Murphy's Child

by Judith Duncan

  He quietly chastised her. “My parents don’t play those kinds of games, Jordan. If she invited you, it’s because they both want you to come.” He caught her free hand and threaded his fingers through hers, giving it a little squeeze as he smiled at her. “And I promise I’ll stick to you like glue.”

  She tried to smile, but anxiety stiffened her face. Trying to win her over, he gave her hand another squeeze. “Just say yes, okay?”

  She stared at him a moment longer, then gripped his hand and drew a deep breath. “Okay,” she said unevenly.

  Murphy wanted to hug her. Now he knew exactly how it felt to win a ten-million-dollar lottery.

  Chapter 6

  By the following day, Murphy wished he had never mentioned the family barbecue. What he should have done, he realized in retrospect, was catch her unawares. If he’d been smart and had used his head, he would have said nothing, come up with some excuse to get her and the tadpole into the car, then simply kidnapped them both. By lunchtime, she had worried herself into a nervous wreck and changed her mind nine times. But she had finally exhausted herself and gone to bed.

  Wanting to keep the apartment as quiet as possible, Murphy was sitting on the terrace in the shade, rocking his son in the canopied garden swing, both of them trying to catnap. J.J., God bless him, had fussed so much during the night that neither Pa nor Ma got much sleep. Murphy was beginning to feel as if he were suffering the aftereffects of a five-day drunk. But—touch wood—Little Stuff had finally worn himself out and had crashed on Murphy’s chest, sucking sporadically on his soother. Which was not a good sign. Nope, that meant the kid wasn’t sound asleep. And Murphy didn’t want to do anything to upset the status quo. He knew, as sure as he breathed, that if he quit rocking for even an instant, James Jeffery’s little eyes would pop open, and that would be that. He wondered how the hell single parents could live through a colicky baby—they must finally disintegrate from sheer exhaustion.

  His bare feet planted on the terrazzo flooring, Murphy kept the motion going, little bursts of colored shooting stars dancing behind his closed lids, the wooden slats of the swing cutting into the back of his neck. He didn’t even care. He was so damned tired, he was sure, given the opportunity, he could sleep for seventy-two hours straight.

  “Murphy—about the barbecue—I don’t think it’s a good idea if I go. Maybe you’d better call your mother back and tell her I can’t make it.”

  Murphy didn’t have the strength or energy to open his eyes. “Go to bed, Jordan.”

  He could almost hear her wringing her hands. “No, I’ve made up my mind. You take J.J. on his own.”

  Murphy just kept rocking the swing, aware that baby drool was running down his bare chest and his son’s cheek was stuck to his skin. “I’ve made up my mind,” he said, sounding just a little cranky. “You’re coming to the barbecue if I have to throw you over my shoulder and bodily haul you there.”

  There was absolute dead silence. Then a very odd sounding “Pardon?”

  “Give it up, Jordan. We’re not going around that track one more time. You’re coming to the barbecue.”

  He really expected her to flounce off in a huff, but he heard her sit down on one of the chaise longues. Dredging up every ounce of energy he had, he opened one eye. She looked frazzled from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. And she was sitting in such bright sunlight it nearly blinded him. Letting his eye drift shut, he wiggled his free hand at her. “Come here. Sit in the shade. ”

  There was a brief hesitation, and he wiggled his fingers again. He really didn’t expect her to move, so he was surprised when he felt her settle on the swing beside him. Without moving his head or opening his eyes, he caught her around the neck and pulled her head down on his shoulder.

  Lightly caressing her upper arm, he spoke. “Let’s face it, Kennedy. If he keeps this up, we’ll both likely be dead from exhaustion before the weekend, and neither one of us will have to worry about the barbecue.”

  He got a strained little laugh. There was a brief silence, then she spoke, an odd tone in her voice, as if she was trying to cast her son in a positive light and was afraid he would disagree. “He’s really good when he isn’t fussing,” she said softly.

