by Rachel Lee
“About what?”
“She’s my daughter. Blaine, it just hit me today.”
He scooted closer and rested his hand on her knee. The touch was comforting, warm. “What did?”
“That this isn’t some temporary thing. I mean...I know my cousin will probably never be well enough to care for Daphne. That’s why they hunted me up. She’d already spent a month in the care of social services, and they hoped I’d take her rather than an unrelated foster family.”
“Which you did.”
She shook her head a little. “I don’t think... Something about today made me truly realize that this isn’t temporary. That she’s mine now. My daughter.”
He tilted his head to one side and squeezed her knee gently. “This is somehow more terrifying? I seem to have come into the middle of the conversation.”
“It’s more terrifying,” she said truthfully. “This isn’t some temporary thing I’m dealing with for a few months or a year. I think I was deluding myself at first, believing that MaryJo would get better. Only from what the social worker said, MaryJo is never going to get well enough to care for a child. Why did that not penetrate before?”
“I’m not sure what you mean by penetrate. You already told me how sick your cousin is, and that she’d never be a mother to this child.”
“I know. It was all laid out. I knew. I just didn’t know, if that makes any sense.”
“Ah,” he said in his deep rumble of a voice. “It was real to the head but not yet to the heart?”
She nodded slowly and raised a hand to massage the tension growing in her neck. “I think that’s probably a good way to put it. But it sounds stupid. All day today I’ve been thinking how inadequate I am to this, how I should have thought more clearly rather than acting instinctively about Daphne. What kind of mother will I be? I never even babysat!”
He raised his knee, resting his arm on it. She wished the movement hadn’t taken his hand away, because it had been so comforting. She didn’t even bother to try to talk herself out of the feeling. Today was a mess of feelings and fears.
“While today may have seemed to prove me a total liar,” he said, “the truth still is that caring for a baby is easy.”
“Like I’m going to believe that now?” Indeed, her mind was running around like a skittering mouse, imagining or trying to imagine a million other bad things that could happen to Daphne. The world suddenly seemed full of threats, and that baby was utterly dependent on her to deal with them.
“It’s easy,” Blaine repeated firmly. “Think about it, woman. You’ve been caring for her for over a week now and she doesn’t look any worse for the wear.”
“Until this morning.”
He snorted and uttered a word that she was quite sure didn’t qualify as polite even in his home country. “Listen to me, Diane. I mostly raised four of the six me mam had, and if I couldn’t break ’em, you can’t, either. What happened today was not the result of anything you did or didn’t do. Gad, babies are only half-baked, ya know. It’s not unusual to find some little thing that hasn’t finished growing. Most of ’em take care of themselves, but every now and then this happens. Me younger sister, Bridey, was born tongue-tied.”
The surprised Diane right out of her preoccupation with imagined horrors. “What’s that?”
He curved up one corner of his mouth. “Given how much the gal talks, it might have been better to leave her that way. Naw, it just meant that her tongue was still attached to the bottom of her mouth. After a little cut it’s all better. It’s the same for the daffodil over there.”
Diane desperately hoped he was right. She looked over at Daphne. “Shouldn’t she be waking by now? She certainly must need a diaper change.”
He rose in one fluid movement then lifted the sleepy baby into Daphne’s arms. “You take care of that, Mama. I’m in the way of heading over to the diner to get us a dinner.”
“You don’t have to stay,” she said impulsively, although she was very glad of his company.
His eyes creased at the corners as he smiled, then he winked. “I figured that out. I’ll be back.”
She looked down at the drowsy bundle in her arms and hoped he meant that.
* * *
Blaine left the car behind and walked the three blocks to the diner. The evening air was cool and pleasant, the twilight just beginning to deepen. Kids played outside, waiting to be called to dinner, their voices cheery on the gentle breeze.
He figured after the day’s stress, Diane would probably be glad of some one-on-one time with Daphne. Quiet time to regain her footing. A chance to follow the postoperative directions for wound care without someone breathing over her shoulder. Tonight wouldn’t be difficult, anyway. They’d placed a waterproof bandage over the incision and had given Diane a few more and some antibacterial swabs to use if the bandage got loose.
Other than that, they seemed to think the kid would pretty much be good to go by tomorrow. No special treatment required. Return for follow up with the surgeon on Monday.
In all, neither of them could have asked for a better outcome. And now that he was by himself, Blaine was fully willing to admit that most of the confidence he’d displayed this morning had come from the need to keep Diane calmer. She was frantic with worry. He hadn’t been doing much better. He’d held a lot of babies over the years, and he could tell when there was serious pain involved. That cry was a class unto itself.
But now that Daphne was on the road to recovery, he started thinking more about Diane. There’d been a refrain wandering through the things she’d been saying, and it was becoming clearer to him.
He wondered what the hell had savaged her self-confidence. The woman had an advanced degree in urban planning. From what he’d heard in casual conversation with the commissioners since he’d learned of her hiring, she could have easily chosen a job in a much bigger city, or with a huge developer. Instead she had chosen to come here because she wanted to try out her ideas and run the show.
