by Barb Taub
Dr. Tom expertly picked up Naeve, who batted big eyes and gurgled at him. The little traitor. He gave a rusty sounding chuckle before turning back to Eirie. “Are you sure about Null City?”
She looked down at the infant in his arms. “It’s the best thing for both of us. If we stay here, Naeve will be in constant danger. But if we go back to Tír na nÓg, the Tuatha Dé will try to turn her into a proper fae princess.” She shuddered.
Dr. Tom looked up. “Liam?”
Liam shoved away from the wall. “I’ll debrief you and then we need to get to work on analysis of the intel from the frozen embryo operation. Dr. Marano is up to something.” He turned to Eirie. “You’re probably doing the right thing, Radio-girl. Have a good life.” He bent down and kissed Naeve’s cheek, straightened, and left the room.
Chapter Three
Starting over sure takes it out of you, Eirie thought. Actually, everything took it out of her these days. It still amazed her that one tiny being could consume her every waking hour. And lately, there were a lot of waking hours. She gave up cooking, cleaning, and all but the most essential personal hygiene but still suspected she occasionally fed Naeve a bottle without actually waking fully herself. One afternoon she noticed herself changing a diaper with one hand and eating a peanut butter sandwich with the other. She had a vague idea that something was wrong with this picture, but couldn’t help being impressed that she had actually managed to fix herself a sandwich.
Then there was all the baby stuff. Who knew someone who could fit in your arm would require so much? Apparently, the avid fans of Sharing with Eirie knew. As soon as she explained on air that she was retiring to take care of a family member’s child, the phone lines lit up. Advice poured in. Cloth or disposable diapers?—Wait—people actually wash dirty diapers? On purpose? Well, that decision was a no-brainer. There were passionate discussions about toys. Apparently, if Baby didn’t have the right toy giraffe from France, she faced a very real chance of growing up to be an axe murderer. Listeners knew the right carrier to soothe Baby, the right eco-friendly natural-fiber clothes to dress Baby, the right car seat to protect Baby—the list was endless. But every time she connected to a new caller, Eirie couldn’t help listening for the deep voice with the faint Irish accent. For the call that never came.
Apologizing to those whose calls were still on hold when the time ran out, Eirie suggested that they email the station. The station’s servers were flooded with yet more suggestions. Her producer Jo was delighted, and immediately started searching for a baby-savvy chat show host to replace Eirie.
Infant in her arms, Eirie paused to take one last look at her emptied apartment. Naeve’s essentials were fitted into three enormous trunks sent to the station ahead of them, along with Eirie’s single suitcase. Gran was meeting them at the Metro, the mysterious train that provided the only access to Null City. Apparently, the Metro set its own fares, so Gran would be there to arrange payment for her granddaughters, no matter what price was asked.
“My call didn’t get through.” Eirie spun at the sound of the deep, Irish-accented voice coming from the doorway.
“The station was taking emails.”
“I couldn’t apologize in an email.” His arms were around her, carefully enclosing both Eirie and the baby and pulling them into her empty closet. “I couldn’t do this by email.” His lips, softly questioning at first, demanded hers. “And I could never have groveled properly in an email.” Dropping to his knees, Liam looked up at them. “It’s taken too long for me to admit that you—and Naeve—are all I want. If it’s not too late… I wanted to tell you that I’ve decided to spend the rest of my life protecting princesses.” The ring he held up sparkled with an amethyst surrounded by diamonds and pink sapphires.
Naeve opened her mouth and wailed. Eirie was crying too. Liam shook his head and stuffed the ring into his pocket. “So much for romance.” He took the baby from her and slung her over his shoulder. Then he wiped Eirie’s cheeks with his free hand and whispered, “Well?”
“Do I still get to fight dirty?”
“I’m counting on it.”
“Then you’ve got yourself a partner.”
Epilogue
“And hello Line Two—you’re live on Baby Talk with Eirie Danu, and this is Null City’s number one talk-radio. What’s on your mind today?”
A deep voice with a faint Irish accent said, “My wife snuck off to her job even though the obstetrician says she’s too near her due date. And now her grandmother has just arrived and is blaming me that she’s not here.”
“Sounds like your wife doesn’t fight fair.”
“Neither do I.” The voice was in her ear, and echoing in the room. Eirie barely had time to remind listeners of her blog address before he smoothly cut off all line feeds.
“Come on Radio-mama. I’ve got a closet I’d like you to see.”
About the Author
In halcyon days BC (before children), Barb Taub wrote a humor column for several Midwest newspapers. With the arrival of Child #4, she veered toward the dark side and an HR career. Following a daring daytime escape to England, she's lived in a medieval castle and a hobbit house with her prince-of-a-guy and the World’s Most Spoiled AussieDog. Now all her days are Saturdays, and she spends them consulting with her daughter on Marvel heroes, Null City, and translating from British to American.
http://barbtaub.com/
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