by Susan Gable
“Could you just give me a few minutes alone with her? I’ll call you when I’m ready for all of you to come back in.” Brook looked down at her daughter and at her father’s big hand stroking the infant’s arm.
“Sure, honey.” Her dad lifted Emma’s tiny fist, kissed it, then reached up to cup Brook’s cheek. “You take all the time you need.”
His knees creaked as he climbed to his feet. “I’ll be just outside the door.”
Once he’d left, she let her tears flow. “Oh, Emma, I love you so much.” She held the baby tighter, until Emma squirmed to let her know it was too much. “But I just can’t take care of you. Not the way you deserve. But never, ever doubt for a second that I love you.”
Out in the hallway, Sloan leaned against the now-closed door, dropping his head to study his shoes. A shuffling sound came from the other side of the hallway. He looked up to find the Richards watching him. Claire bit her lip, and Frank wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“She hasn’t changed her mind, has she?” Claire asked, voice shaky.
“No. She just wants a few more minutes to say goodbye to Emma in private.”
“It’s not really goodbye,” Claire began, then stopped when he narrowed his eyes at her.
Sloan sized up Frank. Only a couple of years younger than him, the engineer for GE seemed like an upright guy. Sloan crooked a finger at him. “I’d like a word with you. Man-to-man.”
They drew just to the side of the doorway. Sloan spoke softly. “Frank, I know that you’re going to love Emma. That you’re going to take good care of her. But I want you to remember that not only do you have a responsibility to that baby girl who will be your daughter, but you have a responsibility to my daughter, too. You do right by both of them.” He had to stop and clear his throat, fight the moisture in his eyes. That would blow his tough, protective dad image all to hell.
“Sloan, father to father, man-to-man, I give you my word. We’ll honor the gift Brook is giving us. We’ll make sure Emma knows how much Brook loved her. Loved her enough to share her with us.” Frank held out his hand, and Sloan grasped it tight.
“Good.”
“Dad.” Brook’s muffled voice called from inside the room. “I’m ready.”
Maybe she was, but he didn’t think he’d ever be ready for this. He straightened his spine, nodded to the Richards, then opened the door. Tighten your boots and carry on, soldier. If his daughter could do this, so could he.
She looked incredibly young, standing in the middle of the room in an oversize T-shirt and a pair of jeans, rocking her daughter in her arms. And yet, when she glanced up at him, he saw wisdom and maturity in her eyes—the very things he’d longed to see in her. But if he could, he’d undo them in a heartbeat, and take back the self-centered, exuberant, drive-him-crazy kid she’d been just nine short months ago.
Brook strode to Claire. She cuddled the baby to her chest for a moment, then placed her in the other woman’s arms. She leaned over and kissed Emma’s forehead. “I love you, Snickerdoodle. Be good for your mommy and daddy.”
Sloan swallowed the huge lump in his throat, gritted his teeth and vowed not to cry. At least not where Brook would ever see. She needed his strength.
Claire threw her free arm around Brook and hugged her. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Sloan picked up Brook’s suitcase as she pulled from Claire’s embrace. Without another word, his daughter headed for the door. He followed, pausing only long enough for one last look over his shoulder. “You take good care of her.”
“We will,” Frank said. “We will.”
He caught up with Brook outside the elevators. Her shoulders shook and she stared straight ahead, watching the numbers on the display. He reached for her, then pulled back, unsure if she wanted his touch or not. She seemed desperately trying to keep it together and he didn’t want to cause her to lose her tenuous control.
An empty car appeared, and he guided her into it, pressing the button for the lobby. As the doors slid shut, she threw herself into his arms, sobbing against his shirt, all pretenses gone. A little girl herself again. “Oh, Daddy. I miss her already. Make the pain stop.”
He kissed the top of her head, holding her tight. “I would if could, Snickerdoodle. I would if I could.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“IT’S A BOY!” the doctor said. The baby cried, a loud, lusty holler. “A boy with a great set of lungs.”
Jenna slumped back on the bed. She reached down to touch the infant on her belly. A boy. That qualified as another surprise. She’d completely bought into Sloan’s fantasy of a little girl with red hair.
