She was breaking crumbs off the bread she was holding, but she wasn’t eating it anymore. “You worked here?”
“When I was a kid. So did Meg, my sister. I went off to college and never really came back. Meg was a change of life baby, as my Mom says, or her ‘oops baby.’ She’s only five years older than Mike. And it wasn’t easy on either of my parents, but they did it. Now they’re having a second childhood of their own, traveling, making up for lost time.”
A cry came from down the hall, and Amy was on her feet and moving before he even realized that one of the children was awake. She was gone. He reached for the dishes, clearing the table into the dishwasher. By the time she came back into the kitchen, he was almost done. He turned and Amy was there holding Taylor on one hip and cradling Travis in the crook of her other arm. He crossed and took the baby from her, and looked at Taylor, who seemed still half-asleep.
“The baby’s cries woke Taylor. I told her you might have a cookie or something out here for her,” Amy said, hiking Taylor higher on her hip.
“Sure, I bet we do,” he said, taking the baby with him into the pantry, a small room off to one side of the kitchen. He found a box of graham crackers. “We’ve got these,” he said, coming back out with them. Amy was at the table, holding Taylor on her lap. “How about graham crackers?”
“Perfect,” she said, “Not too much sugar.”
Quint put the box on the table, and while Amy opened it and gave one to Taylor, he sat down opposite them with the baby in his arms. Taylor ate one cracker and Amy looked across at Travis. “He’s such a good baby,” she said. “Taylor was fussy. She had these crying fits in the afternoon and the only way she could be comforted was by holding her like a football in your arm facedown, and walking and jiggling her at the same time.”
“He’s still new. This might not last.”
He was grateful that made her smile, not a full expression, but a softening at her lips and a general lightening in her. “True. Kids change so quickly.” She smoothed Taylor’s sleep-mussed hair. “Taylor changes every day so much, that’s why I couldn’t just put her in day care and miss all of that.” She sat back as Taylor took another cracker. “I’ve got the perfect job. I’m with her and can earn a living, such as it is, and not miss her growing time.”
She genuinely loved her child, cared about her child and nurtured her child. And she was just as good with a child who had been dumped on her doorstep. “You’re remarkable,” he said before he really thought and could stop the words.
“Excuse me?” she said, her expression darkening slightly.
He couldn’t say what he really thought, that she was attractive on so many levels and one level was being a mother. He didn’t want more lies, so he just hedged a bit, but told the truth. “You’re so good at this, with the kids, as if it was the easiest, most natural thing in the world.”
“It’s not brain surgery.” She cuddled Taylor who had had enough crackers and was snuggling back into her mother.
He smiled. “Amy, no brain surgeon could do what you’re doing. Believe me.”
The color dotted her cheeks again, but this time, not from anger. “I always wanted to be a mother, it just took me longer than I thought it would to get there.”
“Odd,” he said, honesty coming from this woman at all times. Despite the physical turmoil she caused him with her presence, there was something soothing about her. She was as soothing to him as she was to the children. “I never wanted to be a father. Then it happened. I got married and Mike came. But when he was there, I knew that he was the reason for all that had happened before that moment. And everything that would happen.” He chuckled roughly. “I’m usually not good at philosophical discussions.”
She shrugged. “It’s not philosophy, it’s life. If you hadn’t met your ex-wife, you never would have had your son.”
“You’re right. But that doesn’t change the fact that I stink at marriage. Now, as a father, I’m not bad.” He tried to smile. “At least I’m passable. I got past it, and Mike’s turned out just fine. Dumb luck, probably, but he’s a great kid.” He shook his head. “No, he’s a good man. He’s not a kid anymore.”
She glanced at Travis in Quint’s arms, and he looked down, too. The baby was sound asleep. “You haven’t lost your touch.”
