Huffing out a tired breath, Leila finally hung up the phone and climbed out of bed with all her dreams of spending the day in bed gone. Her mind was still wrapped on the strange call as she donned her robe and slipped into her favorite pair of slippers.
If she had any hopes of figuring out the new game her baby sister was playing, she would need her morning coffee—preferably a full pot.
Midway down the stairs, the sound of music caught her ear. She stopped.
Had she left the stereo on? Wait, she hadn’t listened to it last night. Her heart skipped a beat until she thought of the unlikelihood of a killer sneaking into her place only to play… “Rock-a-bye Baby.”
“Hello?” She crept down to the landing, trying to convince herself she was naming the wrong tune. As she followed the music, her confusion grew. It was coming from the kitchen.
Her usually dependable creative imagination had drawn a blank on what awaited her; but nevertheless, she put on a brave front and continued placing one foot in front of the other.
The moment she entered the kitchen, her gaze zeroed onto a frilly pink bassinette in the center of the kitchen table.
Leila blinked. When the image remained, she blinked again. It was still there and the looped music reverberated off the walls.
She rubbed her chest, certain that her heart was going to break through. “It isn’t. It can’t be.”
Her denial grew with each step while a knot tightened in the pit of her stomach. “It isn’t. It can’t be,” she repeated until she finally stopped to hover over the bassinette.
For half a heartbeat, Leila relaxed. The small, perfectly formed brown baby with rosy cheeks had to be a doll, which meant someone was playing a cruel joke. However, when the angelic child cooed softly, Leila jumped back in terror.
Who would—? When did she—? Where—?
“No. No.” She pivoted so fast she nearly tripped out of her pink slippers. Escaping the kitchen, she could only think to shout one name at the top of her lungs. “Sam!”
Leila bolted through the dining room and into the living room.
Both were empty.
“Sam!”
Swiveling, Leila tripped; but she saved herself from making a splat on the floor by dropping to her knees. Yet, adrenaline propelled her back to her feet and she was once again flying up and down the house.
Guest rooms—empty.
Bathrooms—empty.
Closets—empty.
“Sam…please. Don’t do this to me,” she begged.
Fear and anxiety knit a fine sheen of sweat across Leila’s brow, but she kept going. She reached an all-time low when she crawled on all fours to check beneath her own bed.
Samantha wasn’t there either.
Leila raked her fingers through her hair until her day-old mousse achieved the Bride of Frankenstein look and she nearly succumbed to the temptation to curl up into a ball. Then a thought occurred to her. She hadn’t checked outside. What if Sam was still out there, trying to unload her car or something?
Granted, it was far-fetched; but hope gave credence to the wild notion. Leila sprinted down the stairs, fluffy pink slippers and all; but before she reached the front door, a thin, high-pitched wail filled the house.
Leila skidded to a stop. The baby was crying. “What should I do?”
You should go check on her.
“But I don’t know how to take care of a baby.”
How hard could it be?
Leila mulled over the internal question. She was a smart woman in charge of a successful publishing company. Surely she could handle a baby.
The wail climbed a few octaves and Leila was forced to head into the kitchen. “Okay, okay. I’m here,” she soothed, rushing to the bassinette.
The baby stopped screaming…just long enough to draw a deep breath and then let it rip again.
With rattled eardrums, Leila panicked. She grabbed the bassinette by the handle and raced out of the house. So much for her being able to handle a baby.
“Sam!”
Garrick bolted upright, but was confused by what had awakened him. Yet, in the next second, a woman’s shrill voice penetrated his double-paned windows and he was out of the bed like a shot.
“Sam!”
Widening a slit in the venetian blinds, Garrick peered out to the house across the street. This was supposed to be a quiet neighborhood.
“Sam!”
Who’s Sam? His eyes lowered to the large pink basket she was carrying. A baby. Something was wrong with her baby?
