Sweet and Sassy Baby Love

by Alicia Street

  “Tow-nee.” Tony pointed to his own chest. “Tow-nee.”

  “Good boy,” Robin said. “And you sure look spiffy in those green overalls. You match Aunt Robin. I’m wearing green, too.”

  She pointed to her green shirt and then to his corduroy overalls.

  Tony’s dark eyes lit up. He struggled in his uncle’s arms and Jonas set him down on the floor. Tony toddled away from them, out through the kitchen and into the family room with the two adults following close behind him.

  “He walks so well,” Robin remarked.

  “I remember,” Jonas told her, “he was taking his first steps on his own at his birthday party two months ago.” He lowered his voice to say, “Sara and Jeff were so proud of him.”

  They watched Tony dig into a huge wooden basket filled with toys.

  A dark, dense cloud of regret descended on Robin. She wished so badly that she’d been around to attend Tony’s first birthday party. She could easily imagine Sara lighting the candle on the brightly decorated cake, her brother with a video camera running as he recorded it all, children laughing, singing. The dark despondency threatened to become overwhelming.

  Robin pushed the emotion away from her as though it were a tangible thing. She’d had enough remorse, anger and rejection for one day. She refused to feel bad anymore.

  “Ball,” Tony declared, offering her the toy.

  She knelt down to be at his eye level.

  “Geen ball.”

  “That’s right. The ball is green.” Robin couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. “You’re such a smart boy.”

  “Geen,” Tony repeated. Then he nodded with deep seriousness.

  Robin looked up at Jonas. “He’s smart.” She straightened her knees and returned to a stand.

  “Mine!”

  She gazed down at the toddler and saw from the panic in his eyes that he thought she meant to keep his ball.

  “Here you go,” she said, handing it back to him. “He’s really smart,” she repeated to Jonas as Tony went back to the basket.

  Jonas nodded. “Sara spent a lot of time with him.”

  “She didn’t work?” Robin hated to ask, feeling embarrassed that she didn’t know that simple piece of information about her sister-in-law.

  “Sara worked at the mall part-time selling cosmetics before she got pregnant,” he told her. “But after Tony was born, she wanted to be a full-time mom.”

  Robin nodded.

  “Okay…” Jonas clapped his hands to get Tony’s attention away from the toys “…who wants to go to the store? Does Tony want to go bye-byes?”

  The baby laughed and toddled to Jonas with his arms stretched out.

  “I’d better grab a sweater for him,” Robin suggested.

  “And some diapers,” Jonas said. “I think I saw a diaper bag sitting beside his changing table. Bring plenty of diapers. I used all the baby wipes.”

  “I put them on the grocery list,” she told him. “You might want to pack a snack. Just in case he gets hungry while we’re gone. Crackers? A few raisins? Can he eat raisins?”

  “I think so. That’s a good idea.” He smiled, his gaze brightening with delight. “See? Together, we can do this.”

  She blinked once, twice, then forced herself to turn away from him without responding.

  As she ran up the steps toward the baby’s room, she reminded herself yet again that she didn’t like this man. Why then, she wondered, was she reacting to him in such a purely physical manner? It seemed that all he had to do was look at her and her stomach churned with giddiness and her heart began to palpitate. She found the idea not only confusing but extremely irritating.

  She snatched up the diaper bag and began loading it with diapers, baby powder and several little toys, trying hard all the while to vanquish the image of Jonas’s smile from her mind.

  Tony enjoyed the car ride to the local supermarket. He pointed to first one thing then another.

  “Man,” he would say, or “cat,” or “tree,” or “sign,” or “big twuck.”

  Robin was impressed with his vocabulary.

  “Sara must have spent a lot of time with him,” she observed in a whisper.

  Jonas only nodded.

  She faced the front and forced herself to look out the passenger-side window. Several times she’d caught herself staring at Jonas’s profile. And even though she looked out at the town of Brenville, she could still picture how his sandy brown hair curled softly over the collar of his shirt. His nose was straight and just the right length for his strong-jawed face. His bottom lip was nice and full, and she wondered how it would feel on her own mouth...

