by Robin Wells
The teenager made a face. "Hey, man, speakin' of skunks ... I think you need to do somethin' with her diaper."
Jake's spirits plummeted. Holy Moses—he didn't know anything about changing diapers. Maybe one of the elderly ladies would help him out. He looked over, about to ask, when the gray-haired one leaned over to her sister.
"Isn't it wonderful, Lilly, how involved fathers are these days? I think it's just marvelous, the way they take care of their little ones."
Lilly's white hair bobbed like a snowball as she nodded. "Things are sure different than they used to be. Nowadays, any dad worth his salt pulls his weight with child care. That's what all the TV shows say."
Ye gads. He sure as hell didn't want to explain to these gals why he'd never spent any time around his own child and didn't have a clue how do something as basic as changing a diaper. Besides, how the heck hard could it be?
Chapter Seven
A whole lot harder than he'd ever imagined. Jake thought twenty minutes later. Why the devil wasn't there someplace to change a baby in the men's room? He couldn't very well lay the baby down on the bare bathroom floor. The only other option was to change her while she was standing. That meant trailing after her and repeatedly trying to steer her away from the urinals, which seemed to hold a strange fascination for her.
"Come on, now. Madeline-hold still for a moment, would you?"
Madeline responded by tottering bare-assed across the room, back toward one of the three urinals. Jake hurried after her, diaper in hand. He'd managed to get her clean, thank heavens—although it had taken the entire box of wet wipes in the diaper bag to do it. What was eluding him now was the trick of taping the diaper so it would stay on. He'd accidently ripped one diaper while trying to refasten the tape, and he didn't want to strike out with the only other one he had. In the game of diapers, apparently each player got only one shot.
Madeline had nearly reached the object of her affection. Her pudgy hand was a split second from making contact with the urinal rim when Jake grabbed her around the chest in a modified wrestling hug and swung her around. As expected, she let loose a wail of protest loud enough to shatter glass.
"Come on, now, Madeline. Help me out a little." Working with one hand, he managed to get the diaper between her legs. He needed both hands free to fasten the tape, but the moment he loosened his hold on her, the child darted back to the urinal as fast as her fat little legs could carry her. The diaper fell to the floor behind her.
Jake picked it up and dashed in pursuit, vaguely recalling a magazine article that theorized people were motivated all of their lives by their earliest thwarted desires. If that was the case, then Madeline was probably destined to a life as a restroom attendant.
Grumbling under his breath, he tackled her again, and was once more treated to an ear-numbing shriek. Holding her between his knees, he got one side of the diaper fastened before the child broke free again. After another brief struggle, he taped the other side. His sense of victory was short-lived, however; the diaper drooped to her knees as she scurried back to a urinal.
Well, he'd just have to rely on her bloomers to hold the darn thing up. Now, if he could just get her legs back into those blasted things...
Ten minutes later, Jake emerged from the men's room, the pink diaper bag slung over his shoulder, a yowling baby in his arms, feeling like a war-weary soldier returning from the field of battle. He'd made it halfway down the hall to the waiting room when a warm sensation slithered wetly down his stomach.
"Oh, good Lord!"
He immediately thrust Madeline out at arm's length, where she proceeded to water his shoes. He gingerly set the dripping child down on the floor, only to have her look up and give an engaging, black-mouthed grin.
Jake felt a nerve twitch in his cheek. Drawing a deep breath, he picked her up under her arms and awkwardly carried her back to the men's room. There he peeled off her clothes and sponged her down with paper towels. The moment he released her, she headed straight back to a urinal.
Jake dashed after the naked baby. What the Dow Jones am I supposed to do now? he wondered. He'd used the last of the diapers, and her clothes were sopping wet. Holding the squirming, howling child under his arm, he rummaged through the diaper bag, hoping to find something he'd overlooked. All he turned up was a small flannel blanket printed with large yellow ducks.
He eyed it appraisingly. Babies had worn cloth diapers for centuries. The blanket was cloth. Hell, he could diaper her with it—if he could just figure out a way to hold it up.
