by Lyn Cote
After he complied, the tinny, music-box melody of “Rock-a-bye Baby” competed with Angie’s shrieks.
“Don’t you see that single parenthood is going to be too much for you?” he insisted.
“I only see that this baby needs me.” Her rocking now kept time with the tune.
“I don’t understand why you can’t see reason. Angie is not your responsibility—”
“Dena made her my responsibility.” She held on to Angie like a lifeline. Cash’s shadowed eyes spoke volumes about the sorrow he’d suffered over the past week.
Over the past decade, he had isolated himself from everyone but Dena and Angie. Now there was only Angie, and Angie belonged to her. Jane bowed her head. If only he would let her show him some kindness, show him the love which abounded in her life.
Cash raked his fingers through his already-tousled hair. He pushed away from the doorjamb and strode forward, his arms out to take the baby. “This isn’t working—”
Angie gave one loud gasp. With a shudder, the baby’s last sob broke and her tension released.
Gently Jane reduced the tempo of her rocking, then slipped a pink pacifier into Angie’s quivering lips. When the music box ran down, Jane hummed, still uneasy under Cash’s gaze. At last, she stood up and laid the sleeping baby on her side in the crib.
Cash moved closer. Together they looked down at the now-peaceful child. Despite the conflict between them and her new-sprung fear, Jane still felt drawn to everything about him, the scents of his soap and his leather jacket, the quickness of his breathing and the force of the man, which nothing diminished. When Jane couldn’t bear his nearness and the anxiety anymore, she tugged at his sleeve. They stepped out into the dimly lit upstairs hall.
Jane, concealing her roiling emotions, looked up into Cash’s face. “So?”
The stubborn anger in his eyes troubled Jane. She shivered in the warm hallway.
“Angie is mine. Why won’t you be reasonable?”
Jane folded her arms. “Dena had a reason for giving me Angie. I don’t know what it was, but until I can understand her motivations, I see no room to alter her wishes.”
He flung himself away from her and hustled down the stairs.
Hugging herself, she leaned over the rail of the landing. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to do what Lucy said she’d do!”
“What’s that?”
“Whatever it takes to be near Angie.” He slammed the front door behind him.
Jane held her breath, listening for Angie to stir, but the baby slept on.
Feeling suddenly drained, Jane sat down on the highest step and propped her elbows on her knees. Dena must have had a reason. Lord, help me understand. Am I doing Your will by following Dena’s wishes? All I know for sure is Angie needs me and for the first time Cash frightens me. Would he really take Angie from me? I can’t believe that. But recalling Cash’s parting words sent a stark shiver through her.
“Hi, Jane!” Rona Vitelli blew into Jane’s Dress Shop on a gust of a glacial, late-February wind. “I heard you were back!”
Jane grinned. It was Monday morning. After driving Jane home on Friday, her parents had spent the past weekend helping Jane settle Angie into her house. They had just left a half hour ago to drive home.
Of course, Rona, the town’s “ears” would appear bright and early on Jane’s first day back at her shop. Rona liked her news served up fresh. “Hi, Rona, you’re just in time to help me.”
“Is this little Angie?” Rona bent over the new playpen Jane had just set up near the shop’s front window.
Jane nodded, her arms full of skirts on hangers.
“She’s a little doll! Such dark hair! She’d fit right in with the Vitelli clan!”
“Help me, Rona.” Jane’s arms sagged with the weight of her burden.
Rona swung around and reached out to lift the clothing in Jane’s arms. “No.” Jane stepped back and nodded toward the playpen. “Pick up Angie and follow me.”
“Oh.” Rona scooped Angie up and trailed Jane to a six-foot-long clothes rack at the back. When Rona first picked Angie up, the baby fussed, but when she realized Rona was her means to keeping Jane within sight, Angie calmed down and gurgled sociably.
“You have to be in sight all the time?” Rona guessed.
Quickly hanging the skirts by size on the bar, Jane nodded.
Rona entertained Angie by gently twirling right, then left.
“Well, she’s at that age. About seven to eight months they start wanting Mom or else! Do you think it has to do with losing her parents?”
