Brynn had given up hope years ago, and now was embarrassed she’d gone along with the farce instead of walking away.
The kettle whistled, and she poured the steaming water over a fresh tea bag that she’d placed in Francesca’s mug, ignoring the way her fingers shook. The porcelain had a cheery band of snowmen circling it. Money had always been tight, and Brynn prided herself on the holiday decorations she’d purchased from thrift stores and garage sales, making their small house festive each season. Making things appear normal, even when they were anything but.
“The baby looks like a girl version of Tyler at four months,” she said softly. “Don’t pretend like you can’t see the resemblance.” She forced her gaze to Nick’s. “She looks like her daddy.”
He blew out an unsteady breath. “I hate this. I hate that he’s done this to you. Obviously, Francesca is struggling, but I want to escort her to the town limits and tell her not to come back. I want it all to go away.”
“You can’t always get what you want,” she answered, the decades-old song lyric somehow the story of her life.
“Tell me about it,” Nick muttered, and the past curled between them like a plume of smoke, thick enough to choke her.
“She’s alone.” As Brynn picked up the mug, she concentrated on the warmth that seeped into her fingers. “Alone and scared. I’m not going to ignore her. That baby—Remi—is Tyler’s sister.”
“You’re always a good person,” he said, and his tone made the words sound like an accusation.
“I’m as human as everyone else,” she told him. “You didn’t turn her away, either.”
“I wish I had.”
“Stop. I know you don’t mean it, Nick. You’ll help her.”
“I’ll help you, Brynn. I’m here for you.”
Those simple words, more than anything else, made emotion clog her throat, but she pushed it away. If she allowed the vulnerability locked up inside her any room to breathe, it might bloom and grow and crowd out everything else.
She moved toward the hallway that led to the dining room situated at the front of the house. “This mess is on Daniel, but I’ve got to clean it up.”
“We,” he corrected. “Even if I wasn’t your friend, I have a duty as a public servant to help someone in need.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly but stopped at the dining room threshold, swallowing back a soft groan of empathy.
Francesca had moved to the wingback chair that sat in the corner of the room. In her arms, baby Remi was noisily slurping down a bottle of formula while her mother dozed. Francesca had propped a pillow underneath the arm that cradled the baby and the tiny girl didn’t seem to notice that her exhausted mama had fallen asleep.
“Poor thing,” Brynn murmured, remembering countless overnight feedings with Tyler. She’d breastfed, and Tyler hadn’t taken a bottle until he was nearly a year old. It had been the two of them in the quiet nights and she’d woken any number of times with her baby in her arms after falling asleep for a few minutes.
“She looks exhausted,” Nick said. “I don’t think becoming a mother has been easy for her.”
Francesca was a couple years younger than Brynn according to what she’d told them. She worked as a waitress in a chain steak restaurant outside of Seattle. She’d met Daniel on one of his insurance sales trips into the city. He’d gotten a promotion a year and a half ago and those overnight forays to Seattle had become more frequent. Given his history, Brynn probably should have questioned him, but she’d enjoyed the evenings with Tyler when the tension of her marriage wasn’t a palpable force in the room.
She placed the mug of tea on the table and approached Francesca and the baby. Remi looked content as she ate, her skin pink and a layer of downy hair covering her small head. She was nearly five months old, born only two weeks after her father’s death.
Brynn’s heart pinched at the baby’s resemblance to her own son. She didn’t relish the thought of explaining this situation to Tyler but hoped the idea of having a younger sister would ease the transition. Most people might think she was a fool, but this baby was a part of Daniel and that made her a part of Tyler. Brynn couldn’t know whether helping her son to forge a relationship with his half sister would benefit him, but her heart told her it was the right thing to do.
If only Brynn had trusted her heart more often, she might not be in this situation in the first place.
“Hey,” she whispered, touching a gentle hand to the woman’s knee.
Francesca blinked several times before her gaze met Brynn’s, panic and fatigue swirling like a cyclone. She glanced at the baby in her arms, almost as if she were surprised to find the child there.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s been a day. I should go. I have a long drive back home.”
“You can stay here tonight,” Brynn offered without thinking about it.
She heard and ignored Nick’s sharp intake of breath. “I’ll get her a room at the Starlight Inn,” he said in his official chief-of-police voice.
His commanding tone might work on some people—Francesca looked vaguely terrified—but it didn’t faze Brynn.
“Don’t be silly. We have a guest bedroom all made up.”
“Are you sure?” Francesca asked, moving the bottle away from little Remi, who whimpered in protest.
Brynn thought about it for a moment, and for the first time since the accident, a sense of peace settled over her. Maybe it was the holiday spirit of generosity, but she knew taking in this lonely, frightened woman and her baby was the right thing to do.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Thank you.” Francesca’s voice shook as she dashed a hand across her cheeks. “Also, I’m sorry I had to be a part of Daniel hurting you. I’m sorry I believed the things he said.”
“It’s fine,” Brynn assured the woman. “If you’d like, I can hold Remi for a few minutes while you get ready for bed? We could all use a decent night’s sleep.”
