Their argument would probably still be going on if it hadn't been for Tony turning cranky. Soon after they'd returned home from the store, the baby began to whine. He couldn't seem to get comfortable enough to take even a short nap in the afternoon. However, Tony did seem to get some relief when Robin rocked him, as long as Jonas remained nearby. Both Jonas and Robin had come to the conclusion that Tony found security in her hugs because her body was shaped more like Sara's than Jonas's was. So, Robin had rocked him for over an hour, and he'd slept fitfully for only a few minutes.
When he awoke, Jonas and Robin had taken him to the park, hoping that the fresh air would revive his spirits. The trip had been a disaster.
They had returned home, tried, to no avail, to get Tony to eat some supper, and here they were, hours past the baby's bedtime, still rocking, still soothing him with gentle words.
As Jonas watched Robin cuddle Tony, he thought that one good thing had come of the baby's cranky spell. Robin looked too damned tired to be angry with him any longer. He thought it ironic that Tony clung to her so, when just this morning he wanted nothing whatsoever to do with her.
Robin looked up at him, weariness dulling her deep-set brown eyes.
"Do you think this is something other than g-r-i-e-f?" she asked, spelling out the word as though she were afraid Tony might understand and become even more upset. A silly notion, that. A child his age wouldn't understand such a complicated and painful concept.
"Well, Amy did tell us that he cried himself to sleep every night." Jonas kept his voice as quiet as possible.
Robin sighed. "But this has been going on since this afternoon."
He nodded. "How about if I call Amy and ask her what she thinks?"
Laying her head back and closing her eyes, Robin said, "Sounds like a good idea to me."
Jonas left the room as quietly as possible, knowing that if Tony noticed his disappearance he'd become agitated beyond reason. He grabbed the cordless phone and then Sara and Jeff's address book from the drawer in the kitchen. He was back upstairs in under a minute.
He looked up Amy's number and punched the keys on the telephone pad. It had rung at least a dozen times before he gave up.
"She's not home," he whispered to Robin.
"Call the pediatrician," she said.
"But it's after hours."
"Jonas, we could have a sick little boy on our hands here," she told him. "Do you know what signs to look for? Has he been acting normal today? Are you confident enough in your judgment to say he hasn't come down with some illness? Can it hurt to simply ask the doctor's opinion?"
"Okay, okay." Even as he said the words, he flipped through the book to find the doctor's number.
He gave the answering service all the information and was told that the doctor would call him within the hour.
Robin continued to rock the baby in the silent darkness of the bedroom, and Jonas stood in the doorway watching helplessly.
Finally Tony dozed off with his head resting against Robin's breast. Jonas thought it was a lovely, peaceful image.
When the phone rang, Tony didn't stir. Jonas moved away from the doorway and spoke to the doctor, taking note of his instructions, and then he cut the connection.
"The doctor wants us to take Tony's temperature," Jonas told her. "I'm going to find a thermometer."
He began his search in the bathroom off the hallway and happily discovered Sara's first aid kit. The covered plastic box contained swabs, gauze pads, antibiotic ointment, a thermometer, alcohol, and Jonas's eyes lit up when he saw a book on baby ailments and remedies.
"Hallelujah," he said to himself.
He returned to Tony's bedroom, his arms loaded with medical paraphernalia. Somehow, he didn't quite feel so helpless anymore.
"Here," he whispered, handing Robin the thermometer. "The doctor wants you to take Tony's temperature. You need to insert it…"
"Oh, no." She cut him off, her own whisper harsher than she'd intended. "When I took this job, I never agreed to insert anything anywhere. That's the doctor's job. It's what he went to medical school for."
Jonas couldn't hold back his chuckle. "But, Robin, the doctor needs to know…"
"I am not going to wake up this child to do something to him that I know will make him very unhappy," she said. "So, if you're still determined to know if he's running a fever or not, then you're more than welcome to insert that thermometer."