“Yes, some. She’s sleeping a lot better now.” Jane hung and smoothed the last skirt in place. “But she is very demanding.”
“You’re just going to keep her here at the shop with you?” Rona gave the baby an Eskimo kiss and Angie giggled in appreciation.
“Now, while it’s quiet, yes. When the resort season starts in May, I’ll have to hire a baby-sitter and slowly wean her—wean both of us—from having only me on call twenty-four hours a day.”
“Well, she looks happy now.”
Jane took Angie back into her arms.
“Tell me, Jane…”
Jane grinned at her friend’s conspiratorial tone. “Tell you what?”
“Are your only two employees really both pregnant and due June fifteenth?”
“No.” Jane carried Angie back to the playpen and set her in it. “One is due June fifteenth and the other is due June twenty-fifth. How did you find out I was losing both of them for the whole summer? They just told me!”
“My cousin works at the hospital, you know—”
“So anything you don’t hear at the restaurant, she hears there?”
“Exactly. Which brings me to my point—you’re going to need to hire—”
The front door swung open sharply, jangling a small bell attached to it. “Hi, Jane!” Carmella, Rona’s daughter, walked in. “What did she say, Mom? Am I hired?”
The word, hire, shocked Jane’s stomach with the instant sensation of disaster-about-to-happen.
“Carmella, I was just about to introduce that topic—”
The door opened a second time and the little bell jingled politely this time. It was Jane’s Aunt Claire, followed by Tish, her daughter.
Aunt Claire greeted everyone, looking at them over her half glasses. “Jane, I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to run over on my break from the library. Is this our little Angie?”
Jane stood, sandwiched between the two mother-and-teenage-daughter pairs. On her right were Rona and Carmella, both petite, curvaceous, with dark hair and nutmeg eyes. On her left were her Aunt Claire and cousin Tish, both tall, willowy, with fair skin and strawberry blond hair. They bent over the side of the playpen. Tish’s thick hair cascaded artfully down the back of her short leather jacket to the belt of her tight, designer jeans.
Angie looked up and giggled at Aunt Claire.
“So you think your aunty Claire is amusing, do you?” Aunt Claire chuckled and touched the end of the baby’s nose. “What do you think of this?” From her tan wool coat pocket, Claire pulled out a soft rubber duck squeeze toy. Angie grabbed it and shrilled her joy at the honking sound it made in her hand.
Jane eyed the two teenagers. “Is school off today?”
“Teacher conferences—” Rona replied.
“Well, Mom?” Carmella asked.
Rona sighed. “Jane, I was wondering if you’d consider trying Carmella out as a salesclerk this June. She says she’s tired of busing tables and doesn’t want to waitress.”
“Not with my dad and uncle standing over me every minute,” Rona’s daughter muttered.
Jane’s stomach twisted itself into a curly Q. This was one of the disadvantages of small-town life. Only one answer could be given, “Sure. Can you come after school some afternoons in May to train?”
“Great!” Carmella gave a little hop. “Just name the day.”
“What about me, Jane?
” Tish had lifted Angie from the playpen. Angie giggled each time Tish kissed the sensitive skin behind the little girl’s ear. “I was going to ask you for a job this summer, too.”
Jane’s stomach dropped to her toes. Carmella Vitelli and my cousin, Tish, too? Even their grandmother, Lucy, called Tish a spoiled brat.
“This isn’t at all the way one inquires about employment,” Claire chided Tish. “Besides, aren’t they expecting you back at DQ this summer?”
“Mom, two summers at DQ is enough. I’ll be sixteen June first. Besides if I work here, I get twenty percent off on clothes instead of ice cream!”
“Oh!” Aunt Claire opened her eyes wider. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She stopped to kiss the hand Angie offered her.
Jane mentally swallowed the bitter pill labeled “Keeping Peace in the Family.” “Well, I guess I won’t have to advertise for replacements.” She smiled bravely while Carmella and Tish exchanged glares. Oh, great! she thought.
Within minutes Rona and her daughter departed. Aunt Claire started to go, too.
“Mom, I’ll stay here,” Tish said. “I’ll watch Angie while Jane catches up on her work.”
