Baby Love (Baby Series)

by ANDREA SMITH

  She sucked on her thumb looking all around the massive suite that was ours. I needed to call Trey since it had slipped my mind once we had landed. I diapered the baby and then put her in the fenced play suite in her room that had an array of stuffed toys and a princess castle that she could crawl in and out of at her leisure.

  "Hi baby," he answered after the phone had only rang a couple of times.

  "Is everything okay?"

  "Oh Trey," I said already missing him.

  "This place is awesome but I haven't even seen Dad yet. Just a handful of servants. I so wish you were here with me."

  "Tylar baby - I wanted to be there with you but you never said anything about wanting me there. I didn't want to intrude on your time getting to know your father."

  "Trey you have taken off work so much because of me. I just didn't want you to feel obligated or that I couldn't handle this by myself. You are a senior partner. You don't need these kinds of distractions."

  "Tylar," he said with a heavy sigh, "You are my first priority. Do you want me there?"

  "Only if your being here won't majorly disrupt one of your cases."

  "Then I will be there first flight I can get out of Atlanta tomorrow okay?"

  "Thank you Trey. I love you."

  "I love you too, baby. Give our little 'Vampira' a kiss from daddy okay?"

  "Okay Trey," I replied smiling. "I will see you soon."

  There was a knock on the door to our suite shortly after I had gotten off the phone with Trey. It was Karen announcing that Judge Tylar was home and that there was tea being served downstairs in his study. Preston had crawled up to the prune-faced Karen and had placed her hands around the thick tree-trunk ankles of the 'no-nonsense' servant.

  "I've got her," I said, scooping Preston up in my arms.

  "Please tell my father that we will be down shortly.

  "Of course Mrs. Sinclair," the servant responded taking her leave.

  I quickly freshened up and then gathered my baby into my arms ready to face the father I had only seen once in a crowded court room when I had not been at my best.

  I looked at Preston adorable in her royal blue velvet dress and tights.

  "Showtime," I said to her, kissing her brow gently.

  CHAPTER 43

  My father was in the drawing room as Preston and I were escorted there by the frigid midget. I clutched my baby girl close to me.

  "Tylar," my dad said coming to me and embracing me warmly.

  "Forgive me for not being able to come to the airport but I think you will be pleased with what I have found out. Is this my grandbaby?"

  "Yes, dad. This is Preston Michaela Sinclair. She is actually seven months old today."

  "May I hold her?"

  "Of course," I smiled.

  He held his arms out and Preston immediately gave him her dimpled grin and reached for him. He took her from me talking to her and telling her what a beautiful little girl she was just like her mother.

  "Actually Dad, she resembles Trey considerably."

  "Nonsense daughter," he replied, "I can see Marley and you in her just as plain as day."

  "By the way, Trey is joining us here tomorrow - I hope that's okay?"

  "Absolutely," he answered, "I was remiss in not including him in the invitation initially. I presumed he had a busy schedule with his firm."

  "Being a senior partner has its perks I guess."

  Dad carried Preston over to a birdcage in the corner where a couple of parakeets were chirping and flapping around.

  "Preston those are 'birdies'," he said annunciating the word, patiently pointing and repeating it several times to her.

  She spoke some gibberish and then leaned over closer to the cage to get a good look. She became excited as she watched the birds squawk and lift their tail feathers and flutter around the gilded cage.

  She looked over at me her eyes shining and pointed to the cage.

  "Berty, mamma," she said, smiling, "Berty."

  "She is quite intelligent," my father responded.

  "Again," I replied, "She gets that from Trey."

  He looked over at me quizzically; his expression was one of surprise. He soon realized that he had been exposed to some of my dry humor. He smiled.

  "Ah yes," he said, "I recall getting a glimpse of that sense of humor of yours the first time I saw you in court when Mr. Louderdick wouldn't shut up."

