Your Baby Or Mine?

by Marie Ferrarella

  Chapter Five

  Arms loaded down, Marissa moved aside a box that was in her way with the tip of her toe. With a heave, she dropped her belongings onto the king-size bed that dominated the small bedroom. Jeremy, she’d been told, spent a great deal of time in bed, entertaining. He didn’t seem to mind the fact that there was hardly any space left over to maneuver within the room, but she did. It made packing a test of ingenuity.

  Going into the closet again, she tried to decide what to take out next. The naked bulb that swayed slightly overhead each time she passed cast long, eerie shadows along the walls. That would have scared her out of her wits once, she thought. She’d spent a tortured childhood being afraid of the dark. The Sergeant had been totally unsympathetic, refusing to leave on a night-light for her.

  “Damn waste of money. She’s my daughter. She has no business being afraid of the dark and she isn’t going to be. Not if I have anything to say about it.” As if, she thought, shouting at her would make her brave.

  Her mother had made a feeble attempt to talk the Sergeant into allowing her to leave on a light to chase away the shadows. It had fallen on deaf ears and she’d retreated, afraid to oppose her husband any further. Afraid not of physical reprisals, but verbal ones. The Sergeant’s tongue was his sharpest weapon. So Marissa had spent many long nights lying awake, staring into the dark and waiting for the creatures to come out of hiding and get her.

  They never did.

  “Probably afraid to,” she murmured. Her father cast a formidable shadow of his own. “You can have as many lights on to chase away the shadows as you want, Chris. I’ll find a way to pay the electric bills.” She smiled to herself. That was her main goal, to make Christopher’s childhood one that he could look back on fondly. One that wasn’t like hers.

  Barren wire hangers dangled listlessly from the denuded rod. Marissa looked at the accumulated pile of clothing on the bed. There wasn’t much there really, but then, she’d never paid that much attention to clothes, anyway. There were more important things in her life.

  The most important of which was bouncing up and down within his playpen just outside the room. Marissa had dragged the playpen over so that Christopher could see her while she worked and, more importantly, so that she could see him. Lately, Christopher was turning into a budding escape artist. She was afraid that he’d find a way to climb out of the playpen and go scooting off. Thank God, he hadn’t learned how to open doors yet.

  Marissa pulled a large, flattened box from underneath the bed and opened it. She secured the sides with duct tape.

  “I hope I’m not doing anything we’re both going to regret,” she said as she started piling her books into the box. “But he does seem very nice and we do need a place to stay. Besides—” she couldn’t resist running her hand over Christopher’s head “—I think Andrea has a crush on you. You be nice to her, you hear? Don’t break her heart too soon.” She smiled at her son, at his perfect little features. Did all mothers think their sons were so handsome? “You are going to be a heartbreaker, you know. Girls are going to be beating down the door to get at you. We’re going to have to work on a disguise to hide you from them.”

  “Hi-hi!” Christopher cried, bouncing.

  “That’s right, hide.” He was learning how to communicate fast.

  Fast. She sighed, gathering another armload of books. Beckett moved fast, she thought. She usually did, too. But maybe this time, it was a mistake. Maybe she should have stopped long enough to really think it over.

  But then, she mused, reaching up to the top shelf, what she’d said to Christopher was true. She really didn’t have much choice.

  “I suppose I could always drop out and get a full-time job.” It was a definite possibility, but one that was crushing to even mention. “But then I couldn’t be around you that much. And we’re so close to our goal, Christopher. Just two more months and Mommy’s got her degree.” Dropping five more books into the box, she glanced over her shoulder. Christopher wasn’t even looking in her direction. “Not very impressed, are you?”

  Christopher was too busy trying to chew off the strap that held up his rompers. There were drool marks all down the bibbed front. Five minutes into clean clothes and he looked a mess. Her own little dirt magnet, she thought fondly.

  “You can’t be hungry, I just fed you.” She stopped packing her books and came over to the playpen. Marissa crouched to look at him more closely. “Are you teething again?”