Claire turned to Jane with a questioning look.
The offer surprised Jane. “Thank you, Tish. That would be a real help.”
Claire touched her daughter’s arm with affection. “I’ll bring lunch later and we’ll celebrate Angie’s first day at Jane’s Dress Shop.” Claire walked to the door. “Remember, Jane, never hesitate to call us—day or night. Your uncle Henry, Tish or me.”
Tish followed Jane as she went to the counter to start to sort through the receipts for the past three weeks.
“I’m really sorry you lost your friend.”
Jane looked up. “Thank you, Tish.”
“I always envied you having a friend like her.”
Jane struggled with the pall which fell like a shadow across her mood.
“And her brother is so handsome.” Tish jiggled the baby in her arms. “Wouldn’t it be romantic if you two ended up getting married, sort of like in an old movie?”
Jane bent her head to hide the pain she felt contort her face. “Cash never acts very romantic, Tish.”
The echoing clap of the brass knocker on her front door reverberated through Jane’s head. As she walked into the small entry hall, she put a hand to her pounding forehead.
Seven-month-old Angie was teething, and the nighttime hours were…She couldn’t think of a word to describe the stress and exhaustion of endless dark hours spent rocking and pacing with a fussy, inconsolable baby.
Jane straightened her spine and looked down at Angie, who sat on her right hip. Knowing that Cash would be quick to criticize, Jane had spent the last hour bathing the baby and dressing her in a pink corduroy overall and a ruffled, candy-striped blouse.
Angie smiled, and Jane’s heart melted. “You little doll.” She kissed Angie’s forehead.
The brass knocker banged twice more. Jane’s smile faded. She turned the doorknob, icy cold against her palm.
Cash stepped over her threshold, and a frigid March gust rushed in with him. Making it obvious he wanted contact only with Angie, his head bent immediately to be at eye level with the baby. “Hi, Angie.”
“Hurry up and get this door shut. She just got out of the bath.” Jane immediately regretted her harsh tone, but after weeks apart, Cash’s presence struck Jane sharper than the winter wind against her face. Over his shoulder, she glimpsed an older blue Jeep Wrangler at the curb. “What happened to your Lincoln?” she asked. As she spoke, the dread that had marred his last visit to her parents’ home ignited inside her.
He eyed her crossly, but closed the door behind him. He held out his arms to take Angie.
Reaction to his reluctance to look at her, and her own growing uneasiness, caused Jane to turn her back to him and say sternly, “Come in by the fire and get that coat off. Handing this baby to you now would be like sitting her in an icebox.”
Cash gritted his teeth, but he trailed behind Jane into the cozy living room. He hung his heavy, beige camel coat on the coatrack at the room’s entrance. A lively fire burned behind a brass, fan-shaped screen. The fire’s warmth drew him, and with his back to the fireplace, he clasped his hands behind and surveyed the room to give himself time to get his rancor under control.
He watched as Jane settled into a wing chair covered in a green, flowered print. Momentarily her shining, light auburn hair against the dark background snagged his attention. Her pale, peach-tinged skin glowed, making him think of the coming spring. Then his eyes slid to Angie, who sat in her lap.
Jane had positioned the baby with her back to him. He watched Angie squirm onto her knees and push herself around. When she faced him, she smiled with satisfaction. His gaze lifted to meet Jane’s. Her melancholy eyes arrested his attention and softened his heart. He wanted to gather her into his arms to comfort her, but he shook off this unexpected reaction. After she heard his news, their fragile truce would be shattered. Had her grandmother told her yet? He couldn’t tell.
He scanned the room again, trying ‘to get a feel for Angie’s home. Angie’s home, the words filled him with discontent. Angie belonged with him. But in Angie’s best interest he’d been forced to accept the dictates of Dena’s will—even though everything within had urged him not to. Tom’s counsel about arranging joint custody without the meddling of social workers and judges had been wise, and he would heed it—as long as Jane cooperated fully. He knew what he wanted and he would get it.
