From Here To Maternity

by Cheryl Anne Porter

  With those questions unanswered, what else could she do? Grant was right. They were fooling themselves here. Tucker wasn’t theirs. And they couldn’t entangle him in what was yet to be explored between them. It was for the best, then, that the authorities were here for him.

  Grant cut into her thoughts. “Laura? Are you ready?”

  She blinked and saw Grant staring at her, his finger poised over the answer button. Waiting on her to end their unconscious charade. She couldn’t speak. Her woman’s heart was telling her to do the right thing by the baby. But it was also her woman’s heart—a heart that was breaking—that had her unable to answer Grant’s question with anything but a nod. A final nod. An ending.

  Laura shifted in place, feeling the baby’s warm weight against her, smelling his acrid wetness that made her shirt cling to her side. And feeling her heart thump out its sad little beat. Then she realized that Grant still hadn’t pushed the button. Again Laura nodded, this time adding, “Go ahead. Like you said, let’s get it over with. He belongs with his real parents.”

  Grant stared at her, his heart in his eyes. “Laura, I—” he blurted, then stopped. Firming his lips together, he blinked and exhaled. “I hate this.” Then he turned and pushed the call button, all but spitting out his words. “Yes?” he said into the speaker.

  From where she stood, across the big and open room, up the three stairs, all Laura could hear was a metallic, garbled voice replying, a man’s voice. But she didn’t have to hear what he said to know who he was, what he wanted. Because she had Grant’s expression to go by. And it told her plenty. It was the authorities. And they were here to take the baby away.

  “THIS IS Officer Hawkins from the local precinct. Can you let me up, please?”

  It was the hardest thing he’d ever done. “Sure,” Grant said and depressed the button. Then he stared at the green doors, wanting only to turn to Laura, to convey in some way that he felt what she did, that he was here for her. Yeah. Time permitting. Grant clenched his hand into a fist He wanted to hit something. How in the hell could he leave for a meeting after this guy came up and took the baby? Laura would be a mess. And he wouldn’t be here to help her through. What the hell was he supposed to do?

  Forget it. I’m going with my heart. Grant turned. “Laura, I—” But she wasn’t there. Her or Tucker. Grant’s stomach bottomed out. “Laura? Where are you?”

  He listened, searching the room with his gaze. No answer. No movement. What was going on? It was all one big room at this end of the loft He should be able to see her. She hadn’t had time, even if she’d run, to get to the enclosed kitchen and bedrooms. Why would she do that, anyway? She was too intelligent to hide from the police. She knew she couldn’t keep the baby. But still…“Laura?” he called, louder this time. Again nothing. Not a sound.

  At the moment Grant realized he was standing there in nothing but his boxers, the doorbell behind him rang. Too late to scramble for clothes. Just go with it. One clean cut, and it’s over with. Right. He opened the door, saw a lone, generic uniformed cop who nodded a greeting. Grant returned it, saying, “Hello. Come in.”

  “Thank you,” the medium-size, unremarkable—except for a craggy face—policeman said as he nodded, stepped over the threshold and removed his hat. “Sorry to bother you so early, Mr. Sloan, but I figured with your baby missing and all, you probably didn’t get too much sleep anyway.”

  In his emotional fog, and figuring that maybe he hadn’t heard the policeman correctly, Grant frowned. “What? Who?”

  “Officer Hawkins, sir. I was just saying I’m sorry for your problems.”

  “My problems?” Grant stared at him. What did this man know of his problems? But what could he say except “Thanks.”

  “Yes, sir,” the officer said. Obviously ill at ease, the policeman added, “Normally, uniformed officers such as myself don’t make these calls. But I just got off duty. And my desk sergeant called me on the radio and asked me, this being the kind of case it is, to stop by and tell you not to worry, that your report was forwarded to us early this a.m. We’re on it, assigning the case. So if you can just hang on here, someone should be out later to take care of things.”

  What’s this? Grant’s swelling heart wanted to know as his brain absorbed the man’s words. This guy won’t be taking Tucker? Someone else, someone later, will? Good. A temporary reprieve. Sure, one that would only make it harder to give Tucker up later. But still, a reprieve. Time to put this in the proper perspective. Grant grinned. “Man, you don’t know how glad I am to hear that We’ve just been crazy with this.”

