like a blue rose. Exactly like the birthmark imprinted on the right bun of all Delgados.

  Papi sighed and handed the baby to Gabe who held it at arm’s length. Papi said, “He’s yours, all right. No question about it.” Then he turned and stomped back into the house. He paused in the foyer and looked over his shoulder. “Gabriel, don’t stand there like a dummy. Bring him into the house. You want him
to freeze to death?”

  Trance-like, Gabe followed his father into the living room, aware at some level his brothers had gathered up the rest of the baby’s belongings. Papi collapsed into his recliner and stared at the ceiling as if the answer to this dilemma was written there. Probably wishing it would appear as an algebraic equation, Gabe thought.

  Still clutching the baby at arms’ length, Gabe perched on the edge of the sofa. Rosie, the family’s Labrador retriever, trotted into the room and sniffed the baby from head to toe, wagging her thick black tail in approval. Simon and Henry off-loaded baby paraphernalia and turned to leave.

  Snap! Snap! Papi’s chair returned to its upright position. “Hold it, you two. This isn’t just Gabe’s problem. It concerns the whole family.”

  The baby squealed in agreement, arms and legs churning the air.

  With a heavy sigh, Henry plopped down on the couch next to Gabe. “Sure is a funny looking kid. Maybe it’s not yours. No red hair in this family.”

  “Check the birthmark,” Simon said. He leaned against the wall, folded his arms and shook his head. “I don’t believe this. Gabe sleeps with some chick—he probably doesn’t even remember her name—she pops out a kid, decides it’s not fun, and dumps it here. How is it my problem?”

  Papi leaped from his chair, gesticulating madly. “Because we’re Delgados! When problems come up, like when your mother left us, we stick together. We don’t walk away. Understand?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Simon muttered.

  Papi began pacing back and forth across the living room. Suddenly, he stopped and pointed his finger at Gabe. “Here’s what you must do. Get paper and pencil. Write down the name of every girl you’ve been with when you were . . . er . . . not yourself. Include a physical description. Color of hair. Color of eyes. Physical attributes. Leave out nothing.”

  Gabe groaned. “But, Papi, there were a lot of girls. How do you expect me to remember them all? Besides, most of the time, I was kinda effed up, if you get my drift.” Gabe knew better to use the F bomb, but even the alternative earned him one of Papi’s disapproving looks.

  Before Papi could answer, the hall clocked bonged seven times. Startled, Gabe leaped from the couch and placed the kid in his car seat. “Man, is it seven already? I’ve got a date. Can we put this on hold until tomorrow?” Without waiting for an answer, Gabe headed for the stairs.

  “Gabriel.” The steel in Papi’s voice stopped Gabe in his track. “Look at me.”

  Slowly, Gabe turned to face his father. He heard Simon whisper, “Dumb shit.” Henry giggled nervously.

  “Gabriel,” Papi repeated. “Do you remember when Rosie was a puppy?”

  Gabe shifted his weight from one foot to the other, wondering if he was about to step into something stinky. “Yeah,” he said carefully.

  Papi’s dark eyes snapped with intensity. “And how did you take care of her?”

  Gabe rolled his eyes heavenward, trying to remember Papi’s three cardinal rules for puppy care. “After she eats, put her outside to poop. Play with her. Put her back in her crate.”

  Papi clapped. “Excellent.”

  Gabe grinned. This was going well. He’d soon be on his way.

  “Now, Gabriel, tell me this, how do you take care of a baby?”

  Uh oh. Gabe felt beads of perspiration pop out on his forehead. “Well, um, I guess you’re saying it’s the same concept. Right?”

  Papi strolled up nice and close and gave Gabe his shark’s grin. “So, after you feed him, you will take him outside to poop, play with him, and then put him back in his car seat?”

  Right then, Gabe knew he was screwed. He glanced at his brothers. No help there. He’d already stepped in it. Might as well go all the way. He looked his father square in the eyes. “Naturally, I won’t take him outside to poop, but I’ll feed him and play with him.”

  “And, you will start this . . . when?”

  “First thing tomorrow morning.”

  Papi said, “And tonight?”

  Gabe squirmed. “Remember what you said earlier? We’re Delgados. We stick together when there’s a problem.”

  “Ah, now I understand.” Papi stroked his chin. “You assumed one of your brothers or your father would take care of your child while you went on a date. Is correct?”

  Gabe flushed. “I would appreciate it.”

  “Gabriel,” Papi said again. He pointed at the baby. “That is not a puppy. It is a tiny human being who needs round the clock care. Care that will be given to him by you, his father. Do you understand?”

  Before Gabe could formulate an answer, he heard the amazingly loud rumble of baby flatulence. All eyes turned to the child, whose face was bright red as he clenched his fists and strained.

  Simon snickered. “Looks like you forgot to take him outside to poop.”

  Papi handed Gabe a container of baby wipes and a diaper. “Better get used to it. He’ll be doing that a lot.”