  I chuckled at my dad and the way that he seemed so normal without his judicial robes; not the stodgy judge with the intimidating expression that had glared at the windbag attorney that day.

  Just then Ms. Deeny came into the room carrying a silver tray with an ornate teapot and delicate china cups and saucers. There was a platter in the center with tea biscuits, biscotti and graham crackers.

  My father motioned for me to sit down in a high back chair. He was still holding Preston in his arms as he sat across from me. Ms. Deeny set the tray on the coffee table between us.

  "Will there be anything else, Judge?"

  "Not at the moment. Thank you Ms. Deeny."

  He turned from her dismissively. It almost seemed as if he wasn't all that fond of the frigid midget either.

  "She's not very warm and fuzzy is she?" I commented as I poured our tea.

  I handed him his cup on the saucer.

  "That's an understatement," my father replied, stirring a sugar cube into his tea.

  "She was very committed to my wife. She doesn’t like the fact that you represent my infidelity to Olivia while we were engaged. I believe that my wife likely took her into her confidence early on when the 'negotiations were being conducted behind my back between your

  Uncle Matthew and Olivia."

  My father set his teacup down as Preston squirmed against him spotting the graham crackers on the tray. That was yet another word she had learned in the last few weeks.

  She leaned over toward the tray, her little hand clasping and unclasping as she repeated, "Cacker, cacker."

  "Of course darling, Grandpa will get you a cracker."

  Dad reached for a graham cracker handing it to her; she immediately started chewing on it.

  "Dad - she will have that cracker a soggy mess all over you within a few minutes."

  "That's not a problem Tylar," he laughed.

  "I want to enjoy all the things that I missed with you."

  I sipped my tea as my father filled me in on what we were going to do the following day. My dad's P.I. had located Trinity LaFleur. We would be going to Vidalia to visit her at a pre-arranged time. It was less than a two hour drive.

  I told him about the key and the note from my mother instructing Trinity to give Maggie an envelope that had been in the other blue velvet jewelry box's false bottom.

  "How strange it is," he said, "When I gave those to your mother I had no clue that the boxes would prove to be more valuable than the jewelry itself."

  "That brings a question to my mind about your gift," I said.

  He looked over at me waiting for me to continue.

  "Why give those to my mother? They had belonged to your grandmother. Wouldn't you have wanted Olivia to have them?"

  "Tylar for the brief period of time that I had the privilege of knowing Marley I knew immediately that she was an 'old soul'."

  "The jewelry was old and charming; it doesn't have significant monetary value but it was something treasured by me because it was my grandmother's. She had raised us after our parents were killed in a boating accident. I was just five years old. The jewelry reminded me of the person that had raised and protected me until I reached adult age. I wanted that for Marley."

  "Dad - that brings me to another question. In Mom's diary notebook it mentions the day that you stopped by her house to give her the jewelry boxes and tell her good-bye. She mentioned that you had words with Matthew; she mentioned that he stopped threatening her after that."

  "Oh that," he replied. "I put the fear in him. I told him that I knew he was running prostitutes including his
own sister. I told him that I had given Marley my protection. That she had a means of notifying me should he ever decide to try and put her to work like he had attempted to do the night of my bachelor's party. I also told him that I had hired someone to watch her and that I would know if he reverted back to his old behavior with respect to her."

  "That was kind of brilliant," I conceded.

  His face looked pained.

  "If only I had really done it rather than simply alluding to it. She may be alive today."

  My dad was clearly anguished by the thought that he could have or should have done more. But frankly, who would have thought that Matthew was the sociopath it appeared he had been. How had he managed to stay underneath the radar for all of these years? Did he still make his living as a pimp? It appeared that Matthew had graduated to much more lucrative schemes.

  Just then our quiet reverie was broken by Preston. Her face was smeared with soggy graham cracker crumbs. She was looking over at me saying, "Num-num, num-num."

  She was squirming in dad's arms reaching for me.

  "I'm not sure what it is she requires," my father said, handing her off to me.

