“No.”
Grant’s mouth was open, but no words came out. He stared wide-eyed at Laura. She returned him look for look. Because she hadn’t said a word. Together they turned to the speaker. Tucker. Apparently not wanting to be left out, determined to have a say in his own future, the little boy pointed at them and said, “Mama. Da-da.”
Laura exchanged another look with Grant. Then they swung their gazes to the baby. “You don’t want to go back, do you?” Grant said.
Tucker shook his little head and said, plain as day, “No.”
7
“WELL, what do we do now, Grant?” Exasperation was obvious in Laura’s voice.
Grant was just as frustrated. “About what? Our taxi being stuck in a traffic jam, when it’d be quicker to get out and walk—if we didn’t mind freezing to death, along with the baby? Or about the power outage that knocked out the streetlights? Or are you talking about the caseworker waiting at your place? Or maybe about your mother being there, too? And what about my parents being in town? Or, hey, let’s not forget about Tucker’s not wanting to go back to his mother? Then there’s me and you—”
“That’s right. All of it. I don’t like any of it.” Laura thought for a moment and frowned. “Except about me and you. I like that part.” She whacked his arm a good one. “But only if you do.”
“Well, fine. Because I do. I like it.” But sitting in the back seat of a taxi, stuck in the hopelessly snarled traffic, Grant didn’t look all that happy about it, Laura decided.
But still, somewhere deep inside, she took heart “Good. Me, too.”
“Fine.” He spit the words out.
“Fine.”
And then it got quiet. Laura stared straight ahead, blinking, hating that they’d sniped at each other. Why had she started it? They both had their hands full. Not only did they have Tucker, as well as his shockingly big and fully stuffed diaper bag. But in the larger sense, they were in this together.
Laura slumped, accepting their snit as an exchange you could only have with someone you knew well and cared about. It was true. Only people who were involved, who knew what was going on with each other, could say those things. Okay, it was small comfort. But comfort nonetheless.
She looked at the warm bundle in her lap and decided to enjoy the silence. Well, silence was a relative term. In this case it excluded the rude and happy sounds coming from the snow-bunny-suited Tucker as he sat facing her and picking at a big wooden button on her coat. Three times already she’d had to stop him from trying to pull it into his mouth.
Remembering Tucker’s antics brought a smile to Laura’s face—her first since they’d left Grant’s place. They’d spent ten harrowing minutes stuck in the elevator when the power blinked off. That had been fun. Big fun. But they’d survived. The electricity had come back on, unfortunately not before Mr. Dunkel had a chance to save them by attempting to pry open the doors—with a crowbar, of all things. She knew the creepy little doorman had loved that, getting to feel superior. Especially after the way she’d yelled at him earlier. Among other things.
Rolling her eyes, dismissing the adventure, she focused on Tucker, lovingly rubbing the baby’s well-padded back. The sweet little guy was blessedly oblivious, or seemingly so—who knew with him?—to the problems swirling over his sky-blue-hooded head. He had to be. Because here he sat singing. Well, not singing so much as testing his vocal range. Okay, emitting a steady stream of high-frequency sounds that vibrated her eardrums and gave a whole new meaning to the word “noise.”
Just as Laura was thinking about distracting him with the toy rattle she held, Tucker’s head popped up. He got quiet. Serious. And stared straight ahead, as if his baby radar had picked something up. He jerked his gaze to his left, toward the people fighting their way through the blinding snow on the crowded sidewalk. Laura’s heart leaped into her throat. Was this kid the world’s most unusual baby, or what? She bent to look in the same direction Tucker did. She saw nothing unusual.
“What is it? What’s going on?” Grant asked.
Laura sat back, gazing at Grant’s questioning expression. She exhaled and quietly said, “Look at Tucker. He’s—” she felt silly even saying it. “—I don’t know…seen something? Heard something?”
“He has?” Grant asked, glancing at the baby. “Whoa. He certainly has.” Grant captured one of the baby’s fat little mitten-covered hands in his. “What is it, big guy?” Tucker didn’t respond. Grant turned a sober expression to Laura. “Sometimes it’s like he’s not a kid, you know? I feel like he’s way over my head, as if he’s trying to communicate something to me and I’m not smart enough to catch on. Like Lassie. Remember? ‘What is it, girl? Where’s Timmy? Is he in the well…again?’”