  Which was hardly ever. But Murphy gave her what she needed to hear. “He’s an angel when he’s not fussing. Which scares me more. Having been a small boy myself, I know what’s really going on when they’re behaving like little angels.”

  That got another chuckle out of her, but this one was genuine. In spite of her response, Murphy could feel her grow heavy against him, as if she was dozing off. Then she said ever so softly, with a quiet wistfulness, “It must have been so nice, having a big family.”

  Murphy’s heart thundered. His eyes flew open and he got nailed with such a shot of pure adrenaline that he thought his heart was going to leap right out of his chest. A first. An absolute, mind-blowing first Not once, in all the time he had known her, had she ever made any reference to family—hers, his or otherwise. Sure, she’d asked the polite, requisite questions about his—how many, who did what. But this was different. This was Ms. Jordan Kennedy expressing what was inside of her. This was a tiny glimpse past all the barriers.

  The sudden cramp in Murphy’s throat was so tight that he couldn’t even swallow, and he closed his eyes and locked his jaw, drawing her imperceptibly closer. Someday, damn it, he was going to get the chance to prove to this woman just how much he loved her. Someday.

  Willing away the awful ache, he rubbed his hand up her bare arm. “It has its moments.”

  As if totally separated from the rest of her body, like a leaf falling off a tree, her hand drifted down his chest onto his lap, and she shifted her head on his shoulder and let out a long sigh. “Nice,” she murmured.

  Oh, yeah, Murphy thought, suddenly wide-awake, the weight of her hand on his groin sending shock waves of raw heat pumping through him. Oh, yeah. He was at the brink—at the absolute brink—of losing himself in the sensation, of letting himself go, of moving his hips up against the weight of her hand. Then common sense and a shred of decency kicked in. Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes and dug his neck against the slats on the backrest, trying to give himself something else to think about.

  It took a while, but he finally willed away the response and opened his eyes to stare at the bright blue sky, concentrating on how good it felt to have her curled up against him with his son asleep on his chest. It filled him up so much inside it was almost enough. Almost.

  It seemed as if he’d just fallen asleep when the annoying sound of the intercom buzzer nagged him awake. The arm he had around Jordan had gone to sleep, and the back of his neck felt as if it had been impaled on steel spikes. Stretching his eyes open, he checked his watch behind Jordan’s head. He’d been out cold for over an hour.

  The buzzer sounded again, and Jordan stirred. “Phone?” she said, her voice mushy with sleep.

  He shook his head to clear away the fog, then lifted J.J. off his chest. “No. Intercom.”

  Without saying anything, she took the baby as Murphy stood up. He crossed the patio, stopped just inside the door and picked up the intercom phone. “Yeah?”

  “Mr. Munroe?”

  “Speaking.”

  “Ken Martin. I’m a driver for Johnson Ford. I have a delivery here for you.”

  Murphy shook his head to wake himself up. His mind was really falling apart. He’d totally forgotten that the new, top-of-the-line sport-utility vehicle was to be delivered today. He scrubbed his face to try to rid himself of the last trailers of sleep. “I’ll be right down.”

  Picking up his shirt off the chair, he wiped baby stickies off his chest with the tail and slipped it on. Jordan was coming through the patio door, the baby still asleep and nestled against her. She looked as if she’d just crawled out of a Dumpster. A flicker of humor surfaced. She also looked as if she could do with a jolt.

  Grasping her by the arm, he pulled her along. “Come on,” he said. �
��We need to go downstairs.”

  Looking as if she didn’t even know her own name, let alone comprehend a whole sentence, she mutely let him propel her to the foyer. Picking up a key to get back in, he opened the door and just as if he were the little tugboat, he piloted her out.

  It was a kid about nineteen who had delivered the Explorer, and Murphy signed the delivery form, tipped him and took the keys.

  Jordan had yawned so hard her eyes watered, and she was so out of it, he was sure if he gave her a poke on the shoulder, she would simply topple over.

  The midnight blue truck was parked in front of the condo. And his directions had been followed to a T. A huge cluster of balloons was hooked under the door handle, and the card was stuck under the windshield wipers.

