Sweet and Sassy Baby Love

by Alicia Street

  She came across a website promoting ending the use of the R-word. So she wasn’t alone in her abhorrence of it. And it was at that juncture that she put it out of her mind.

  There was another thing she’d failed to tell Tony. The night before, she’d perched on a barstool with Flynn, watching Roberta and Candy rolling out sugar cookie dough.

  “My boys said I never baked cookies for them. You know that’s hogwash, right? I had all these boys running around here; they’d grab a handful and take off. Did your mother bake, Candy?”

  “My mother worked nights the whole time I was growing up. I might remember a time or two that she baked Christmas cookies, but we were too busy playing to notice, just like it was here. We’re all fat, so it didn’t kill us if she didn’t bake all the time.”

  “What about you, Bridget?”

  “My mom? Oh yeah, she’s like you. I should probably go over there this weekend and help out. She’d roll out the dough, we cut it with cookie cutters, and then after they came out of the oven, she handed the decorating all over to us. It was a mess.”

  “That’s a strong motivation not to let your kids do too much because of the mess.” She shuffled baking supplies around the counter. “We’re running out of powdered sugar.”

  “I’ll go out,” Bridget said. “I need to move around or I’ll fall asleep.”

  “Do you want to leave Flynn here?” Roberta asked.

  “No, thanks, he can come along. We both need the fresh air.”

  “Take your time. These still have to bake and cool before we can frost them.”

  Arriving at the store felt surreal. She hadn’t been out at night alone with the baby in a long time. Pulling into a parking spot close to a well-lit entrance, she thought of all the safety measures. The carts were scattered all over the parking lot, and she grabbed the closest one, putting Flynn in the seat, strapping him in. Inside the store, she went over every inch of the cart with an antiseptic wipe.

  Before she forgot why she was out, she went right to the sugar aisle to get the powdered sugar. Wandering around the store felt good for some reason, like you’d feel while on vacation, mindless, suspended in time. Down the baby aisle, she reached for things she didn’t really need yet but would in about three months: tiny disposable diapers, nursing pads for her bra, the smallest spoon she’d ever seen, like it was made to feed a bird. In a trance, she slowly placed one item after another in the basket, unaware of anything around her.

  “Are you pregnant?”

  The voice, loud and abrasive, had come from behind Bridget, who’d flung around to see who the speaker could be. And with a flabbergasted look on her face was, of all people, Patty. Dressed to kill, she wore a formfitting red off-the-shoulder cocktail dress with those amazing platform shoes that made her tower over Bridget. And that golden hair, shining, tumbled over her shoulders, kept off her face with the ever-present tiara. Roberta was right. It was getting a little tarnished.

  Maddeningly, Bridget knew she was blushing and couldn’t control it. With her heart beating so hard she felt dizzy, she answered, “Hi, Patty.”

  “Well, obviously, you are!” Pointing at Bridget’s perfectly round belly emphasized by a snug white sweater and the skinniest jeans Patty had ever seen, she waited for an answer.

  “Yes, obviously. How are you, Patty?”

  “I was a lot better sixty seconds ago. That should be my baby!” she lashed out. “I should be pregnant with Tony’s baby, not you, a nobody.”

  “Why, Patty? Come on. You’ve moved on. You’re just saying this to hurt me.”

  “Momma,” baby Flynn said, reaching up to Bridget’s face. She kissed his hand and looked back at Patty.

  Unexpectedly, Patty began to cry. Paralyzed, Bridget felt completely unprepared. Looking around the store, she wished someone would suddenly appear who could help her.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just jealous,” she cried. “We were all wrong for each other. It should have ended right out of high school.”

  Waiting for her to calm down wasn’t working.

  “Patty, you two had a good run,” Bridget said softly. “Just because it ended doesn’t mean it wasn’t meant to be. Now you’ll find someone else and be with him and have a family or not. It’s up to you.”

  “You look so nice pregnant,” she said, blowing her nose. “I remember you at the Christmas party when you were a student. It must have been with this little guy?”

  “It was. This is Flynn.”

  Patty got another tissue out of her pocket and tried to wipe her eyes without ruining her makeup. “I’ll let you get back to your shopping,” she said, looking at the baby items in the cart. “I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize. Truly.”

  Patty nodded her head and took off, her perfect butt flexing in the skintight dress as she disappeared around the corner. Suddenly exhausted, Bridget just wanted to talk to Tony. They went through the checkout and into the car, heading back to the Saints’ house.

  After dropping off the powdered sugar in the kitchen, she went to their room and prepared to put Flynn down for the night. They had a little dorm refrigerator in their room with a microwave so she could take care of him without having to leave the bedroom. While he took his bottle, she called Tony’s cell, but he didn’t answer, a clue that he was out on a call.

  Having a routine at night helped her get through the stress of life. Worry about the baby and the unknown, the new house, the job, running into Tony’s old girlfriend at the grocery store, all things she would have to deal with, but she’d do it on a daily, as-needed basis, and she’d done her quota of dealing for that day.