With approval he noted Jane had installed a wooden gate at the base of the steps to the upstairs. A paperback book by a pediatrician lay open, facedown on the coffee table. He watched Jane lift the book off the table and guiltily tuck it between the sofa cushions. So Jane didn’t know everything about babies, after all.
Other than the book, the room appeared nearly bare of ornaments, out of character for an Everett. Everetts decorated their homes with style and grace. Each piece chosen both to beautify and to recall memories.
Jane gave him a tart glance. “You didn’t answer my question. Didn’t you drive up in your Lincoln?”
Vanilla-scented candles flickered on top of the mantel. Mellowing in the cozy room, he fought being enmeshed in the gracious presence of Jane Everett. “Sold it. Didn’t drive. Flew up with my instructor.” He stepped forward and, without asking permission, lifted Angie off her lap.
The news startled Jane so much she let the baby go without a word. “Instructor? You’re learning how to fly?”
He carried Angie to the overstuffed white sofa and sat down. “I should be licensed before summer.”
Jane felt her breast tighten, making it hard to draw a breath. “You’ll be flying up, not driving?”
He nodded. “I’ll cut my travel time in half. I’ll leave the Jeep at the airport here and fly up from Midway.”
“Oh.” Jane’s spirits plummeted, leaving her mind whirling.
“Hi, Angel,” he murmured, close to Angie’s ear. The baby girl eyed him curiously, then fingered his sparkling tie tack.
“Why did you wear a suit today?”
“I was trying to keep up with Jane of Jane’s Dress Shop.” He gestured at her baggy, gray sweats.
Jane flushed. Dressing Angie had taken all her time and what had been left of her energy, but she wouldn’t admit that to him.
“I had a business meeting in town earlier,” he said with a touch of apology in his voice.
She bit her lower lip. His contracting firm was located in Chicago. What business would he have up here? Her panic thrummed to life. Something is happening.
Angie pulled on Cash’s tie tack again. Rising abruptly, Jane felt a pain like a mallet striking her right temple. She crossed to Cash and reached for his tie.
He gripped both her hands in one of his. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to take off that tie tack. She might put it in her mouth.”
“I’ll do it.” He stopped he
r hands, undid the tie tack and slipped it into an inner pocket.
From a steady, pounding mallet, the ache in Jane’s head switched to the surge and ebb of a crazy tide. She straightened up slowly, feeling a little woozy. Then she recalled she hadn’t eaten since breakfast—a 5:00 a.m. breakfast.
From his suit pocket, Cash produced a stuffed toy—a black-and-white cocker spaniel. Angie squealed and reached for it.
The squeal zigzagged through Jane. Her headache level soared. She mumbled, “I’ll make tea.” She walked through the arched door into the kitchen. Once there, she pressed her head against the cool door of her small, rounded, white refrigerator.
Her pulse beat a rapid rhythm in her ears. Weeks of erratic sleep, bizarre meals like baby prunes with zwieback teething biscuits and adjusting her work schedule at her shop had taken their toll.
Why today of all days? The tension in Cash’s visit had tipped the scales of her physical misery. This visit wasn’t going as she had planned. She’d wanted to be cool, in charge, unruffled. Instead she felt like a ball of yarn unraveling under the batting paws of a determined cat. Somehow, some way she had to toughen herself, make her nerves impervious to both the charm and intimidating essence of Cash Langley.
Flying lessons? What next?
Turning to the stove, she picked up her blue-and-white enamel kettle and carried it to the sink. As she filled it, Jane gazed wearily at her kitchen. Dirty dishes with hard, dried scraps and smears filled both sides of the sink. Breakfast and lunch remains still littered the floor around Angie’s high chair. Jane set the kettle on the burner and switched it on. The flames sputtered under the kettle, burning away the moisture on the bottom.
The phone jangled. Jane lifted the receiver off the black wall phone. The welcome voice of her grandmother instantly made her relax and smile.
“I wanted you to hear this directly from me, Jane,” Lucy said without preamble. “Is Cash there yet?”
“You’re all right, aren’t you?” Jane asked anxiously. Her grandmother would be seventy-six on her next birthday.
“I’m fine. I just wanted you to know that I’ve sold the land on Lake Elizabeth.”