  The officer nodded, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. “Yes, sir. We thought you would be. Anyways, try not to worry. Even if you don’t hear anything right off, that doesn’t mean we’re not working on it. It could even be a couple of days.”

  “Days?” Grant’s momentary elation evaporated. In two days, they’d need a crowbar to get Tucker away from Laura. And from him. “That long?”

  Officer Hawkins’s expression sobered right along with Grant’s. “I understand your impatience, sir. I’d feel the same way. But there’s no way to predict these things. All I can say is everyone is doing their best to find your son.”

  Grant stared at the man. “My what?” What the hell was the man talking about? “I’m not sure I understand—”

  “I know you don’t, sir,” the policeman cut in. “That’s why it’s best to leave these matters to us. We’ve got it under control. So I won’t keep you. I know you probably want to be with the missus—”

  “The missus?”

  “Yeah. Just try to think positively,” Officer Hawkins continued. “Most of the time, cases like these work out well. It’s usually someone who wants a baby of their own but can’t have one. So they take good care of it That doesn’t make it okay, I know. But hey, it’s something to cling to. So, don’t worry, someone will be out later. If you hear anything first, though, call us. Other than that, we’ll be in touch.”

  With that, the officer settled his hat on his head, nodded farewell and added with a smile and an attempt at humor, no doubt, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get going. The squad car’s double-parked. I’d hate to get a ticket.”

  “I guess so,” Grant said, still somewhat lost. As the uniformed cop walked out of the apartment, Grant said, “Thanks for coming by. So, I guess we’ll just wait to hear from you?”

  “That’s a good plan, sir,” Officer Hawkins said. Then he strode toward the elevator.

  Grant closed the door and stood there, staring at it. What had just happened here?

  “Grant?”

  Startled by the sound of Laura’s voice, Grant jerked around to see her behind him. She’d changed into jeans and a sweater and had the baby bundled in a big woolen scarf, ready to go. Held in Laura’s arms—awkwardly, as if he were a watermelon—Tucker gripped a nursing bottle in both hands and ate his breakfast. Grant’s gaze went to a woven grocery bag, lumpy with its contents, at Laura’s feet.

  Then he looked in her eyes, saw the strain there and spoke softly. “Where’d you go? I turned around and you were gone. I even called out to you.”

  Her expression crumpled. “I know. I heard you. But I couldn’t—he was wet. So I changed him…and then I changed myself,” she said, pointing to the jeans she wore. “And he was hungry. So I gave him the bottle I fixed for him while you were on the phone. And then—” she nudged the bag at her feet. “—I got all his stuff together, the stuff we bought him last night The formula and bottles…baby food…diapers…little toys.”

  Grant watched her talk, heard her sniff and wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to save her this heartache. She looked so sad. But when she was done with her litany, he couldn’t help offering a tender smile. “You’ve been busy.”

  She nodded, peering past him. “Who was it? Where are they?”

  “It was a policeman. And he’s gone.”

  “Gone?” Laura frowned. “Without Tucker?”

  Grant chuckled. “Appare
ntly. Since you’re still holding him.”

  Her frown deepened. “You’re telling me there was no caseworker with him?”

  “I expected the same. But no, he was alone.”

  She blinked. “Well, was he here for Tucker?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Laura’s forehead creased. So did Tucker’s.. “Grant, what are you talking about? Spill the details, will you? Is the policeman coming back or not?”

  “I am trying to tell you, Laura. He’s not coming back. Not for a while. Maybe not even for a couple of days.”

  Laura’s gray eyes widened. So did Tucker’s blue ones. He popped the bottle out of his mouth and stared at Grant as Laura asked, “Days, Grant? Days? What happened here? What’d he say? No, wait—what did you do? Did you pull your Magnificent Maguire routine? You did, didn’t you?”

  Offended, Grant straightened, protesting. “I did no such thing. But had I—well, I would’ve been doing it for you. Because of how you feel for the baby.”