  I blushed taking her from him and feeling her fingers tugging at my shirt.

  "She wants to be fed," I said. "I still nurse a couple of times each day."

  "Of course darling," he said. "Let me give you your privacy unless you would be more comfortable upstairs in your suite."

  I thought about Ms. Deeny, his nosey housekeeper. I truly hoped she was not one in the same with the 'nanny' he had told Trey would be at my disposal.

  "I think I will go to the suite and nurse her. She probably needs changing before I put her down for her afternoon nap."

  "Of course. Do you want to rest up as well?"

  I actually was tired. The going-away fuckfest that Trey and I had enjoyed the night before had left me less than rested sleep-wise.

  "That sounds wonderful to me dad. I think I will rest with her as well. I will see you at dinner then."

  "We will be eating around six. Enjoy your nap."

  I took Preston to our suite and washed her face off. I changed her diaper and put her in a jogging outfit for comfort. I set the alarm clock that was on the nightstand next to the bed for 5:30.

  Preston and I settled back on the ornate canopy bed. I unbuttoned my blouse letting her get situated on her side curled up next to me. She latched onto my breast and I felt the gentle sucking as she began nursing. It was as soothing to me as it was to her. I pulled the comforter up around us and we both fell asleep.

  I dreamt of my mother for the first time ever. Reading her notes and being around my father had conjured her up in my subconscious. I could now picture her and what she had looked like. Maggie of course had never kept a picture of her around since she was posing as my natural mother for all of those years. I had the impression that my mother and Maggie did not resemble each other all that much physically or morally. For that I was very thankful.

  It had only seemed like moments had passed before the alarm clock on the nightstand went off. Preston was still dozing peacefully next to me. I moved quietly from the bed letting her sleep.

  I went into the bathroom and washed my face and re-applied my make-up. I brushed my teeth and brushed the tangles from my hair. I changed into a pair of dress slacks and blouse for dinner. I had no clue as to how formal my dad rolled at his estate.

  Preston was stirring as I returned to the bedroom. I scooped her up and she rubbed her eyes with her hands and yawned.

  "Hey baby girl, did you have a nice nap?"

  She smiled but was squirming uncomfortably in my arms.

  "Does somebody need a diaper change?"

  I placed a towel on top of the bed and got a disposable diaper from the box, along with the baby wipes from my carry-on. I removed her soiled diaper and cleaned her up, putting a clean diaper on her. I took my brush and ran it through her baby locks getting rid of her 'bed head.'

  "There," I said smiling at her. "Preston looks beautiful."

  I got a jar of her pureed chicken and yams along with a jar of pureed peaches from my carry-on taking them downstairs with us.

  My father came across the massive hallway as he heard us coming down the stairs. He immediately took Preston from me as we went to the formal dining room.

  "Oh shoot," I said as he was seating me, "I need to go back up to our room to get a bib and her baby spoon for her.

  "Not to worry," she said with a smile. "We can accommodate".

  He called for Ms. Deeny asking her to fetch the bib and spoon from the diaper bag in our suite. She scowled and turned on her heel to do as instructed.

  She returned a few minutes later with the items. A high chair had been moved up to the big dining room table for Preston.

  A servant brought out a lovely roast with new baby potatoes, glazed carrots and freshly made bread. I was famished.

  I started to get up to feed Preston first but my father bade me to remain seated. He said he wanted to do the honors of feeding her. I didn't think he knew what he was in for.

  By the time Dad had finished feeding Preston, they both had their fair share of pureed chicken and yams on them.

  Ms. Deeny had come out viewing the aftermath and pursed her lips giving a 'tsk-tsk' while shaking her head in disapproval.

  "Judge I will get a cold wet cloth to dab those food stains off of your shirt and tie," she said heading back to the kitchen.

  "No Karen," he said abruptly.

  "Please see to cleaning my granddaughter up though. I want to eat dinner with my daughter."

