by Taryn Quinn
I pressed my lips together against a smile. Francesca, one of the four girls in my family, lived in the city. But not the Manhattan side like Erica used to—no, she was in the artsy Hell’s Kitchen part of it where she was into brand design and photography. Deadlines were her life, so we rarely saw her.
“Well, let her know I can pick her up from the train station if she needs me to.”
“Thank you, nena. What would we do without you?”
I waved off my mom. “Not a problem. I’ve been talking to Kayla about supplies for the shower so we should be pretty well finished up before Saturday.”
“She won’t let me see anything.” Erica toyed with one of her last fries. “I don’t like surprises.”
“And that’s why you planned most of it.” I pushed my plate away.
“I know, but she took over, and I hate it.”
“She’s excited.” Jake’s sister wasn’t quite used to our crazy family, but she was definitely jumping in without fear.
“Oof.” Erica winced and rubbed her side.
“See that’s what you get for putting junk in your baby house,” our mother announced.
The sudden pang hit me low. In a town full of pregnant women, it was hard not to have those what if feelings. Even if mine were even more wistful. “Can I feel?”
Erica swung her legs down a little. “Of course.”
I came around to sit by her, and then swallowed and let her put my hand along her side. The flutter of something below my palm made the pang grow into a lump in my throat. My eyes filled. “Wow, Ric.”
“Oh, don’t start that up.”
I dabbed my eyes. “Sorry.”
“I meant the Ric stuff,” she wrinkled her nose at the old nickname, “but definitely the waterworks too.” She pulled me in for a fierce hug. “Someday, you’ll have one too. Just don’t rush it.”
My sister’s plum and jasmine scent rolled over me. She’d been out of the loop of the Cove for the last few years—only returning this year—and really didn’t know just how inaccurate that probably was. I glanced at my mother, but she’d averted her eyes to her plate.
I pulled away and dabbed at the corners of my eyes. “I don’t have time to fix my mascara, so no more tears. I’m just really happy for you.”
“Well, don’t worry. I’ll be using Aunt Gina’s services.”
I laughed. “This town keeps my babysitting muscles in tiptop shape.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Erica popped the last fry on her plate in her mouth. “I’m sufficiently ready for more shopping.” She pushed me out of the booth. “After I pee. You know, it’s been a whole twenty minutes.”
I stood and let her go by.
“She doesn’t know, mija.”
I waved off my mother. I definitely didn’t want to discuss that with her right now. “It’s not a big deal.”
She reached for my hand. “There are miracles every day, especially in Crescent Cove.”
I squeezed her fingers and quickly let go. “I’ve got plenty of time for that, mami.”
“That’s right.”
The early lunch crowd started filtering in. Polly was a really good waitress, but she only had two hands.
I leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to my mom’s cheek. “Gotta work.”
“Go. I can amuse myself.” She pulled her huge purse onto the table.
“Put your money away. I got it.”
“Mitchell doesn’t allow free food.”
“Yes, but I do get a discount.” I winked at my mom. She always enjoyed a good deal. “If you want to pick up some streamers for me, that would be a big help.”
“That I can do.”
Kayla and I already had enough decorations for baby showers for the entire town, but the suggestion distracted my mother enough to put away her wallet.
I waved at my sister where she was waiting by the front door.
“That’s my cue.” My mom slid out of the booth and slipped on her jacket. “I’ll check in later about the shower.”
“Sounds good.” My mother didn’t know how to not check in and hover over plans. “Don’t you have to work at the station?”
“No, the sheriff is training Christian to cover dispatch for when the baby comes. Just in case your sister needs me.”
“Jared didn’t mention that to me.”
“It was a spur of the moment thing. He understands how important family is.”
Of course he did. I knew that more than anyone since he was my best friend. He put up with my zany family with very few complaints. Heck, he dealt with the whole crazy town without much grumbling.
Even if he got his uniform pants in a wad some days.
“That was very nice of him. I’ll make sure to send over a basket of cookies after lunch.”
Those guys would be ready to kill each other. Christian and Jared butted heads more often than not when it came to how they viewed their jobs.
Christian tended to be social and easygoing whereas Jared took his work very seriously. Sometimes too seriously.
“You’re a sweetheart, nena.”
I rolled my eyes. “Chocolate makes the sheriff much more amenable, that’s all.”
“Well, you would know.” My mother’s eyes twinkled in that way that made my spine itch.
“Mami,” I warned.
“What? I can’t help it. You two would be perfect together if you’d just open your eyes.”
Oh, my eyes were open, all right. That definitely wasn’t the problem.
“Hey, Gina. I could use a little help.”
I glanced over at the crowding forming near the door. Polly had three cups lined up at the soda station and an armful of water and silverware in deference to the half dozen people waiting. “Okay, out with you. I have to work.”
My mother patted my face. “Don’t work too hard, mija.”
Thankfully, the lunch rush didn’t give me time to think about Jared or babies. I was too busy passing out a million and one sausages, and none of them the fun kind.
