A Bachelor, a Boss and a Baby

by Rachel Lee

  Diane drew a sharp breath. “Oh, Blaine, really? But what about your other brothers and sisters? Surely they’d have noticed if something was wrong?”

  He shook his head. “They’re scattered all over the EU now. You go where the jobs are. So Mam is essentially on her own in Galway.”

  Diane resisted an urge to reach out for his hand. “Friends? She must have friends.”

  “She certainly used to. Neighbors have moved away over the years, but there was always church. My mother was one of those who had a string of rosary beads in her hand most of the time, went to Mass every single morning, did a lot with parish events.”

  Diane nodded slowly. “And now?”

  “Not so much. I asked her last time I was there, what about church? Daily Mass? She said she went when she felt like it. That doesn’t sound like her. I asked the others to check it out, but they’re not seeing any more than I am. Mam’s lost interest in the church. She wouldn’t be the only Irish person to do that since the scandals, but her faith was something different. At least I thought it was.”

  Diane bit her lip. “Could she be ill?”

  “She doesn’t appear to be. And I might be overreacting since I’m so far away. Natural, maybe, that when a new man appears in your mother’s life you get a little uneasy.”

  Diane could understand his worry. The situation would generate concern. “Have you tried talking to her about it?”

  He tilted his head. “I believe we all have. She insists she’s quite happy. I’m probably worrying entirely too much. She hasn’t married the bloke, and the family silver is still in the drawer where she’s always kept it. It’s likely everything is fine and there’s no reason for any of us to wonder about it. Perhaps we’re all just having trouble seeing a stranger where Da used to be.”

  She nodded, thinking it over. Of course, she knew nothing at all about the real situation, so what did she have to offer? A word of sympathy? Then something he had said struck her. “You have family silver?”

  A grin slashed across his face. “Sounds all important like, doesn’t it? Like we must be descended from landed gents or something. But it’s just a few small tarnished pieces, come down through generations and no one knows from where. Maybe an ancestor who worked in one of the grand English houses as a maid and lifted a piece from time to time.”

  “Oh, I like that story.”

  He laughed. “Believe me, it’s the likeliest way a Harrigan could have come by some silver.” He rose. “I’ve got to be on my way, Ms. Finch. There’s a darts game waiting for me at the pub...er, bar, and I mustn’t be late. Shall I come by in the morning to help with the rest of the furniture?”

  * * *

  It had taken Blaine a while to settle into Conard County. As friendly as the place was, like in many small communities, you needed to be around for a while to be accepted as a local—or rather, almost a local. He fancied he might just be arriving at that exalted place.

  He hoped he was helping ease Diane’s way into all this. Remarkable woman, he thought, not for the first time. Not so much for deciding to take on this position and moving here to the middle of everything—or the middle of nowhere, depending on your measure. No, what impressed him was that she’d so readily taken on her cousin’s child, and at the most inconvenient time imaginable, just as she was starting a new job and having to move away from everyone she knew.

  Of course, it probably helped her admirability factor that she displayed such an attractive bundle of curves.

  That was a thought he quashed quickly, steering away from it with long practice. If he wanted a woman, it would be best to look far enough away that no one here would know about it, unless he was prepared to ignore the constant interest from the local denizens.

  He’d experienced his share of that in Galway. ’twas a big enough city, but within it were smaller communities who’d lived together for generations. Hard to keep any secret there, and hard to ignore all the unwanted advice.

  There was still some feuding left over from the days when the place had been ruled by the tribes. Wealthy, powerful and...aw, to hell with it. To this day people traded on their relationship with one tribe or another.

  A certain drawer with silver in it might even go back to all that.

  But as he climbed out of his vehicle and strode toward Mahoney’s, he pushed away thoughts of home. Darts tonight, after a pleasant evening spent with a pleasant young woman and her darling babe... Could a man ask for much more?

