Baby Makes Three: Heartwarming Love and Laughter

by Sharon DeVita

  Maggy nodded her head. She could just imagine Cody sidling up to some poor innocent woman and then dropping his little proposition. He was lucky he hadn’t gotten himself arrested!

  “So you can see why Cody needs your help, dear,” her mother stated calmly. Maggy realized she had to put a stop to this. Immediately. She had lived with a deep-seated dread that one day her mother would get involved in something, or get her involved in something that could quite possibly ruin her career at Miss Avalon’s. Cody and his harebrained scheme just might be the thing to do it.

  “Mother,” she said gently, genuine regret in her voice. “I sympathize with Cody and his problem. But there’s no way I can accept this award for him. Nor can I help him find a woman to do it. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Besides, it’s just not logical, rational, or even sensible.” She tried to soften her words. “What he wants to do is very noble, and I sympathize with him, but I simply can’t help.” She saw the disappointment on her mother’s face, and regret raced through her. If the blasted man’s reasons hadn’t been so darn honorable, she probably would have already tossed him out on his ear. But knowing why Cody wanted her help made it more difficult to say no.

  Her mother clucked her tongue, and Bobby, who had been quietly playing on the floor, mimicked the sound. “Dear.” Her mother heaved a maudlin sigh. “Must you be so logical and sensible all the time? It’s a bit annoying, you know. If you’re not careful, you’ll become as persnickety as Miss Barklay.”

  “Persnickety!” Maggy’s temper flared. They were not going to make her the proverbial bad guy in this little drama. Not this time. “Mother, you know very well if Miss Barklay—”

  “Miss Barklay!” One silver brow rose as Elizabeth shuddered, drawing out the woman’s name as if Henrietta Barklay were something that had crawled out of a long-closed jar. “That woman has the disposition of a goat! Come to think of it, she looks like one, too! I don’t know why you let that woman intimidate you. What does she know about life? Nothing, absolutely nothing! Henrietta Barklay’s been tiptoeing through life, hoping to get safely to her grave. And the way things are going she just might make it!” Sniffing loudly, Elizabeth let loose another mournful sigh, and Maggy had to resist the urge to roll her eyes toward the heavens. Her mother’s theatrics were legendary, on and off the stage.

  “Seems to me, dear, you’d listen to your own mother before you’d listen to her. Just for once, Maggy,” her mother pleaded, her tone softening. “Can’t you let your heart rule your head?”

  It was an age-old battle that she and her mother’d had for years. While her mother lustily grabbed what life had to offer and ran with it, always letting her heart rule her head, Maggy tended to play it safe, letting her head rule her heart.

  Because of the safety and security of her position at the academy, Maggy had never allowed herself to venture outside the structured boundaries of acceptable, correct behavior. She had been content, until now.

  But watching her mother happily playing with Bobby, Maggy realized that just this once she’d like to be more like her mother. Just this once she’d like to do something without worrying about the consequences.

  While she loved her job and her career, at times she resented the restrictions placed on her life, not just professionally but personally, as well. And this was one of those times, she realized, refusing to admit that her feelings had anything to do with the man sitting across the room from her with the mischievous smile and the devilish eyes.

  She had always played by the rules, and it was clear that Cody, like her mother, was in the habit of breaking them.

  Just this once…temptation taunted Maggy.

  Then reason took over. She was tired of her mother treating her like the proverbial killjoy. Maggy glanced at her mother and felt her resolve tumble like pins in a bowling alley. Damn!

  “I’m sorry, Mother,” Maggy said quickly, before she could change her mind. Someone in this family had to keep their wits about them and remain calm and sensible, and quite clearly it wasn’t going to be her mother. “I simply can’t do it.”

  “Just this once, dear,” her mother implored. “Couldn’t you forget that hatchet-faced boss of—”

  “Easy, Elizabeth, don’t be so hard on her,” Cody admonished, causing Maggy to look up at him in surprise. His blue eyes were waiting for hers, glistening in understanding. Maggy uttered a short sigh. The last thing she expected was for him to take her side. She couldn’t help the sudden piquing of interest that welled up inside her or the rush of guilt. Why did doing the right thing suddenly make her feel so wrong?