“I know. I feel the same way.” Laura leaned forward, peering past Grant to the crowds bustling by. “But what do you make of it? It’s like he knows. I can’t even begin to—Oh, my God. It’s Ms. Gibson.” Her heart pounding, her eyes wide, Laura clutched Grant’s sleeve. “It’s Ms. Gibson. He knew she’d come by—No, wait. He couldn’t have known. But it’s her. The caseworker, Grant. It’s her, I swear it.”
“You’re kidding. Where? Which one?”
“Her,” Laura all but screeched, pointing out the window. “The African-American lady there. She has a briefcase. See? That’s her. With the scarf. Hurry. Something’s happened. Roll the window down.”
Grant did as ordered. Instantly the cold and the noise of the city, the traffic, the honking, the policemen’s whistles, the car tires rolling through slush assailed their ears. Tucker remained on point. Laura held onto him and leaned over Grant, calling out, “Ms. Gibson? Ms. Gibson? Here! In the cab. It’s me—Laura Sloan. Over here.”
Linda Gibson stopped and looked around. A pedestrian or two bumped into her, before she noticed the idling cab. Laura waved, held Tucker up…and recognition dawned in Ms. Gibson’s eyes. She shouldered her way over, holding her coat closed against the wind that threatened to whisk her away. At the cab’s side, she bent over to peer into the window and steadied herself with a hand on the door frame. “Ms. Sloan. Hello. Well, I see you have the—”
Her gaze lit on Grant. And froze. “Baby,” she finally said. Her expression slowly changed. “I don’t believe it. You weren’t kidding. Wait until I tell—” She addressed Grant. “Do you know who you are? You’re Grant Maguire.”
“That’s what I’m told, Ms. Gibson,” Grant responded, offering a wide, sexy grin. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
Show-off. Laura broke into the little adoring scene. “I didn’t expect to see you out here. Has something happened?” No response. The woman still stared at Grant. “Ms. Gibson? Yoo-hoo?”
Ms. Gibson started and glanced Laura’s way. Finally. But when she did, there was a new respect shining in her eyes. No, not respect Speculation. Of the what sort of woman are you to get a man like this variety. Laura had seen the look before, when she and Grant were dating in college. She’d dismissed it then and she dismissed it now. “I was asking you if something has happened.”
“Well, yes, it has. Your mother has all the details, but I might as well tell you in person,” Ms. Gibson said, dividing her gaze between Laura and Grant. “The short version is, after a cup of hot tea with your mother, I called in to my supervisor to let her in on what was happening. And she informed me that this baby—” she pointed to Tucker, who remained strangely quiet and focused “—isn’t the one we were looking for.”
“What?” Laura cried, along with Grant. And along with Tucker—who didn’t say what, but did squeal and chortle and awkwardly clap his mittened hands together, somewhat reminiscent of a baby seal.
“That’s right,” Ms. Gibson said, nodding, looking as happy for this turn of events as the three in the cab so obviously were. “The lady’s real baby had been out with his dad. A miscommunication between the couple, apparently. Your mother said she knew that because she’s psychic. But anyway, the family’s been reunited and they have already gone home. A
nd that’s what I’m doing now, too. Going home.”
Knee-weakening relief coursed through Laura’s veins. She slumped against the seat, and felt Grant next to her do the same. She hugged Tucker to her, holding him even tighter as Grant turned to her, sheltering her and the baby in his thankful embrace. “Oh, thank God,” Laura intoned.
“I can only apologize for the continued confusion,” Ms. Gibson offered. “And tell you that, though glitches do occur in the system, it generally works. And works well. But speaking of glitches—” she chuckled “—I could have told you earlier this wasn’t the right baby if I hadn’t been so…well, put off balance by your mother. No offense meant.”
“None taken,” Laura laughingly assured her as she magnanimously forgave and embraced the entire world in her moment of euphoria. “She has that effect on everyone. But what do you mean, you could have told us earlier?”