  Oh, yeah, he thought as he pulled the door open and the sound of voices and music poured out along with the familiar scent of stale beer and even some smoke. A man could ask for a whole lot more.

  He just hadn’t been in the asking mood for a very long time.

  Not since Ailis. Nor did he want to be thinking of that woman right now.

  He’d barely crossed the threshold before a green bottle of chilled ale was thrust into his hand, and Dan Casey, a local deputy, was urging him toward the group gathered at tables around the dartboard. He was greeted with waves of the hand and voices asking where the hell he’d been. Most of the men he played darts with were county employees, whether sheriff’s deputies or road workers or firemen. It made for some interesting conversation to go with a couple of late-night beers. They usually shut the place down around one in the morning.

  Like back at home. Here he truly felt the comfort of long familiarity, as if he were at his local pub in Galway.

  With one difference. He had his own very expensive set of tungsten-tipped darts. He’d never been able to afford them before, but now he could. When he pulled the black leather case out of his hip pocket, he heard Jake Madison say, “Ooh, look out now. The man’s come fully armed.”

  Loud laughter ran around the room, and Blaine returned it with a grin. “Been sharpening my points, you gobboxes. We’re ready to go.”

  Except that Diane kept drifting through his thoughts, her and the baby, and his concentration failed him from time to time.

  He wasn’t going home the winner tonight. Nor did he care.

  Chapter Five

  Saturday morning.

  Rising early because he’d promised to put together some baby furniture today, Blaine stopped by the diner to rustle up a couple of breakfasts that included cinnamon rolls, a box of buttered toast just in case and a couple of tall lattes. He liked a coffee from time to time himself, and he suspected Diane did, as well. Something about the way she made tea persuaded him that the drip coffeemaker on her counter probably wasn’t there for show.

  Maude’s daughter Mavis, a clone of her mother, put the takeout in a bag for him and sent him on his way.

  This morning, the nip of early autumn had at last arrived. He enjoyed the crisp air and freely admitted he didn’t always miss the grayer, wetter and cooler climate in which he’d grown up. Oh, he missed going on out the fishing boat sometimes, and spending a hard day bringing in a catch they could sell. His two brothers had leased out their da’s boat to a family they’d grown up with. The Quinns. Hard, dangerous work was fishing, and the seas the more dangerous for being so far north in strong currents. The Quinn boys were working their butts off, but according to his brother Liam, they were only a couple of years from paying the boat off. Good on ’em.

  In some ways life had been harder back when his family depended on fishing, but better, too. There’d even occasionally been enough extra money for all the kids to go to the flicks. What grand times those had been.

  He was halfway to Diane’s little house when his cell rang. Dang, he hoped it wasn’t something urgent, but a quick glance told him it was Diane. All right, then. He’d be there in three minutes, so no point pulling over to answer. He wondered if she wanted to postpone for some reason.

  He was smiling as he knocked on Diane’s door. When it opened his jaw dropped a bit. Her hair was going every which way, her robe was belted crookedly and in t
he crook of her arm was a rigid, screaming, red-faced Daphne.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Forget an invitation. He moved inside, causing her to step back. “I’ll just put the breakfast and coffee on the table, shall I? Then you tell me what that child is doing.”

  “Screaming,” she said as she followed him into the kitchen. “I don’t know, Blaine. She woke me up shortly after six, and I haven’t been able to figure out anything to calm her. Diaper change didn’t help, she didn’t want to eat when I offered the bottle, I’m not sure if she feels warm or if that’s just the screaming. I’m worried.”

  He turned. “I gather.” If he hadn’t seen it in her face, he’d have recognized it in her voice. Tight with apprehension. Edged with exhaustion. Then he reached out and took Daphne from her. The girl’s stiffness shook him a bit, too, but it wasn’t the first time he’d seen an infant resemble a post. Any serious discomfort could do that, but it didn’t always mean anything bad.

  A series of questions needed answering. “How was her stool? Unusual in any way?”