  “Maggy’s got her reasons,” Cody went on. “She’s logical and sensible, and those are very admirable qualities.” He flashed Maggy a conspiratorial wink as he pulled himself out of the chair. His movements were slow and deceptively casual, yet Maggy found she couldn’t tear her eyes from Cody’s rugged grace. His jeans clung in all the right places, and Maggy’s heart did a free-fall as she watched him draw himself upright and stretch his long legs.

  “I’m thirty-five years old,” Cody went on, unaware of her scrutiny. “And I haven’t done a logical, sensible thing in my life. I guess if I had I wouldn’t have gotten myself into this mess in the first place. Now would I?”

  Did he have to be so nice? Maggy wondered in disgust. She didn’t want or need his understanding. If the man had gotten mad or furious, maybe then she wouldn’t have felt so bad. As it was, she felt awful. She had let down her mother, probably robbed an innocent child of an education and disappointed a perfectly normal, charming man. And all in the space of one afternoon! Guilt washed over her like a morning shower.

  “Mags,” Cody said gently, crossing the room to stand in front of her. “Don’t feel guilty.”

  Her eyes flew to his. How did he do that? she wondered crossly. He had read her thoughts as if they had sprouted legs and were marching single file across her forehead. “I understand. And so does your mother. Don’t you, Elizabeth?” he prompted. Her mother gave a disdainful snort.

  “Don’t worry.” Cody lifted her chin with one finger and Maggy’s eyes reluctantly found his again. Shivers of delight rolled up her spine, leaving her feeling weak and warm. Taking a deep breath to clear her clouded brain, all she succeeded in doing was filling herself with his scent. No flowery perfume for this man. Cody smelled clean, fresh and totally male. “Bobby and I will manage,” he promised, making Maggy swallow hard. “We always have.” He smiled down at her. “I promised your mother here a night on the town, so if you don’t mind, I guess I’ll go get changed.” With a wink, Cody pivoted on his heel and sauntered out of the living room. His loose-limbed stride caused his hips to roll in a way that was utterly appealing. Unable to drag her eyes away, Maggy watched him, allowing herself that one small pleasure. Oh, how this man could complicate her life, if she allowed it—which of course she wouldn’t, she resolved firmly.

  “Are you going to help Cody find a woman or not?” Elizabeth demanded after Cody had left.

  “Mother.” Maggy gingerly rubbed her now throbbing forehead. Her nerves felt as taut as the twine on a trussed turkey. “Please try to understand. I just can’t.”

  “Are you sure?” Elizabeth inquired testily, rising with Bobby in her arms.

  “Yes, Mother.” Sighing, Maggy shook her head, trying to drive Cody’s presence from her mind and to pay attention to her mother. “I’m sorry.”

  “Very well, dear. In that case I suggest you cancel your plans for tonight.”

  Maggy instantly came to attention, wondering what misadventure her mother had planned for her now.

  “Why?” she queried, trying not to be suspicious.

  “Because if you’re not going to help Cody find a woman, I am. And the least you can do,” Elizabeth said crossly, plopping Bobby in Maggy’s lap, “is babysit!”

  Chapter Three

  “Baby-sit!” Maggy cried, struggling to get out of the chair and hold on to the child at the same time. “Mother! I’m not a nanny. And
you know very well I don’t know anything about—” Maggy frantically glanced down at Bobby “—babies,” she finally whispered. She knew a lot about children, schoolchildren, but literally nothing about the care of a toddler.

  “Then maybe it’s about time you learned,” Elizabeth said sweetly, patting her daughter’s cheek. “It will make you a well-rounded person, dear.”

  “I don’t want to be a well-rounded—”

  “Ma-ma,” Bobby gurgled again, and Maggy stopped abruptly to look at the child. He really was beautiful, and she felt a tug at her heart, wondering where the child’s real mother was. Bobby wound an arm around her neck, stuck his thumb in his mouth and snuggled close to her. Instinctively her arms enfolded him.

  “What is he doing?” Maggy asked, fascinated.

  “I believe he’s sucking his thumb,” Elizabeth replied smartly.

  “Why doesn’t he have any clothing on?” Maggy asked, her curiosity getting the best of her as she studied the near-naked child. He was so soft and warm and pink!

