by Arlene James
She ignored him as usual and reached for the teddy, overextending and toppling forward onto her face. She grunted and tried to get up again. He held her down and flipped her over. She screwed up her face and prepared to scream. He grabbed the toy and thrust it into her hands.
“There! Now cool it. You smell like an outhouse.” She gnawed on the bear’s ear and pretended not to understand, but he knew better. She was sharp as razors, this girl. No doubt one day she’d discover the substance that would render plutonium obsolete or walk on Mars and speak the languages of peoples heretofore unknown. No doubt one day she’d stick her chin out, glare at him and say, “No!” Then he’d have to find some way to make her do whatever he meant her to without breaking either of their hearts. He’d be on his own when that day came. He wouldn’t think about it. One day at a time, one moment, one crisis, one joy, one pain, for Darla’s sake, because he loved her beyond all reason and she was his, all that was his.
She stopped struggling when he got the tapes on the diaper loose and locked her chubby ankles in his hand, lifting her out of the mess so he could clean her with the towelettes he’d laid to one side. She held the bear up and spit at it, in an effort to say its name or just in sheer orneriness.
“Poor bear,” he said, emphasizing the b and at the same time hoping to convey the idea to Darla that it was ill-mannered and hurtful to spit. She dropped the toy on her face and started gnawing its nose. Well, they could work on biting later when her teeth were in and she could do real damage. He folded up the soiled diaper and set it aside for cleaning. She didn’t just soil them anymore, she filled them, and he’d quickly learned they couldn’t go into the trash like that. He shook out the clean diaper and hiked her rear again. Someone knocked on the door.
“Yeah?”
A construction worker stuck his head inside. “You got a lady here, Mr. Sugarman.”
Parker slid the diaper under Darla and dropped her feet. She instantly flopped over. He made a grab for her and started over. “Not Mrs. Sugarman, obviously.”
“No, sir.”
“Mrs. Pendleton, then? Dr. Pendleton?”
“Can’t say.”
“It’s probably her. Send her in.” He concentrated on folding the diaper up between Darla’s legs and holding her down with a splayed hand while he fixed the tapes with the other. He looked up as a short, dumpy, frazzled-looking woman came in. A stranger. He held Darla down with one hand and regarded the newcomer. “You’re not who I was expecting. Sorry about that. I’m Parker Sugarman. What can I do for you?”
She stepped forward and extended a hand, the other clutching a yellow legal pad and a pocketbook. He reached for it, aborted the movement and smiled apologetically.
“Better let me wash up first.”
“Oh, of course.”
He secured the final tape on Darla’s clean undies, lifted the side rail on the crib, picked up the dirty diaper and carried it into the bathroom, where he swished it in the toilet, peeled away the uppermost layer and flushed it, then dumped the remainder in a trash can with a flip-top lid, purchased expressly for such refuse. He soaped and washed his hands, dried them on a towel and returned to the other room.
Darla was sitting up and rattling the side rail on the bed like a convict in a bad, forty-year-old movie. She had evidently thrown the bear over the side, a favorite trick of hers, and the woman had retrieved it and was offering it to her. Darla ignored her like she didn’t exist. Parker walked over to the bed and held out his hands. Darla latched onto his fingers and tried to pull herself up. He slid his hands under her arms and lifted her high over his head, delighted she hadn’t ignored him. She giggled and splattered him with drool.
“Monster!” He wiped his face with his shirtsleeve, kissed her on the cheek, and settled her on his hip. “Actually she’s a sweetheart,” he told the woman proudly, and stuck his hand out. “What’d you say your name was again?”
She put her hand in his, disciplining a smile. “I didn’t. I’m Wanda Hatcher, Department of Human Resources.”
Ye gods. It’d been so long, he’d almost forgotten about the home study, and the house was torn all to hell. Great. He swallowed and put on his best behavior. “Uh, let’s go back into the living room and get comfortable. I don’t usually receive visitors in the bedroom, you know, but dirty diapers don’t wait, and the carpenter... I was expecting my sister-in-law, well, my sister-in-law’s sister, my late sister-in-law, that is.”