  Her hand under his chin, she tried angling his head, urging his lips apart with the tip of her finger pressed at the corner of his mouth. Gleefully, Christopher clamped his lips together even tighter.

  “Come on, open up for Mommy, honey,” she coaxed. Nothing. “You open up for every dust bunny and dirty thing you find on the floor, open up for me.”

  As if he understood every word she was saying and chose to ignore them, Christopher kept his mouth firmly shut.

  “So, you’re a little rebel already, huh?” She let go of his chin. God, but she loved this little human being who had been dropped into her life. “All right, be that way. You’re probably not teething, anyway. You’re not nearly vocal enough.”

  Each tooth that had appeared in his head had been heralded in with screams, endless crying and a convoy of sleepless nights.

  Marissa looked up sharply at the sound of the doorbell. She rose, dusting off her knees. “Is he here already?” Suddenly edgy, she wiped her hands on the back pockets of her jeans. “He really must live close by.”

  Christopher had no opinion on the matter. He was back to testing the integrity of the netting on his playpen.

  Crossing to the door, she took a deep breath and then threw it open. Alec was standing on the threshold, looking only slightly more casual than he had in class. Obviously he thought there was a dress code for helping someone move.

  She grinned, wondering if the man ever got messy. She was sure Christopher could give him pointers in that.

  “Hi.”

  She had a smudge on the tip of her nose. Alec squelched the unexpected, intense urge to brush it off for her with his thumb. That seemed much too personal.

  “You should always look through the peephole before opening the door.” If his tone was a tad gruff, it was himself he was annoyed with, not her.

  “That would be difficult—” Marissa closed the door as he walked in “—without a peephole.”

  A woman who lived alone should have enough sense to be more cautious. “If you don’t have a peephole, how do you know who’s knocking?”

  “Simple. I open the door.”

  He shoved his hands into his back pockets. She and her son were becoming part of his life, at least peripherally, and that made this his business, he rationalized.

  “To anyone?”

  She didn’t have to think about her answer. “Pretty much. Bedford’s a nice little town.” That was why she’d come back here after her divorce. Because she’d liked it here so much, felt safe here.

  Was she as innocent as she sounded? Alec wondered. She was an army brat and they were supposed to grow up faster than most. More savvy of the darker side of life. Obviously she was the exception. “Even nice little towns have their weirdos.”

  She knew what was bothering him. He was afraid that she would be cavalier about his daughter’s safety. Marissa stopped him before he got any further. “You have a peephole?”

  He didn’t see what that had to do with anything. “Yes.”

  She inclined her head. “Then we don’t have a problem. I’ll use it.” Case closed. Marissa looked around, suddenly realizing that Alec had returned alone. “Where’s Andrea? You didn’t leave her in the van, did you?”

  “No, I left her with Roberta.” Having Andrea along would have made helping Marissa move almost impossible.

  She didn’t understand. Beckett had specifically said that his mother had given him an ultimatum. “I thought—”

  Alec knew what she was going to say. Roberta had looked stunned at h
is reappearance tonight. He’d quickly dissolved any protests by telling her about Marissa.

  “I told her I’d hired a nanny for Andrea and that I had to help her move in. Roberta was so glad I’d found someone, she didn’t realize that I was leaving Andrea with her for a couple of hours until I was at the door.” He hadn’t tried to put anything over on his mother. He valued his daughter’s well-being far too much to just dump Andrea and run. “Besides, Dorothy’s there.”

  “Dorothy?” Was that another relative?

  He squatted beside the playpen. With his hands wrapped around the edge as he bounced, Christopher looked more than capable of bringing the whole thing down.

  “Hi, big guy.” He glanced at Marissa, answering her question. “Roberta’s housekeeper. Dorothy loves kids. In small doses.”

  He rose, ruffling the boy’s dark hair. It felt silky. Absently he wondered if Christopher got that from his mother. Did hers feel as silky?