Understandable. Courageous, even, because if she messed up, there’d be no one else to blame. It would all fall on her.
But how often, today alone, had he heard her self-doubt? He was quite sure he’d heard her talk about failing more than once.
Someone must have done that to her, because her accomplishments hadn’t included failures he’d heard about. Not from the commissioners who’d hired her, not from her résumé, not from her letters of reference. Perhaps she was only confident when it came to her work, and not outside it.
Not that he could imagine any reason for that. She was a beautiful woman who could stir a man just by breathing. Or at least could stir him. He’d have to be careful he didn’t let that show, because Diane had quite enough on her plate right now.
The walk to the diner wasn’t a long one, but he walked slowly. Usually he was accustomed to striding swiftly, but tonight he wanted to give Diane that little bit of time. Maybe she’d want him to leave as soon as he brought dinner. He couldn’t blame her.
Today had been stressful for hours, sitting in that hospital waiting for her child to be returned, wondering what was going on, the fear before the diagnosis...all of it added up to a rough day.
Especially for a woman who had just invited a child fully into her heart.
That struck him—her explanation how today the reality had come home. This was no longer a temporary gig, but a permanent one, and the responsibility seemed to be overwhelming her.
Well, if she’d let him, he’d be glad to help a bit with that. While he’d sometimes resented it when he was younger, now he was glad that so much had been expected of him in the way of taking care of young’uns.
Like any youngster, he’d wished for more time to spend with his mates. But when he’d picked up Daphne for the first time on Monday, he’d realized how very much he had missed caring for his siblings.
Just
goes to show, he thought. You never knew what you had until it was gone.
Then he was facing the diner and could delay no longer. He had a hankering for a piece of Maude’s fine apple pie, but that wouldn’t suffice. Diane needed a decent meal.
He stood outside the door, reading the menu taped to the window, trying to find something different but nutritious. The default steak sandwich that everyone around here loved so much might be too heavy after the day she’d had. He could still remember his mother preferring light meals after an upsetting day.
Diane could be different, but he didn’t want to find out the hard way. Eventually he settled on some homemade chicken soup and a stack of Texas toast. If that didn’t do, he’d come back for something else.
As he’d been standing there, people coming and going had greeted him. It was a nice feeling to be known by so many, and he hoped Diane would soon enjoy it. In the meantime, he headed inside to place his order and discovered everyone already knew what had happened to Daphne.
Who the hell at the hospital had talked, he wondered, but with amusement. It could have been a janitor. They might not be covered by HIPAA rules. What did he know? Hard to keep a secret in this town, anyway.
Maude gave him a bucket of soup big enough for an army, added a huge stack of toast and threw in several pieces of pie.
“You know the way to my heart, woman.”
She sniffed. “It’s the way to every man’s heart.”
But he caught a glimmer of humor in her usually harsh expression. He wondered if the heart attack a few months back had softened her up some. Gad, if that were true, nobody in this town would be sure she was Maude.
Amused, he stepped outside with two plastic bags of goodies and resolved to make a nice pot of tea when he got back to the house.
He passed others out to enjoy the pleasant evening. Five years here and he was still getting used to the different seasons. It was his Galway upbringing. He liked to say that his home had two seasons: wet and chilly or wetter and chillier. Which wasn’t fair to the old country, because they had some glorious days when the sun broke through the familiar overcast and painted the land in shades of gold and green. At times, when the north wind blew, they even saw a bit of snow.
Still, it was a good joke.
When he reached Diane’s little house, he let himself in quietly, unsure whether she and the baby might have fallen asleep.
Indeed they had. Diane was curled in her battered old recliner with Daphne snuggled in her arm and a blanket over them.
All was well in the Finch world. Smiling, he went to the kitchen and started the kettle. He needed some tea, but the soup would be easy to heat later.
Then he settled at the kitchen table and waited, much as he would have liked to just sit and watch mother and child sleep. So peaceful after a day that had been anything but.
* * *
Eventually he heard fussy sounds emanating from the living room. Daphne was returning to the world and probably wanted food and a diaper change. He should leave that to Diane, he decided. He absolutely didn’t want her to think he was taking over, and he might have given her that sense more than once.
But he was definitely bothered by her feeling like a failure. He’d like to explore the reasons for that if the time ever came. Right now, even after today, they were still just acquaintances. Blaine was of a type to just walk into the middle of a relationship of any kind, and hadn’t his mam warned him about that? Often as it was, he didn’t suffer much trouble for it, but he wound up with a lot of friends. There still always remained a possibility that he’d be told to scat, the way Ailis had. He’d learned to take his knocks over time, but he sincerely hoped Diane wouldn’t send him on his way. He was growing fond of that woman.
A few minutes later, she came to the kitchen with Daphne freshly changed into a new jumper and sucking on her fist as her bright eyes looked around.
“Hey,” Diane said. “I need to open a can of formula. Would you mind?”