Garrick turned and raced from the window. His heart lodged in his throat at all the wild possibilities. Was the baby sick, hurt, or worse?
“Sam!”
There was no snow this Christmas, but the cold December wind was an instant wake-up call against his bare chest. Yet, there was no way he was going to turn around now that he could also hear a baby screaming.
“Ma’am, ma’am. What’s wrong?”
“What?” The lady stepped back. “Who are you?” Her eyes raked him.
It hit him then that he was standing in his neighbor’s driveway in just his pajama pants. “I—I’m Garrick Grayson. Your new neighbor across the street.”
She took another step back but confusion still clouded her face. Actually, she looked every bit the part of a crazy woman with her hair standing straight on her head. Maybe this was trouble he didn’t need.
“Ma’am, you were screaming at the top of your voice. Is something wrong?”
She blinked out of her trance and glanced around the neighborhood.
Garrick looked as well and saw a few people milling out of their houses.
“Just great,” the woman mumbled under her breath. “Sam has turned me into a screaming lunatic.” She turned, clutched the bassinette tighter, and headed toward her front door.
Still concerned about the crying baby, he followed. “Who’s Sam?” he asked.
“My soon-to-be-deceased sister.” She entered the house. “Okay, little baby,” she cooed awkwardly. “You can stop crying now. Everything is going to be all right…I hope.”
Garrick frowned. “Ma’am. Is everything all right? Do you need me to call someone for you?”
“Call someone. That’s a good idea. I can call someone to come and help me with…uh—this baby.” She stopped in the foyer and then squeezed the large bassinette onto a slim table. “But who? Everyone is gone for the holidays.”
The baby wailed at full volume.
“Okay. Okay. I can do this,” she affirmed and reached for the baby.
Garrick still didn’t know what to make of any of this.
The baby, dressed in all pink, flailed tiny hands and feet as the screaming continued.
Dumbfounded, Garrick eyed the bizarre woman as she held the child away from her body as if the child were a stick of dynamite. “Have you ever held a baby before?”
“Uh, yeah—but never when one was crying like this. I think something is wrong with it.”
It? “I take it this is not your child?”
“Good heavens, no.” Her face twisted. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” she assured the child.
Garrick wasn’t too sure about that and apparently neither was the baby—if the screaming was any indication.
“Why won’t it stop crying?” the lady asked in obvious distress.
It again. “First, I’m guessing by all the pink that it’s a girl,” he said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Second, I’m thinking you would want to hold her a little closer to your body if you’re trying to comfort her.”
The lady looked as if he’d told her to jump off a cliff; but in the next second, she was bobbing her head in agreement. “Okay, okay. I can do that.”
She nearly did, too—until an unmistakable sound alerted them that the baby had just unloaded half her body weight into her diaper.
“Oh-my-God,” the woman croaked, stretching her arms farther out from her body. “Did you hear that?”
The corners of Garr
ick’s lips twitched into a smile. “Yeah, I heard.” He reached for the baby. This wasn’t exactly the kind of emergency he’d had in mind when he’d bolted over here, but it was a job that still needed to be done.
Garrick nestled the little girl in the crook of his arm. As he swayed back and forth, the baby quieted down. “That’s a good girl,” he cooed, smiling down at the chubby-cheeked baby. She was actually adorable with her nest of curly hair and sweet brown eyes. Still, he couldn’t imagine who was insane enough to leave their baby with this woman.
“How did you do that?” his neighbor asked, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
“I’ve been told I’m a natural with babies and animals,” he boasted proudly.
“You’re a godsend.”
The woman raked her fingers through her hair—something she should stop doing, he noted.
“Yeah, well, I guess if you just get us a new diaper, I can help you change her and get out of your hair.” He didn’t mean to mention her hair, but it had a way of drawing the eye.
She blinked. “A diaper?”
“You do have diapers, right?”
