Baby's First Christmas

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Special,” she finally answered.

  Her eyes shifted toward Sullivan, silently asking him not to say anything that would contradict her. She glanced at her sister’s face. What was the point of launching into a horror story and dwelling on the negative? The upshot of it all was that she had a healthy baby boy, and that was all that really mattered in the end. All that would ever matter in the years that were to come.

  Nicole let go of a shaky breath, unsatisfied. She was more of a realist, more down-to-earth than Marlene. “What about the pain?”

  The memory of the pain still lingered in her body, as it would, Marlene knew, for a while. It was like a throbbing calling card. But somehow, it didn’t seem quite right to admit that. And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for Nicole.

  “It passes.”

  He was out of place here. He’d come to look in on her and bring her flowers, and he had done that. The two women would probably feel more comfortable if he left.

  Sullivan nodded toward the door. “It’s getting a little crowded in here.” He began to edge his way out of the room. “I’ll be seeing you—”

  Marlene nodded in reply. Her emotions still felt as if they were being tossed about in the center of a huge blanket that was being raised and lowered in the wind. She didn’t know quite how she felt about his coming to see her. Or his leaving.

  Reflexive manners covered that department for her. “Thanks for stopping by.”

  He nodded as he passed Nicole.

  “So when are they letting you go home?” Nicole asked, settling in for a long visit.

  “Day after tomorrow.” She said it mournfully. Lying around made her feel restless and unproductive.

  “Day after tomorrow?” Nicole groaned. “I’m going to be busy all day.” There was no way she could beg off. The gallery was having its big showing. She bit her lip, thinking. “Can you wait until evening?”

  Sullivan stopped in the doorway. The forecast was for more rain on Thursday. Evening travel would be hazardous. He let the door slip from his fingers and turned around.

  “You won’t have to wait,” he told Marlene. She stared at him in surprise. “I’ll bring you home.” He crossed back to her bed. “I can be here within an hour after the doctor signs you out.” Taking a card out of his jacket pocket, he handed it to Marlene. “Here’s my beeper number.”

  She was already more in his debt than she’d wanted or intended to be.

  “Don’t you have meetings to go to? Some widows and orphans to dispossess?” she quipped dryly.

  “We don’t deal in widows or orphans.” The Travis Corporation bought and developed former farmland. As of yet, they weren’t in the business of knocking down old buildings to make way for shopping malls. “We only dislodge squirrels and relocate them,” he informed her mildly. “As for my meetings, let me worry about them.” He pointed to the card as he walked out again. “Call me.”

  Not a chance, she thought, watching the door close. Her gratitude to him hadn’t made her stupid, just slightly vulnerable. Which was why she was going to see as little of him as possible.

  Chapter Nine

  The rain lashed against the car’s windshield like so many needles attempting to pierce the glass. The wipers, set on high, struggled to maintain a modicum of visibility.

  The world directly in front of the car shimmered like a surrealistic painting done in shades of gray. They moved past distorted streets, buildings and trees as Sullivan picked his way slowly up toward Spyglass Hill and Marlene’s house.

  When Marlene hadn’t called by ten that morning, he had called her at the hospital and discovered that she had decided to take a taxi home. She wanted neither her sister nor her housekeeper driving in the inclement weather.

  “All things considered,” he’d guessed, “you’d have no objection to my being out in it.”

  She had no thoughts about that one way or another. “No.”

  He hadn’t let her continue. “Fine, then I’m leaving now. I can be there within fifteen minutes, barring any flash floods,” he added wryly.

  “Don’t leave yet,” she had protested. “The doctor hasn’t been here to sign me out.” She sighed, as if debating whether or not to continue resisting. “I’ll call you.”

  He had his doubts, but there wasn’t much he could say. “Okay. Do that.”

  He’d waited until one, then called to check on her. Her doctor had been detained, first by the rain, then by a delivery that was far more complicated than Marlene’s had been. A nurse had promised her that Dr. Pollack would be by before two. He’d left the office immediately after the call. He didn’t want Marlene leaving without him. He didn’t waste time examining why.

  It was almost three by the time she and the baby were released. A temporary break in the storm lasted long enough for them to get into the car and pull away from the hospital. Then it restarted with a vengeance. Visibility went from fair to almost nonexistent.

  Sullivan couldn’t make anything out in his rearview mirror. There was nothing discernible beyond three feet of the car in either direction.

  There were no sounds other than the ones caused by the rain as it beat against the car. Beyond that, there was silence.

  He usually liked silence. Comfortable with his own company, silence gave him an opportunity to reflect. Right now it was driving him crazy. The rhythmic thud of the wipers as they hit the bottom of the windshield mimicked the throb that was beginning to take over his temples.

  His radio had temporarily become a victim of the storm, deprived of clear transmission. It crackled and snapped. Finally he gave up trying to find a station and shut it off. The baby, secured in an infant seat he’d had the forethought to purchase the day before, was sleeping calmly through it all.

  For a talkative woman, Marlene was maddeningly quiet, he thought, glancing at her. She sat staring straight ahead, pensively watching the rain come down.

