A woman opened the front door of the apartment.
Natalie tapped Jake, who already had his door ajar, on the shoulder. "Who is that?" she asked.
He turned around. Keeping his voice low, he answered, "Her name is Mrs. Mary Davenport. She's a nurse-companion I hired to help you with the baby until you're strong again."
"A nurse? Jake, I can't afford a nurse."
"I said I hired her. I'll pay. She lives in the next block, but she'll stay overnight until you can manage on your own. Then she'll come in during the day."
Natalie looked at the woman skeptically. She didn't have the ordinary look of a baby nurse. Tall and lean, with a severe bun on the back of her neck and an unsmiling demeanor, she came toward the car. "I can manage on my own right now."
He hesitated. "She cooks," he said blandly.
She shot him a look from the corner of her eye. A muscle twitched slightly at the corner of his mouth. He didn't really smile but he was teasing her, a promising sign.
The woman had reached her side of the car and stood waiting a few feet away while they discussed her. Natalie was glad her window was closed. "Well, maybe for a few days," she conceded. "Since she cooks."
He did chuckle then. He got out of the car and came around to introduce them.
"How do you do, Mrs. Davenport?" Natalie held out her hand.
"Call me Mary," she told Natalie, briskly returning the handshake. "Now let's get you both inside. It's cold out here."
Natalie realized almost immediately that she was mistaken in her assessment of Mary Davenport. When the woman headed toward the baby in the back seat, Natalie moved instinctively to stop her, but Jake touched her arm, and she soon knew why.
The moment Mary saw Annabelle, her face changed completely. She murmured to the baby, and when she unfastened the seat buckle and lifted the blanket-wrapped bundle, her capable hands were as gentle as if she were handling delicate crystal. "What a sweet miss you are," she crooned, cuddling Annabelle. "Did you sleep all the way home?"
Her warm smile and soft exclamation melted Natalie's heart. She looked wryly at Jake and smiled her thanks. They both followed Mary inside.
Natalie immediately became aware of the aroma of roasting meat … and something with pineapple.
"I hope you don't mind, Mrs. Armstrong. I took the liberty of moving the bassinet into the second bedroom," said Mary, moving through the living room. "If the baby is restless during the night, I can see to her without disturbing you."
Natalie smiled and followed her. "Thank you, Mary. But I don't know how you could fit another piece of furniture in there."
"I rearranged a few things," said Mary as she disappeared into the room.
Natalie stopped in her tracks, alarmed.
Mary stuck her head back out the door. "I didn't touch the computer," she reassured Natalie with a smile.
The next few minutes they were occupied with getting the baby settled. Mary had unpacked the box of linens that she'd found in the closet and dressed the bassinet in the white organdy ruffles and eyelet and blue and pink ribbons. The pretty skirts fell to the floor in cascades. The bed was fit for a princess, and she told Mary so.
"I set it up for her homecoming, but of course we won't keep it decorated this way."
"We won't?"
"Heavens, no. It would be dusty inside a week, not at all healthy for the little one."
"Oh." Natalie shrugged. She could see she had a lot to learn.
Annabelle Lisa Armstrong fit nicely in the bassinet, but it seemed to take a minute for her to feel comfortable. Her tiny hands flailed in the air fearfully when Mary laid her down. Natalie moved forward to remove the baby's sweater and cap and she could feel the little body tremble under her hands. She smoothed down the baby's hair.
"Poor dear," said Mary. "So many strange people and places." She tucked a receiving blanket securely and comfortably around the baby and the panicked movements ceased. Annabelle fell asleep almost immediately.
When Natalie returned to the living room, a cheerful fire was crackling in the fireplace. "Would you like to rest in bed or here in front of the fire?" asked Jake.
"I've been in bed too long," said Natalie, kicking off her shoes and sitting on the sofa. Though she couldn't imagine why, she found that she was a bit tired. She hadn't noticed until now. She laid her head against the cushions and turned to smile at him. Her eyes closed.