  She knew that if there was something wrong with the baby, she’d have to keep the suspected issues from Tony. But she also knew him and knew he was worse than she was about fretting. Hopefully, the baby would be okay, but if not, they’d cope with it together. One night after the grocery store incident while they lay in bed, he’d brought it up.

  “Were you worried about Flynn when you were pregnant with him?”

  “Yes. Constantly.”

  “Are you worried about this baby?”

  He had his hand on Bridget’s belly, where it stayed most of the night when he spooned her.

  “Yes, constantly,” she repeated, chuckling. “It’s human nature to worry about the unknown. Why? Are you worried?”

  “Worried sick,” he said. “I can’t believe how much I love her already. If anything happened to her…”

  “Nothing’s going to happen. If she has any problems, we’ll deal with it, okay? You and me, together. You’ll be so relieved when she’s born healthy. You know, we never discussed what we’re going to do about the birth.”

  “You mean like me going into the delivery room?”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s what I mean. What do you think?”

  “I have to. She’s my baby. Don’t you want me there?”

  “Of course I do, but it’s kind of gross. I won’t be looking my best, that’s for sure.” She laughed out loud. “Less than my worst, I’m afraid.”

  “Remember, I saw deliveries in training. What’s a little blood?” It was his turn to laugh, remembering what looked like gallons of bloody fluid coming out with the baby. “One of the guys said he told his wife that if her membranes ruptured in his car, he was going to divorce her.”

  “Ha! That’s harsh,” she replied, laughing. “We’d better get plastic over the seat covers just in case.”

  “Did I ever tell you how proud I am of you?” he asked, kissing her neck.

  “Not tonight,” she answered, taking his hand and bringing it to her lips. “I’m proud of you, too.”

  “I mean it’s more than that. You work full time; you’re a wonderful mother. You always look great. I hear the guys talking at work, I mean, it’s kind of crappy of them, saying their wives sit around all day and complain about being a mother. I’ve never heard you complain once about taking care of Flynn.”

  “I love being his mother,” she
said. “I miss having complete control though. I can’t wait to get into our own house so I can be the lady of the house. I remember Mam saying that to Da. ‘I’m deciding what’s for dinner tonight because I’m the lady of the house, and we can’t eat hot dogs every night.’”

  “That’s funny. Yes, you are definitely my lady and you’ll be the lady of our house.”

  “Now we just need to get through Christmas. I have a feeling it’s going to be wild.”

  “I won’t be there, remember.”

  “Yeah, don’t remind me. There is something I need to tell you.”

  “What is it?”

  “The night I was out shopping, I ran into Patty. I tried to call you, but you were on a call.”

  “Ugh. No way. I’m so sorry.”

  “It was fine, it really was. She was upset about this…” She patted his hand over her belly. “But we talked it out, and when she left, she seemed okay.”

  “Bridget, I’m really sorry. You don’t deserve that, but unless we move out of the area, I’m not sure how to circumvent running into her.”

  “I’m fine. It was bound to happen, and now that it has, next time she’ll either keep going or we’ll chat.”

  “As long as she doesn’t cause any trouble.”

  “She won’t for me. Is it a possibility she will for you?”

  “I hope not,” Tony mumbled.

  Christmas did turn out crazy. The younger brothers brought their girlfriends to the house on Christmas Eve, all but Marty. Bridget’s mom and dad, Alice and Emmett, were there as well, and Alice whispered, “How do you tell the brothers apart? They’re all gorgeous.”

  It was true. Joey was the oldest at thirty-two. Then there was Tony at twenty-six; Mike almost twenty-four; Leon, twenty-two; Jack, twenty; and Marty, nineteen.

  They were all tall, dark and handsome except for Leon, who was tall, blond and handsome. “I got at least one who looks like me,” Roberta said.

  “Yeah, but the last time I looked, that hair color came out of a bottle,” Roberta’s sister Carol said.

  The night dragged by for Bridget, who was out of sorts, just wanting to get into bed and watch television. Everyone but Bridget and Roberta seemed to be drinking too much, which seemed awfully un-Christmas-like. Then the coup de grâce. Around ten, the phones of the firefighters in the room started to alert.

  Big Mike read out loud, “Structure fire at 257 Seacrest Drive.” He looked up from his phone. “Why does that sound familiar?”

  A second later, his phone rang. “It’s Tony.” Everyone listened in. “Let’s go. It’s Tony and Bridget’s house.”

  “Holy crap! I thought that sounded like a familiar address,” Joey said.

  “We’ll meet the truck at the house. No time to change clothes.”

  The men ran out the door while Bridget sat paralyzed.

  “Could someone have left a piece of equipment on?” Roberta asked.

  “I have no idea,” Bridget replied.

  Her parents surrounded her, Alice smoothing her hair and murmuring to her.

  “I’m going to go check on Flynn.”

  Still numb, she was in a state of disbelief. Hopefully they’d get there in time and save the house that meant so much to Tony. What it meant to her was freedom from staying with Tony’s family, as nice and accommodating as they were.

  The baby was okay, snoozing in his little crib. Her phone beeped, a text from Tony.

  It’s almost out. All water damage now.

  Bowing her head, she was too tired to cry, but tears dripped off the end of her nose.