“I guess it’s like riding a bicycle,” he murmured, then looked at her. God, he hated regret, but right now he totally regretted being at a different place in his life than she was at the moment. And he regretted the way he could feel himself getting more obsessed with a woman almost as young as his son, and that he couldn’t stop this gradual slide into the father role he’d left behind.
He cleared his throat and glanced at his wine. He tried to stop looking at this woman who deserved more than he could ever offer her. That thought stunned. What could he offer her and what would he want to offer her? What would she take from him?
“And who’d want to ride a bike again, huh?” he heard her whisper.
He felt a sense of sadness. “Exactly.”
Chapter Eleven
That night, Amy slept with Travis on one side bolstered by pillows and Taylor on the other, blocked in by the wall. The sleep was deep and easy, except for waking to feed Travis, and when he stirred around dawn, she was instantly awake. She picked him up, changed him, then managed to get dressed herself, in jeans, the Super Dude T-shirt and gray sweatshirt that she’d brought from the center.
After putting a piece of graham cracker in the rat’s cage, she put the cell phone in her pocket and took Travis out into the kitchen to heat a bottle. Quint was nowhere around, and one look out the windows showed her that the storm was still going strong. After getting the bottle warmed, she carried Travis near the windows, and while he fed, she looked out at the watery world outside the ranch house. Through the blurry glass, she could see rolling green off into the distance, a dark building that looked to be two stories tall to the right, and a wing of the house jutting out to the left. The tiled roof shed the water in small rivers, and the wide overhang partially protected what looked like stone walls.
“Good morning,” she heard from behind her, and turned, surprised to see Quint looking painfully fresh in clean jeans and a white shirt. What shocked her most was Taylor in his arms. He smiled as he came into the kitchen. “She found me,” he said as he crossed to the pantry and disappeared inside. “And she wanted more crackers.” His voice came out of the room, then he was back with the box in Taylor’s hands.
He crossed and asked, “Can she use a chair or is she better on the floor?”
“She slips off chairs, but the floor’s so cold,” she said.
“Okay, let’s go where the floor’s better for her,” he said, carrying Taylor across the room and through the arched doorway where he’d carried Amy last night.
She hesitated, almost afraid to go back to the scene of her insanity, then she hurried after him. She’d thought it was a den and it was, of sorts, a cozy room with the tiles partially covered by area rugs. Leather was everywhere, from the low couch, from which she quickly averted her eyes, to chairs that all but made a circle in front of a huge stone hearth. Near windows to the right stood what looked like an antique pool table, and one wall was filled with bookshelves, overflowing with books of every sort, with a television set in the middle.
Quint crossed with Taylor, sank down on the couch and put her on the carpet that ran under a massive wooden coffee table. She started on the crackers, and Quint looked up at Amy still holding Travis, only partially in the room. “If you’ll watch them, I’ll get something for breakfast. We can eat in here.” He tapped the coffee table. “Just the right size for little people.”
“Okay,” she said, crossing the room, but choosing to sit on a chair that faced the couch where she could watch Taylor. She could hear Quint in the kitchen, the clatter of pots, then the aroma of fresh coffee. She burped Travis and laid him on his stomach across her thighs and slowly made circles on his back. He seemed content ju
st to be there, and she was feeling suspiciously content at that moment, too. Taylor was happy, Travis was content, and she was…she couldn’t put a word to it, so she let it go. She didn’t have to understand, that was something she’d realized when Rob died. She didn’t need to understand, she just needed to keep going.
“Breakfast is ready,” Quint called and strode into the room with a wooden tray in his hands. He crossed to the coffee table and put the tray down—eggs, bacon, toast. Cups of coffee. A dish with scrambled eggs in it for Taylor. He sank down in the next chair, then looked at her. “Can you put him down?”
She kept stroking his back. “No, I can manage with one hand,” she said, thankful that she could smile at him, and thankful that there was none of that tension that had been in the room last night. “Tay-Tay, want some eggs?” Taylor shook her head and took out another cracker. “Okay, more crackers, then the eggs,” she said and started to eat her own food with an appetite she couldn’t remember having for a very long time.