Wanda Hatcher nodded. “Yes, I’m well acquainted with Dr. Pendleton.”
His heart sank like a stone. He pulled out his only ace. “Uh, my wife will be here shortly. She had an early shift today, ah, at the children’s hospital. She’s a pediatric nurse, very good, very dedicated.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Hatcher said, “I understand she was accepted on a U.N. medical relief team earlier in the year.”
They entered the living room and he indicated that she should sit down, thankful that the protective plastic had been removed from the sofas that morning. She sat and smiled, her legal pad on her knee. He sat down opposite her, shifting Darla to his lap. Darla leaned over and bit his thumb. He removed it from her mouth and wiped it on his shirt.
“Uh, the U.N. thing, yeah, she was all set to go to Africa and rescue starving babies. She hated to give it up.”
“Why did she?”
He licked his lips, tried to relax, assuming an air with which he was becoming more and more uncomfortable. The old charming Parker had disappeared, and he hadn’t the least idea where he’d gone. He’d just ceased to exist, apparently. The new Parker could only make the best of it. He draped an arm along the back of the couch. “When my brother died,” he said carefully, “all our lives were turned upside down. We, Kendra and I, decided we couldn’t wait that year meant for Africa. She knew him, see. In fact, they were very close. Nathan and Candace were two of her dearest friends. We were all friends, had been, well, practically all our lives. And then they were suddenly gone, and we knew, we both knew, that they expected me, us, to take care of Darla if anything happened to them, which it had. It was selfish of me, I know, but all I could think to do was to marry her right away. We kind of held each other together there in the beginning, but it’s better now, thankfully. I don’t know what I’d have done without her.” Darla was squirming like a worm. He kissed the top of her head and momentarily stilled her. “Or this one,” he added, smiling.
Ms. Hatcher nodded, took a pen from her purse and wrote something on the legal pad. Suddenly Parker’s heart was in his throat. Wanda Hatcher looked up.
“I expect you’ll be having one of your own,” she said, looking directly at the baby.
He gulped, misery washing over him. “Uh, not, not right away. That is, I don’t... We haven’t—” He felt his face coloring. It was the most horrific experience of his life. He had stilled the words, but he was absolutely certain that the truth had been exposed, that it was written all over his face for anyone to read. An imbecile could see it. A maiden aunt could see it. The most inexperienced schoolboy, innocent of his first wet dream, would know at a glance that he had not managed an act of sexual congress with his own wife. The ladies’ man. The playboy king of the Western world. What a joke! He could seduce dozens of desperate women, but he couldn’t make one good, sensitive, caring woman love him, and that woman being his own wife! He looked down in his lap, beyond the dark little head, to the tiny hands playing a clumsy patty-cake with his own much larger one, and for the first time he wondered if he was doing the right thing, keeping Darla with him, trying to be the parent his brother could have been. Maybe he just didn’t have what it took. Maybe he was lacking in something basic, some fundamental element of his personality. Maybe he just wasn’t worthy of the kind of goodness his brother had been. Maybe—
A sound from the back of the house interrupted his train of thought. He pushed a hand over his face, willing the color to recede, and turned his head just as Kendra stepped out onto the gallery from the back hall. She was smi
ling brightly, her rich brown hair woven into a French braid from the crown to the nape. She was wearing a white uniform dress, white stockings and a white cardigan sweater, a sexy angel of mercy in rubber-soled shoes. Just seeing her there calmed him somehow. He felt the longing swell within him and reach out for her. As if in response, she lifted her hand in greeting and stepped down to cross the room.
“Hi, honey!”
Honey? Oh, of course. He glanced down at the baby, quite certain that greeting had been for her. To his surprise, however, Kendra walked around behind the couch where he sat, bent and slid her arms around his neck. She gave him a quick hug, then placed her hands beneath his chin and tilted his head back for a hard, upside-down kiss on the mouth. He was speechless.
“Uh, ah. H-hi.”