By the time I finally got to sit down, my feet were throbbing like a bad tooth, and I was wearing half a plate of sauce, courtesy of an angry toddler. All I wanted to do was strip and climb into the shower after sipping one of those fizzy wine things Luna from Kinleigh and August’s Attic had gotten me hooked on. Unfortunately, I still had the dinner rush to go.
Polly pushed a chocolate shake in front of me without a word before resuming refilling the sugar dishes.
“Thanks. Do I look that bad?”
“A root beer Lifesaver isn’t fixing you today.”
I huffed out a laugh and took a straw out of my own apron and stabbed it into the heavily malted shake. “Aww, you really do love me.”
Polly just grunted and went back to filling.
I’d take the win. Since there was only one person in the far corner booth, I sneaked out my phone to check if there was anything interesting in the land of TikTok. Before I could get the app open, a phone call came through. That in itself was weird. That it was Jared—who never called me—was even stranger.
“Hello?”
“Thank God. Where are you?”
My heart skipped and promptly hit my toes. “I’m at work. Is everything okay?”
“No. No, it is not okay.”
I didn’t think I’d ever heard panic in Jared’s voice. I stood up. “Is it your brother? Your dad?”
“What? No. It’s worse.”
The piercing cry of a baby made me frown. “What’s going on?”
“I need you, Bee. Now.”
Two
If I’d considered the things I might say after I ended my shift that Tuesday night, “what do I do with a baby” was not one of them.
“I’ll have an ice-cold beer”—a definite possibility.
“Hey, Bee, I’ll take some of the sausage and peppers”—equally likely.
But anything related to a child, especially an infant, had not been on the table.
Or in the boat.<
br />
I stood in my living room, staring down at the ruddy-faced baby who was crying so hard her body was in constant motion. That was why I’d stuck her in the boat I’d had on the wall. I’d pulled the boat down first, since I didn’t think suspending her would help with her wailing. She’d quieted for a moment when I removed her from the basket she’d arrived in, but as soon as I placed her on the seat, she started screaming again.
Then I saw the note.
I hadn’t wanted to read it. When I opened my door to the chilly darkness, I hadn’t been expecting the basket on my doormat. My neighbors on this side of the lake weren’t all that close, but surely there was an explanation for a baby crying.
There was, just one I never considered.
“Jared,” Gina snapped into my ear.
I’d almost forgotten I was still on the phone. Terror-based inertia could do that to a man.
“Gina.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“You’re scaring me. And where are you? Why is that baby crying?”
“No one is in danger,” I said in my calmest sheriff’s voice.
The only thing at risk is my sanity.
“Okay, then why do you need me so badly? My shift lasts another few hours, and the dinner rush is always crazy. If your issue can wait, I will—”
“I can’t get into it on the phone, Bee. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary.” I gazed at the now flailing baby. To try to soothe her, I rocked the boat back and forth with my foot. She fussed just a bit less. “Just get here as soon as you can. Please.”
“All right. Let me talk to Mitch. I’ll see if someone can cover for me.”
“Thanks.” I gripped the phone. “You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”
But she would soon. Because there was no way in hell I could solve this situation alone.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. You’re home?” I could practically hear the frown in her voice. “With a baby?”
“Yes. Thanks again.” I clicked off before she could ask more questions.
She always asked questions. There were seasoned journalists, and then there were the Ramos women, who could ferret out the truth faster than any TV correspondent. But tonight, I wouldn’t be hiding anything.
I nudged the boat with my socked foot again. I really needed that beer now, but I had to be one-hundred percent lucid to deal with a baby.
God help me.
The kid kept crying so I wiped my sweaty palms on my uniform pants—I hadn’t even had a chance to change after work—and dug through the basket that had contained the baby. My fingers brushed the folded note again, and I bypassed it to dig through the folds of the nearly threadbare blanket. I let out a relieved breath when I found a small bottle, half full. I lifted it and checked the level again while my gut tightened. Less than half.
What kind of mother had this baby been sacked with anyway?
One like your own.
“Here, here.” My voice sounded scratchy and not at all like my own as I crouched beside the boat. “Look what I have. Your blanket and your bottle.” I held it up while the kid sobbed. “Baba?” I ventured, trying to recall things women said to infants in the café.
She seemed unimpressed, or else did not speak my language.
Since I lived in Baby Central, USA, you would assume I’d have a better handle on what to do with a child. You’d be wrong. I’d been single for a long time, barring a weekend last winter, and I didn’t spend a lot of time with my friends with babies. Gideon and Macy had just cranked one out, but they were nesting these days. I hadn’t made it over there for family dinner since right after Michael was born.
And he was a boy. I knew what to do with that variety.
At least I had the same damn parts.
This one was so female and pink. So small and wrinkly and whiny.
Not that I blamed her. She must’ve been so cold outside. Snow was threatening, as it did all the time here from approximately November until April. Sometimes until May in a particularly heinous year.
Here I’d taken away her blanket, such as it was. There was even a hole in the hem, and it wasn’t clean.
And none of that mattered right now.
I set her bottle on the floor, since that was of no interest to her at the moment. I could only hope the milk inside was fresh.
“Here you go,” I said in that same scratchy, gruff tone as I tucked the blanket around her.