“Okay.” Francesca didn’t hesitate to hand over her daughter. “She probably needs her diaper changed.”
Brynn sighed as the baby curled her hand into the front of Brynn’s shirt. “I can handle that.”
She purposely didn’t look at Nick as she showed Francesca the guest bedroom and the hallway bathroom where she kept extra toiletries. Francesca hadn’t brought an overnight bag but insisted she felt more comfortable sleeping in her clothes than borrowing pajamas from Brynn.
She gave the other woman a few minutes of privacy and returned to the dining room for the diaper bag.
Nick was waiting for her. “You can’t do this,” he said, arms crossed over his chest. “She’s a stranger. You don’t invite a stranger into your home.”
“Thanks for your opinion,” she answered, “and your work here is done. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Brynn, listen to me.”
“Nick, look at the baby.” She turned toward him fully. “She’s Tyler’s sister. Her mother is in a bad way, and I didn’t get one weird vibe off her other than she was overwhelmed and tired as all get-out. I remember those feelings. I still feel them most days. I’m not sending her away.”
He stared at her so intensely that heat crept into her cheeks. “I’m running a background check on her before I head home, and I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Unnecessary,” she muttered.
“Humor me, Brynn. Please.”
Darn him and his manners. “I’ll text you when we’re awake.”
He looked like he wanted to say more, but Remi sniffed and let out a cry. “She needs a diaper change.”
“Call me if you need anything. I don’t care what time it is.”
Brynn nodded and let him out the front door, locking it behind him. After putting a fresh diaper on Remi, she lifted the baby into her arms again and snuggled the child closer. She didn’t know what
would come next but had no doubt this little girl was about to change everything.
Chapter Four
“Mommy.”
Brynn blinked awake at the sound of Tyler’s voice. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, she held out her arms to her son. Just after six in the morning. Too early when it felt like it had taken hours for her to fall asleep last night.
“Did you have a bad dream, buddy?” She scooted over on the mattress to make room, but Tyler didn’t climb in with her.
“I think Santa Claus came early,” he told her, his voice solemn. He wore a stegosaurus T-shirt and striped pajamas that were too short for him now, although she’d bought them only a couple of months ago at the change of seasons. Often her days seemed interminably long, but time sped by when she marked it by her son’s growth. His thick brown hair stuck up in sleep-mottled tufts, as it had almost every morning since he was a toddler.
Brynn commanded her fuzzy, sentimental brain to snap to it as she sat up in the bed. She couldn’t imagine Francesca was already awake with how exhausted the woman had appeared last night, but if Remi had woken in the guest room downstairs, Tyler might have heard the baby crying.
This moment was what had kept Brynn awake. How would she tell her son that he had a half sister, let alone that the baby and her mother had ended up in Starlight? But the past five months had taught Brynn she was capable of handling more than she could have ever guessed.
“Did you hear something, Ty? I can explain—”
“Santa left us a baby,” her son explained. “Under the tree.”
A baby under the tree? Brynn was out of bed in an instant, panic blooming fast and hard in her chest.
“Someone spent the night here,” she said, as she took Tyler’s hand and tugged him forward. “A...um...friend of your daddy’s. She has a baby, so it wasn’t Santa. Did you see a grown-up, sweetie? I’m sorry. I thought I’d be awake to introduce you but—”
“Just the baby.” Tyler followed her down the stairs, his fingers gripping hers tightly.
“Francesca?” Brynn called, as they got to the bottom of the steps. Silence greeted her. “Maybe she’s in the bathroom or she went to her car for something.”
“You’re the only grown-up here.”
Brynn shook her head. That simply wasn’t possible.
But there was Remi, under the tree in her infant seat, small feet kicking as she contentedly sucked on two fingers. Brynn’s panic morphed into a heavy sense of foreboding when she saw the folded slip of paper tucked into the padding next to the baby girl.
“Francesca?” she called again, even though at this point she didn’t expect a response.
She let go of Tyler and dropped to her knees on the carpet in front of the tree. The baby’s rosebud mouth curved into a smile when her sweet brown eyes fixed on Brynn. With trembling fingers, Brynn opened the paper and read the message written in a shaky scrawl.
Her lungs constricted as reality wrapped around her in a choke hold. Francesca was gone. According to the note, she’d left in the middle of the night, certain Remi would be better off without her since becoming a mother hadn’t been part of Francesca’s plan until the pregnancy happened.
“We should get her up,” Tyler suggested, nudging Brynn’s shoulder. “She’s squirming like she wants out.”
“That’s a good idea, sweetie,” Brynn said, trying not to sound as panicked as she felt. Was Francesca a danger to herself? What time had she left the house? How far had she gotten?
The baby gurgled happily as Brynn lifted her from the infant seat, kicking her legs and waving her arms. Brynn’s heart felt like it was about to beat out of her rib cage.
“I wonder what her name is,” Tyler said, smiling at the baby.
“Remi.” Brynn ruffled her son’s mop of hair. “Her name is Remi. The note said there are bottles for her on the counter. Let’s see if she’s hungry, and I’m going to call Nick and ask for his help with finding her mommy.”