  Chapter Eight

  Battalion Chief Charlie Saint was born five years after his brother Big Mike. It was a joke around the Saints’ households that Mike got the height, but Charlie got the abs.

  “Don’t look now, but Charlie Saint just took his shirt off,” was a refrain often heard after the team returned to the station at the end of a call.

  “I’ll watch any of the Saint boys strip,” Connie had whispered to Bridget.

  Hardworking and no-nonsense, Chief Saint was also intuitive, and when he walked into his nephew’s house after the fire had been extinguished, he knew.

  “This was arson,” he said, shining a flashlight on the soaking wet subflooring.

  “Are you getting a feeling?” Big Mike asked.

  “No, I’m not getting a feeling. See that serpentine burn pattern? It’s where someone poured something and the fire traveled the path of the pour.”

  “Oh, okay. Who would try to set Tony’s house on fire?”

  “We’d better get a team in here.”

  The fire investigator, after conferring with Charlie, called in local law enforcement, and they called the ATF, the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives.

  “It’s gettin’ serious,” Tony said, repeating what everyone said. “Who would set my house on fire?”

  “Any enemies?”

  “No! Everyone I know works here in #34. Unless it’s my ma, who doesn’t want me to move out.”

  “Ha! Not likely. She’s been complaining about you living at home for weeks.”

  The alarm went off, and that put an end to Tony’s interrogation.

  “I thought the rain was supposed to help keep fires down,” someone mumbled.

  Christmas morning, Tony and Bridget’s house was converged upon by investigators from every agency. Under the circumstances, Charlie felt he had to allow Tony to be on the premises, so he left after breakfast. Big Mike drove the camper van so Bridget and Flynn could be comfortable there, able to watch the action out the window.

  “You’re here,” Tony said, kissing her. “Pop, you’re the best. Merry Christmas, everyone.”

  They waved to him as he crossed the street. The little house looked so forlorn with the front yard tramped on, and it appeared the huge front window had been broken.

  “Oh, it’s so sad! I’m not an emotional person, but Tony has put so much thought and dreams into this place, and to have this happen is really awful.”

  Big Mike patted her hand. “Hang in there, sweetheart. We’ll redouble our efforts to get it done before the little girl is born.”

  She ran her hand over her belly. “We might have a name, but it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

  He moved his shoulders up and down like he was excited, and Bridget found it so endearing, she had to tell Big Mike the name. “Promise, now, don’t tell Bertie. And oh my God, don’t tell Tony I told you!”

  “Quick, I’m about to explode, what is it?”

  “What’s your mother’s name?”

  Mike put his giant hand up to his mouth and sputtered, sobbing, and Bridget had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. It was so him; Big Mike was so emotional. She moved her legs over the seat so she could hug him.

  “It’s okay, Pop,” she said, using the endearment for the first time. “We want to honor our baby, and what better way?”

  She looked out the window and saw Tony walking toward the van. “Pop, pull it together, please. Here comes Antonio and he’ll know I told you.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry,” he said, fishing for a handkerchief.

  “What’s going on in here?” Tony asked, concerned about seeing his father red-faced and teary-eyed.

  “Aw, Big Mike’s upset about the house.”

  “I’ll help you get it ready, son,” he said, blubbering again.

  Bridget patted his back and winked at Tony.

  “Is he okay?” he mouthed, and she nodded her head.

  “Just an emotional kind of day.”

  They were interrupted by one of the investigators, who waved Tony to come back to the house. Bridget and Big Mike watched as a crowd gathered around the man. After a lot of gesturing, Tony returned to the camper van.

  “Well, I guess that’s that!”

  “What?”

  “They found a tiara buried in the fire debris on the front porch.”

  Breaking the news to Roberta had the result they predicted, she
was just devastated. “Why? She’s the one who was unfaithful to him! She’s said repeatedly, and don’t repeat this to Tony, that he was too easygoing for her, too boring. She wanted someone more exciting, who had more ambition.”

  “What’s going to happen to her now?” Bridget asked.

  “She’ll be charged with arson,” Big Mike said. “In California an arson conviction can have a three-year prison sentence.”

  Bridget was angry with Patty, but not enough to have her go to jail for three years. She was obviously crazy, and that was scary. What if she went after the family? Those were fears better left unspoken.

  Big Mike’s phone beeped. “It’s Charlie. They picked Patty up. She denies any knowledge of the fire, so that’s that.”

  “What does that mean?” Roberta asked.

  “It means it will have to go to trial if they have enough evidence. She’s not the only girl in San Diego County who wears a tiara.”

  “What kind of Christmas is this?” Roberta cried. “Honest to God, you work your whole life to do everything right, and the one day you look forward to all year, this garbage has to happen.”

  A phone beep interrupted her tirade.

  “Oh Lord,” Big Mike said, looking down at his phone again.

  “What now?”

  “It’s George. They’re coming over.”

  “Ugh, I wonder if they know their daughter tried to burn our son’s house down.”

  “Did you invite them for dinner this year?”

  “No! Maybe they just assumed they were invited.”

  “I’d better go in back,” Bridget said.

  “Honey, you don’t have to hide from them. Stay here. You calm Big Mike down.”