  And what the hell did that have to do with anything?

  Marissa nodded. “That’s usually true of most people.”

  He looked at her, remembering the genuine joy in her eyes when she worked with the toddlers in class. “But not you.”

  “No, not me.” Her mouth curved. “I was the oldest in my family. Five brothers and sisters, all born yelling.”

  “I would have thought having to take care of them would have made you sick of kids.”

  Marissa grinned. “You would, wouldn’t you?” It had had just the opposite effect. She loved children, all children. If raising Willie, her youngest brother and Christopher’s prototype, hadn’t turned her off on the whole breed, nothing ever would. “But being responsible for them gave me a feeling of stability, a sense of home, even on the road. You don’t get that very much when you’re an army brat.”

  She was digressing, she thought. And telling him too much. Hooking her thumbs in the loops of her jeans, she rocked on the balls of her feet as she looked up at Alec. “So, have you brought your muscles?”

  She had an unsettling way of jumping from one thing to another. He wondered if a short attention span was catching. His own mind kept hopping around whenever he was around her. Some of the hops were beginning to bother him. “Excuse me?”

  Marissa indicated the two large cartons she had just filled. “Some of these boxes of books are pretty heavy. And, as you might have noticed, I’m on the second floor.”

  “Yes, I did notice that.” Walking up the stairs, he’d begun to have second thoughts about volunteering so quickly.

  Putting a little space between them, Alec looked around the apartment. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture, but the room wasn’t empty by any means. There were knickknacks, mementos probably, scattered about, giving the room a warm touch. Mostly, though, it was crammed with toys. Toys, a playpen, a wind-up swing and several other things whose sole function was to make Christopher’s life more pleasant.

  Alec eyed the sofa. A neutral beige that was amazingly clean given Christopher’s penchant for wiping his hands on any surface, the sofa was long and chunky. It was going to be a bear to get down the stairs, even with help.

  He could feel his back aching already. Maybe he would just hire a moving company for her. “How much of this is yours?”

  “Only the Lilliputian stuff.” She gestured toward the wind-up swing in the corner. “All the furniture belongs to Jeremy.”

  Never mind the movers. This was going to be a piece of cake. “You travel light.”

  She shrugged. That had been from necessity. Necessity and a lack of funds. “You pick up a few things as an army brat.” Taking the duct tape, she swiftly taped shut all four drawers of Christopher’s bureau. “Never get attached to anything more than you can carry away with you.”

  That sounded like a Spartan philosophy. He wondered how much of it was her and how much had been her father’s doing. “What about Christopher’s things?”

  He’d caught on to her one weakness. “There are exceptions.”

  Alec found himself being amused. And charmed. There was a danger in that, but he felt he was in control of the situation. “Got an answer for everything?”

  “Pretty much.” Her eyes danced as she said it.

  “Well, let’s get to it.” He looked around. “What do you want to move first?”

  “Doesn’t matter. How about the books?” She led the way into the bedroom. Ordinarily, she hated moving. It dredged up too many painful memories. This time, though, the memories were muted, fading into the background in the face of new possibilities.

  It was going to be all right, she thought. She hadn’t been sure until just now, when he’d stopped to ruffle Christopher’s hair. Watching had given her a warm, secure feeling. It was a sign.

  Marissa indicated the boxes. “Lucky thing I never threw out the cartons.”

  Squatting, Alec slid his hands around the base of the carton. “Lucky,” he grunted, struggling to his feet.

  She felt guilty. “Do you want any help with that? I’m stronger than I look.”

  He’d watched her in class. If strength had anything to do with stamina, she’d convinced him. But there was such a thing as too many hands in a project.

  Alec shook his head. “If you try to help, we’re both liable to fall down the stairs.”

  She raised her hands in the air. “I never said a word. Just be careful, okay?” The last thing she wanted was for him to get hurt because he was helping her move.