  My motherly instincts were on 'high alert' as the frigid midget lifted my baby girl from her high chair to take her into the kitchen to clean her up.

  "I can do that," I started.

  "Oh no," she said to me with a statue-like smile.

  "I love babies. I have several grandchildren that I thoroughly enjoy."

  (Why did I not believe her?)

  I watched as they disappeared through the swinging door that lead from the dining room into the kitchen. I didn't like Preston to be out of my site with the hag.

  I relaxed just a couple of minutes later when Ms. Deeny returned with a cleaned up Preston.

  "There she is, all nice and clean," Karen cooed as she placed her back into the high chair.

  She must have given Preston a graham cracker in the kitchen as she had one clutched in her chubby little hand. Karen got her situated and belted into the high chair.

  Just as she slid the tray back onto the chair, Preston leaned in and grabbed Karen's gold necklace that was dangling within the baby's reach. Preston had it clutched in her fingers, pulling at it.

  "No! No!" Karen said in a loud voice that startled the baby.

  Preston immediately released the chain and turned to me, her face was puckered up ready to cry.

  "There now," Karen said as she adjusted the necklace back around her turkey neck.

  "No harm done sweetheart."

  Karen brushed past us as she left the dining room. It was if she hadn't noticed that she had upset the baby - or hadn't cared. I lifted Preston out of her high chair who by this time had reduced her crying to a whimper; she turned her attention back to the graham cracker as I sat her on my lap to finish eating.

  "It's likely been some time since Ms. Deeny has been around toddler. I'm sure she didn't mean to come off so harshly," my dad commented.

  (I was sure as hell that she did!)

  "What about the grandchildren that she mentioned that she thoroughly enjoyed?"

  "I believe that they live in another state, he replied.

  I then realized that her aversion to the baby and me was likely caused by jealousy; pure and simple jealousy. She had probably thought that since Olivia had passed on she would become mistress of the manor. Who knows? In her own twisted mind she may have even presumed she would share my father's bed. He was still young and vibrant; she was a dried up hag trying to look like she still had it going on
.

  "How long has Ms. Deeny been in your employ Dad?"

  "Oh she actually worked for my late wife's family prior to our getting married. Olivia insisted on having Karen join our staff after our wedding. She thought of Karen like an older sister. Olivia had been an only child born late in life to her parents. When Olivia's mother passed away when she was in college, Karen joined the staff."

  "Karen looks like she is in her sixties," I commented.

  "Wouldn't she have been nearly old enough to be Olivia's mother?"

  "Well Olivia was eight years older than me so not quite the age gap that you would imagine."

  "How did you lose Olivia?" I asked.

  "She died last year of a sudden cerebral hemorrhage. It was quite unexpected. She was physically active and lived a healthy lifestyle."

  I was quiet for several moments, watching Preston gum and slobber on her graham cracker.

  "Is there something that you wish to ask me Tylar?"

  My father was watching me; a fairly intuitive person but then I supposed in his profession it was almost a necessity.

  "I don't know how to word this without offending you," I commented quietly.

  "Don't worry about offending me. Perhaps I deserve to be offended - and a lot more. Ask me anything."

  I flushed trying my best to pick my words carefully.

  "You've already told me that you fell in love with my mother the first night you were together; you admitted to her that if you could change things before you married your fiancé you would have."

  "That's correct," he stated waiting for more.

  "So - why didn't you call off the wedding? If you really loved my mom why wouldn't you have done that?"

  "It's a bit more complicated than that Tylar. I had a history with Olivia. I had made a commitment to her; our plans were in place to build a life together. And there is one very important factor that you have left out."

  "What factor?" I asked.

  "Your mother had given me no indication that she cared for me, let alone loved me. They were words she wrote in a diary of sorts that I didn't see for decades - after it was too late."

  "If you had known my mother loved you - if she had said those words back to you in 1989, would it have changed anything?"