Again he chuckled. "Okay," he said. He picked up the baby book. "Let's just see if we can get the information some other way."
He quickly found instructions on "taking baby's temperature" and was pleased to see that "inserting" wasn't the only way to get the job done.
"It says here," Jonas told Robin, "that we can place the thermometer under his arm."
"Now that I can handle," she said. "But look at those." She pointed to the pictures in the book. "They look like new fangled thermometers. This one's called a thermoscan. That one's a…here! I've seen one of those over on Tony's changing table."
"No-contact Infrared Thermometer," Jonas read. He crossed the room and brought the gadget to her. "The book says you just pass it across his forehead."
After turning on the thermometer, Robin did as instructed, and she was rewarded with three tiny beeps. She nodded. "He's got a slight fever. Not much. Just a degree over normal."
Jonas flipped to the back of the book to search for symptoms. "He could have colic," he said. He read further. "Or he could be teething. It says here that molars sometimes cause a great deal of pain as the tooth breaks through the gum." After studying for a few more silent moments, Jonas closed the book.
"Here, let me feel." He slipped his index finger between Tony's lips and probed the baby's gums. Tony stirred when Jonas touched a swollen spot in the back of his mouth.
"I think that's it," Jonas said. "He's cutting a molar. It feels really puffy. Probably really sore, too. Poor fella. Maybe we should give him something for pain."
"He's out like a light," Robin observed in a tired voice. "Please don't wake him."
Jonas nodded. "Let me put him in his crib."
He put the baby to bed and tucked a cotton blanket over his bare legs.
"We didn't check his diaper," Robin said.
"Let's worry about that later."
Jonas held out his hand to help her from the chair, and he was pleased when she took it without hesitation.
"Come on downstairs and I'll pour us both a glass of wine," he offered.
Robin stretched her neck, then reached around to massage her sore muscles. "Sounds like heaven to me."
They went downstairs, Robin to the family room to prop up her feet, and Jonas to the kitchen to open a bottle of wine.
He poured the rich, red liquid into crystal glasses, thinking how great Robin had been with Tony today. She'd remained calm even though he knew she was feeling frustrated with the tears and the crankiness. Maybe she did have a maternal bone or two in her body. One that he and his sister, Sara, had missed seeing.
When he came into the family room, he stopped in the doorway and smiled. Robin lay on the couch, her eyes closed, her lashes dark, thick fans against creamy cheeks. Her deep, even breathing told him she was sound asleep.
He placed her glass on the table and sat down in the easy chair with a deep, contented sigh. He lifted the wine to his lips, but something told him he was going to enjoy the view much more than the cocktail.
Chapter Five
Something had changed. Robin couldn't quite put her finger on what it was, but her relationship with Jonas was... different. They'd been living together in her brother's house now for more than a week. And their working routine had worked itself out until it seemed to be running quite smoothly.
Jonas had been right about the time span needed for her to gain Tony's trust. The first few days had been utterly miserable, but then the baby accepted her as part of the new household. And now he clamored for her attention just as often as he called for Jonas's. She conti
nued to feel a sharp stab of heart-wrenching love every time her nephew called, "Bob-in! Bob-in!" and demanded that she follow him as he examined some new and wondrous discovery.
The three of them had made some amazing strides during the days and nights they'd lived together. After the teething incident during which Tony had been crabby and irritable for a full forty-eight hours until his first molar pushed its way through his swollen gum, Robin and Jonas decided that a visit to the baby's pediatrician was a good idea. The man told them many things about Tony that they hadn't known: he had no food allergies to date, he was prone to ear infections, he'd learned to walk early, he'd become verbal early, too, and he was in the eightieth percentile when it came to height and weight. After taking one look at their blank expressions, the doctor had laughed as he explained percentiles and the pediatric growth chart. But the information they'd learned made both Robin and Jonas feel more confident in their job as Tony's guardians.