  The baby looked up adoringly at Laura and said, “Mama.”

  Laura poked the bottle into the baby’s mouth. “No fair. Two against one.” Then she leveled her steely gaze on Grant. “That proves it—your ‘I did it for you.’ That man came to get this baby and return him to his lawful parents, and you abused your Maguire influence. Admit it.”

  “I will not,” Grant said stubbornly. Then he suddenly remembered to add, “Because I didn’t do it. Hell, I didn’t get three words in edgewise with that guy. He didn’t even recognize me. In fact, he kept calling me Mr. Sloan.”

  “Mr. Sloan?”

  “Yeah. And he was talking about my missing baby, and not—”

  “Oh, my God,” Laura blurted, her eyes wide with disbelief as she shifted the bottle-sucking baby to one arm and grabbed Grant’s forearm. “They got the report wrong.”

  Her nails dug into his skin, but Grant didn’t even flinch. “What?”

  “They got it wrong, Grant. They obviously think our—mine and yours—our baby is missing. Remember the precinct? The phones ringing. Everyone coming and going. The noise. I knew that desk sergeant wasn’t really listening to me. And he never even saw you and the baby, since you were standing off to the side. Remember how I told you he brushed me off, how he barely made a note of what I was saying? And let’s face it, weren’t you surprised that they didn’t take Tucker right then?”

  Grant’s chest tightened, recognizing the truth of what she said. When Laura let go of his arm, Grant ran a hand over his face and stared at her. “Oh, man, you’re right That’s why that Hawkins guy called me Mr. Sloan. You gave them your name and address. And I answer the door. Put two and two together—I’m Mr. Sloan.” A chuckle of disbelief over this comedy of errors escaped Grant. “What are we going to do?”

  “What are we going to do?” Laura repeated. “We’re going to take this baby down to the police station, hand him over, and straighten this whole mess out. Before the police figure it out first, and we get arrested.”

  She sounded so logical. Grant hated it. “I thought you’d be happy for this reprieve, Laura. Ten minutes ago you couldn’t stand the thought of turning Tucker over to the authorities. Why are you so determined now? Why the rush? Is the mothering thing not sitting well with you?”

  Her eyes rounded to a helpless vulnerability. “That’s a terrible thing to say, Grant I…It’s just the right thing to do,” she said softly. “For Tucker.” Her eyes suddenly swam in tears. “He’s not ours—mine, I mean. If I don’t do it now, I don’t think I—”

  “I’m sorry, Laura,” Grant interrupted, feeling like a worm. “What a jackass I am to say such a thing.” He reached out, squeezed her arm tenderly. “I shouldn’t have said that And I really don’t mean it.”

  Laura let out a shuddering sigh. And Grant wanted to die. He’d hurt her terribly in the one area she’d always been vulnerable—her aptitude as a mother. Or her lack thereof.

  “It’s okay. We’re both upset.” She pursed her lips and hardened her expression. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she added, “But if you ever say that again, I’ll kick your butt.”

  Grant’s answering chuckle, rife with relieved humor, was cut off when Tucker chose that moment to show he’d been listening and what his opinion was. Out popped the bottle from his mouth. “Butt,” he repeated, loud and clear, right into Grant’s face.

  Grant exchanged a shocked look with Laura. And then, over her laughter, he focused on the baby in her arms. “Hey, I said I was sorry. How about you cut me some slack, huh?”

  Having made his point, Tucker raised a baby eyebrow and poked the bottle into his little mouth and occupied himself with the remainder of his breakfast. Which left Laura and Grant to sort out their lives. Laura was the first to start. “So, what do we do now? Do we take Tucker in to the authorities or not?”

  Grant exhaled, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. “No. I don’t think so. Look how they messed up a simple report What are they going to do with something as small as a baby down there? He could end up filed away as evidence, for crying out loud.”

  Laura nodded. “Yeah, well, he’s not exactly safe here, either. So your vote is to keep him? For now, I mean.”