  “Stop,” she muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she quickly answered.

  “But…”

  “Dog,” Tony called out.

  “Where?” she asked, turning to see where her nephew was pointing and relieved to have a good reason to ignore any further probing by Jonas.

  She saw a woman walking with a leashed dog along the sidewalk. “That’s right, sweetheart,” Robin said. “That’s a dog.”

  The baby made barking noises that had her chuckling.

  Jonas steered the car into the large parking lot and killed the engine. “Here we are,” he announced.

  Tony clapped his hands, his whole face lifting with glee. Children sure knew how to wring every ounce of joy out of life.

  They sat the baby in the seat of the metal shopping cart, and with Jonas pushing, they entered the brightly lit store.

  Robin quickly discovered that Jonas was somewhat of a celebrity in the small town of Brenville. It seemed the three of them could barely move ahead three steps before someone stopped them to speak to Jonas about his column. Some of his fans agreed with the things he’d said, and Robin had to suffer through seeing him get all puffed up about something he’d written. But others disagreed with his opinions and they weren’t afraid to let him know how they felt; these were the exchanges Robin enjoyed listening to the most.

  She didn’t make it a habit to read Jonas’s syndicated column. In fact, she avoided it like the plague. No matter what he had to say on a topic, nine times out of ten, she would have a conflicting opinion and reading his thoughts invariably made her angry, so she simply didn’t.

  One gentleman congratulated Jonas and shook his hand without saying anything else. After they were far enough away so the man wouldn’t overhear her, she asked, “What? Did you win some kind of award for your writing?”

  “Nah, nothing like that,” Jonas said, shrugging off her question.

  And before she could inquire further, Tony dropped his ring of plastic keys on the floor, gasped and pointed.

  “Can-dee,” he shrieked. “Can-dee.” Tony strained toward the gleaming, colorful bags hanging from hooks on the shelf.

  “I don’t know...” Robin looked at Jonas after she’d bent to pick up the keys.

  “Aww, what can it hurt?” Jonas said. “A little sugar never bothered anybody. And maybe we could use it as a treat. You know, when a dog sits on command, you give it a treat?”

  Her jaw dropped open. “Tony is not a dog.”

  Jonas chuckled. “I was kidding.”

  “Don’t you think we should buy him fresh fruit to snack on?” She lifted one hand. “Or maybe some animal crackers? Something more nourishing than candy.”

  “Oh, nourishing sounds fun!” He grinned when she glared at him. “Okay, okay, we’ll buy fruit, too,” he said, tugging a long row of multicolored lollipops from a hanger. He placed them in the cart and Tony whimpered for one.

  “Got cha covered, little man,” Jonas said, and he proceeded to tear a lollipop from the row and hand it to Tony.

  “But we haven’t paid for that yet,” Robin said.

  “Haven’t you noticed?” Jonas asked her. “All the mothers are doing it. I’m sure the store manager won’t mind if it’s going to keep Tony quiet.”

  She looked around her dubiously, but, sure enough, many
of the mothers had opened boxes of oat cereal, raisins, cookies or candy. Robin saw one young child with a graham cracker in one fist and a piece of banana in the other.

  “Okay,” Robin finally relented, but she saw that her nephew had already been sucking on a grape lollipop long enough for him to dribble purple saliva on the bib of his overalls.

  As they traveled the aisles they discovered what each of them liked to eat. Jonas touted himself as an amateur gourmet chef.

  “That’s good,” Robin remarked, “because I can barely boil water.”

  She told him that her job writing articles for a food magazine made it important for her to eat out. A lot.

  “Doesn’t that get old after a while?” He placed a carton of chicken stock into the cart.

  “It sure does. There are times when I wish I’d never have to see the inside of another restaurant.”

  “Well,” Jonas said, “we’ll fix you some good home cookin’ while you’re here.” He cast her a sidelong glance. “You might even want to spend some time in the kitchen learning from a pro.”