  “Because he doesn’t like clothing,” Elizabeth informed her. “Now don’t worry, dear, you’re a reasonably intelligent, logical woman, surely even you can manage to take care of a baby for a few hours. Have a good evening, dear.” Elizabeth turned and swept from the room, and Maggy developed an instant distaste for the word “logical.”

  “Mother!” she cried, holding Bobby as if he were a piece of fine china. “Mother! You can’t be serious!” She knew her mother, and her instincts told her she was up to no good. Maggy didn’t know which appalled her more: the fact that her mother and Cody were going to go gallivanting around town on their own, to do Lord knows what, or the fact that she was going to be left home, holding the…baby.

  “Mother,” Maggy called through clenched teeth. “This isn’t funny. Mother!” She must have startled the child, because he let loose an ear-piercing wail. “Shh,” she cooed, giving him an awkward pat on the bare backside. “Don’t cry,” Maggy implored. As his wails increased, he drove his fingers deep into the back of her hair, tangling the silky mane. “Please don’t cry!” Maggy winced, trying to untangle his hands and soothe him at the same time. She realized almost immediately that patting his behind had been a mistake.

  “Oh, my word!” Abruptly Maggy pulled her now damp hand away from Bobby’s backside and gently eased him away from her. A dark, wet stain was racing across the front of her previously immaculate blouse and jacket. “Damn!” she whispered, wondering what he had done. Logically, she knew full well what he had done. All over her.

  “Damn,” Bobby repeated and Maggy’s eyes widened. Good gracious, no one had ever told her babies were mimics! She had been with him all of two minutes and already had taught him a new word. This was not exactly a smashing beginning. A soggy beginning, perhaps, she mused as her sense of humor took over.

  “Shh,” she cautioned again, raising a finger to her lips. “You mustn’t say that,” she instructed, wondering what his father would say when he heard she had taught him a new word.

  “Damn,” Bobby repeated again with absolute delight.

  Struggling not to laugh, Maggy marched into the kitchen for some paper towels. She peeled the child’s reluctant arms away from her neck in order to sit him down on a chair. But once he was seated, Maggy realized that with his mobility it would only take a second for him to scramble down or fall. She couldn’t take a chance on him getting hurt. Gingerly lifting his bottom off the chair, she decided to seat him on the floor. “Sit here for a minute, would you, Sport?”

  Bobby favored her with a smile, and she hesitantly smiled back. He really was a very cute kid, she decided. Wet, but cute.

  Grabbing a wad of paper towels, Maggy shrugged out of her suit coat, kicked off her pumps and tried to dry off her blouse as best she could. Dissatisfied with the job, she loosened her scarf and sent it sailing in Bobby’s direction. “Here, Sport, this ought to keep you busy while I clean myself up.” Bobby tried to catch the scarf in midair, his chubby fingers catching just enough of it to send it sailing again. He crawled after it, giggling happily as he went.

  Satisfied that the child would be occupied for at least the next few minutes, Maggy undid the first three buttons of her blouse. Keeping an eye on the child, she blotted the fabric inside and out, then reached down for Bobby to dry him off, too. Lifting him in the air, she wrinkled her nose as she got a good whiff of him. “No offense, Sport.” She chuckled. “But you smell like a puppy. I think you need a bath.”

  “Baff,” Bobby gurgled.

  “Mother?” she called, to no avail. “Mother!” Realizing she had been left alone to sink or swim, Maggy looked around the kitchen. Her vast education hadn’t included Babies 101 and she had no idea what to bathe him in. The bathtub was out of the question. The tub was too big and Bobby too small. She was willing to admit that the idea of placing the small child in a large tub filled with water scared her senseless. What if he slipped? What if he swallowed water? Certainly a child his size needed something a bit smaller.

  “Baff, now!” Bobby demanded, trying to squirm loose from her arms.

  “In a minute, Sport.” Maggy crossed the kitchen, and holding Bobby like a football, she dropped the stopper in the sink and turned on the water, filling the sink halfway. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. Testing the water with a finger and satisfied that it was suitable, she gingerly placed the toddler in the sink.