  Just up ahead, a glittering ruby took on the dimensions of a red light. Sullivan eased his foot off the gas pedal and onto the brake. He took the opportunity to turn toward her.

  “Are you all right?”

  His question penetrated the haze that engulfed her mind. Marlene looked at him, surprised by his question. Surprised by a great many things, such as the thoughtfulness that had prompted him to bring the infant seat for the baby.

  Her baby, she thought, with a wave of protective possessiveness. Not his. That’s where all this was leading, she reminded herself. He was just being kind because he wanted to get her to lower her guard.

  “Yes, why do you ask?”

  He shrugged. The ruby light disappeared, to be replaced by an emerald one. He moved his foot onto the accelerator and pressed down.

  “You’re awfully quiet. I was just wondering what you were thinking.” He’d conducted board meetings with brilliant aplomb. Why did he feel so tongue-tied now around this slip of a woman and her child? A child he helped bring into the world.

  Squinting, Sullivan looked around. The roads were relatively empty. Thank God for small favors. In bad weather there was usually some fool going too fast, causing chain reaction accidents. The cargo he had was too precious to risk.

  Marlene licked her lips. Her voice sounded strangely hollow to her ears when she answered. Almost as hollow as she felt.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “About anything?” Sullivan shook his head. “I find that very difficult to believe.”

  She let out a long sigh as she rotated her shoulders a fraction beneath the leather coat. She felt numb from the neck down.

  Marlene looked over her shoulder at the baby in the infant seat. The baby who was going to turn to her to satisfy all his needs, turn to her for guidance. Turn to her for everything.

  A shiver of panic cut through her. What did she know about being a mother? The closest she had come to dealing with babies had been designing a diaper ad which had been carried by all the major womens’ magazines.

  She sighed deeply without being
aware of it.

  He interpreted her silence correctly. It wasn’t difficult. “Scared?”

  Her eyes darted to meet his, a denial ready on her lips. But the words faded in the face of her surprise. She hadn’t thought that she was that transparent. It bothered her.

  “How did you know?”

  It had been pure speculation on his part. “My guess is that very few things leave you speechless. Motherhood might be one of them.” He took a right turn. Water sprayed from beneath his tires as he hit a puddle deep enough to pass for a small creek. “And besides, you’ve got that look about you.”

  She hated being so easy to analyze, especially by him. Not for a moment did she forget what he represented. Well, maybe for a moment, she amended, remembering when he’d kissed her. But not any longer than that.

  Marlene raised her chin, as if she were raising a drawbridge, leaving behind only a moat and no access. “What look?”

  She was taking offense again. The woman blew hot and cold, he thought, wondering what buttons he’d touched off this time. There was no shame in being afraid of the unknown.

  “The look that says, ‘Oh my God, what have I gone and done.”’

  “I do not have that look. I know exactly what I have ‘gone and done.”’ He certainly wasn’t going to use her edginess against her to win custody. She would manage. Somehow.

  He said nothing. Instead, he reached over and flipped down the sunshade on her side. There was a mirror in the center of the flap. With his free hand, Sullivan angled it toward her.

  She huffed and flipped the flap upward again. “The light’s bad.”

  Sullivan looked out at the road. The rain was coming down even harder now. Despite the sweep of the windshield wiper blades, there was less than half a beat between visibility and complete obscurity.

  “Can’t argue with that.” And he didn’t feel like arguing over anything else. Not today. He needed to remain alert. Road conditions were so hazardous, he was surprised that they hadn’t encountered any accidents yet.

  “Damn, when California liquid sunshine decides to fall, it goes all out. Not like back East.”

  Back East. Had he lived there? She realized that there were gaps in the information the detective had gotten for her about the man at her side. Gaps that needed to be filled if she was to be prepared for any contingencies.

  She turned toward Sullivan and tried not to let the curiosity she felt creep into her voice. “Did you live on the east coast?”

  She’d forgotten, he thought. “I went to Harvard for my M.B.A.” He steered through another puddle, then eased around a corner. “But I’m a Californian, born and bred.”

  When she made no response, Sullivan continued talking. He thought perhaps the sound of his voice might soothe her. It helped him at any rate. He didn’t much care for the tense silence hovering between them.

  “I like the weather here better. Most of the time,” he amended.

  Something unidentifiable darted across their path into the street. Probably someone’s cat, he thought. Pumping the brake to keep from skidding, Sullivan slowed the car down to a crawl.

  He struggled to curb the impatience drumming through him. He was anxious to get Marlene and the baby home and off the streets.

  “I’ve never lived anywhere else.” It was something she realized that she regretted, not traveling to different places. She had lived her entire life in Newport Beach.

  She sounded almost wistful. “Not even when you went away to college?” he asked.

  “I didn’t go away.” But she should have, she thought. She really should have. It would have been better all around if she had.

  But looking back, that had never been an option to her. She had wanted so badly to please her father. That meant devoting all her energy, all her time, to what he demanded of her. What a waste all that misspent emotion had been, she thought.