“Uh.” She turned back toward the bassinette and searched inside it, but the only thing she pulled out was a thin envelope.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“It’s from Sam,” she said with a note of dread, and then lifted her large, sad brown eyes up at him. “It could only mean bad news.”
Chapter 3
On the porch of her Sea Symphony Villa, Roslyn stared out at Barbados’s powdery white sand, turquoise sea, cerulean sky and wanted to pinch herself. Everything was postcard perfect—and yet she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering back home.
“Whatcha thinking about?” Patrick eased his arms around her waist and nibbled on her exposed shoulder.
Though his lips were pleasure, they failed to draw Roslyn from her troubled thoughts. “I was thinking about Samantha,” she answered honestly.
Her husband groaned and laid his head against her shoulder. “This is supposed to be our vacation.”
“It is.” Roslyn turned in his arms and fluttered a smile at him. “I was just hoping everything is okay, you know? This time of year is always hard for her.”
Patrick nodded, but his gaze inspected her. “This time of year is also hard on you…and Leila.”
Instant tears welled in Roslyn’s eyes and she lowered her gaze to stare at the span of his broad chest.
Gently, he lifted her head again so their eyes met. “All I’m saying is…you can’t fix your sister. Everyone has demons to fight. Samantha is going to have to fight her own.”
“It’s not that easy.” Roslyn pushed out of his arms and shook her head. “Samantha isn’t strong. She’s not like Leila—who can take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’. And she’s not like me.” She took Patrick’s hand. “I have an incredible man who I can lean on and who can pick up the pieces when I fall apart.”
Patrick bowed his head.
“I know you’ve never cared for my baby sister.”
His head jerked up again. “That’s not true.” He hedged as he selected his next words. “I just don’t like how she emotionally blackmails you…or anyone who tries to get too close.”
“And what if Ms. Friedman is right? What if she has had a baby? Do you think that she’s emotionally stable to raise a child?”
“We don’t know—”
“Hypothetically?”
Patrick drew a deep breath and gave the questions careful consideration. “I honestly don’t know.”
Roslyn nodded and returned to his arms. “Neither do I.”
“Your sister abandoned her baby?” Garrick asked, mentally snapping pieces of the puzzle together.
“Looks that way.” Leila ripped open the thin envelope and unfolded the enclosed letter. “Dear Leila, I’m sorry.” She stopped and closed her eyes to pray for strength.
“Is that all it says?” Garrick asked, bouncing and patting the baby’s back.
Slowly, the child’s wails teetered off to soft coos.
Amazed, Leila glanced up. “How are you doing that?”
“It’s like I said—” he cocked his head with a disarming smile “—I’m a natural.”
At that moment, the little girl released a high-pitched squeal to contradict his claim.
A smug smile curved Leila’s lips.
“Any chance I can get that diaper?” he asked.
“Oh.” Leila’s brain kicked into gear. “I think I saw a bag in the kitchen. Hopefully there’s one in there.” She rushed to the kitchen and breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted an unmistakable pink diaper bag on the table. “Bingo! I found it.”
She unzipped the bag and found a stockpile of tiny diapers, bottled milk, plastic toys and singing stuffed frogs.
Garrick strolled into the kitchen while making funny noises to Leila’s new niece. “She’s adorable,” he said, taking one of the diapers. “What’s her name?”
“No clue.”
“You never even met her before?”
“What can I say? Not every family is like the Huxtables,” Leila huffed, and then remembered the letter she still clasped in her hand.
Her new neighbor quickly changed the subject. “Where should I change her?”
Leila lowered the letter again and glanced around. “Uh, I guess we can do it in the living room?”
“Okay.” He carved out a smile. “Lead the way.”
Since her house was not exactly equipped with a baby-changing station, Leila settled on him lying the baby down on the sofa. Even then, she cringed at the potential mess he could make on the furniture’s expensive fabric.
“Any wipes or baby powder?”
Leila blinked as if he spoke a foreign language.
