by Cathie Linz
Another thought occurred to her. “Maybe she’s having trouble sleeping because she’s teething.” Hope started fussing and waving her hands, clearly wanting out of the car seat.
“We better get her out of that thing before she starts screaming the building down again,” Michael said, before undoing the harness and lifting the baby out.
“I couldn’t get a good look in her mouth by myself, but maybe you could hold her while I look in her mouth with a flashlight.”
“Hold her how?” he asked suspiciously.
“Just sit down on the rocking chair with her on your lap.”
After doing as she suggested, he said, “And how do you propose to get her mouth open?”
“Her mouth is open more often than it’s closed.” “Unless you’re trying to feed her baby food.”
“Which we’re not.” Brett retrieved a compact flashlight from her tool kit. “Okay, Hope. Open up, honey. I just want to check and see what you’ve got in there.”
Thinking Brett was playing a game with her, Hope pulled her eel imitation again, squealing and squirming on Michael’s lap, her legs and arms flying in all directions, making Michael very nervous as the baby’s foot got dangerously close to his private parts. “Careful there, kid,” he warned Hope. “You kick me any harder and I’m gonna be singing soprano.”
“Maybe I should hold her and you can look in her mouth.”
Michael eagerly took Brett up on her suggestion, before realizing he wasn’t that keen to stick his fingers in a baby’s mouth. “Does she bite?” he asked.
“Not if she doesn’t have teeth.”
“But what if she does?”
“I think front teeth are the last to come in.”
“You think?”
“That’s why we’re looking in her mouth, to see if she has any teeth.”
“What’s with this we business? I’m the one putting my life on the line here,” he grumbled good-naturedly.
“Hey, it’s a wet job, but somebody’s got to do it,” she retorted. “While you’re looking in her mouth, check to see if you see any redness.”
Hope held still long enough for him to open her mouth and flash the light inside…“It’s all red in here,” he reported. “Mouths are supposed to be red.”
“I meant bright red. Any sign of swelling?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Any teeth?”
“Yeah. One on the bottom. Part of one, anyway,” he amended.
“That might be it, then. That must be why she’s crying.”
“She’s not crying now.”
“Because you’re here. But you can’t stay all night.”
There was a pause, as if they were both tempted by the idea, before Brett launched into speech. “Maybe I should try rubbing her gums with a cloth wrapped around an ice cube. I read in the book I bought that it sometimes helps to ease the pain.”
“Whose? The kid’s or ours?” Michael inquired. “She’s gnawing on my finger.”
“Babies do that.”
“Good thing she doesn’t have more teeth. Messy, aren’t you?” Michael observed as Hope drooled all over his hand.
“Sorry,” Brett apologized, handing him a paper towel from the roll she’d brought with her to the rocking chair. “You could probably leave as soon as I apply the ice.”
While Hope seemed to like having the cloth-wrapped ice rubbed on her gums, she showed no sign of settling down for the night. And when the baby saw Michael heading for the door, she let out a cry that made both adults wince.
“She really seems to have formed an attachment to you,” Brett said.
“I have that affect on females,” Michael said with a tired grin.
“Look, maybe if you tried lying down with her on the daybed, she’ll nod off.”
“If she doesn’t, I might,” Michael ruefully acknowledged.
“I’m sorry about this,” Brett murmured.
“Don’t be. It’s been…quite an experience.”
“It isn’t over yet,” she reminded him before fixing the bed, removing the largest decorative pillows so that it would be more comfortable.
“Now I know why you decided to call her Hope,” Michael said. “Because you hope she’s going to sleep through the night.”
“The night is already half over.”
“What if I roll over and squish her or something?” he asked, his earlier trepidation returning as he gingerly sat on the bed.
“Here, maybe just kinda of lean against these pillows…” Putting a hand on his shoulder, she moved him forward and tucked the decorative pillows back behind him so that he was at a forty-five-degree angle. “How’s that?” she asked. “Comfy?”
“Oh sure. Don’t I look comfy?”
“Not really.”
“I’ve got a better idea. Get all the pillows out of the way, and you and I lie down with the baby between us. That way she can’t escape.”
Trouble was, Brett wouldn’t be able to escape eitherescape the temptation of being so close to him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said.
“Why not? Are you scared? You? The woman who can fix water heaters with a mere flick of her wrist? What can happen with a baby between us? She’s got to be better protection than a chastity belt,” he stated dryly. “Besides, I think she’s exhausted us both too much to be amorous.” Seeing her weakening, he held out his hand to her. “Come on. Try it. You’ll like it.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered, even as she put her hand in his. The electricity was still there, but this time there was an accompanying sense of comfort. Working together, they got rid of the superfluous pillows and stretched out on what was after all just a twin mattress. The logistics were tricky at first, but they managed.
Propping her head on one elbow, Brett watched Hope closely as the baby examined her new situation.
“A watched baby never sleeps,” Michael told her.
“I think she’s looking a little sleepy,” Brett said. “Sorry,” she added for his benefit as her bare foot bumped into his leg.
Half sitting up, he reached for her denim-clad knee and draped her leg over his. “There, that’s better.”