“Thanks, that was great,” she said once she’d cleaned her plate, turning to one side to drink some coffee without having the cup over the baby on her legs. The liquid was hot and strong and good. “Just great,” she said, putting the cup back on the table before sitting back.
“I thought I’d feed you before I broke the bad news.”
She looked at Quint sitting forward, his coffee cup cradled in his hands, and he didn’t look too happy. “What is it? I’ve got the phone and there haven’t been any calls, but did—”
He cut her off. “No, no calls. I just listened to the news. That’s what I was doing when Taylor found me. The weather’s not letting up, and there’s widespread flooding.” He glanced at Travis. “So, we can’t leave and we can’t do a thing about him right now.”
That uneasiness was coming back. More time here, with Quint. “Maybe we could go back to LynTech?”
He shook his head. “The main part of the city is pretty much in a blackout at the moment.”
“Well, if it’s that bad, maybe his mother can’t get back to LynTech to find the note. We’re stuck, so she probably is, too.”
“That’s being kind to her, but I suppose it’s a possibility.” He stood and picked up the dish of eggs that Taylor had been ignoring. He went around to the couch, sank down by her on the floor and said, “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
She looked up, saw the dish and shook her head. “No. No eggs.”
He looked at Amy. “She does No quite well.”
“She doesn’t say a lot, but she has mastered a couple of words. That’s one of them.”
“Okay,” he said looking back at Taylor. “How about if Quint eats your eggs and makes them all gone?”
She looked at him as he pretended to eat some, then said an exaggerated, “Mmm good.”
She watched him with a frown, then reached for the spoon, almost sending egg all over Quint and the couch. But he evaded the grab and offered the spoon to her. “Okay, you win, they’re Taylor’s eggs, all of them,” and quite miraculously, she opened her mouth and let him spoon them in. “Good, huh?” he asked.
“Huh,” Taylor said, nodding and opening her mouth wide again.
Within minutes, the eggs were gone, and Quint was sitting back with the empty bowl as Taylor went back to the box of graham crackers.
“Well, that’s a near-miracle,” she said.
“No miracle. Actually, it took me forever to figure out that if it was mine, Mike wanted it. If it was his, he didn’t want it. Kids are so perverse,” he said with a smile.
So are human beings, she thought as she scooped Travis up and cuddled him to her shoulder. “That’s the truth,” she said as she stood. “I need to get them changed.”
“Okay,” he said, grabbing the box of crackers and picking up Taylor almost in one fell swoop. The four of them went back through the house to Amy’s bedroom, and Quint never hesitated, going to the bed with Taylor. “What’s she going to wear?”
“I had some overalls at the center that I grabbed and some T-shirts, so it’s not fancy, but serviceable.”
“Okay, you take care of the diapers and I’ll put the clothes on.”
For the next several minutes, the two of them worked together with the children, until both were dry and clean and dressed. Amy was sitting on the floor putting on Taylor’s shoes and Quint had Travis in a clean sleeper, offering him the pacifier. For a flashing moment they were like a family, a mother and father, the children, and that scared Amy. She got to her feet, then spoke without looking at Quint again. “I’ll have to figure out where to let Travis nap so I can keep an eye on him.”
“You know, there’s an intercom in the house.” She turned to see Quint cross to a box by the door and turn on a button. “It’s in what I call the ‘eavesdropping mode.’ This room is strange. You can hear what goes on in here from anywhere in the house, but anyone in here can’t hear what’s going on out there.” He turned to her with a boyish grin on his face. “Something I learned about the hard way when I was a kid.” He crossed to the bed. “So, make a pillow barrier, and let him sleep for a while if he will.”
She went about stacking pillows, then glanced at Quint, a bit unnerved to find him watching her intently, the grin long gone. “What?” she asked, that uneasiness starting to rear its ugly head even more.