Jake looked through the bag hoping to find some safety pins. No such luck—just a sandwich bag filled with Cheerios, an empty baby bottle, and two small jars of apple juice.
"Looks like we'll have to improvise, Madeline." Jake looked around the room, hoping to find something, anything with which to improvise. There was 'nothing—just toilet paper, paper towels, and soap.
He glanced down, and his gaze seized on his belt. "That's it!" Jake rapidly tugged it out of the belt loops of his slacks. It took fifteen minutes and countless sprints around the room—not to mention ruining his new Italian leather belt by poking an unsightly hole in the middle with the tongue of the buckle—but at last Madeline was clothed. Jake stepped back and surveyed his handiwork. He'd slung the blanket under the baby like a thong, then draped the top end over one shoulder and tucked it back between her legs. The belt was cinched around her waist, holding the whole thing in place.
From the standpoint of engineering, it was something of a marvel. On the up side, it worked. On the down side, the child looked like a duck-covered version of Tarzan.
Well, at least she was clean and dry-which was more than he could say about himself.
Maybe he could occupy the baby with some Cheerios long enough to allow him a chance to clean up. Jake spread a dozen paper towels on the floor, pulled the Cheerios out of the diaper bag and held them over the towels like bait. To his relief, the baby grabbed the sandwich bag, plopped down on the towels, and enthusiastically began shoving the cereal into her blackened mouth.
Jake turned to the mirror over the sink. The sight that greeted him there was not a pretty one. Using the hand soap, he washed off the front of his shirt the best he could, wringing the fabric in the sink. The volcanic ash and marker ink refused to budge, but at least he managed to rinse out the residue of Madeline's sprinkler system. Instead of improving the shirt's appearance, though, he only made it wetter and more wrinkled than it had been before.
He gazed down at his feet. His black socks were drenched, so he peeled them off and stuffed them in the trash. He rolled up the bottom of his slacks, rinsed his feet one at a time in the sink, then slipped back into his dress wingtips.
He'd just finished tying them when Madeline decided to make another break for the urinal'. "Enough of this," Jake muttered. Hell, he'd been in here nearly an hour. Scooping up the loudly protesting baby, he grabbed the bag and headed back out into the hall. Madeline writhed and yelled as if he were stretching her on the rack.
The pink-haired boy met him in the hall. "Hey-you just missed the doc. Your wife is out of surgery, and the doc said she's askin' to see the baby."
Madeline screamed like a howler monkey, making it nearly impossible for Jake to hear. She stretched her arms out for the boy.
He looked at Jake questioningly.
"Please," Jake urged. `Be my guest. Go ahead and take her."
The baby settled in the boy's arms and began to coo happily.
"She doesn't seem to like you much," the boy remarked.
No kidding. Jake decided to ignore the observation. "So where's the doctor?" he asked.
"He had to go do the old woman's hernia. But he said your wife is fine. She's just waking up. He said you can go in and see her."
"Where is she?"
"In recovery. It's over there." He pointed to a set of double green doors.
Jake reached for Madeline. To his chagrin, the child shrieked and hid her head in the crook of the boy's neck.
; Jake rubbed his jaw and jammed his hands in his pocket. "You know, Madeline really seems to have taken a shine to you. You must have a way with women."
The boy grinned. The expression gave his face an unexpectedly wholesome look. "That's what my girlfriend says. She's the one I'm waitin' on" He shifted Madeline to his other arm. "She's here havin' plastic surgery."
"Is that a fact." Jake couldn't help but wonder what part of her body was getting the plastic. Probably her breasts. From what he'd read, young women got implants as routinely as tetanus shots.
"It's her nose," the boy volunteered.
"You don't say." Jake shifted uneasily. "Well, I imagine a lot of people aren't happy with their noses."
"Oh, she liked hers just fine—until her nose ring got caught on a waitress's sweater at the Burger Barn."
Jake winced.
"Ripped her nostril right in two. The Burger Barn's payin' for the surgery, though."
Jake had had clients pay through the nose before, but never quite so literally. He watched Madeline merrily blow a bubble at the boy with her black mouth. "Listen—would you mind carrying the baby into the Recovery Room for me so her mother won't see her crying? I'll pay you ten bucks."