Jake looked down at the sleeping woman, free for the moment to let his gaze roam leisurely over her body. From the top of her shining head, lingering on the thrust of her breasts beneath the peach sweater, down her long legs to her nylon-clad toes, she was gorgeous.
The picture was superimposed, however, over his vivid memory of her in the delivery room. She was not only gorgeous, she was vital, strong, courageous and—he recalled the taste of her lips under his—potent.
His eyes returned to her mouth. Her lips were soft, full, slightly moist. The kiss had begun as a celebration. It had ended as something quite different. Now that he knew her taste, would he be able to resist savoring her again?
He muttered a curse under his breath and diverted his gaze. She was tired, not ready to go where his thoughts were taking him. Good Lord, she'd just had a baby two days ago.
She didn't even know when he left.
* * *
The first few days at home were much more of an adjustment than Natalie had expected. She knew the arrival of the baby would mean major changes in her life, but what she hadn't foreseen was how an entire household could revolve entirely around a person as small as Annabelle. Sleep, meals, laundry, everything seemed to be adjusting to her, rather than vice versa. Natalie's characteristic neatness flew out the window.
For the most part, Annabelle was a good baby, but a baby was a baby. She had to be fed regularly; she had to be changed; she had to have clean clothes. And the bath—
Good God, thought Natalie one morning as she watched in awe of Mary's deft manipulation of the wet, squirming body. How would she ever be able to bathe the baby alone? The water had to be the right temperature, the soap and towel at hand because you couldn't leave her unattended in the water while you searched for something you'd forgotten.
Mary took responsibility for the baby's care, but Natalie soon realized that she should learn as much as possible from the woman. She asked questions that must have sounded really dumb to Mary.
"I've never been around small children," she explained, having earned another of those incredulous looks. "I had no brothers or sisters. I didn't even have cousins that were close enough to visit."
"You poor thing," said Mary.
Natalie was rather startled by the sympathy; she had never considered herself deprived because she wasn't around babies.
After that admission, Mary began to explain without her having to ask.
* * *
March came in like a lamb. The air was fresh and warm and winter washed. Annabelle was two weeks old when Natalie decided that she should have her first botany lesson.
She took the baby into the garden and began to name the flowers, holding her up so she could see the bright colors. The bulbs were in full bloom. Lemon-yellow jonquils and scarlet tulips lined the borders, providing the backdrop for blue and white hyacinths. A few pansies were left, their purple and gold faces low against the ground. That morning Annabelle smiled for the first time.
Mary explained that it was probably gas, but Natalie didn't believe that for a minute.
The most peaceful time for everyone—aside from when Annabelle was sleeping—was when Annabelle was nursing. Natalie loved the intervals, even when they came in the middle of the night. This baby, at her breast, depending on her for sustenance—it was a breathtaking experience.
One sunny morning Natalie was sitting in the antique rocker, the baby in her arms sucking greedily, when there was a knock at the back door. Mary answered and Natalie heard Jake's voice.
"She's in the living room," Mary told him.
Natalie looked around an
xiously, unwilling for him to see her with her blouse open, but there was nothing she could do.
He stopped on the threshold, staring at the picture she made. He seemed mesmerized. At last he cleared his throat and came over. He looked down and met her eyes. "Everything okay?" he asked.
She swallowed, then smiled. "Everything's fine," she answered.
He allowed his gaze to drop to the full curve of her breast, the baby's rosebud mouth on her nipple. Sated now, Annabelle closed her eyes. In sleep, she sighed; her lips trembled, then relaxed. A dribble of milk escaped. Natalie felt it run down into her blouse.
She sat immobile, unable even to breathe, while she watched the expressions that crossed his face. The air seemed to vibrate with the electricity that arced between them.
Jake raised his hand—she thought he was going to touch her. Then he let it drop and turned away.
Natalie felt her spirits and her hope hit bottom.
