The solution to Del’s problem was dead simple. All he had to do was keep away from any woman who wanted children. That way, his sterility would never be an issue.
He shouldn’t have gone to see Maggie yesterday.
But he would see her today. And tomorrow. And as often as he could until his work here was over and he moved on to the next assignment. At least the whiskey had made him honest enough to admit that much.
Damn it all, he wanted to see her. And he wanted to see the baby. They made him feel good.
Besides, he didn’t intend to get involved with Maggie. He only wanted to do the decent thing, to be her friend. He still felt a certain amount of responsibility toward her, especially now that she had named her child after him. As long as he limited their association to friendship, there wouldn’t be any risk of hurt to either of them.
Yes, he could be her friend, he reasoned. He could be an honorary uncle to his namesake. Just because he couldn’t have children of his own didn’t mean he had to cut Maggie and Delilah out of his life entirely, did it?
And as he’d already reminded himself, he didn’t need to be able to father children to be a success in the life he had now. Having children was damn inconvenient for a SPEAR agent. Hunting international terrorists and keeping the world safe for democracy were dangerous business. On top of that, Del never knew where he’d be from one day to the next. A man like that wouldn’t make a good father, even if his plumbing did work.
When he thought about it, there was a certain irony to the situation—the top marksman in SPEAR was only capable of shooting blanks.
Was that one of the reasons he’d become such a crack shot, to compensate for his failure in that other area? Was that why he was so adamant about never taking a life, because he knew he’d never be able to create one?
Del sighed and slid down to stretch out on the bed. He’d definitely had enough to drink. He’d progressed from mushy to maudlin and now he was headed straight for philosophical.
Maybe he should forget about doing this once a year. Every eight years was more than enough.
The rain hit the front window of the diner with the determination of machine-gun bullets. Near the counter there was a crash of breaking crockery. Del winced as echoes of the racket ping-ponged through his skull. He held his breath, waiting until his brain stopped sloshing around, then hunched his shoulders and took another gulp of coffee.
“Broom is in the back room,” Laszlo said from his post in front of the grill. He scowled at the teenager who stared at him defiantly.
“I’m not cleaning that up. I didn’t do it.” The girl pointed a black-tipped fingernail toward the other waitress. The black nail polish matched her lipstick, as well as the studs that marched in an arc along the edge of her right ear. “It was her fault.”
Joanne blew a large bubble and popped it with a snap. “Taking responsibility for your mistakes is good for your karma, kid. You don’t want to come back as a toad, do you?”
“You bumped my elbow.”
“I was nowhere near you, hon.”
“Yeah, right. What’s the matter? Memory failing? Take too many acid trips back in the sixties, Grandma?”
Joanne chewed her gum harder. “Twerp.”
“Cow.”
The two customers nearest the door evidently decided it was a good time to leave. They stood up, their chairs screeching across the floor with a noise akin to a freight train making an emergency stop.
“Enough,” Laszlo growled. “You get broom now, or you look for the other job.”
“Hey, fine with me, Fatso.” The girl pulled off her apron and tossed it on the counter. “This job sucks. I can make more money with a squeegee.” She strode to the door, her six-inch platform shoes pounding across the floor like an artillery barrage.
Del squinted as his left eye began to water.
“Nice going, Laszlo,” Joanne muttered. “That’s the second one in two days.”
“She was the idiot. She look like the witch and scare customers.”
“I suppose she couldn’t help it. I noticed right off that her aura was unbalanced.” Joanne retrieved the broom and swept up the shattered dishes. The shards clinked together with the rat-a-tat sharpness of a tap-dancing troupe practicing on a sheet of aluminum.
Del finished his coffee. Placing a paper napkin across his saucer to muffle the clunk, he carefully set the cup on top of it. The bagel he’d managed to eat was sitting in his stomach like a stone, but at least it had gone down quietly.
“Would you like anything else?”
He stifled a groan at Joanne’s perky inquiry. He started to shake his head but thought better of it. “No, thanks.”
“Sorry about the commotion,” she said. “We’re having a hard time finding a replacement for Maggie.”
“That’s what I figured.”
“Poor kid. She was so eager to have that baby, but it took all of us off guard.”
“That it did.”
“We sure were lucky that you happened to be in here. My gosh, I don’t know what we would have done when she went into labor like that.” She tilted her head, smiling at Del. “She told me she named the baby after you.”
“Yes. Delilah.”
“That’s just like Maggie. She’s such a sweet girl.”
“She’ll make a good mother.”
“That’s for sure.” She gave her gum a pensive chew. “Do you have any kids, Del?”
Why was everyone asking him that lately? “No, I don’t.”
“Maggie’s just nuts about them. When I called her this morning she was already talking about having more.” Joanne gasped and smacked her forehead. “Oh, no. Maggie!”
“What about her?” Del asked immediately. “Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing like that. She’s going home today.”
“Already?”
“I promised I would take her, and she’s anxious to leave. She hates hospitals. Laszlo said he’d lend me his car.” She whirled around. “Laszlo! You’ve got to get her back.”
“Who?”
“The kid with the earrings.”