She smiled at him, then switched her gaze to the baby. Laughing, she clapped her hands together lightly and spread them. “Come here, darling.” Darla swiveled and bucked, reaching out for her. Kendra snatched her from his lap and dandled her briefly in the air. “Ooh, I missed you today. Give me sugars.” She kissed the baby noisily under the chin. Darla giggled and drooled. Kendra pulled a terry washcloth from her pocket, saying, “Look what I found in my pocket today. Look what I found.” She wiped the baby’s chin with it and put it back in her pocket. Carrying Darla, she walked around the couch and sat down next to Parker, right next to Parker, practically in his lap, in fact. She looked at the other woman, smiling. “Sometimes things get caught in pockets while in the laundry. Does that ever happen to you?”
The woman chuckled and smiled, thoroughly disarmed. “Yes, yes, I’m afraid it does.”
Kendra laid her head on Parker’s shoulder, then lifted it again. “Well, I’m not complaining. Parker usually does the laundry, you know. He’s the one at home, and I’m working these crazy shifts at the hospital. I don’t know what I’d do without him, actually. I’m just thankful it wasn’t a pair of men’s shorts I pulled out of my pocket today at work.” She laughed, and the other woman joined her.
Parker was suddenly aware that his mouth was hanging open. He quickly snapped it shut, hoping it hadn’t been noticed. The thought occurred that he hadn’t made any introductions, and he hastened to correct that lapse in manners. “Oh, uh, Kendra, this is Martha, no, Wanda Hatcher—sorry—”
“No problem.”
“Ms. Hatcher is with the, ah, Department of Human Resources. Ms. Hatcher, my wife.”
Kendra beamed at the other woman. “So nice to meet you, Ms. Hatcher. I take it this is in the nature of a home study. We were told someone would be by.”
Ms. Hatcher smiled reassuringly. “I was just having a conversation with your charming husband. He tells me that the two of you probably won’t have any children of your own.”
Kendra looked mildly shocked. “Oh, no, I’m sure that’s not what he meant.” She sent him a smile and slipped her hand into his. “We’re just not in a hurry. We want to give Darla our complete attention for a while. We’d feel the same way if she were our natural child, wouldn’t we, sweetheart?”
She squeezed his hand, and he stumbled into following her lead. “Ah, yes, a-absolutely. That’s what I was saying when... She’s absolutely right. I know that the majority of the experts would say that Darla was too small to suffer any real trauma over her parents’ deaths, but we just want to be absolutely certain that she’s secure in her own little heart that she’s loved and treasured here. She’s all the more precious to us because of who her natural parents were, you see, and we don’t want her ever to feel as if she’s ‘an extra’ or the odd one in the family, if you take my meaning.”
Wanda Hatcher nodded, scribbling furiously. “I understand, and I couldn’t agree more,” she said, “but I want to be certain about this. You don’t intend to raise her as an only child?”
Parker opened his mouth, but the lie just didn’t come out. He took a deep breath, searching for some satisfactory yet honest answer. He hadn’t found one when Kendra jumped in to save them both.
“Our intention,” she said smoothly, “is not to raise her as an only child, but of course, one never knows for sure what lies in store. However, I, for one, think it would be a crying shame if Parker were not allowed another child. He has such a gift for children. He is just wonderful with her.”
Wanda Hatcher lifted an eyebrow. “I must say that I was pleasantly surprised to see the ease with which he deals with her.”
Kendra laughed. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything,” she declared. “He’s better with her than I am. He’s never too tired to get up with her. He’s never upset with her, never thrown for a loss. You’d think he had been doing this his entire adult life. He’s a wizard.”
Laying it on a bit too thick, he thought, and slipping his hand from hers, he lifted his arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently. She smiled up at him.
“By the way, darling, what’s for dinner?”
The switch stymied him for a moment. “Ah, dinner...dinner is lasagna.”
“Ooh, goody!” She looked at Wanda Hatcher. “I love his lasagna.”
He felt a little desperate. She was gushing, bragging, painting this perfect househusband picture, when in truth he was just barely getting it done, and businesswise, he wasn’t even doing that much. A good look around ought to tell Hatcher or anyone else with a modicum of training or experience what the true tale was. Glancing at Wanda Hatcher, he cleared his throat and addressed his wife. “Um, it’s just that frozen stuff that comes in a foil pan.”