But Robin knew they still had so much further to go. Yes, Tony was comfortable with her now; he even enjoyed their mornings together. But he would constantly go searching for Jonas where he worked in what had been Jeff's office. Tony would only stay in the room with his uncle for the briefest of moments, but every hour or so, just like clockwork, he'd toddle off in search of Unka and once again reassure himself that Jonas was still around.
Robin smiled, thinking about the manner in which Jonas greeted Tony each time the child interrupted his work. He always smiled brightly and called out a hearty "hello," as though it were the first time he'd seen the baby that day and that he was terribly grateful for the visit. Jonas never showed any signs of irritation or impatience over Tony's intrusion.
The funny thing was that the baby did the same thing to her when it was Jonas's turn to watch him in the afternoon and she was busy writing her article on Hawaiian cuisine.
She and Jonas had talked about his behavior late one evening after the nightmare of putting him to bed was over and they had decided that having his parents whisked away from him had to have demolished all sense of security for him. They agreed that if Tony wanted to check on them a thousand times each day, it would be okay.
The mere thought of the dilemma of putting Tony to bed each evening elicited a heavy sigh. It truly was a nightmare. So much so that Robin hated to see the sun setting on the horizon. But then again, afternoon nap time was horrible, too. It was during these times that the baby grieved so for his parents that he simply couldn't be consoled.
Dealing with their nephew and his problems had somehow changed Robin and Jonas's relationship. Somewhere along the line, and Robin couldn't quite put her finger on exactly when, they had begun to focus more on Tony, which was as it should be, and less on nitpicking with each other.
Because priority was placed on making their nephew happy and content, it seemed that Jonas's sarcastic witticisms grew fewer and fewer, and because of that, Robin's criticism of him lessened also. All in all, arguments between them seemed to have become a thing of the past. It certainly was nice to wake up in the morning and know that the day with Jonas would be pleasant and calm rather than fraught with arguments and strife.
But there was bad that went along with this good. Since Jonas was keeping his taunting observations to a bare minimum, Robin was left unarmed against the attraction she felt for the man. It used to be that he would wipe out any desire she felt for him simply by opening his mouth. But because he was being very careful to keep the household atmosphere as tension free as possible, he was making it a point to be polite and amiable. And although she was relieved at his effort, it was also killing her!
Yes, Jonas was succeeding in lessening the angry tension between them, but his gentlemanly behavior was only heightening a different kind of tension…sexual tension.
She could actually feel the heavy pulse in the air when they were anywhere near each other. And she was beginning to wonder if he was feeling it, too. She hoped not, but there was really no way for her to know for certain.
"So, did he finally go to sleep?"
Although Jonas's voice was feather soft, it startled her from her reverie. He smiled when she lifted her gaze to his. The expression of gentle concern displayed on his face made her stomach start fluttering with butterflies. She wished he wouldn't be so nice to her. It only complicated her feelings.
She nodded in answer to his question, and then in an effort to avoid his eyes, she glanced around the family room. "I really should pick up some of these toys," she murmured, "before one of us trips and sprains an ankle." His hand on her shoulder was warm and firm. "Don't you move," he told her, easing himself down on the couch beside her. "I know you've had a rough morning dealing with the little man. You deserve to just sit here and relax for a few minutes."
His fingers gently massaged her taut shoulder muscle while his soothing tone did the same to her soul.
Hot tears sprang to her eyes, splintering the bright afternoon sunlight that filtered in through the white gauzy curtains. What was wrong with her? she wondered. Yes, Tony had been extraordinarily rambunctious this morning and she was tired, but Robin couldn't help having a sneaking suspicion that this unexpected lachrymosity had more to do with Jonas's kind behavior toward her. But she didn't dare let on that his interest affected her in this way. Heck, if he knew he was causing her to cry, he would have a field day!
She rested her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes, hoping the urge to cry would pass. But it didn't.
"Jonas," she finally whispered hoarsely, "we have to do something for Tony. He misses his mommy and daddy."
"I know he does," Jonas said.