“Well, if I’d thought to have you describe him, I could have saved you this trip. See, the baby we were looking for is Asian. And this little guy—” she grinned in Tucker’s direction. Laura glanced down. Tucker was grinning right back “—is obviously not. But things being what they were with your report, and no description noted—again, not your fault—well, it was a shot in the dark, essentially. We had to check it out I’m very sorry.”
Laura nodded agreeably, then had a suddenly sobering thought She didn’t want to ask, but knew she had to. It was only right. “Did you say that you’re on your way home?”
Ms. Gibson met her gaze and apparently picked up on the direction Laura’s thoughts were taking. “Yes, I did. And listen, I don’t know what to tell you about this little man. With the power out, the computers down and the phone lines going dead…Well—and I may get myself fired for even suggesting it—can you keep this baby with you until things clear up some?”
Stunned into happy speechlessness, Laura watched as Ms. Gibson looked from her to Grant and back. “Look,” she said, “I’m satisfied he’s safe and in good hands. And better off with you right now than he would be in custody, given the mess the whole city’s in tonight. I’d just hate for such a little guy to fall through the cracks, you know what I mean? Is it too big of a problem for you to keep him for now?”
“A problem?” Grant beat Laura to the punch. But that was okay, because she was still too heart-stoppingly ecstatic to speak. “No problem at all. In fact, Ms. Gibson, I could kiss you for suggesting it.” Ms. Gibson’s jaw dropped. Laura grinned. “Of course, we’ll keep him,” Grant continued. “And for as long as necessary.”
Then Grant covered the caseworker’s hand with his. “And by the way, if you get fired for making such a humane decision, please let me know. I’ll see to it that you don’t have to hunt for a job.”
He pulled back, looking the woman over. “In fact, fired or not, do you have a business card so we can reach you if something comes up?”
AT LEAST THE power’s back on. Although God alone knows for how long, Grant thought as warm air whooshed comfortingly from the floor vents. He’d talked to his parents, giving them Laura’s number, although he hoped they wouldn’t use it. They’d gotten Tucker to sleep in his pillow-stuffed drawer. Feeling exhausted, Grant ambled down the three steps leading from Laura’s bedroom in time to witness a motherdaughter exchange.
Somehow, seeing them there, so easy with each other, so close, so caring…well, hell, it just warmed his heart. Instead of feeling left out, the sight of them together made him want to be included. To be one with Laura, to be a part of her crazy patchwork quilt of a family.
He grinned, a warm smile that mirrored his feelings toward the blond woman his gaze naturally sought and lingered on. He wondered if she knew what her nearness did to him. How her scent quickened his blood, how the sound of her voice changed his breathing. He ached to hold her, to touch her, to kiss his way down her entire body and right back up. Whew. Easy, Maguire. The woman’s mother is in the room.
Grant tried to cool his thoughts. If Laura didn’t know how he felt, whose fault was that? He shook his head, mentally scrolling through the problems and complications in his life. And came to one conclusion. It was time to act. Time to remedy a lot of situations.
But for now, he decided, coming back to the moment…well, there they were, two of the women he loved best in the whole world. He may as well enjoy them. Seated at opposite ends of the sofa, mother and daughter—could they be more different to be so closely related?—faced each other, talking. So at ease with each other. He approached quietly, grinning as he picked up the thread of their conversation.
“I am trying to tell you what took us so long to get back here, Mother. But you keep interrupting me.”
“So, who’s interrupting? Go ahead,” Vivian interrupted.
Laura let out a sigh and tucked her legs under her. “So then,” she said pointedly, “Grant gets her business card—”
“For what?”
Laura gestured with her hands. “So we can reach her if we need her, I guess.”
Vivian leaned forward. “So why would you need her? I’m here now. That means the baby’s safe.”
Laura was silent. Then she said, “Thanks, Mother. You know, the Spanish Inquisition could have used your interrogation skills.”
“Don’t get smart with me, young lady. So where does this Miss Gibson live?”
“Where does she—How would I know? You’re the psychic. You tell me.”
Vivian pursed her lips. “Don’t get fresh with me. You could learn a lot from that nice Miss Gibson. She didn’t mind telling your stepfather I’m psychic.”