“Know any lullabies?” she asked in a breathless whisper. Her leg still hummed where he’d touched it, and this new proximity was provocatively intimate. Despite it all, Brett resolutely kept her attention fixed on Hope, who actually yawned. Next thing Brett knew, she was yawning, too. Michael’s yawn was a second behind.
They shared a sheepish grin. “I guess it’s true that yawning is contagious after all,” he said.
“What about that lullaby?”
“I only know part of one.”
“Fine. I’ve exhausted my repertoires on her—from ‘Rockaby Baby’ to ‘Crocodile Rock.’ Nothing worked.”
“Let’s try this…”
He started softly singing what she guessed to be a Hungarian lullaby, since the words and melody were unfamiliar to her. Hope was fascinated. So was Brett. Before dozing off, she sternly reminded herself that under no circumstances was she to pretend that she’d finally gotten her Christmas wish—a family of her own. It was only makebelieve…
Michael woke at the crack of dawn with the mother of all backaches. After opening his eyes, it took him a moment or two to remember where he was. Little Hope was still out like a light. So was Brett. Both looked adorable, but he was going to get a charley horse in his leg if he didn’t move right now.
Easing away, he managed to get out of bed without waking either of them, and without doing himself any further bodily harm. Luckily he’d ended up on the outside edge of the bed.
He felt like he’d been pulled through a knothole backward. Running a hand over his face, he felt the raspiness of a night’s worth of stubble. A shower and a shave sounded like heaven about now. Not wanting to wake them, he tiptoed over to the door and quietly unlocked it. Giving the sleeping woman and child one more look to make sure all was well, Michael backed out
the door.
“Why, Mr. Janos!” Consuela Martinez exclaimed from the hallway. “Whatever are you doing sneaking out of Brett’s apartment at this early hour of the morning?”
Five
Startled, Michael groggily blinked at the woman. “Sneaking? I wasn’t sneaking. What are you doing down here?”
“I came down to do the wash. The question is, what are you doing down here? Not that I need an answer. I may be on Social Security, but I’ve got 20/20 vision. So you and Brett are…seeing each other, huh? I knew the two of you were meant for each other that very first day. I have second sight about these things, you know.”
Great, Michael grimly thought to himself. First he was receiving Rom magic boxes in the mail, now he had a tenant who claimed she had second sight. “It’s not what you think,” he began.
“I hope you plan on making an honest woman of Brett,” Mrs. Martinez interrupted him to say reprimandingly. “She’s a good girl. Does a lot at the church. You shouldn’t take advantage of your position as her boss to go having hanky-panky.”
“He didn’t take advantage of me, Consuela,” Brett inserted from behind him. “If anything, I took advantage of him.”
The older woman blinked in surprise. “Well, I must say you girls are bolder than we used to be.”
“He helped me with a baby I’m taking care of,” Brett explained.
“A baby? Where?” She leaned past them to look into Brett’s apartment, her gaze zooming in on the sleeping baby. “Oh, isn’t she adorable! What’s her name?”
“Hope.”
“I didn’t know you had a baby,” Consuela said.
“No, I’m just taking care of her for a while,” Brett replied.
“Is she going to be staying long?”
“Could be,” Brett returned.
“Where is her crib?”
Doing some quick thinking, Brett said, “Uh, my friend didn’t bring it with her.”
“Don’t worry, with ten grandchildren I’ve got access to plenty of baby stuff.” Consuela began listing some items that would be needed. “I can get you a crib, a playpen and you’ll need some more clothes I’ll bet…oh, my daughter has the cutest little dresses from when her daughter was little. And one of those bounce chairs would be perfect for Hope. I’ll go on upstairs and start calling around to get these things.”
“Thanks. You’re a real sweetie!” Brett gave her a hug.
“Why didn’t you tell her about finding Hope in the foyer?” Michael asked Brett after the older woman had left.
“Because I didn’t want her to go to the authorities. The fewer people who know about the true circumstances of what happened, the better. I already risked suspicion by asking the tenants if they’d had any visitors with a baby yesterday. I don’t think they’ll make the connection, though.”
“You know, it occurred to me that we do need to make sure that this baby wasn’t kidnapped or something.”
“Kidnapped! What makes you think that?”
“It could be a possibility. Look, I’ve got some connections at the police department from my academy days.”
“You went to the police academy?”
“Actually I dropped out. I guess you could say that I don’t take orders well.”
“That I can believe,” she noted wryly. “Are you sure you can make inquiries without tipping the authorities off that she was abandoned?”
“Trust me on this, okay? We just need to make sure that her parents aren’t out there desperately looking for her.”
“But the note…”
“Could have been something to draw people off the trail. I don’t think we’ll find that Hope has been kidnapped, but I’d feel better if we made sure, wouldn’t you?”
“I guess so.”
“Okay, so that’s what we’ll do.’
It hadn’t gone unnoticed by her that he was using the term we. Each time he said it, another inch of her heart melted.
“I know her eyes are blue and her hair is dark and you think she’s six or seven months old. What about any identifiable marks?” Michael asked.