  “Maybe,” she muttered, but she seriously doubted it. The farther she stayed from Jonas, the better.

  When they reached the produce aisle, Robin scanned the shelf of bananas for a bunch that was nice and ripe. Tony just might like to have some sliced up in his oatmeal tomorrow morning. She reached up high and picked six big yellow ones. When she turned to put them in the cart, she saw that Jonas had moved about ten feet from her.

  She froze, her heart in her throat. Tony was standing up in the seat and Jonas was preoccupied with choosing oranges. The baby wobbled, righted himself and then reached out toward the perfectly shaped symmetrical hill of bright yellow lemons in front of him.

  Dear God, please don’t let him fall.

  “Jonas!” she called, “The baby!”

  At least a dozen people turned to stare. Jonas’s eyes widened in horror and he grabbed Tony’s outstretched arm. Robin raced through the maze of fruit and veggie displays.

  Jonas plunked Tony onto his butt in the seat, not noticing that the baby had come away with a fat lemon…from the bottom of the pile. Robin saw three pieces of fruit tumble to the floor, and she threw herself across the entire display, arms outstretched. Lemons continued to fall, plunk, plunk, plunk, where they rolled in crazy circles. With her arms spread wide, she pressed her chest and stomach against the lemons, hoping to keep as many of them as possible from falling off the display.

  With her cheek snug against one huge lemon, Robin moved her eyes and saw Jonas settling Tony into the seat of the cart.

  “Jonas,” she said, but with the lemon poking into her jaw it was impossible for her to speak loud enough to get his attention.

  “Jonas,” she tried again. This time he lifted his head and looked down at where she was sprawled across the display of lemons.

  “Gee, Robin,” he said. “You really shouldn’t hoard all the citrus fruit like that.”

  Robin made to rise from her precarious position. She wanted so badly to knock a knot right on his head, but she felt quite a few of the lemons slide down the yellow tower so she remained with her body plastered against the fruit.

  “I see a woman right over there,” he quipped, “who looks like she wants to make a big pitcher of lemonade.”

  The sound of Jonas’s chuckle grated in her ears.

  If she ever got loose of this fruit she would kill him.

  “Help me, you idiot.”

  “Oh, here comes someone,” he whispered close to her ear. “She looks like she wants to bake a lemon meringue pie. You’d better give over a few lemons.” He straightened up. “Come on, just a few.”

  “So help me, Jonas, when I get up from here, I’m going to…”

  “Is there a problem here, folks?”

  The young man who asked the question stood directly behind her, so she couldn’t see him. But she was so relieved that help had arrived. It was obvious she wasn’t going to get any from Jonas.

  “Yes,” Jonas told him boldly, “the problem is this lady. She won’t let me have any lemons.”

  Robin heard the titters and chortles then and realized that several people had gathered to watch the show. She felt her face flame red-hot and her underarms prickled with perspiration. Jonas was making a spectacle of her. And to think, she’d only dived on the display of fruit so he wouldn’t have lemons bouncing all around his feet.

  “Let me try to help you.”

  The young man’s voice was like manna from heaven. He slipped his hand between her cheek and the fruit. She lifted her head while he steadied the loose lemons. As the man did the same thing to her arm, she realized that Jonas was working on getting her other arm free. Then Jonas slid his hand between her torso and the lemons. The warmth of him skittered across her breasts and her stomach, and she inhaled sharply. Before too many more embarrassing moments passed, Robin stood and gave a sigh of relief. The half dozen or so customers who had stopped to watch applauded her release. Her head dipped as she tried to hide her disgrace.

  But then she realized that a couple of them murmured, “Good job.”

  “Yeah,” the produce worker said. “Thanks for saving my display.”

  These people weren’t making fun of her, she realized. They were praising her. She smiled at them. Then she glowered at Jonas. He wanted to humiliate her, but he’d failed. She mentally ticked one point on the scoreboard for herself.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of yellow. Her gaze darted to Tony just in time to see him raise a big lemon to his mouth and bite down.