  Apparently such discussions were new to her, because her eyes widened and her jaw dropped a shade. If Daphne hadn’t been so distressed, he might have laughed. “You’ve got three forms of communication with an infant, Diane—what exactly is coming out of either end and are they screaming like bloody hell. Let’s start with the bottom. We already know about the screaming.”

  “Her diaper seemed normal. But this morning it’s like she’s been constipated, maybe? Straining? But I can’t be sure, Blaine! I’ve only had her for a little more than a week. Maybe she has screaming spells periodically.”

  He nodded, shifting Daphne from the crook of his arm to his shoulder, where he patted her. Her screaming was loud enough to make him wonder how much hearing he’d lose. Of course, he’d been screamed at like this before. “No vomit?”

  “Nothing.”

  He held Daphne away from him for a few seconds, studying her. Her little feet sawed the air, and her fists waved. “She sure does look angry. Mostly miserable.”

  He hesitated as he pulled the baby close to his shoulder again. He was about to scare Diane to death, he supposed, but no way around it. “Get dressed and put something warm on her. We’ll go to the emergency room.” He braced, half expecting an explosion of anguish. Of course, his mam had always been good at going over the top. Diane surprised him.

  “You think it’s that bad?” Diane asked, her voice cracking.

  Using his free arm, he pulled her close to his side and kept his voice as soothing as he could make it. “I don’t know what’s going on, so we’d be best to check it out. You said she’s been crying for hours. That’s not usual unless she’s been colicky, and in the space of a week, I’d think you would have seen that at least once before. But I’m not a doctor, and I believe that visiting one might make all three of us feel better.” At least that was his hope. But this sure didn’t sound like colicky crying to him. He’d had two brothers with it.

  Diane nodded, fright giving way to the need for action. “Yes, of course. God, I’ve never felt so helpless in my life!”

  Blaine watched her turn to go get swaddling for the baby and asked, “After you dress, would you mind grabbing the two coffees I brought? I don’t have any idea how long this will take.”

  And a coffee might be just the thing for both of them. He rocked Daphne, trying to ease her misery and completely failing. This must be why Diane had called him a little while ago. Inexperienced with a baby crying like this? She must indeed have felt helpless.

  ’Twas a fact—little could make a human feel as helpless as a crying babe that couldn’t be soothed. Or wear one out as fast.

  Strapping Daphne into her car seat was a battle. The girl was rigid as a board and fought every attempt to bend her even a little.

  “The hospital is close?” Diane asked, a tremor in her voice.

  “A few minutes by car. The babe won’t have to endure the seat for long.”

  At last they got her secured, then Diane slid into the front seat beside Blaine and they took off through the quiet Saturday morning at speeds that should have gotten them a ticket. Although, thought Blaine, if any cop stopped them, one listen to Daphne’s distressed crying would probably get them an escort to the hospital.

  He didn’t want to let Diane know, but he was worried, too. He’d helped his mam raise two colicky babies, and that uproar had a way of beginning in the evening, not in the wee hours, although he supposed it was possible. But to go this long without having seen it once? Not likely. His experience with colic had taught him it usually occurred several times a week. Could a child develop colic at three months? For that he had no idea.

  Anything was possible, he supposed, but he had just run smack into the limits of his knowledge of babies. Plus, Daphne’s crying didn’t hold the fussy sounds of a colicky kid. It sounded pained, and that was sufficient cause for worry on a Saturday morning when the only place to go was the emergency room.

  Sufficient cause to feel huge relief when he at last pulled up beside the emergency room entrance at Memorial Hospital.

  “You just go ahead and take her in,” he told Diane. “I’ll park and come find you.”

  * * *

  Diane lifted the shrieking Daphne out of her car seat and held her close as she hurried through the emergency room doors. Unprepared. Inexperienced. What that hell am I doing being someone’s mother?