  Without saying anything, he took J.J. from her. He grinned to himself. It was going to take a while for everything to click into place. She had this dazed look on her face, as if not one single thing were making any sense. She glanced at the truck, then back at him, still not getting it. Restraining a smile, he handed her the keys.

  It was as if he’d dumped her in ice. She went so still, he was sure she even quit breathing. Finally taking a breath, she looked from him to the truck, her face transfixed with confusion, then she looked back down at the keys in her hand. He could actually see all the pieces fall into place, and her eyes widened as she looked up at him, a stunned expression on her face. “Oh, my God.”

  Murphy wanted to laugh. It had taken her ten minutes, but she’d finally figured it out.

  Raking her hand into her hair to hold it back, she again stared at the keys in her hand, her shock as transparent as glass. Finally she looked up at him again, and he could see she was on the verge of losing it.

  “I can’t accept this, Murphy,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

  This time he had her. He knew she’d never accept a gift like that from him. And he knew that was exactly what she would say, but this time—ah, this time—he had done an end run on her. Holding his son against him, he raised his eyebrows. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Kennedy. You’d better read the card.”

  She gave him a bewildered look, then went over and took the card off the windshield and opened the envelope. The card had blue bunnies on it. Which seemed appropriate, given the recurring nightmares he’d had before the baby was born. He remembered word for word what he had written.

  Dear James Jeffery,

  I want you and your mom to have something big and strong and safe to go see Dr. Jackson in. So this is for you. But you have to let Mom drive until your feet reach the pedals.

  Love, Dad.

  He’d wondered what her reaction would be—prim and prissy, annoyed, cool and distant—and he was pretty sure he had left her no place to go. But with Jordan, you never really knew for sure. Except in a million years he would have never expected her to do what she did. She just sort of unraveled before his very eyes. Laughing and crying, she came into his free arm, put her arms around his waist and held on for dear life.

  Going dead still, Murphy stood there, feeling as if he’d been run through another high-voltage regulator. Then his lungs kicked in and started to work, and he hugged her hard against him, a dozen feelings breaking loose like some crazy logjam. Pressing his cheek against her hair, he clenched and unclenched his jaw, his heart going into overdrive. She had totally bowled him over. It was the first spontaneous response he’d ever had from her except in bed, and he was so staggered by it, he felt as if the world had spun right off its axis. Knowing if he started thinking with the wrong end of his body, he could make a really stupid move here without even trying, he took a deep breath and tightened his arm around her. “Now remember, Jordan. You can’t give him the keys, no matter how much he whines.”

  She was still doing that laughing-crying thing. “I won’t.”

  Murphy would have been content to hold her like that the entire night, but Little Stuff’s diaper was very wet and if Murphy stood there like that much longer, it was going to be a damned sight more than his emotions that got out of hand. “Wanna take it for a test drive for him?”

  She wiped her face on his unbuttoned shirt. “We need a car seat,” she said, her voice very uneven.

  His heart so full that it felt as if it might split wide open at any moment, he pulled a fast one and brushed his mouth ever so lightly against her hair. “Taken care of, ma‘am. You just need to get in and drive.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes all red and bleary, but she tried to smile. “This is pretty outrageous, even for you.”

  He grinned down at her. “Nah. I’ve got this great accountant who’s going to fudge my books.”

  Seeing her emotions were starting to get away on her again, he gave her a quick hug and hauled her around to the driver’s side. “Come on. A quick spin before Mighty Mouse roars.”

  She tried to put on the brakes. “But I don’t have my driver’s license.”

  “To hell with your driver’s license. The kid wants to try out his new set of wheels.”

  The drive lasted maybe ten blocks, then J.J. woke up and let the whole world know he was hungry.

  Murphy didn’t know whether it was just because she was so bloody tired that her guard had slipped, or if it was because of the goofiness over the truck, but there was a difference that night. For the first time in months, Murphy felt as if he could deliberately touch her without setting off alarm bells. And he wanted to hold her so badly that he felt it right down to the soles of his feet. But he wasn’t going to rush his fences. One step at a time.