They didn't see much of Jake after that. He dropped in occasionally after work, but if Annabelle was in the room or started to cry while he was there, he left immediately.
It hurt, but Natalie told herself that it was what she should have expected.
They had been home for three weeks when Mary suggested that she return to her writing. "Our schedule is fairly well established," she told Natalie. "And I've seen the looks you give that contraption when you're in the room with it."
Natalie grinned and kissed the older woman soundly on the cheek. "Thanks, Mary."
She plunged into her work with an energy that she wished she enjoyed at other times. It seemed that she was always tired. Until she sat down at the computer. Then the characters, their movements and emotions, became more real to her than her own. Her plot took on a vitality that rivaled her own life for realism. It was often hard to tear herself away.
One morning, secluded in the bedroom-office, she became aware of a far-off sound. But she was deep into a scene and disregarded the noise.
"Lunch, Natalie," said Mary through the closed door.
Natalie paused, her fingers resting lightly on the keyboard, disoriented for a moment. "Be there in a minute," she called.
The door opened and Mary stuck her head inside. "Not yours, honey. Annabelle's. And I don't think she'll wait a minute."
Natalie heard the baby's cries through the open door and felt guilty. "Oh, Mary, I'm sorry." She quickly pushed the save button and turned off the machine.
She swiveled in her chair and stood, lifting her arms over her head to stretch her muscles. Then she realized that the cries were growing more shrill. She hurried through the living room into the kitchen.
Annabelle's infant seat was in the middle of the kitchen table. A mobile of bright butterflies hung from the light fixture above.
But Annabelle was not amused; her feet and arms were milling wildly as she screamed.
Natalie plucked the baby out of the seat and cradled her in one arm. "Goodness gracious, we are hungry, aren't we?" she asked as she sat down and prepared to nurse the baby.
After a few unsuccessful attempts to get Annabelle to eat, Natalie looked up at the older woman worriedly. "Is she all right, Mary?"
Annabelle would suckle for a minute and scream for a minute. Then she would nuzzle around and try again. The cycle was nerve shattering for Natalie.
Mary folded her arms over her own bony chest. "You're not going to like this, Natalie," she warned gently. She took a breath. "But I don't think Annabelle is getting enough to eat. I believe she needs formula."
Natalie felt her heart squeeze as the baby cried out again, then nuzzled with frustration. She looked down, but she didn't see her daughter's beautiful face. All she could grasp was that she'd failed.
Mary read her mind. "You are not a failure, Natalie," she said firmly. "Many women are not able to nurse at all. You've fed Annabelle for almost a month."
Finally Natalie nodded. "We'll do whatever you think is best," she said softly. But her disappointment was still intense.
"I'll give the doctor a call to check it out with him, right now."
* * *
Natalie continued to feed Annabelle, but she now used a rich formula, a plastic bottle and a nipple made of rubber. She often sat in the garden for this task. Annabelle liked to watch the movement of the leaves overhead.
This afternoon she had spread a quilt on the grass. She was feeling particularly melancholy as she fed the baby and burped her. Then she laid Annabelle on her stomach and sat beside her, watching her kick her strong little legs.
Natalie felt she had lost something precious when she could no longer satisfy the baby. It made her think of all the losses she would have to adjust to in the years to come. Annabelle would go off to school and Natalie would no longer be the sole influence in her life. She would grow up, date, leave home for college—now that was a frightening concept. She would meet a man, marry, have children—
"What are you thinking?" asked a quiet voice.
Natalie twisted around to see Jake. His coat was slung over the fence and he stood hip-shot, his chin resting on his forearms on top of the gate, watching her. He looked as if he might have been watching for some time.
She had been so absorbed in her thoughts she hadn't heard the car, hadn't known he was there. She thought she laughed, but instead a sad little sound emerged from her lips. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you," she said.
He straightened, took his coat off the fence and came over to where she was sitting. "Try me."