The boy looked at Madeline's black grinning mouth and shrugged his bony shoulders. "Okay. Sure."
Annie floated in a sea of grogginess, vaguely aware of bright overhead lights, a large white room, and a nurse in blue floral medical scrubs hovering over her. It was hard to keep her eyes open, but she fought to do so. "Is my daughter here yet?"
"I'm sure she'll be here any minute."
Annie struggled to sit up, but she couldn't. The nurse was at her side, adjusting her pillow. "It's going take a while for the anesthesia to wear off," she cautioned. "If you move around too much, you're likely to get a headache. It'll be best if you lie still and relax."
"I want to see my child."
"I'll let you know the moment she gets here."
Annie heard a noise on the far side of the room. The nurse smiled. "I bet that's her now
"Madeline?" Annie called, turning her head on the pillow. Flat on her back like this, she had a limited range of vision.
"She's right here." The deep husky voice that responded from across the room could only belong to Jake. Thank God. Annie had been terrified that he'd taken off with her child while she was unconscious.
A familiar, babyish babble filled her heart with relief. "Bring her around here so I can see her," she said eagerly.
The nurse stepped back into her line of vision, her face drawn in a frown, her eyes worried. "On second thought ... maybe you should wait and see the baby later?'
Ignoring her, Annie craned her neck on the pillow, eager for a glimpse of her child.
The sight that greeted her was something of a shock. Blinking hard, Annie stared in disbelief, wondering if the anesthesia was making her see things.
It was a child, all right—her child, in fact. But instead of wearing the yellow two-piece playsuit Annie had dressed her in that morning, Madeline was clad in some sort of George of the Jungle costume. Most disconcerting of all, her lips were painted a light-absorbing shade of black.
Madeline squealed and gave Annie a wide grin. Oh, dear heavens—it wasn't just her lips. Her tongue and her gums were pitch black, too. The whole inside of her mouth, in fact, was dark as a bat cave. Her two bottom teeth looked like tiny, gray-tinged stalagmites.
"What—what have you done to my baby?" Annie gasped.
She pulled her gaze away from the child up to the face of the person holding her, and her heart stopped in her chest. 'It wasn't Jake—it was an acne-riddled teenager with shaved sidewalls and a streak of pink hair that stood straight up on the top of his head, like the spine plate on a stegosaurus.
Jake's face appeared behind teenager's pink tufts. "She's fine. She just got hold of a felt-tip marker, that's all."
"She ate ink?" Annie said weakly.
"It was nontoxic. There's no need to worry."
No need to worry? Her baby's mouth was black as tar, she was dressed like Pebbles Flintstone, she was in the arms of a kid who made Charles Manson look like GQ's man of the year, and all from being cared for by a man who wanted custody!
Annie gazed weakly up at Jake. "Where are her clothes?"
"She got them wet.- She had a couple of diaper, er, situations."
"No joke," The boy muttered, rolling his eyes and wrinkling his nose.
Annie stared from Jake face to the boy, then back again. "And this is... T'
Jake looked at the boy uncertainly. "Well, this is .. . uh..."
"Spike," the boy contributed. "I like to be called Spike."
"We just met," Jake explained. "In the waiting room. He's been helping me take care of Madeline."
Spike looked like he needed a caretaker himself. His pants were so baggy they looked in danger of falling off, and his left ear held more costume jewelry than most department stores even stocked. Madeline reached for a shiny gold hoop.
"Ow!" Spike howled. "Get her off my ear!"
118
Baby, Oh Baby!
Jake stepped forward and pried the child's fingers away from the earring. Madeline's hand immediately went back for more.
The boy ducked his head to the side, like a prizefighter avoiding a punch. "Here—you take her." He shoved the child into Jake's arms. "I don't want my ears to end up like my girlfriend's nose."
Madeline complained loudly, her hand still outstretched for Spike's ear. The boy moved out of reach. "No way, kiddo. I'm outta here."
The teenager' turned to Jake and held out his hand, palm up. Setting the baby on the floor, Jake rummaged in his pocket for a bill and handed it to the boy.