Sloan stopped in the middle of planting a congratulatory kiss on her forehead. “A boy?” He looked down as a nurse rubbed the baby with a towel. “Holy moly, it is a boy.”
The doctor laughed. “I am pretty accurate at identifying the parts once they’re born.”
“Did you not want a boy?” Jenna’s shaky voice reflected the exhaustion of the seventeen-hour labor she’d endured. Didn’t all men want a boy? Especially men who already had two daughters?
“No, no, sugar, that’s not it. It’s just…” He shrugged. “I just assumed it would be a girl. Kinda thought I didn’t make boys. And I don’t know anything about raising boys. Except, of course, for the fact that I was one. Once upon a time.”
Jenna smiled at him. “I guess we’ll learn together, won’t we?”
“You want to count all the fingers and toes now, or can I take him to weigh him and get him all cleaned up?” the nurse asked.
Alarmed, Jenna scanned the baby. The nurse reassured her, “Everything’s there, hon. I just meant did you want him for a few more minutes or is it okay for me to take him? We’re just going to the other side of the room.” She pointed to the warming table. Jenna nodded her approval.
Sloan leaned over the bed to nuzzle her ear. “Thank you, sugar. He’s beautiful, just like his momma. I love you.”
She never got tired of hearing that. “I love you, too.” The rest of the time with the doctors and nurses sped by in a blur for Jenna. Eventually she dozed off, with Sloan sitting in the reclining chair by the window. She awakened to find him parked in the same spot, staring down at the infant in his arms with a rapt expression.
“My two guys,” she said.
Sloan looked over at her. “Well, hey, sleepyhead. We wondered when you were going to decide to participate in this family bonding time.”
“Excuse me for being exhausted after giving birth to your son.” A weary smile took the sting out of her words.
He climbed from the chair and brought the baby to her, placing him in her arms. “Here you go, Mom.”
“Looks like someone else is pretty tired, too.” The baby slept without stirring as she tightened her grip on him.
“I guess being born is as hard work as giving birth.”
Sloan rummaged in the duffel bag on the floor, pulling out the camera to take the first photos of mother and son. “If I don’t have pictures to show Ashley when I get home tonight, I’m going to be in big trouble.”
“Did you call everyone?”
“Not yet. I thought maybe you’d want to call your family first.”
So they got on the phone and spread the word. And discovered they hadn’t bothered to agree on a name for the baby—other than Lorelei, which didn’t seem right anymore. When Sloan left for the evening, they still hadn’t come up with anything but decided to sleep on it, and maybe get some input from the family visitors tomorrow.
SLOAN ARRIVED early the next day with a bouquet of blue daisies. Jenna was wrestling with the baby, trying to get him to latch on. Several frustrating attempts later, their son suckled at her breast. Sloan’s eyes widened. “That has to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Didn’t Beth nurse the girls?” Jenna shifted the pillow she had the baby propped on, adjusting him.
“No. She had this fixation about it. Couldn’t see herself, uh, well, just didn’t want
to do it.”
Jenna chuckled at his stumbling. “Couldn’t see herself as a cow, huh?”
“Now, that’s not how I see it, and I didn’t say that, so don’t be getting me into trouble for things I didn’t say.” He redeemed himself by changing the baby’s diaper after Jenna finished feeding him. They launched into more discussion about naming their son, the lactation consultant stopped by for a visit, and the morning turned to afternoon, bringing visiting hours.
Jenna’s dad carried a bunch of balloons, which he fastened to the end of her bed. Her mother held a paper shopping bag, but she set it on the floor and went straight to the baby, lying in his bassinet. “My, what a big boy you are!” She picked him up.
Jenna leaned forward, arms outstretched. “Easy, Mother. Be careful of his head.”
Her mother smiled at her. “I have handled babies before, Jenna. Why, once you were a baby yourself, and somehow you survived my mothering.”