“Oh, I know,” she replied smoothly, “but you add extra cheese and sauce and stuff, and you always make a lovely green salad and garlic toast.”
“It’s plain white bread with butter and a sprinkle of garlic salt,” he said stiffly.
“Yes, babe, but that’s more than any other husband I know of does.” She looked at Ms. Hatcher. “Every woman I work with goes home at the end of the day and makes dinner. They don’t believe me when I tell them that Parker cooks. I mean, they can’t get their husbands to suggest an entrée, let alone cook it up and set it on the table. He just doesn’t know how good he is.”
Parker lifted a hand to his forehead and smiled wanly at Wanda Hatcher. “Obviously she’s prejudiced,” he offered weakly.
“Darned right I am,” Kendra said, straining upward to kiss the curve of his jaw. “With very good reason.” She smiled at Ms. Hatcher. “He’s incredible, just incredible.”
Parker barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Instead, he shifted his position slightly and latched on to the first topic that occurred in order to change the subject. “Oh, Kendra, I didn’t tell you. Edward stopped by today. He...he, uh, found out something about that little girl from South America.”
“Céfira.”
“Right. They found a half sister, an older girl from a previous marriage of the father’s. Apparently he was quite a bit older than the little girl’s—”
“Céfira.”
“Céfira’s mother. Turns out this older half sister is able to care for the little—Céfira, and she’s coming after her as soon as possible. Edward’s had himself named as advocate for the child and has made a formal request for visa clearance and so forth, and, um, funds have been provided for meeting immediate needs—airline fare, housing, that sort of thing. Céfira should have someone with her by the end of the week.”
Kendra clapped her hands together. “That’s so wonderful! I’m so happy for her!” She turned shining eyes on Wanda Hatcher. “It’s a little girl at the hospital. Her parents were killed in an auto accident while they were all here on a visit of some sort. She was badly injured, alone here in a foreign country, unable to speak the language. I felt so sorry for her, and when I told Parker, he had Edward look into it. That’s our attorney, Edward White. Anyway, they’ve finally found someone for her, a family member, and now she won’t be alone anymore.” She turned back to Parker, her smile so bright it dazzled him. “How much did you give him?” she asked.
He blinked at her. “What
?”
Her smile turned knowing. “How much did you give him to bring Céfira’s sister here?”
He grimaced. What was she, psychic? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t give me that.”
“We’ll discuss this later. Right now I...”
He had another inspiration. “I think we ought to show Ms. Hatcher the house.”
“All right,” Kendra said agreeably. “I’ll just ask Edward how much money you gave him.”
Parker ground his teeth together. “You’re making a mountain out of a molehill, Kendra.” At her skeptical look, he burst out, “We split it, okay? He paid half, I paid half. Satisfied?”
She wound an arm around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.” That done, she looked at Ms. Hatcher. “I told you, he’s incredible.”
Parker dropped his brow against the crown of her head and inwardly groaned.
“Now then,” Kendra said brightly, “About the house. Let me explain what we’re doing here...” She popped up off the couch, one arm looped around Darla’s middle, the other snugged beneath her little bottom. “It’s going to be so great!” she enthused. “It’s Parker’s design, of course.”
Parker got up hastily. “Uh, why not let me explain, dear? It is my design, after all.”
“Right,” Kendra agreed pleasantly. “This way, please.” She didn’t even pause, but began a monologue right away. “First we have the original house. The great room, which is where we’re standing, is surrounded by the gallery, this raised area on three sides. Then over on this side is the dining room, except Parker’s using it for an office right now. You can see the baby’s playpen in there by the drawing board. And where the two steps go up, that’s the kitchen, and the laundry room’s off that. Don’t you just love the pillars, the columns, I mean? They give it such an elegant, open feel. Now on this other side is the master bedroom. It’s heavenly, a fireplace, nice big closets, a complete bath, hot tub, the works.” She led the way, throwing open doors and pointing out amenities. “He’s so neat,” she went on. “I’ve never met a man so neat!”