Madeline tottered over to Annie's bed and reached up as the boy left the room. Annie started to stretch out her hand, but was stopped by the IV tube. She settled for smiling down at her child. "Hello, sweetie."
"Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma."
"Did she just say Mama?" Jake asked in surprise.
"Yes." Annie grinned at her child, who was merrily blowing bubbles with her black mouth.
"She can talk?"
"She's learning to."
"Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma," Madeline repeated. Annie felt a wave of relief wash over her. Her child might look bizarre, but she appeared to be just fine.
Jake stepped forward and grabbed the baby as she tottered toward the IV stand. Annie gasped. He'd been standing behind Spike, and with the limited range of vision her flat-on-her-back position afforded, she hadn't yet seen his clothes. "Good heavens!"
The man who'd previously been expensively dressed and exquisitely well-groomed was wearing a wrinkled, filthy shirt with a blackened shirttail. His gray slacks were wet and rolled up, and he'd somehow lost his socks. He looked like a shipwreck victim from an episode of Gilligan's Island. "What happened to you?"
"Madeline happened."
"She did all that?"
Jake nodded grimly. "It looks worse than it is." He took a step toward her, his eyes dark and concerned. "The important question here is, how are you?"
Annie's heart pounded abnormally fast as he -drew near. "Okay, I guess. The nurse said everything went just fine."
"Are you in any pain?"
"Not much. I'm pretty drugged up." Madeline's head poked up over the side of the mattress. Annie fingered the baby's curls. "They said I'll have to stay in here for a day or two."
"So I heard. I'll watch the baby for you."
Even in her woozy state, Annie knew her options were limited. Still, she didn't know which she felt more acutely, relief or worry. "I hate for you to do that. She can be a handful, and you have to, watch her all the time...."
"So I've learned."
Annie hesitated. "I want her to stay in familiar surroundings. I-I don't want you taking her to Tulsa."
"Okay. I'll -keep her at your house."
Annie swallowed, her mouth dry. "What about your wife? Will she mind? Or will she come and help you?"
A cloud seemed to pass over Jake's face. "My wife is dead."
A rush of confused emotions poured over Annie. She was too full of anesthesia to think clearly, to figure out what this might mean to his pursuit of custody. All she knew was that she felt an undeniable sense of relief. She hadn't liked the idea of another woman in the picture, but she didn't know why. She'd sort it all out later. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."
Jake nodded and looked down at the baby, who was now examining the underside of the bed. "Tell me about the care and feeding of Madeline. What does she eat?"
Annie felt as if her brain was swaddled in cotton. She struggled to focus her thoughts. "Mainly finger foods—soft things that she can chew with her gums. There's a home-made chicken noodle casserole in the fridge at home that she likes, and there are several jars of baby food in the pantry. She likes applesauce and bananas and peaches and cheese and crackers ... And she loves to snack on Cheerios. She drinks milk and juice. The pediatrician gave me a list of recommended foods for her age. It's on the refrigerator door."
"Okay. What else?"
"She takes a nap for about an hour and a half after lunch. She likes to be read to and rocked. And she likes to go for rides in her stroller, and to swing in the baby swing in the backyard."
Annie ran her free hand through her hair, wracking her fuzzy-feeling head. "She goes to bed at eight. She gets a bath first. Put the water up to her waist, not too warm or too cold, and don't ever leave her alone in the tub—not even for a second." She gave Jake the most serious look she could manage. "I mean it. If the phone or doorbell ring, either ignore it or pull her out and take her with you."
Jake nodded solemnly.
"She likes to play with her rubber duck and her boat, and she'll try to eat the soap if you're not careful." Annie closed her eyes. She was tired, so very tired. The anesthesia pulled at her, threatening to drag her back under its spell.
She forced her eyes back open. "Her pajamas are in the top drawer of her bureau in her room. She likes to drink a bottle of milk before she goes to bed, and then you need to clean her teeth with a washcloth."
The nurse approached from the opposite side of the room and smiled at Jake. "I think you need to let your wife rest now."