  “My father wanted me close by. And then I joined the business, working at the office on the days I didn’t attend classes.” She shrugged away the rest of her explanation. “Things meshed.”

  That wasn’t the way he saw it. And he had a suspicion that she didn’t, either. Not deep down. “Sounds more like your whole life became enmeshed in something your father dictated.”

  It was different for him, he mused. He’d known right from the start that Derek, despite his blemishes, would always be his father’s favorite. He had done what he did because he’d felt as if he belonged in the family business. He had wanted to be there. Like his father, he had a flare for land development, for finding empty, wasted spaces and making them flower with prosperity, with families building their dreams.

  He had done it for himself—and because he loved his father. In his own way, he knew that Oliver Travis loved him as well. But after years of relying on him, Oliver had just naturally taken him for granted. Sullivan was like an arm or a leg, there to be used, only missed if it was gone.

  She felt defensive anger rising within her. He was being arrogant again. “Don’t judge me, Travis.”

  Sullivan reminded himself that it was none of his business how she had lived her life, or would continue to live it. Their only link was the baby—well, only until he found the right approach to make her to give up custody. Setting things right, that had to remain his only concern.

  It was a hell of a lot easier said than done.

  “Back to Travis, is it?” he asked wryly. Just as well. It helped reinforce the barriers. “And for your information, I wasn’t judging. I was making an observation.” Even though it was obvious that he should back off, he didn’t. “It wouldn’t have sounded like a judgment unless you thought that way, too.” He spared her a glance as they stopped again. “And regretted it.”

  The traffic light changed immediately to green, and Sullivan wove his way through the residential streets, hoping no dog or cat would come running out again.

  “I don’t regret anything.” She said the words emphatically, then hesitated. “Except for one thing….” Her voice trailed off.

  Sullivan hated to be left hanging. He had a feeling she already knew that about him. “And that would be?” he probed.

  Her voice was small, distant, as if she were a young girl again, experiencing the pain for the first time. “That my brother died.”

  He wanted to ask her about that. He had a feeling it might be the key to a great many things about her. But her house was just up ahead. Questions would have to be tabled for now.

  Relief washed over Sullivan as he took the winding path to the front entrance of the Doric-columned two-story house. They’d made it without any mishaps.

  Sullivan parked the car as close to the house as possible. The housekeeper was standing in the doorway, as if she’d been waiting there indefinitely. She had a dull brown sweater thrown over her shoulders, an anxious expression etched deeply into the lines on her face. At her side was a huge black umbrella. She had it open before he even turned off the ignition.

  Sally came hurrying down the steps to meet them, brandishing the umbrella overhead.

  “Such a day to come home,” she muttered.

  She raised the umbrella, stepping out of the way as Sullivan opened the door for Marlene. The older woman was quick to reposition herself so that she could cover Marlene as she reached for the baby. As for Sullivan, she seemed to think he could fend for himself against the rain.

  “We won’t forget this day for a long time, I’ll wager,” Sally confided loudly to Marlene, raising her voice above the din that nature had created.

  Sullivan ducked as Sally nearly poked his eye with one of the umbrella’s ribs. He helped Marlene to her feet as Sally hovered with the umbrella.

  The baby, still asleep, frowned and puckered his face reflexively as a stray raindrop hit him. Marlene’s heart quickened. This was her son. Her son. She glanced at Sullivan. And nothing in the world was going to change that.

  Looking in her eyes, he read her message loud and clear. But messages could be erased—or changed.

/>   “Hurry inside.” Sally had a protective hand draped around Marlene’s back as she hustled her into the house. “I’ve got hot tea waiting for you.” She glanced over her shoulder at Sullivan, taking care to keep Marlene and Robby covered. “I suppose you can come in, too. Can’t have you catching pneumonia after doing your only good deed.” A small smile quirked her mouth. “Although that might be your only chance of making it to heaven—dying at this moment.”

  He should be getting home. He debated leaving, then remembered that Marlene’s things were still in his trunk. Hunching his shoulders against the rain, he went to the rear of the car and inserted his key into the trunk.

  “I’ll get the suitcase and the flowers first,” he called after Sally.

  Marlene had insisted on bringing a few of the arrangements home with her. He noted that his roses were among them. The rest she’d asked to be distributed to women on the floor who hadn’t received any flowers. She had sensitivity, he mused, something he would have found charming had the situation between them been different.

  But it wasn’t, he reminded himself. He couldn’t lose sight of that.

  With Marlene and the baby safely inside, Sally turned on the front steps and frowned at him. “They can keep,” she shouted. “And there’s nothing in the suitcase that she doesn’t have five of in the house. Move your carcass before you wash away!”

  There was no arguing with the woman, and he had to admit that he got a kick out of the way she issued orders. She made him think of a wrinkled, old Napoleon.

  Sullivan gave Sally a three-finger salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Raising the collar of his raincoat, Sullivan hurried toward her. Reaching the shelter of the overhang, he shrugged his raincoat back into place and dragged a hand through his wet hair. Droplets scattered like the beads of a broken necklace.

  Sally nodded her approval. “That’s better.” Turning on her squat heel, she walked into the house.