“Her mommy probably misses her already.” Tyler led the way to the kitchen. “Did Daddy know Remi?”
“No,” Brynn whispered, then cleared her throat. “She was born after your dad died.”
There was so much about this situation she couldn’t understand. How on earth would she explain it to a ten-year-old child? Instead of allowing herself to become overwhelmed, she did what she did best and focused on what she could control in the present moment.
Warming a bottle and feeding a hungry baby topped the list. Even as she heated water, Brynn was aware of the seconds ticking by. Every minute that elapsed was more time with Francesca out on her own, either getting farther away or potentially a danger to herself.
Brynn wasn’t an expert on postpartum depression, but she certainly understood how it felt to be desperate and afraid of not being able to handle your own life.
When the water was the right temperature, she mixed the formula and moved toward a chair.
“Can I feed her, Mommy?” Tyler asked, still at her side.
“Sure, bud. Let’s take her back to the family room because it will be easier for you to hold her on the couch. Babies seem small, but they get heavy in your arms.”
“I’m strong.” He scratched his belly as he walked next to her.
“Don’t I know it,” she murmured under her breath.
Brynn snatched her phone from the charger on the counter. Once she had Tyler settled with Remi, who still had yet to fuss, she showed him how to tip up the bottle to prevent pockets of air from forming.
She helped guide the nipple to the baby’s mouth, and once Remi had begun to enthusiastically suck, Brynn sat back.
“She’s hungry,” Tyler said with a smile, as he glanced between Brynn and the baby. “Me, too. Will you make me a waffle?”
“Of course. Let me text Nick first.” She figured texting might be easier at this point because that way Tyler wouldn’t hear the thread of alarm she doubted she could keep from her voice.
Forcing her features to remain calm for Tyler, she typed out a series of short messages to Nick that explained the situation and that she didn’t want to talk about details in front of Tyler. Then she took a quick photo of Francesca’s letter and forwarded it. Almost immediately, three little dots popped up on the screen alerting her Nick was responding.
Brynn could barely contain a relieved sob when the first message came through.
On my way.
She might want to keep her distance from Nick on a personal level, but Brynn knew he was a good police chief and trusted his judgment implicitly.
She placed her phone on the coffee table. Now that Nick was involved, she felt safe to focus her energy entirely on the baby.
“She’s taken about half the bottle, so it’s time to burp her.” She reached for Remi, but Tyler handed her the bottle instead.
“Tell me what to do, Mommy.”
Tears stung the corners of Brynn’s eyes at how much Tyler seemed to like taking care of the little girl. “Put her over your shoulder while supporting her head and gently tap on her back.” Brynn shifted closer, ready to help if the boy needed it.
He did as she said, and a few moments later Remi let out a massive belch that made both of them laugh.
When was the last time she’d heard her son’s sweet laugh?
“She puked on me.” Tyler made a face as he turned to look at his shoulder.
“Only a little spit up,” Brynn assured him. “I’ll grab a towel to clean you up.”
By the time she returned, Tyler had the baby back on his lap. Remi stared up at him with wide eyes, like she’d never seen anything so fascinating. Then her face lit up with a gummy smile that Tyler returned with a broad grin of his own.
“She’s pretty cute, even with the puking.”
“You were adorable, too,” Brynn told him, wiping the puddle from his shirt. “And you had
horrible reflux that made you spit up all the time.”
“Do all babies look alike?” His grip was sure as he held on to Remi. Brynn gave him the bottle and he tipped it up so the baby could finish it.
“Not all of them.”
“This one looks like I did.” He pointed to a framed photo that sat on the bookshelf next to the mantel. He’d been six months old when the picture was taken, only about a month older than Remi.
“She does,” Brynn said softly, not sure when or how to share the reason for the resemblance. This moment felt too soon, too fragile. There was too much unknown to drop a bombshell in the middle of it.
“She smells funny.” Tyler wrinkled his nose.
“I’ll change her diaper when she’s done with the bottle.” Brynn winked at him. “Unless you want to try that, as well.”
“Nope.”
“I don’t blame you.” She rose from the sofa. “I’m going to get your breakfast ready and then I’ll take her from you. Okay?”
Tyler nodded, his attention focused on the child in his arms once again.
Brynn mentally calculated how long until Nick arrived as she toasted a waffle and started the coffeepot. She ran a hand through her hair, irritated that despite the chaos of the morning she still thought about how she must look. Tired, terrified and quite possibly like she’d been dragged to hell and back.
Too bad, she chided herself. She shouldn’t—wouldn’t—care what Nick thought of her appearance. Caring about Nick could only lead to more pain and she had more than her fill already.
* * *
Nick repeated the make and model of Francesca’s car to the dispatcher and then disconnected the call as he parked in front of Brynn’s house.
The sky was beginning to lighten, with shades of pink and purple stretching above him like slender fingers. He’d driven his truck instead of the department’s Bronco this morning, but didn’t doubt for a second the news of him paying an early-morning visit to Brynn Hale would be all over town by the time most people had finished breakfast.
His Last-Chance Christmas Family Page 4