  Certainly even she could manage to give a child a bath, she reassured herself. After all, she’d been bathing herself for twenty-five years without any catastrophes. Bathing a baby certainly couldn’t be any more difficult. Could it?

  As Maggy grabbed a bar of soap, Bobby’s chubby fingers reached out for the uncapped bottle of dish detergent. He tightened his fingers around the plastic bottle and Maggy let out a squeal as a crooked stream of soap and bubbles assaulted her.

  “Bobby!” she cried, trying to hang on to him and grab the bottle at the same time.

  He giggled gleefully, twisting his hands out of her reach. He was having too much fun to let go of his new toy.

  “Please release that!” Maggy cried, trying without success to release Bobby’s grip. Her hands were wet and her grasp slippery. It wasn’t until he had sprayed her hair, face and most of her blouse that she managed to wrestle the bottle away from him.

  “More bubbles,” he wailed, slapping and splashing her with water.

  “No more bubbles,” she said firmly, ducking the steady stream of water he sent in her direction. Blowing a wad of soggy blond hair out of her eyes, Maggy quickly soaped the child down and rinsed him off.

  “Out we go, Sport,” she announced, grabbing Bobby firmly under the arms and lifting him out of the sink.

  “More baff,” Bobby insisted, waving his wet arms and kicking his feet.

  “No more baff—I mean bath,” she corrected. “You’re sufficiently clean,” she announced imperiously, trying to use her arms to wipe at her eyes. “And so am I.” She gave his little body a gentle shake, and then realized that although he had smelled like a puppy, it would take a good deal more than a shake to get him dry. But what was she supposed to dry him with? she wondered, as she cradled his soaked body against her.

  Her eyes darted frantically around the kitchen. A dish towel was hanging from a rack, but it was across the room. In order to retrieve it she’d have to hang on to Bobby, keep her balance on the floor that was now streaked with water and cross the room with the child in tow without falling. No, she decided, with a shake of her head, it was much too far and she was too inexperienced even to attempt such a fate.

  Grabbing the roll of paper towels, Maggy ripped off several sheets. “This will have to do, Sport,” she announced, handing him the roll of toweling to keep him occupied. Immediately she realized it was the wrong thing to do. With her hands full of him, Bobby proceeded to unroll the paper toweling.

  “Stop!” Maggy cried, fighting her way out from under a mountain of paper and wondering how anyone with
only two hands ever managed to give a baby a bath.

  “Sport eat now?” Bobby asked, yawning and looking up at her with wide blue eyes.

  “In a minute, honey,” Maggy said, reaching out to brush his dark hair out of his eyes. She was surprised at how downy soft his hair was and threaded her fingers through it again. For a moment she looked at him as a strange feeling took flight inside her. She had heard and read all about maternal longings, particularly in women of her age, but until this moment had never imagined them affecting her. She had been so busy in her career that the idea of a family and a home of her own had never really meant anything to her. Until now.

  Without thinking, she lifted Bobby close, burying her nose in the warm cavern of his neck just to see what it would feel like. He was so soft and smelled so sweet. Gently she kissed the folds of his neck, then kissed him again as he let loose a giggle.

  “Sport eat now?” he repeated, pulling away. Maggy chuckled softly.

  “Yes, Sport eat now.”

  “Damn,” Bobby repeated, as she walked barefoot to the refrigerator. Maggy laughed again, hugging Bobby close.

  Deciding it was best not to admonish him or repeat his new word, she opened the refrigerator door and searched for something suitable for him to eat. What did one feed a two-year-old? She didn’t even know if he had any teeth. If her mother was to be believed, he didn’t.

  “I don’t suppose you’d open your mouth so I could see what’s inside, would you?” Maggy asked, laughing at her own outrageousness. She didn’t really expect the child to answer her, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt to ask.

  “Nothing special in his mouth, Mags,” Cody announced from the doorway. “Nothing, that is, except teeth. He’s got quite a few, so I don’t recommend you put your fingers anywhere near because he just might take a bite. He can be cranky when he’s hungry.” Cody grinned as his eyes slowly took inventory of her disheveled state. “He takes after me,” he said slowly, and Maggy’s heart stalled somewhere in her chest.