  Marissa hurried over to the door and held it open for him. Alec shifted the carton, using his hip for leverage. He looked in. All the spines were neatly turned in one direction. Textbooks, every one of them. And all secondhand, judging from their condition.

  “Have you read all of these?”

  “Every last one of them.”

  There was no missing the pride in her voice. “Pretty dry reading.”

  Standing beside him, she rose on her toes and peered down on them. She couldn’t resist running her hand along the books. “Not really. Actually, most of them are rather fascinating. A few, of course, I plan to use as doorstops. But they’re all required reading.” She closed the lid, patting it into place. “I don’t like to throw out books.” She looked up at him. “Seems wasteful.”

  Her cologne was beginning to infiltrate his system. It hadn’t seemed nearly so potent before.

  He forced his mind back on the topic. From what he could see, all her books dealt with psychology. “Do you ever read anything else?”

  Reading was her passion, right after Christopher and kids in general. “Anything I can get my hands on. I just can’t afford to buy them, that’s all. It’s the public library for me. They usually like their books back.”

  The sound of rain hitting the tile roof registered. She looked outside and saw that the light drizzle had transformed into a full-fledged storm.

  Alec began to walk past her. She caught his arm. “Wait,” she cried.

  Did she want to pile something else on top? “I can’t carry any more at one time.”

  But she had already darted inside. The next moment she reappeared with an umbrella. Marissa pressed a button at the base and it bloomed above their heads like a navy blue sunflower.

  “The least I can do is try to keep you dry,” she explained.

  Having her hover over him was only going to slow him down. “A little rain never hurt anyone.”

  She was adamant. When he started for the stairs, she was right there with him. “That’s what Noah’s father-in-law said just before the deluge hit.”

  “Noah’s father-in-law?” Alec didn’t know whether to be amused by this elfin woman who was jockeying for position beside him or a little leery of her. “I never knew Noah had a father-in-law.”

  “Not after the rains hit. That’s my point.” She grew serious. “This is perfect weather to get sick in.” Marissa held the umbrella high, attempting to protect as much of Beckett as she could.

  The stairway was just wide enough to accommodate them. With t
he carton of books added in, the passage was tight. He could feel her body lightly brushing against his as they made their way down to ground level. She seemed oblivious to the fact that she was rubbing against him every step of the way.

  But he wasn’t oblivious, and that, he knew, wasn’t a good thing. It had been a long time since he’d been aware of a woman as a woman. He didn’t particularly want to be made aware of that anytime soon.

  Still keeping the umbrella raised, Marissa looked around.

  “Is that your van?” There was a large, dark green vehicle parked against the curb, its rear facing the cluster of apartments.

  He’d left it as close to her apartment as possible. “That’s it.”

  His fingers were beginning to slip. Alec fervently hoped he could make it to the van without dropping the box. Puddles were beginning to form on the asphalt, capturing the glow of the street lamps in its dark pools. He didn’t want the carton landing in one of them.

  Moving ahead of him quickly, Marissa tried the van doors. They were unlocked. She opened one just in time for Alec to slide the carton in along the floor. Pushing it in farther, he closed the door and turned toward her. She was still holding the umbrella over him. “How many more of those?”

  She grinned. “Cartons with books? Just one more. I’ve got to pack up my clothes, but we’ve still got to move Christopher’s bureau, his crib, his high chair, toys, clothes…”

  He held up his hand, stopping her. “I get the picture.” She’d only mentioned the baby’s things. “No TV set? No stereo?”

  “No money,” she countered.

  It didn’t seem to bother her, he thought, not having any possessions. Though she spoke lovingly of stability, Marissa reminded him of a free spirit, unencumbered by things. He found that rather appealing. Probably because it meant he didn’t have that much to move, he rationalized.

  Marissa surprised him by hooking her arm through his. When he looked at her quizzically, she urged him back to the apartment. “I don’t want to leave Christopher alone for more than a few minutes.”

  It had only been less than three and he was in his playpen, but she didn’t believe in taking foolish chances if she could help it. Not when it came to her son.