  The mental self-kicking at least eased the fear that lurked in every corner of her mind. This baby depended on her, and she was helpless. Helpless. Oh, God, she should never have taken this on. An experienced foster mother would know what to do.

  But she didn’t regret accepting Daphne. She looked down into that scrunched-up, reddened face and all she could feel was love and a need to get her help. Stiff as a board. Oh, God, the child was stiff as a board. That had to mean awful pain, right?

  All of a sudden, she was in the middle of a swirl of people in blue scrubs. Apparently Daphne’s screaming sounded like a problem to them, as well.

  “How long as this been going on?” a woman asked.

  “Since shortly after six. She won’t eat.”

  “No vomiting?”

  “No.”

  At the center of the whirlwind, she was ushered into a cubicle.

  “The doctor will be here shortly,” said the pleasant woman. “In the meantime I’m going to have someone come in to take your information.” Then she paused and laid her hand on Diane’s shoulder. “Relax. She sounds far too strong to be in imminent danger, okay? Dr. Dave will get her feeling better just as soon as he can. And if you need me, my name is Mary.”

  Mary was quickly replaced by a young woman pushing a cart with a computer on it. The questions began to come, but before the admission was complete, Mary returned and took Daphne from her arms.

  Diane had the worst urge to cry out, Don’t take her from me.

  But that would help nothing. Steeling herself, she let go of the baby, feeling as if her skin had been ripped away.

  Mary placed her on the bed with the sides up and began to unwrap her. “Screaming like this will drive you nuts,” she said cheerfully. “I know, I have a couple of my own. I wasn’t sure if both of us would survive the colic.” She flashed a smile at Diane.

  “You think it’s colic?”

  “First off, I’m not the doctor, so I can’t say anything. But the baby...” She looked at Diane again.

  “Daphne.”

  “Daphne’s going to get the best care. I’m just going to take her temperature.”

  Then came the rest of the questions from the woman with the cart. The insurance part shut down the instant Diane said she was working for the county government. No ID required. They didn’t even ask if Daphne was her legal daughter. She’d deal with that later. Right now,
helping the baby was all that mattered.

  With Daphne stripped down to her tiny undershirt, her diaper gone, Mary used the thermometer with practiced ease.

  “No fever,” she announced. “That’s good.” She wrapped the babe tightly in a blanket. “It makes infants feel more secure to be tightly wrapped. It’s not going to help much right now, obviously, but a tip for another time.”

  “Thank you.” Diane leaned back in the uncomfortable plastic chair, fatigue trying to overwhelm her even as she felt as if she were dangling over a cliff edge in fear. Daphne was still screaming and stiffening as if trying to push something away.

  No, that wasn’t normal, she thought. It couldn’t be. She should have come here a couple of hours ago when she had begun to realize she couldn’t make the baby feel any better.

  Failure. The word popped up in her head. It wasn’t exactly unfamiliar. She’d grown up with it. Then there had been Max. He’d been quick to fling that word around, too. She failed at everything, from cooking to cleaning.

  And now she was failing Daphne. A shudder ran through her, and her eyes felt as if they were burning holes in her head.

  Minutes dragged. Blaine arrived, standing to one side behind her, his hand welcome on her shoulder.

  Then a man swept into the room, stethoscope hanging around his neck. “Hey, Mary, what are we looking at?”

  “Screaming for about four hours, stiffening and pushing, no vomiting, no fever, and despite all that pushing, she hasn’t moved any stool.”

  “All right.”

  Diane watched anxiously as the doctor pulled the blanket away and began to press gently on Daphne’s tummy. “Some rigidity,” he remarked. Mary typed it in on the computer near the head of the bed.

  Then he pulled his stethoscope off his shoulder and put the earpieces in his ears. He clasped the diaphragm between his gloved hands for a minute, probably warming it up, then pressed it to Daphne’s tummy, listening. He moved the diaphragm around, pausing to listen again and again.