  Grant stared at her and finally accepted that he wanted that more than anything else in the world. “Yeah. That’s my vote. We keep him until his real folks show up.” It was genius. Inspired genius. “That’s it, Laura. We keep him and see if his folks come back. If they’re good people and this was some crazy baby-sitting snafu or something, it would be easier if they didn’t have to bother with the police, and—”

  “Then we could just end it happily right there,” Laura finished, her eyes bright. “And give him back. I’ll call right now, see if they left a message on my voice mail.” Her expression fell. “Oh, Grant, what if they’re lowlifes? What do I do?”

  “Then call the police and turn them over, too. Along with the baby.”

  Along with the baby. Grant’s words hung in the air between them. No matter which scenario played out, the result was, and always would be, that they’d have to give up Tucker. Suddenly, Grant couldn’t look at Laura.

  And she didn’t seem to be able to make eye contact with him, either. “Okay, here’s something else,” she finally said, sounding forced but practical. “What about work?”

  “What about it?”

  “My day is full. As I’m sure yours is. So, who takes him in with them?”

  Grant met her gaze. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “Me, either. Until now. So, how do we decide?”

  He shrugged. “Paper scissors rock?”

  She grimaced. “Grant, that’s childish.”

  Grant stuck his fist out. “No, it isn’t. Come on. Loser takes the baby.”

  Laura nodded the baby’s way. “He can hear you.”

  Grant eyed the watching munchkin and grinned at him, winking. “Sorry about that, buddy.” He looked at Laura. “Okay, the winner takes Tucker.”

  She still didn’t like it. It was there in her eyes. But she caved, setting Tucker on the floor with his bottle and sticking her fist out, holding it atop her other palm. “Oh, all right Just do it fast before he crawls off and gets stuck under the sofa and a dust buffalo eats him.”

  Chuckling, Grant said, “Remember when we used to do this before?”.

  She almost met his gaze. But not quite. “Yes.”

  Grant stared at her, noting the curve of her jaw, the slender column of her neck, the lift of her breasts. “After sex,” he murmured, seeing her face redden and feeling his own blood surging. But not to his face. “To decide who went out to get the greasy bacon cheeseburgers we always craved afterward?”

  Her skin became candy-apple red, and she fidgeted in place. “I said yes, I remember. And I always lost and had to go. What’s your point?”

  “Look at me, Laura.” She shook her head. He lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger. Saw the raw desire in her eyes. His breath cau
ght He had to wet his suddenly dry lips. “Is that something you still do…the cheeseburgers, I mean…after sex?”

  She blinked, her gray eyes warm but wary. Self-protective. “No, I don’t Apparently that was just something with you. Are we going to do this or not?”

  Grinning, feeling as if he’d won some victory and wanting her so very badly, Grant got a hold on his libido and mimicked her pose. “Okay. On three. One. Two. Three.” He splayed his fingers out flat She kept hers in a fist. “Ha! I won. Paper wraps rock. Tucker goes with me.” Then he heard himself. His expression fell. “Eww. I won. Tucker goes with me.”

  “No, he doesn’t.” Laura scooted away, grabbing the abandoned nursing bottle and Tucker as he pulled himself up to the coffee table and reached for a crystal candy dish. Holding the baby the way she would a football again, she jerked to face Grant. “He’s going with me.”

  Grant cocked his head. What was going on here? “No, Laura. He’s going with me. We just decided that.” He walked over to her and held out his hands. “Seriously. I want to do this.”

  “No.” She pivoted, keeping the baby away from Grant.

  “Come on, Laura.” Grant waggled his fingers. “You’re going to make him dizzy. And his stomach is full.”

  Laura’s eyes widened and she jerked her gaze to the grimacing baby. “Don’t even think about it.” She turned to Grant. “I ought to let you. You deserve it. And besides, I really can’t take him with me. I won’t even be in the office most of the day. I have to call on clients and—”

  “So hand him over. I’m not the one arguing.”

  She jutted her chin out and kept her hold on the baby. “Did you know it’s snowing?”

  “Snowing?” Grant started for the windows to see for himself. “Oh, that’s just what we need. I have an eleven o’clock meeting today that’s vital.”

  Laura and Tucker, the latter still dangling off Laura’s hip, her arm around his middle, were right beside him. “Like my appointments aren’t?” she challenged.