“No. She is the witch.”
“But I have to pick up Maggie. If you don’t get that earring girl back, who’s going to cover for me?”
Laszlo scowled. “You can’t go. Maggie will wait.”
“She can’t wait. She has to clear out of the room this afternoon.”
“She can take subway.”
“The subway? Laszlo, you don’t understand. She doesn’t just need a ride, she needs someone to help her get the baby settled. It would be horrible for her to have to go home all by herself. And taking her child home is such a momentous occasion, she shouldn’t be alone—”
“I need you here.”
“But I promised. She’s expecting me in an hour.”
Del listened in silence as the two tried to figure out what to do. Of course, there was an obvious solution to the problem. His shift wouldn’t start for another few hours. He could easily get to the hospital, pick up Maggie and Delilah and take them home. That would still leave him plenty of time to get them settled before he had to meet Bill at the surveillance site.
That would be the decent thing to do, wouldn’t it? The kind of assistance a friend or an honorary uncle would give? Last night he’d already decided there would be no harm in that, right?
Despite the rain that sheeted down the window and the hangover from hell, the day suddenly seemed brighter. Del’s teeth barely ached as he scraped his chair back and stood up. “Maybe I can help,” he said.
At least the taxi was yellow instead of white, Maggie thought as the cab splashed its way across the Queensboro Bridge toward her apartment in Astoria. As long as the cab was yellow, there would be less risk of getting Del confused with a knight on a white horse, riding to her rescue.
She turned her head to look at him. His dark brown hair clung wetly to his scalp, molding the contours of his head like a helmet. His navy blue windbreaker appea
red black, soaked through from the rain and weighed down against his shoulders like tightly woven chain mail. His usually neatly pressed chinos stuck to his thighs, outlining muscles that could easily control a horse.
He’d brought an umbrella with him, but it had been one of those small, collapsible ones. He’d used it to keep her and the baby dry instead of himself.
Darn chivalrous of him, wasn’t it? Like an old-fashioned knight, or maybe a cowboy out of some Gary Cooper western?
Maggie grimaced inwardly. The roller coaster ride she’d been on with her emotions since Delilah’s birth was beginning to slow down, but it wasn’t over yet. She was pathetically vulnerable right now, so she had good reason to be cautious about her reaction to Del.
He was a nice guy, that’s all. A really nice guy. He didn’t deserve to be the focus of all this silly fantasizing—she’d already decided that would only lead to trouble.
After all, that was how it had started with Alan: a chance meeting in the diner, an instant attraction to the man with the charming, too-good-to-be-true manner. He had flirted outrageously, then had swept her into a whirlwind romance. He’d topped it all off with an impetuous declaration of love that she’d wanted too badly to believe.
But Del wasn’t like Alan. He was tender and honest….
Hormones, she reminded herself, swallowing hard against the sudden lump in her throat. She’d read about this in the baby books, too. That’s why she was making such a big deal out of Del’s friendly gesture. He wasn’t trying to be charming, he was simply being, well, nice.
“How’s the baby doing?” he asked.
Maggie lifted the corner of the receiving blanket and peeked at Delilah in the car seat. “She’s still asleep.”
“Good. I was worried the rain might have woken her.”
“Thanks to you, she didn’t get a drop.”
“Great.”
She brushed her thumb across the baby’s knuckles. “It seems as if I’m always thanking you, Del.”
“You don’t have to. I’m glad I could help.”
“I’m sorry about the way Joanne roped you into this.”
“No need to apologize. I volunteered.”
“Thanks, Del.”
Thunder rumbled as the taxi pulled up in front of Maggie’s apartment building. Del got soaked once more as he held the umbrella over Maggie and Delilah and escorted them to the entrance. When they reached her apartment on the third floor, he took the key from her hand and unlocked the door.
Maggie had always liked this apartment. She’d decorated the place on a shoestring, scouring the neighborhood discount stores for bargains and brightening the walls with paint the color of pale daffodils. She loved the earth-toned fringed rug and the overstuffed couch, the tapestry pillows and the lamp with the stained-glass shade. All the little touches she’d stretched her budget to add made the place cozy and welcoming.
She paused on the threshold. Everything was exactly the same as it had been when she’d left for work the day her baby had been born.
And that was the problem. It was exactly as she’d left it.
In the gray light from the window, she could see the heap of laundry still on the couch and the dishes she’d left in the sink. The high-backed rocking chair she’d found in a thrift shop last week was buried under a layer of newspapers and baby books. Through the doorway that led to her closet-size bedroom, she could see the trailing edge of a crumpled sheet.
She hadn’t tidied up before leaving for work that morning—her back had been aching in what she now realized had been the onset of labor. On top of that, she’d been too tired out after taking most of the previous evening to rearrange the bedroom furniture to clear a space for the crib.
Her gaze swung to the far wall and the pieces of what was supposed to be Delilah’s crib. She had believed it would be weeks before she would need to assemble it. She wasn’t sure where the sheets for it were. She hadn’t finished organizing the clothes she’d been acquiring for the baby, either—she had assumed she’d have plenty of time to get the apartment into shape once she stopped working.