  It was as if the truck had knocked her off her tracks for one whole day, and she drifted around in a weird, detached state. Murphy didn’t let optimism override common sense, though. He knew that floaty daze of hers was probably nothing more than sleep deprivation. She had only mentioned the family barbecue once, and that time he pretended he didn’t hear her. And surprisingly she let it drop.

  He figured he had it made. But his smugness came back at him, and the following four days were straight from hell.

  First of all, there were some major problems on the job site. Then Jordan and baby both had their six-week checkups, which required more strategizing, organizing and equipment than the average military campaign. Murphy had no idea you needed so much stuff to take one tiny baby out for one afternoon—thank God he’d bought the Explorer. He probably should have bought a bus. One thing was for sure: they never would have stuffed everything into her car.

  Of course, J.J. was an absolute angel at Dr. Jackson’s. He was all cute and full of smiles. Murphy was beginning to think the kid was simply giving them grief for the hell of it. The tadpole checked out one hundred percent. Murphy didn’t know how Jordan checked out. By the time they got to her appointment, J.J. had started fussing, so Murphy had spent the entire time walking up and down the corridor. And by the time they made it back home, he and Jordan were both wiped right out.

  It didn’t get any better, at least not as far as J.J. was concerned. James Jeffery had only been teasing them with his good behavior during his trip to Dr. Jackson’s. At home, it was a different story altogether. The longest he slept at a crack was two hours, and one night both he and Jordan fell asleep at the dinner table. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so pathetic.

  And the closer it got to the weekend, the more fidgety Jordan became. Except it was worse than that. Jordan dithered. He never would have figured her for a ditherer. But she was. She’d paced back and forth when she should have been sleeping. And she couldn’t hold two thoughts together to save her soul. She wasn’t going to go. Then she was. Then she thought it would be best if Murphy took J.J. by himself. If Murphy had had the energy, he would have tied her to the bed. Up until the baby arrived, he didn’t know she was capable of that kind of hand-wringing anxiety. But then, he’d never seen her in tears before, either. And now he was getting a good dose of both. He figured it was hormones. All the books said it was hormones. But what in hell did the books know anywa
y? They hadn’t been one bit of help with the colic.

  Every once in a while, though, she would finally wear herself out and crash from sheer exhaustion, and sometimes he would simply sit and watch her sleep. Then guilt would swoop in, and he’d get knots the size of bulldozers, hoping he was doing the right thing by pushing her into going. It got so tense that he was damned near as bad as she was.

  By Saturday—the day before the family barbecue—they were both in such a fog of exhaustion that Murphy’s short-term memory had deteriorated into ten-second bits, and he finally crashed himself. He slept for three whole hours. When he got up, Jordan was drifting around like a waif, and every time he said something to her, she’d look at him with those huge gray despairing eyes. It got to the point where he couldn’t take it anymore, and he sent her to bed.

  He was beginning to feel like such a total heel that he had pretty much decided to let her opt out. But when she got up, she didn’t bring it up, so neither did he. He persuaded her to go back to bed just after eight that evening. Once she was lying down, he took J.J. out to the terrace, and they did the swing thing. His kid was turning into a real swinger, and Murphy could usually coax at least two hours of sleep out of J.J.—just as long as he kept the motion going.

  They actually made it to three. And it was obvious that J.J. was just plain hungry when he woke up. Peeling away the light blanket he’d covered his son with, he entered the kitchen with the intent of getting a bottle of breast milk out of the fridge. All the lights were off in the apartment, except the night-light under the built-in microwave. But even in the semidarkness, Murphy caught a glimpse of Jordan pacing the well-worn loop that ran through the living room, dining room and foyer, looking so pale and stressed it nearly broke his heart.

  He slid the screen shut on the patio door, and she jumped and covered her heart, whirling to face him. For a minute, he thought she was going to pass out cold.