Perched on the edge of her bed, Sloan bristled. Jenna elbowed him in the ribs and just smiled as her dad enfolded her in a tight hug. “You did great, sweetheart. He’s a fine-looking boy.” Her father turned and extended his hand to Sloan. “And you did well, too, Sloan.”
“Thank you, sir, but Jenna did all the hard work.”
“Yes, I did, and I’m glad you noticed.”
“What’s his name? Did you decide?” her mother asked, jiggling her grandson.
She looked to Sloan for his approval, and he nodded. “Yes. We’re calling him Robbie. But his full name will be Robert Steven. After you and Sloan’s dad.”
A huge grin lit her father’s face. “Oh, Jenna. Thank you. I’m honored.” He turned and went to her mom, taking Robbie from her.
“Quinn?” her mother asked.
“Yes, Quinn,” Jenna said, at the exact same time Sloan shook his head.
“Thompson.”
“Quinn.”
“Sugar, I thought we’d agreed that he would be a Thompson?”
“Apparently the two of you still have some things to discuss before I fill out the birth certificate,” said the nurse who’d just appeared in the doorway. “I’ll come back later.”
James and Rachel showed up next, bearing a small ivy plant in a pastel ceramic baby shoe. “Where’s Molly?” Jenna asked.
“She’s home with my folks. We don’t bring Molly into hospitals unless we have to. Too many germs,” James said.
“Oh, right.” Jenna sometimes forgot their daughter had had a heart transplant. “Well, maybe you can bring her to visit us once we go home.”
“I’m sure she’d like that.” Rachel took possession of the baby from Jenna’s dad. She peered down at him, then looked over at James. “Oh, he’s adorable. Remember when Jamey was this little?”
“Uh-oh. I don’t like that spark in your eyes, Mrs. McClain. You’ve got that baby-hunger look. Give him back to his mother and step away from the infant.”
“Jamey just turned two. Don’t you think that’s a good space?”
“I’m too damn old for more babies.”
Sloan laughed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. But now… I’m feeling younger than I have in years.”
“Let me know if you still feel the same way after a week’s worth of not sleeping all night.”
The room grew silent, and they all stopped to stare at Jenna and Sloan.
“Oops, sorry. I forgot that you’re not actually together. Boy, I put my foot in my mouth good that time.” James groaned. “With my training, I’m supposed to be able to avoid that.”
“It’s okay,” Jenna said. But it really wasn’t. More and more she longed for the full relationship she’d never expected—the full dinner, not just the dessert. How could something you never knew you wanted hurt so much not to get? Somehow, she had to find a way to remember to be thankful for what she had, and to live well, love much, and laugh often, just like Gram had preached.
The hustle and bustle in the little room increased when Margo and Johnny arrived. Her parents left, promising to come again after she’d settled in at home. During a lull in the visits, Jenna made Sloan bring her the shopping bag her mother had left in the corner of the room.
She pulled out the card first. “For My Daughter As She Becomes A Mother,” read the outside. And the inside made her sniffle. She’d never expected anything quite so…emotional from her mother. Sloan handed her the first package, a small box wrapped in gold paper. Underneath a layer of cotton was a folded-up note and a ring with a diamond in the middle and two pink stones on the sides. The note explained that the ring had been given to her mother when she’d given birth to her, and now she wanted to pass it on—suggesting Jenna might want to add a blue stone or two to balance out the ring. Jenna wiped at her nose as Sloan handed her the other package. She tore into the paper and started to laugh. She held up the package for Sloan to see. “Man, my mother has really changed since Dad’s surgery. First the heartfelt card and ring, now finger paints. She never let me have finger paints when I was little. I always had to go to Gram’s house for that.”
“Yeah, well, notice that she’s given the paint to you, so it’s still not at her house.”
“But it’s a step in the right direction. Maybe there’s hope for her yet.”
“Ever the optimist, aren’t you, Jenna?” Sloan leaned down and kissed her. “I love that about you.”
“I’m here! The big sister is here!” Ashley announced, barreling through the doorway. “Where’s the baby? I wanna hold him!”