“Telling my—How’d she do that, Mother? Irving left here before I went to work. And long before Ms. Gibson ever showed up.”
“That he did. But just before she found out that precious little angel Tucker was the wrong baby—I told her all along he was, too—Irving called to say he was home with Esther, that all was well.” She preened, shifting her weight, fluttering her fake eyelashes and arranging her fringed silk shawl around her shoulders. “Separated or not, he doesn’t like for me to worry.”
Laura chuckled and crossed her arms. “You’re not separated, Mother.”
Vivian sat up straighter. “He left me here. He’s in Rhode Island. And I’m in New York. What would you call it?”
“A vacation. For Irving,” Laura said wryly.
Vivian grimaced at her daughter. “And to think I carried you in my body for nine months to have you talk this way to me.”
Laura laughed, reaching out to squeeze her mother’s arm. “I’m sorry. Go on.”
“Thank you,” Vivian responded, with a condescending wave of her hand. “Well, anyway, when that nice Miss Gibson found out what I’d been saying all along—about the baby being the wrong one—was right, I had her call Irving back and tell him as much. So there.” A very royal sniff preceded her next words. “I’ll pay for the call.”
Grant saw Laura’s shoulders hunch. No doubt, she was cringing at the thought of poor Ms. Gibson alone here, at Vivian’s tender mercies. “I don’t care about the call. You don’t have to pay for it. But wait a minute. You had her call Irving, Mother?”
Vivian tsked, waving a dismissive hand at her eldest child. “Why would I have her call him Mother? I had her call him Mr. Pender—Oh.”
“Oh is right, Mrs. Smith.” Laura laughed, leaning forward to hug her mother fiercely. “Caught yourself in your own little web of lies, didn’t you?”
Although he hated like hell having to spoil their fun, Grant put an index finger to his lips and made a hushing sound. Obviously startled, Laura released her mother and turned to him. Grant gestured with his thumb, indicating Sleeping Baby on Premises. Laura clapped a hand over her mouth and drew her knees to her chest Grant winked at her and nonchalantly flopped down on the sofa between Laura and Vivian, the latter of whom patted his arm affectionately.
Grant winked at the older woman and turned to Laura. “Whoever wakes that gripy little bear cub has to deal with him. I got him to sleep, and I
’m now officially off duty.”
“Then,” Vivian announced, hefting her rounded body from the sofa, “that means I’m officially on duty.”
Laura lurched forward. “Mom, you don’t have to do that. I know you’re tired and I—”
“No, no, no,” Vivian countered, dismissing Laura’s protests with a wave of her heavily bejeweled hand. “I want to do this. I’ve waited a long time to have a grandchild, and I’m not—What’s wrong with you?”
And well she should ask. Laura had collapsed dramatically across Grant’s chest. Facedown. Grant chuckled, solicitously patting her slender back and feeling hot and heavy everywhere she touched him. If she didn’t get up soon—
Laura abruptly sat. “No. Do not call him your grandson. Big no-no, Mother. Don’t get attached. He’s not ours.” She glanced at Grant. He only offered a grin. Laura blinked, then swung her gaze to her mother. “I mean mine. No—yours. He’s not your grandchild.”
“We’ll see,” Vivian sang, picking up her suitcase from beside the overstuffed chair and heading for the steps that would take her up to Laura’s bed. “I’ll just sleep up here in case my little sweetie wakes up. Good night, all. You two kids get to bed soon, okay?”
On the sofa, the aforementioned “all” remained quiet, staring after her until she disappeared into the night-light-brightened darkness that encompassed Laura’s bedroom. After another wordless moment, in which Vivian’s parting statement about the two of them getting to bed hung almost tangibly in the air between them, Grant rubbed his hand over Laura’s thigh, eliciting a hissing intake of breath from her. Which told him plainly enough that she’d been picturing that very thing. The two of them in bed. Together.
His heart thumping, he managed a sober expression. “You gotta like that woman. She’s full of great ideas.”
“Yes. She is, at that,” Laura said, finally turning to him to reveal gray eyes resembling silvered moonlight, the desire in them a sparkling reflection of Grant’s own need.
From Here To Maternity Page 11