  Her lips puckered and her mouth watered just seeing the sour look on the child’s face. Tony blinked several times, his body shuddering involuntarily, and then he handed the lemon over to her.

  “Bad,” he said. Then he wiped his tongue off with his fingers.

  “Here,” she said. “Lick on your lollipop.”

  She guided the grape flavored pop into his mouth and his smile returned.

  “Take this,” she ordered, plunking the mangled lemon into Jonas’s palm. And without looking back, she started off toward the checkout counter.

  Jonas turned to the produce guy, a question in his eyes.

  “Sorry, sir,” the young man said. “You’ll have to buy that.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Jonas stood in the doorway of Tony’s bedroom and gazed at Robin rocking the baby. After Robin had told him exactly what she thought of him in the parking lot of the supermarket, things had gone downhill quickly. She refused to speak to him all the way home. They’d even put away the groceries in silence.

  He hadn’t meant to embarrass her by his joshing in the produce department. He’d thought his wisecracking would pull the attention from her and place it onto himself. But Robin had adamantly believed he’d been trying to make her a laughingstock.

  When she refused to listen to reason, he had nudged her a little with one or two witty remarks. He probably shouldn’t have, but he’d loved to see her dark eyes come alive with all that lightning and thunder. Surprisingly he’d found her anger very tantalizing.

  Their argument would probably still be going on if it hadn’t been for Tony turning cranky. Soon after they’d returned home from the store, the baby began to whine. He couldn’t seem to get comfortable enough to take even a short nap in the afternoon. However, Tony did seem to get some relief when Robin rocked him, as long as Jonas remained nearby. Both Jonas and Robin had come to the conclusion that Tony found security in her hugs because her body was shaped more like Sara’s than Jonas’s was. So, Robin had rocked him for over an hour, and he’d slept fitfully for only a few minutes.

  When he awoke, Jonas and Robin had taken him to the park, hoping that the fresh air would revive his spirits. The trip had been a disaster.

  They had returned home, tried, to no avail, to get Tony to eat some supper, and here they were, hours past the baby’s bedtime, still rocking, still soothing him with gentle words.

  As Jonas watched Robin c
uddle Tony, he thought that one good thing had come of the baby’s cranky spell. Robin looked too damned tired to be angry with him any longer. He thought it ironic that Tony clung to her so, when just this morning he wanted nothing whatsoever to do with her.

  Robin looked up at him, weariness dulling her deep-set brown eyes.

  “Do you think this is something other than g-r-i-e-f?” she asked, spelling out the word as though she were afraid Tony might understand and become even more upset. A silly notion, that. A child his age wouldn’t understand such a complicated and painful concept.

  “Well, Amy did tell us that he cried himself to sleep every night.” Jonas kept his voice as quiet as possible.

  Robin sighed. “But this has been going on since this afternoon.”

  He nodded. “How about if I call Amy and ask her what she thinks?”

  Laying her head back and closing her eyes, Robin said, “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

  Jonas left the room as quietly as possible, knowing that if Tony noticed his disappearance he’d become agitated beyond reason. He grabbed the cordless phone and then Sara and Jeff’s address book from the drawer in the kitchen. He was back upstairs in under a minute.

  He looked up Amy’s number and punched the keys on the telephone pad. It had rung at least a dozen times before he gave up.

  “She’s not home,” he whispered to Robin.

  “Call the pediatrician,” she said.

  “But it’s after hours.”

  “Jonas, we could have a sick little boy on our hands here,” she told him. “Do you know what signs to look for? Has he been acting normal today? Are you confident enough in your judgment to say he hasn’t come down with some illness? Can it hurt to simply ask the doctor’s opinion?”

  “Okay, okay.” Even as he said the words, he flipped through the book to find the doctor’s number.

  He gave the answering service all the information and was told that the doctor would call him within the hour.

  Robin continued to rock the baby in the silent darkness of the bedroom, and Jonas stood in the doorway watching helplessly.

  Finally Tony dozed off with his head resting against Robin’s breast. Jonas thought it was a lovely, peaceful image.