“Could you check the bag?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. Of course.” Leila hid her embarrassment by pivoting and racing back to the kitchen. He had to think she was a complete idiot. In ten minutes, he’d learned that she didn’t know how to hold a baby, calm a baby, or even change a baby. Yet, here she was—with a baby.
“I’ll never forgive her for this,” Leila mumbled under her breath as she grabbed the diaper bag. When she returned to the living room, once again, she watched him coo and blubber a bunch of gibberish. All of which her niece found entertaining.
“Here you go.” She handed over the bag.
“Thanks.” He quickly pulled out the items he needed. “You better pay close attention, seeing you’re going to have to do this about seven to ten times a day.”
Leila’s eyebrows leaped up. “That much?”
“Give or take.” He flashed her a dimpled smile.
Her stomach clenched and she tightened the belt on her robe before, once again, remembering the letter. She unfolded it and read. “Dear Leila. I’m sorry. I know my leaving your new six-month-old niece will be a mild inconvenience…” Leila glanced up. “A mild inconvenience?”
Garrick looked at her but said nothing.
Leila rolled her eyes and returned her attention back to the letter. “Like me, motherhood was never a part of your plans. However, unlike me, your decision wasn’t based on the fact that you would make a lousy mother, but simply because you’re married to your career. I, on the other hand, am a screwup. I always have been.”
Leila’s voice softened. “Since little Emma came into my life, I’m seized by the fear that I’m going to screw her up as well. That’s the last thing I want to do. Emma deserves all the things I can’t give her, but I know that you can. Please don’t hate me for doing this. But I believe I’m doing what’s best for my daughter. Take care of her and love her as your own. Both of you will always be in my thoughts and in my heart. Love, Sam.”
Leila crumpled the letter in her hand. “Give me a break.”
Garrick cast another sidelong glance in her direction.
“Trust me,” she said, folding her arms. “My sister is a piece of work. Every time things get tough, she gets going.”
/> “But there’s a little girl caught in the middle,” Garrick said.
“Yeah.” Leila fell silent as she stared down at Emma. She could see hints of Sam in the shape of the child’s face and nose.
“Well,” Garrick said, folding up the used diaper. “I’m all done here. You have someplace I can put this?”
Panic seized her. “You’re leaving?”
“Well. There’s no real reason for me to stick around.”
Emma kicked and giggled to herself.
“Besides,” Garrick chuckled and smiled, “I don’t think this little lady will be giving you any more trouble.” He tickled the child’s sides and was rewarded with another burst of giggles. “She’s adorable.”
“But—but. I didn’t see how you did the diaper thingy,” Leila said.
“Trust me.” He laughed as he stood. “It’s pretty self-explanatory.” He tried to hand the used diaper over.
Leila turned up her nose and waved the odorous thing away. “Hold on.” She turned and bolted back toward the kitchen. When she returned, she carried her large stainless-steel garbage can with her. “Drop it in here.”
Garrick’s brows dipped in confusion, but he did as she asked. “Um, is there anyone you can call to help you with her?” He reached down and picked up the rolling child before she fell off the sofa.
Leila shook her head and set the garbage can down.
“Another family member…or friend?”
She snapped her fingers and raced over to the cordless phone on the end table. “Ciara!”
Garrick brightened. “There you go. Problem solved.”
“You’re so right. Ciara totally knows about this whole baby thing. I can pawn Ms. Emma off on her for a few hours while I hunt down my mentally handicapped sister.” She punched in the number.
He frowned. “Do you think that’s a wise idea?”
She listened as the phone rang. “What do you mean?”
“Well, apparently your sister is, uh, a little unstable at the moment. Maybe it’s not the right time to force her to take care of Emma. You know, I read an article the other day on postpartum depression—”
“What are you, a shrink?”
“No—”
“Tom Cruise?”
He chuckled. “Definitely not.”
She’s My Baby Page 2