Annabelle turned her head at the sound of another, different voice. Her legs were flaying the air. She kicked off a sock.
Natalie smiled briefly at her antics, then she tilted her head as far back as it would go to look up at him. "I was thinking about grandchildren."
"Good God," he said. He laughed and shook his head. "That settles it. You've got to get out of this house. We're going somewhere for dinner."
"Really?" she said, a smile spreading over her face.
"Really. Where would you like to go?" He sat down beside Natalie. Annabelle kicked harder. He ignored her, but Natalie could see the signs of the baby's growing annoyance. She picked up Annabelle and patted her absently on the back. "Anywhere?"
He grinned. His teeth were white against his mustache. "Anywhere," he agreed.
"To the beach, to one of those loud honky-tonk places where they play hard rock and drink beer and dance until dawn."
"You're kidding," he said.
"Nope."
But it began to rain, so he didn't take her there. They went to Tibernio's instead. And all the unpleasant memories of their last evening there went with them.
"This wasn't a good idea," said Jake.
"Probably not," agreed Natalie.
They were back at the town house by nine o'clock. "We'll go to the beach another time," he said as he said good-night at her door.
"Yes, another time." But time was running out, and they both knew it.
* * *
Chapter 9
« ^ »
Natalie stood at the open front door, her eyes on the park across the street. The azaleas were bursting with color—magenta, flame, coral, white—and overhead, like flowering umbrellas, were the dogwoods, their buds just beginning to open. In another week or so the city would be ablaze in color.
It was such a beautiful day Natalie suddenly decided she couldn't bear to be indoors. She called to Mary, and in a few minutes they were outside. Annabelle was about to experience her first real excursion into the world.
The weather was perfect for indulging in spring fever. The sun was shining in a cloudless sky.
Natalie's heart seemed buoyant, and her mood matched her outfit—the yellow slacks and top she wore for the first time since last spring. Her clothes fit her again, albeit a little tightly. She wanted to dance, to whirl around and around, until she was dizzy. Others seemed to be under the influence of the same frivolous fever. As Natalie, Mary and Annabelle passed through the more commercial areas of the h
istoric district, the streets were crowded with people, and they all seemed to be smiling.
Even Mary was affected by the day. The stolid demeanor that she exhibited most often was washed away by the brilliant sunlight. She talked about herself, something she rarely did. They stopped by her house so she could pick up her mail, and she showed Natalie around. Her home was a much smaller version of Jake's, but it was also a restoration house and had a lovely charm.
"Pshew. It smells musty in here," said Mary. "I'll need to air it out when I come back."
"If you need to—" Natalie began.
But Mary interrupted. "I'll stay with you until you leave," she said in her no-nonsense tone.
"I would like you to continue to be there during the day, but if you want to be at home at night, I'll be fine with the baby." She almost always got up to feed Annabelle, anyway. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been here to teach me what to do, Mary. You saw how incompetent I was."
Mary's look was keen. "You weren't incompetent. You were inexperienced. But you would have learned. You're that kind of person. You do what has to be done." Then she added what was, of course, the most important commendation of all. "Annabelle would not have suffered."
Natalie was awed by the compliment. Mary so rarely handed them out. "Thank you, Mary."
Suddenly Mary nodded decisively. "After your checkup next week, I'll go home at night. If you get into trouble you can call me. I'm close enough to run over."
Natalie laughed. "You'd better take your phone off the hook."
Pushing Annabelle's stroller, they walked over to Bull Street and Madison Square. One of the most charming aspects of Savannah were the squares—two dozen small parks, green oases in the middle of the city bustle.
They passed a nursery and Natalie decided the urns on each side of the front door needed some color, too. She bought geraniums to replace those that had died over the winter and arranged to pick them up the next day. The color was coral pink, a new hybrid that, Mary agreed, would look lovely beside the warm pinkish color of the brick house.
They walked for miles. When they returned to the apartment, tired but still cheerful, they found Jake waiting, a formidable expression on his face.
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