  That’s when the Delgado family found out he was a she.

  Chapter Two

  AT SIX A.M. SATURDAY morning, Gabe Delgado, clad only in boxer shorts, staggered down the stairs. Since he could barely open his eyes, he clutched the banister with his right hand, so he wouldn’t trip and fall, thus injuring the tiny red-haired baby girl tucked under his left arm like a football. Her head was cradled in his hand, just like Papi showed him last night. Gabe’s heel slipped off the last step and hit the floor with a jolt that shot up his spinal cord and delivered a wake-up call to his sleepy brain.

  Muttering to the bright-eyed baby, he rounded the corner into the kitchen. “Maybe you don’t know it’s Saturday. I always sleep in on Saturday. How come you have to eat again anyway? You got a straight pipe in there? Un-effin’-believable. In one end and out the other.”

  “Good morning, Gabriel.” Papi was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the paper and drinking coffee out of his Boeing mug.

  “Yeah,” Gabe grunted. Just what he didn’t need right now. Another round of interrogation from Papi. There was light at the end of the tunnel, though. At the rate the kid was going through the diapers, they’d be gone by tomorrow and he’d be out of the baby business. Without that flicker of hope, he’d go friggin’ crazy.

  He shuffled over to the coffee pot and fumbled, one-handed, to fill a mug.

  “That’s hot. Be careful!” Papi warned.

  “Yeah, I know it’s hot,” Gabe growled. “Coffee usually is.”

  Papi dropped the paper and held out his arms. “Give her to me before you scald the poor little motherless mite.”

  Warning bells dinged in Gabe’s tired brain. Given the Delgados’ personal history, motherless was a word so loaded with emotion it was the verbal equivalent of stepping on a land mine. Be careful, Gabe.

  Gabe lowered the baby into Papi’s outstretched hands. Last night, Papi had gone to the garage and lugged in a cardboard box labeled “Henry’s baby clothes” while Gabe phoned Stephi to tell her he was cancelling their date, due to a case of fast-acting flu. She’d offered to come over and make him a cup of herbal tea. When he said, “Oh, no, that’s okay,” she’d said, “You are so lying,” and slammed the phone down.

  The baby was now dressed in one of Henry’s old Seattle Seahawks sleepers, three sizes too big for her. She also clutched Henry’s favorite stuffed animal, Loopy, formerly known as Lupe, the lop-eared bunny.

  Lupe, a gift from Papi’s sister, Aunt Lorena in Mexico, had arrived intact but soon lost his enhancements. Originally, the stuffed bunny had a pencil-thin mustache, plaid trousers and vest, and a rakish sombrero. The hat and mustache were long gone, along with one of his eyes and the plaid outfit. Henry didn’t care. He loved Loopy and slept with him until his older brothers shamed him into parting with the beloved toy. Judging from the baby’s grip, Gabe figured Loopy had found someone new to love him
.

  Gabe filled his coffee mug and mixed yet another bottle of formula from the container he’d found in the diaper bag. He’d learned, last night, when the kid was hungry, he’d better be ready. Papi held the baby close to his face and said in the high-pitched, squeaky voice he used for puppies and babies, “Hey there, baby girl. What’s your name? Huh? I didn’t quite hear that?”

  The baby waved her arms and said, “Gah!” At least it was an improvement over the shrieks that had interrupted his sleep. Gabe rolled his eyes. He remembered his father’s edict. When you name a stray dog or cat, it means they are part of the family. He was about to remind Papi of that fact when the little girl said, “Eeep! Eeep!”

  Papi grinned and said, “You sound like a baby bird. Maybe we should call you Birdie. Do you like that name? Do you? Huh? Huh?” When the baby remained silent, Papi said, “What do you think, Gabriel? After all, you’re the father.”

  Gabe chose his words carefully. “Well, um, the note said to keep her until the diapers run out. According to my calculations, that will be tomorrow morning. So, I’m thinking she won’t be around long enough to name.”

  Papi lowered the baby to his lap and fixed Gabe with an unblinking stare. “And, where, precisely, will she be?”

  Actually, Gabe had a couple of scenarios in mind. Scenario 1: The baby’s mother would appear, sobbing, on the front porch, saying it was all a horrible mistake. Scenario 2: The other grandparents, having discovered their precious grandchild was missing, would track her down and demand custody. Scenario 3: The real father, armed with a DNA test proving paternity, would knock on the door and take the kid off Gabe’s hands.

  All of the above was a little hard to put into words, so Gabe just shook his head and mumbled, “With somebody who cares about her.”

  Papi shot out of his chair. “This is your answer? Somebody who cares about her? Gabriel, she is a Delgado. She belongs with us.”

  Unwilling to back down, Gabe shook his head. “We don’t know that for sure. That birthmark could be a fake. Maybe somebody made it with a blue marking pen.”