As she contemplated the tasks ahead of her, Maggie’s emotions did another roller coaster twist and dip, swerving toward despair. But then she glanced at her daughter, and she was swooping upward again.
This was another one of those moments she’d anticipated for months. She had her baby safe and warm in her arms, and she was about to bring her into the home they would share together.
What did it matter if the place wasn’t perfect? Who cared if there was more work to be done? Fancy furniture and clean laundry didn’t make a home. Love made a home. And she and Delilah would have plenty of that.
She would manage somehow. She always did. One day at a time.
“Are you crying again, Maggie?”
She licked a tear that had trickled to the corner of her mouth, then firmed her chin. “No.”
“That’s good,” he said, patting the pockets of his sodden jacket. “Because I don’t think I have anything dry on me.”
His stab at humor only made her eyes fill faster. Maggie took a shaky breath and led the way inside. “Take your jacket off, Del. I think we could both use some towels.”
He closed the door behind them and looked around briefly, then peeled off his windbreaker and hung it over the doorknob. “Don’t worry about me, Maggie.”
“It’s the least I can do after the way you brought us home and everything.” Holding Delilah to her shoulder, she walked to the bathroom and took a large bath towel from the shelf over the tub.
By the time she returned, Del had cleared the newspapers and books off the rocking chair and was stacking them under the window. He grabbed a pillow from the couch and propped it against the chair back.
“Del, you don’t have to—”
“Here.” He took the towel from her hand and draped it around his neck, then cupped her elbow and guided her to the chair. He hovered by her side until she and Delilah were comfortably settled. “You should be taking it easy.”
The concern in his voice brought a lump to her throat. It was only gratitude she felt, and a good dose of postpartum hormones. Her emotions were as much a mess as her apartment. “Thanks, Del.”
He used the towel to wipe his face and briskly rubbed his hair dry. “With Delilah’s birth coming so unexpectedly, I realize you likely haven’t had a chance to make all the preparations you would have wanted to, so is there anything you need?”
She swallowed hard and forced a smile. “You mean like a road map for the apartment or maybe a bulldozer for the mess?”
“I was thinking more in the line of food or diapers, but I’ll clean up whatever you want.”
“I appreciate the offer, Del, but I’ll be fine. The fridge is full, and there’s a carton of diapers around here somewhere. If I can remember where,” she added under her breath.
“What about formula? Baby bottles?”
“Oh, I don’t need any of that. I’m…” She hesitated, surprised by the sudden self-consciousness she felt. This was the man who had witnessed her baby’s birth. They had shared an intimacy that transcended sex, and yet she knew by the heat in her cheeks that she was coloring into a beet.
This was absurd, she told herself. Her modesty was misplaced. As natural functions went, this had to be the most wholesome of all. “Delilah won’t need any formula,” she answered finally. “I’m breast-feeding her.”
Beneath the beginnings of Del’s five-o’clock shadow, his face appeared to redden. He gripped the towel he held more tightly. “Oh.”
At his obvious embarrassment, Maggie relaxed. It really was silly to feel awkward, considering what they’d already gone through. She shifted the still sleeping Delilah to the crook of her arm and rested her elbow on the pillow Del had supplied. “Didn’t your sister breast-feed?”
“I don’t know. I guess I never thought about it.”
“It’s the best thing for the baby. Mothers’ milk is the easiest to digest, so the longer
I keep it up, the less likely she is to develop allergies.”
“Uh, yes. I can understand that.”
“And it will give her immune system a boost, since she’ll get all my antibodies through the milk.”
“That makes sense.”
“It’s also a lot easier for me.”
He kept his gaze scrupulously on her face. “I suppose so.”
“Especially for night feedings, since there’s no bottle to warm up and nothing to prepare.”
“Uh, right.”
“Considering the state of this place, that’s a good thing.”
“How’s that?”
“I’ll never lose track of where I left the milk.”
He let out a startled laugh. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.”
She grinned, glad to see she had put him at ease.
Del gave his hair one last rub with the towel, then tossed the towel on top of the laundry pile. “Okay, it seems as if you have the basics covered. Is there anything else you can think of that you might need?”
“No, thanks, I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”
“Is there a Laundromat close by?”
“There’s a laundry room in the basement, but I’ll get to it, Del. Honestly, contrary to how things look here, I’m normally a very competent person.”
“I know you are, Maggie. But I realize Delilah’s birth being earlier than you expected must have caused you problems.” He paused. “If having to quit work so soon is going to leave you in a tight spot…”
“Hey, did I mention the other good thing about breast-feeding? It’s cheap.”
He didn’t smile. “Maggie, I don’t mean to pry into your finances, but if you need money, just ask.”
Her grin faded. “Del, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll get by. I do have some money put aside, and the baby-sitting I’ll be doing for my neighbor will help tide me over until I can go back to work.”
He nodded. “Okay, but if something comes up, I would be happy to give you a loan, no strings attached.”
“Really, you don’t have to feel obligated….” She was struck by a sudden thought. “Is that it? Do you feel you have to help because I said you could be Delilah’s honorary uncle?”
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