Sloan got up from the bed, shaking his head. “Shh! Keep your voice down or you’ll scare your brother. And I can’t let you hold him unless you wash your hands first. We don’t need him getting sick.”
“I’m not sick, Daddy.”
“I know.” He pointed toward the bathroom. “Go wash anyway. Use soap.”
Sloan’s father came into the room. “That child has enough energy to power a platoon. Sorry. She zipped off the elevator before I could stop her.”
Jenna looked behind him for another figure. “Did Brook come with you?”
Sloan’s father shook his head. “No. Just slammed her door and cranked up her music when I asked.”
Jenna sank back into the pillows. She slowly put the things from her mother into the bag while Sloan watched. “Sugar, did you really expect her to come?”
“Ever the optimist, right? I didn’t expect, but…”
“But you hoped,” he murmured.
She nodded. “Yeah. I hoped.”
“It’s only been a few weeks since she gave up Emma, hon. Give her time. But keep that hope, huh? Maybe one day…”
Maybe one day…
Jenna was struck by the absurdity of the situation. The one thing she’d never imagined having was a family of her own. Couldn’t envision being tied down by all that responsibility. Now she had a sort-of family, and longed for the whole thing to fit. She’d even wear the apron if that’s what it took.
But even at her most optimistic, she wasn’t holding her breath. Somehow she’d be happy with what she had.
THE SILK BRANCH of multicolored leaves slipped from Jenna’s hand. As she bent to retrieve it, a tiny gurgling sound caught her attention. She turned to find her three-week-old son awake in his infant seat on the shop floor. “Well, hey there, little man. You like the pretty leaves Mommy is putting on the tree? Look, this one is yellow. And this one is red. That means fall is here. We’re a little late with it, but then, I’ve been pretty busy the past month, haven’t I?” She continued to chatter to Robbie while fastening the seasonal changes to the display in the center of the store.
The door chimed to announce the arrival of a customer. Jenna turned, and the greeting died in her throat.
Brook gave a self-conscious wave. “Hi. I, uh, well, with the holiday shopping season coming up and all that, I thought I’d stop over and see if maybe you were going to be needing help? And maybe you’d think about giving me back my old job?”
“Really?”
B
rook nodded. “I miss working here. I miss…you.”
Almost afraid to breathe, Jenna just gawked at the teenager. Robbie chose that moment to start fussing.
Brook’s eyes widened as she looked around Jenna to see the baby. “Oh. That must be Robbie, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Can I—can I hold him?”
“Sure.” Jenna knelt on the floor to lift the baby from his seat, then rose to her feet. Though hopeful, as Sloan had encouraged her to be, she’d never expected this day to come so soon. “Robbie, meet your big sister, Brook.” Gingerly, she transferred the infant into Brook’s arms, then stepped back to watch.
“Hey, handsome.” The girl stared down at him, studying him. “I think he has Dad’s nose.”
“And chin, and cheeks and eyes. You know, it’s just not fair. I did all the work, and he’s the spitting image of your father.”
Brook offered her a tentative smile. Then she looked back at her new sibling. She closed her eyes, bending her head and inhaling. “I love that baby smell.”
For a long moment, she just cuddled the baby close. When she opened her eyes, Jenna saw a shimmer of unshed tears. Her own chest tightened. “Brook—”
“It’s okay. Really. I’ve been working with a therapist. I’m not going to have a breakdown or anything just from holding him. Even if he does smell like Emma.”
Robbie squirmed in her arms, kicking his legs and waving his fists. Jenna knew what would come next. “He’s working up to a good cry. He’s probably hungry.”
Right on cue, her son began to wail. Looking uncomfortable, Brook bounced him, moving closer to Jenna and handing him to her. “Well. That’s one good thing about a brother. You can give him back when he’s hungry. Or tired or dirty. Or won’t stop crying.”
“Yeah, there is that.” Jenna strolled toward the office. “I’m going to feed him. You can stay if you want.”
“No, I think this was a good start. How about I come again tomorrow? You can think about letting me work here, and we can see if I—if we—can do this.”
Jenna paused in the office doorway. “Okay, Brook. You come back whenever you want.”