His warm fingers now trailed a slow, silky path up and down her upper arm. She knew he was only trying to console her, but she wished he'd go sit across the room. That would certainly make her life a lot easier.
"But," he continued softly, "unfortunately there's absolutely nothing we can do to ease his grief. We can be here for him. We can love him and hug him. Feed him and play with him. We can keep him as occupied as possible while he's awake. But we're not his mom and dad. And we can't bring them back. No matter how much we might want to."
"It's just that it breaks my heart to see him cry, to hear him call out for them over and over. He wants his mommy to rock him to sleep. He wants his daddy to tuck him in. That's not too much for any baby to ask for, Jonas." The silent tear that slipped down her cheek had nothing to do with the man who sat beside her. It was for the frightened, lonely little boy who slept fitfully upstairs in the crib.
His palm cupped her elbow now, his thumb rubbing a slow rhythm over her sensitive skin.
He sighed heavily. "I have been thinking," he said.
She lifted her head and stared at him. At this point, she'd do anything to save Tony some of the anguish he was having to suffer.
"Where is it written that Tony has to have a set bedtime?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
He shrugged. "Well, why do we have to put him to bed at precisely eight-thirty every night?"
Confusion knitted her brow. "Because that's his bedtime," she answered simply. "He's tired by then. Crabby. Cranky. Difficult. And besides all that, you were the one who said that Sara kept him on a strict routine. Bath time, snack time, story time, bedtime."
He pulled his hand away from her arm and raked his fingers through his hair. The place on her arm where he'd been touching her felt cold and empty.
"But Sara's gone, Robin." The first signs of frustration showed in his voice. "And we're here. We're the ones who have to deal with him. And we need to... try something different. Because Sara's way isn't working for us."
After a moment of silence, Robin said, "Okay, so you don't want an eight-thirty bedtime." She looked at him, waiting for him to explain his idea further.
"Well," he said, "let's give him his bath like we normally do."
"It's your turn tonight, by the way." She couldn't help the grin that crept over her lips. Tony loved to splash, and he loved
bubbles, so bath time was a very wet and wild undertaking.
"Yeah, I know."
He smiled along with her and Robin felt her heart leap. Why did he have to be so good-looking?
"Anyway," he continued, "let's give the little man his bath, feed him his snack and then all three of us curl up on the sofa here together and watch cartoon videos or an animated movie or something." He pointed at the oak cabinet by the television. "There's certainly enough of them to choose from over there."
She nodded slowly as the idea took shape in her head. At this point, she'd try anything.
"Hopefully Tony will fall asleep right here and I can carry him upstairs to his crib." Jonas shrugged. "It's worth a try, don't you think?"
"Yeah," she said quietly, realizing there was a quality in her voice that conveyed her dread dealing with their bedtime dilemma. "Yes, at this point I'll try anything."
Although she was no longer looking him directly, she knew his eyes were on her. The silence grew thick and heavy, and Robin felt something stirring in the air… something that had nothing whatsoever to do with Tony and his problem.
Jonas draped his arm along the back of the couch, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. His touch seemed scorching hot against her skin, and Robin had to force herself not to flinch.
It wasn't that the pressure of his fingers on her was uncomfortable, not by any means. But he conjured confusing emotions in her, feelings and urges she too easily identified but didn't know how to deal with. Riding one of those dipping, whirling amusement park rides would have made her feel less out of control. The light friction should have tickled, should have irritated her, but it didn't. Rather, it stirred the desire of having his touch on more of her than just her shoulders. The curve of her neck seemed to call out for his attentive fingers. Her cheeks and lips wanted to experience the lingering warmth of him. Deep inside, curling tendrils of heat writhed lazily.
"Robin?"
Her eyelids lifted wide and then she blinked several times. She hadn't even realized she had closed her eyes, hadn't been aware of just how focused she'd become on the precise point of contact between his fingers and her shoulder.
Accidental Family Page 8