Clearly she didn’t want to let go of the babe after today. He had no problem with that. “Where do I find it?”
She pointed. “In that pantry. The clean nursing bottles are on the shelf beside it.”
And there they were, all sparkly clean and carefully capped. “Should I warm it for her?” He’d always warmed bottles when he was taking care of a newborn sibling, but he’d gathered that didn’t always happen.
“Poor thing has been taking it at whatever temperature it comes,” Diane answered. “No way to heat it at the office. Tonight, though, let’s spoil her. It should heat well enough if you set it in a pan of hot water from the tap.”
It certainly would. He’d done it before. Plus, it wasn’t that cold in this house. Though some folks would think it too early in the season to be turning on the heat, Diane must not agree. He’d heard the hot air turn on several times.
Diane remained at the kitchen table while she nursed Daphne. She’d agreed a cup of tea sounded good, as did the chicken soup.
“A gallon, I swear,” Blaine told her. “I sure hope you like it. Maude really loaded me up.”
“I love it.” But all her attention was on Daphne, as it should be. Totally absorbed in her new daughter. A grand thing, a mother’s love.
The soup hadn’t cooled much, but he put some in a pan anyway to warm it slowly. The Texas toast would be on the soggy side, but it always tasted good, anyway. Then he waved some pie under her nose. “A feast awaits.”
At last, for the first time that day, she truly smiled. Good, she was getting past the shock of it all. It might hit her again later, but when all was said and done, as emergencies went, this one had been benign.
Not everything could be fixed so easily.
He placed a cup of tea and a plate with a wedge of thick toast on it in front of her. He figured if she wanted to, she could hold that bottle with one hand and eat with the other. A necessary maternal skill since the powers that be hadn’t granted a mother a third arm.
When Daphne had finished about half of her bottle, now trying to hold it with her tiny hands although she couldn’t yet, Diane propped it with the blanket and took a few sips of her tea.
“Delicious,” she announced.
“Steeped longer,” he answered. “No secret. Our daffodil looks content with the world.”
Diane nodded. “Strangely enough, as far as she’s concerned, nothing happened.”
“Great advantage of an infant’s memory.”
She laughed softly. “I wish mine worked like that sometimes.” She looked up from the baby at him. “Did you get your culvert problem sorted out?”
She’d already asked him twice, but he allowed it to pass because of the fatiguing, upsetting day. “Well, we’ve made a start on it. We’re going to have to dig out the paving, pull out the deteriorating culvert and start all over again, basically.”
She nodded. “Nothing to save?”
“Not now. Between a dozen winters and the heavy rains we had last month, it’s pretty much collapsed.”
“And that historic storefront you looked at?”
“Well, we had a word or two. Seems the owner and I have a different idea of preservation.”
That grabbed her attention. “Now you’re talking to my hobbyhorse. Does this town have an historic overlay district?”
“You might say it does. Partially. And that’s where we got to disagreeing. Evidently his building isn’t on the overlay from when it was made years ago and, in my opinion, it seriously ought to be. We’ll need you to take a look, but I extracted his solemn promise on the grounds that if he moves ahead without prior approval, he might have to undo everything.”
“Nobody wants that,” she said. Daphne had stopped sucking on her bottle and was looking drowsy again. In a movement that felt more natural every day, she placed the child on her shoulder and began to gently pat her back.
>
“So historic districts are your thing?” he asked.
“Most definitely. Part of what I was told when I interviewed was that the city council wanted more of the town to fall under the protections than it currently does. I wasn’t certain at the time what they meant, but it’s a job I’d love to take on. It doesn’t have to be onerous on the property owners, but evidently there’s an appearance some in this town want to preserve.”
“I’d call it early-twentieth-century Wild West,” he remarked drily. “But I can only say that mostly from movies. Most of this place doesn’t resemble that, but it comes from that era. I get the feeling people who came here and settled this town were trying to bring their old homes with them.”
“It’s entirely likely. I noticed the church with the steeple. New England. Same with the courthouse square, right down to the statue.”
He smiled faintly. “The statue of a soldier representing a war no one can identify for certain. This area wasn’t settled during the Civil War, as I understand it. That came later.” He paused. “Meaning no offense here, but this place might do well to honor some of its Native heritage. I’m sure they were here before the late arrivals.”
“I’m sure, and I’m not offended. The city fathers might have a different opinion.”
“Don’t they always?”
She shifted Daphne from her shoulder to her arm, and the little girl barely stirred. “Time for a diaper change and some sleep, I think.”
“Do you want me to take off?”
Her eyes widened. “Why would I want that? Man, Blaine, we haven’t even eaten the supper you brought. I just need a minute to put her down.”
Apparently, he’d wended the thickets safely enough today, he thought, rising to check on the soup and hunt up some dishes. Selfishly, he wished she weren’t so preoccupied with Daphne. He’d kind of like for her to be preoccupied with him in that way.
Not likely and probably not wise. Ah, hell. A randy Irishman, a woman who was in the way of being his boss, if not exactly, and a baby that needed all the attention available.