“She’s got a rose-colored birthmark on her bottom that’s sort of shaped like a flower. It’s on her left side. I noticed it when I was diapering her.”
“Okay, I’ll include that in the description I’ll give my contact down at police headquarters. Oh-oh, she’s awake,” Michael noted, as he scooped up the fussing baby. “Do you need help giving her breakfast?” he asked.
“That’s okay. You’re going to be late for work.”
“I’ve got time yet.”
“Well, then, yes, I could use some help. Thanks. I’ll just change her diapers first and if you could pick out a jar of baby food for breakfast…”
But once Hope was cleaned up and settled in the car seat, the baby decided to stop being so cooperative. She let Michael give her one spoonful of food, only to blow bubbles with the next spoonful instead of swallowing it.
“Geez, I’ve seen sloppy eaters in my day, kid, but you take the cake.”
The little girl giggled with delight.
“It wasn’t meant to be a compliment,” Michael told her. “Now eat this. Yummy. See, I’m eating some. Now you eat some.”
Hope grabbed the spoon before he got it to her mouth, and sent it flying across the room. Determined not to be outwitted by a six-month-old, Michael retrieved the spoon and tried again. Hope smiled angelically at him and ate the next spoonful.
“That’s better,” he said approvingly. “Good girl. Now here comes another planeful of goodies.” He waved the spoon toward her mouth.
This time the baby reached for the food on the spoon and then threw it at him. “You’re supposed to eat the food, not wear it in your hair,” Brett said, having just returned from a trip to the bathroom.
“I think it takes two people to feed this kid,” he decided.
Half an hour later, Brett stared at the surrounding chaos in exhausted dismay. The experience had left both adults looking as if they’d taken part in a college-dorm food fight.
“Who’d have thought feeding one baby could create such havoc?” Michael said wearily.
“At least she didn’t do this last night when we gave her strained carrots. That would be harder to get off the walls than apple sauce.”
“What does that book you got say about feedings?”
Brett wiped baby food from the paperback book before opening it up and checking the index. “It says a rain slicker might be useful garb.”
“For the baby or for us?”
“Both, maybe,” she replied. “Yuck, I need to take a shower.”
“So do I.”
Their eyes met. The thought of sharing a shower with Michael filled her head with steamy thoughts as she imagined the individual droplets of water slowly trailing down his bare body—past his collarbone, down his chest to his navel and below…
It wasn’t even seven in the morning and already she was having X-rated fantasies about the man!
“I…uh…you didn’t get much sleep last night,” Brett noted breathlessly with that stuttering start she seemed to have acquired since meeting Michael. “Are you sure you’ll be okay to go to work today?”
“Sure. I’m a little stiff…” His voice trailed off as another kind of stiffness came to mind. Looking at her now, he thought she was sexy as hell, with her dark hair fluffed and falling into her big blue eyes.
“You go take your shower and I’ll watch the baby,” Michael told her.
“Thanks. I won’t be long.”
As she hurried off, Michael studied the baby, who was contentedly babbling to herself. The kid was cute, even if she was a menace at feeding time. Hope’s big blue eyes reminded him of Brett’s. No wonder she’d been so drawn to the baby—not that she wouldn’t have been drawn to any infant in need. Or adult for that matter.
Out of curiosity, Michael had stopped by St. Gerald’s Youth Center a few days ago and he’d gotten an earful about all the help she’d been—there and
at the homeless shelter affiliated with the same charity. Brett was one of the rare ones who gave of themselves, trying to make the world a better place for those around her, seeing them as individuals, working with them one-on-one. The priest had told him that Brett’s God-given strength was making people feel at ease with her. “She doesn’t see social problems, she sees people,” Father Lyden had said. “People who need her help. So she’s there for them. I only wish we had more like her, but then Brett is pretty much one of a kind.”
Watching her as she came out of the bathroom fresh from her shower, her hair still wet, her creamy skin flushed as she finished tying the belt on her pink terry-cloth robe, Michael had to agree that Brett was indeed one of a kind.
“You’re looking at me funny again. What’s the matter? Do I still have baby food on my face?” Brett asked him.
“No. I just like looking at you.”
Her heart did a complete backward somersault. “You do?”
He nodded. “Think you can get used to it?”
She nodded.
Reaching out to brush his knuckles against her flushed cheek, he said, “I’ll call you later, after I’ve checked with the police, okay?”
“Okay.”
And then he was gone, but the lingering effect of his words and his touch stayed with her throughout the day.
Brett finished replacing the light fixture in the Stephanopolises dining room while Hope happily watched from the bounce chair provided by Consuela’s oldest daughter.
Mrs. Stephanopolis was delighted at having the baby in her apartment and didn’t want them to leave even after the new fixture was in place and the electricity turned back on at the junction box. “Stay for some tea. You never did tell me where you learned Greek,” she added.
“I took some classes in college. And I knew a few words before…One of my favorite foster moms ran a group home and she was Greek. She made the best cookies at Christmas. with raisins and cinnamon. I was only there one year, though.”
“You had no relatives who could take you in?”