“I meant it before. I’m impressed.”
“You’re easily impressed,” she said, reaching for Travis and turning to lie him on the bed. The pacifier was there, Quint holding it out to her over her right shoulder. Without looking at him, she took it, gave it to the baby and was thankful when Travis seemed to sigh and his eyes fluttered shut.
“Actually, I’m not easily impressed,” Quint murmured from behind her. “You can ask anyone who knows me.”
“Easy to offer when I don’t know anyone who knows you very well at all,” she said, then looked at Taylor absorbed with the teddy bear near the bed. “So, what’s the plan for today?”
“I’ve got some work to do. There’s plenty of books in the den, a TV, a pool table if you want to play. Plenty of food.” He touched her on the shoulder and she almost jumped out of her skin. She turned and was inches from Quint. “And don’t worry about anything getting wrecked. This house is invincible. It can take anything Taylor can dish out.”
“Okay, we’ll make do,” she said.
“I know you will.” He went back to the door, adjusted the intercom, then turned to her. “Everything’s set. You’ll hear him anywhere if you’re inside.” That grin was there. “And it’s my bet that you aren’t going to be outside.”
“That’s an easy bet to win,” she said, then Quint left the room.
Amy stared at the empty door for a long moment, then scooped up Taylor and said, “Let’s go on a tour of this place, okay?” Taylor hugged the bear to her tightly. “And you can keep the bear…for now.”
She started for the kitchen, wondering how one person could confuse her, calm her, upset her and heal her all at once. She couldn’t begin to place the man who’d rescued her from the storm with the man from last night with the man who was so good with the kids despite his protestations of being too old for it all. And she couldn’t begin to figure out why she was so relieved that he’d gone off to work for the day so she had space to think and to breathe.
That’s what she needed to do, just keep her distance as much as possible until they could leave and she could put this all behind her.
“I THINK he’s sick,” Amy said over the yowling of the baby.
Quint was at the sink in the kitchen, running hot water over the baby’s bottle to try and reheat it. “I don’t think so,” he said, but he was starting to worry himself. The child had been crying since before lunch, barely stopping long enough to spit up before starting up again. “Maybe it’s the formula that’s upsetting him.”
“No, it’s the same as the cans that were in his box.”
He turned and saw Amy walking back and forth in front of the window
s with Travis, pacing and jiggling and patting him. But nothing was helping. “It’s probably colic.”
He could see the distress in her face when she turned in his direction. “I think he’s missing his mommy. He needs a familiar face and a familiar voice, that reassurance.”
He wasn’t going to get into any sort of condemnation of the woman who didn’t care enough to stay with him. “I’m more inclined to think it’s colic.” He glanced at Taylor sitting on the floor playing with a stack of pots and pans on the tile, totally oblivious to the baby’s distress, then crossed to Amy with the bottle. “Do you want me to take him for a while?”
She looked exhausted, and it was all he could do not to brush her hair back from her face. She’d pulled it into a ponytail, had no makeup on and a decided paleness to her skin. But she was lovely and delicate looking. He saw her nibbling on her bottom lip, an action he’d come to recognize as one of her signs of stress. Four hours of crying was stress enough for anyone.
“Maybe for a few minutes?” she asked.
“Sure.” He shifted the bottle to his other hand, took the squalling baby from her, and tried to get him to take the bottle, but he stiffened and screamed even harder. Now Quint was walking back and forth, jiggling and patting, and wondering how Amy had done it all afternoon.
“What did you say you did when Taylor had colic?” he asked over the cries.
Amy was over by Taylor, giving her attention and she twisted to look back at him. “I would put her tummy-down on my forearm, in a sort of football hold and her legs and arms would drape over each side of my arm, then I walked and sang to her. But, I already tried that.”
“What did you sing?” he asked.
“I don’t know, a lullaby, something like ‘Bye Baby Bunting.’ Do you know that one?”
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