She fussed even more, raising her arms, but I went with instinct and pinned them down against her sides. For a minute, I was fairly certain my so-called instinct was really my chili dog from lunch kicking back on me, because she certainly didn’t seem calmer. Then I grabbed her bottle and held it to her mouth, feeling like the biggest dolt ever. Lo and behold, her tiny pink mouth screwed up, and she finally stopped crying long enough to suck.
My brief elation that I obviously was a natural at this stuff faded when she turned her head away and spit up all over the blanket I hadn’t wanted to give her in the first place.
Quickly, I set aside the bottle and tugged up the blanket before taking it right over to the trash. I had to have something better than that to put her in. I glanced back at her before darting a look toward the stairs. If I could just run up to my room, I knew I must have something that could work in a pinch until I could give her to—
I shut my eyes as the squalling started anew, even more loudly. Who was I supposed to give her to? Her mother obviously couldn’t be trusted. She needed to be safe. And assuming I didn’t kill her through ineptitude, the place she would be safest was with me.
Yet I still ran upstairs to my room under the guise of looking for something to keep her warm. She had on a thin footie pajama set, for God’s sake. Not even a jacket in these frigid temperatures.
I searched the room for anything small but substantial enough to wrap her in. My quilt was gigantic and had been made by my Great-Aunt Erma. It was mostly white. With a baby, I knew that couldn’t be good. Besides, it was too huge for the boat. Maybe I could use one of my jackets.
Then my gaze landed on my flannel pillowcases. I got hot when I slept, so I didn’t go for the sheets, but I liked the plaid. One would work just fine as a baby sack.
I hoped.
I tugged one of the cases off and jogged downstairs to find the kid’s cries had trailed off into whimpers.
Swallowing hard, I rushed to crouch at her side. “Look what I have for you.” Carefully, I lifted her little legs and tried to stuff them into the pillowcase. She was so small that the thing would be big around her, but it had to offer some security, right?
I didn’t have any better ideas, so I was going with this one.
With some effort, I pulled the pillowcase up her body and tucked it under her arms when she didn’t seem to want to be tucked in again. She needed a pillow on the boat seat, so I grabbed the basket of clean folded laundry I’d left on the couch and pulled out a hoodie to fashion into a soft spot for her to rest her head.
She screwed up her tiny face as I slipped the hoodie under her, but she didn’t start screaming so I decided to roll with it.
I took one last glance into the baby basket, hoping somehow a stuffed animal had appeared when I wasn’t looking. Nope. So, we’d have to make do.
Testing my luck, I sprinted back up the stairs, well aware of the whines coming from the bedroom next to my master suite. Sadie would just have to wait a bit longer for liberation. I was actually surprised she hadn’t kicked up more of a fuss yet.
Maybe she knew all her daddy’s sins were coming home to roost.
I couldn’t really look at that semi-sweet baby down there as a sin. Sure, she’d mostly screamed at me, but she’d had a tough night.
My chest twisted. She might’ve had a tough life too so far, and that would probably give me some bad moments tonight when I tried to sleep.
I’d make up for what she’d been through. Somehow. With Gina’s help.
God, where the hell was Gina?
I
moved into my room and scratched the back of my neck as I surveyed the rustic space. I wanted her to have something to sleep with. That was what my dad had done with me. He’d given me this ratty bear I still had in my closet.
Duh.
Mr. Bojangles was right there on the top shelf when I opened the door. Spots were worn in his patchy brown fur, and his bow tie was stretched out and dangling, but overall, he was in decent shape. Good enough for a baby to clutch and cuddle.
I hurried back downstairs to find the kid whimpering again. The sound made me grip the bear that much tighter as I kneeled beside the boat.
“Look here—” I frowned.
What was her name? Why hadn’t her mother mentioned that in her note? I needed to know what to call her. What she liked and what was familiar.
Had her mother not even bothered to name her, realizing she wouldn’t have her long?
I shut my eyes and took a deep breath before I forced them open again. I would let myself rage in the privacy of my shower once Gina was here, and I could take a moment away.
God knows I wouldn’t trust anyone else with her tonight but my best friend.
“Look here, sweetheart,” the word sounded creaky to my ears, “I have something for you. He used to be mine, but now he’s for you. You can have him as long as you like. He’s really good at helping to keep the monsters away.”
I held him out to her, and she stopped making her soft sounds of distress to stare unblinkingly at the bear. Encouraged, I tucked the bear at her side in the pillowcase, and she plucked at his fur and his ears and his eyes until I wondered if his good run of survival was about to end.
And then her rosebud lips curved into the tiniest smile as she clutched him closer and shut her eyes with a flutter of dark eyelashes.
Still on my knees, I let myself look at her. To really see.
Her hair was a shock of straight dark like mine. It wasn’t all filled in yet, but she wasn’t bald. Her skin was pink and still kind of wrinkly, but she wasn’t a newborn. Thank God for that. I knew her approximate age from when I’d been with her mother last year, though she could have been premature. She surely had to be underweight. She seemed so freaking miniscule. So easy to break.
