Promises, Promises. Shelley Cooper
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Val breezed through the door. “Sure you really want to do this?” she asked, depositing what looked like enough gear to furnish a small room on his living room floor.
“I wouldn’t have volunteered, if I didn’t,” he replied.
Raising up on tiptoe, she kissed him warmly on the cheek, then moved to take Kristen from Brian. Her voice was noticeably cooler when she spoke to her husband.
“Could you bring in the car seat, the portable crib and the swing from the porch? I need to go over a few things with Marco before we leave.”
With a nod Brian disappeared outside. When Val turned to face Marco, her smile seemed forced. The strain was taking its toll on her, he realized, noticing for the first time how thin she’d grown.
“Diapers and clothing are in the diaper bag,” Val instructed, “along with the phone number where you can reach us in event of emergency. Formula, baby food and bottles are in the brown bag, toys in the blue. Kristen takes a bottle every four hours and a jar of baby food at mealtime. You can heat the bottle in the microwave, as long as you test it first, but the baby food is okay at room temperature. If she gets fussy, just put her in her swing, and she usually calms down right away.”
Having deposited the items she’d asked for behind the sofa, Brian moved to his wife’s side and ran a hand down her arm. Marco almost winced when Val flinched away from the caress.
“It’s time to go, honey,” Brian said firmly.
Val bit her lip, then gave her daughter a final hug and kissed her on the forehead. “You be a good baby for Marco, okay?”
“She’s going to be a sweetheart, aren’t you?” Brian said, taking Kristen from Val and handing her to Marco.
“She really likes it when you sing to her at bedtime,” Val said quickly, as, taking her by the arm, Brian dragged her into the hallway. “And she loves sleeping with her little pink pillow. Oh, and she’s crazy about stairs, so you’re really going to have to watch her around them.”
At the door she turned back, indecision written all over her face. “Maybe we shouldn’t go. This is too much to ask of you.”
“Go,” Marco said firmly. “Kristen and I will be just fine.”
“We have to go, honey,” Brian repeated. “Now.” To Marco he added, “We’ll be back around six o’clock Sunday night.”
“We’ll be here,” Marco assured him. “Have a wonderful time.”
The whole way down the sidewalk, Val kept her head turned over her shoulder and her gaze on her daughter. She looked as if she might be going to protest some more when they reached the SUV, but Brian finally coaxed her inside. After practically running to the driver’s side, he gave Marco a final wave before speeding off.
Marco closed the front door and looked down at the child in his arms. Kristen gazed unblinkingly at him for the space of ten seconds before screwing up her tiny face and wailing at the top of her lungs.
Gretchen could swear she heard a baby crying. Raising up on her elbows, she cocked her head and listened carefully. Yes, there it was again. A cry, faint but unmistakable.
It couldn’t be a baby, she told herself, shaking her head. The only family with an infant on her block were the Ericksons, and they lived five houses away. Her windows were closed, and the air-conditioning was on full blast. A baby’s cries just didn’t carry that far. No, it couldn’t be a baby.
Sinking back into the cocoon of pillows she’d piled against her headboard, Gretchen crossed her ankles and focused on the schedule she’d painstakingly filled out with all the activities she planned on accomplishing over the following week. Counting both weekends, she only had nine days, and she wanted to use her time as efficiently as possible. She had a lot of lost time to make up for. Before she found herself chained to her desk again, she wanted to experience everything she could.
A shiver of anticipation raced up her spine as she reread the list of her planned activities. She really was looking forward to doing all of the things she’d never been allowed to do as a child, or gotten around to doing as an adult. It was going to be such fun.
Tapping the lid of her pen against her teeth, she decided that she definitely needed to make room for a trip to Kennywood Park and a ride on its premier roller coaster, The Phantom’s Revenge. That was a must. It was also imperative that she walk barefoot through her local park. That should be easy to squeeze in somewhere. Her brow furrowed in concentration. Had she forgotten anything else?
The sound she’d heard earlier distracted her again, and Gretchen lowered the schedule to her lap. Sure did sound like a baby was crying somewhere.
It was probably just a pair of amorous cats out in back by the garage, she finally decided. Their cries often mimicked those of an infant. Although this particular pair of cats seemed to be enjoying themselves for an unprecedented length of time.
Gretchen felt her lips twist mockingly. It was a sorry state of affairs when the neighborhood cats’ love lives were far more exciting than her own. But then, hadn’t that always been the case?
Maybe it wouldn’t be for much longer, though. If she opened herself up to experience all that the world had to offer, who knew? She could stumble across Mr. Right tomorrow. Crazier things had happened.
The peal of her doorbell shattered a fantasy of Gretchen and a Mr. Right, who looked suspiciously like her tenant, floating together amid a shower of rose petals down an aisle toward a smiling priest. With a sigh and a rueful glance at her schedule, she shrugged into her robe and slippers. Who could be ringing her doorbell at this time of night?
As she descended the stairs, the wails that had puzzled her for the past few minutes grew in intensity. This time there was no mistaking it. This wasn’t a pair of amorous cats. The sound filling her ears was definitely a baby’s cries. Could the Ericksons be in some kind of trouble and need her help?
Rushing to the door, she flung it wide. Her mouth dropped open when she saw Marco Garibaldi on her doorstep with a squalling infant in his arms. As her gaze ran from one to the other, she couldn’t decide who looked more miserable: Marco, with his weary eyes and tousled hair, or the baby, whom, by the pink romper she wore, Gretchen assumed was a girl.
“Yours?” she asked quietly.
Marco grimaced. “A loaner.”
Gretchen continued to stare at him in bemusement. “I’ve heard of borrowing a cup of sugar. I’ve even heard of borrowing someone’s car. But I have to tell you, I’ve never heard of borrowing a baby.”
“She’s my best friend’s child. He and his wife are away for the weekend, trying to save their marriage.”
“And you volunteered to baby-sit.”
“In a roundabout way.” He looked pained. “As you can see, I’m not doing a very good job.”
All Gretchen could see was that he’d never looked more virile than he did at that moment, with his shirttail pulled loose from his jeans, more than a hint of five o’clock shadow on his cheeks and the light of panic in his gorgeous brown eyes. Was there anything more appealing to a woman than a big, strong man who was helpless in the face of a crying baby?
That he was a doctor only enhanced that appeal. Gretchen knew without a doubt that, had the infant been a patient in the emergency room, Marco would have handled her cries with confidence. But because she was in his care and because he obviously knew little about babies outside of an examining room, he was at a total loss.
“You do look like you’re having a bit of trouble,” she said.
“She won’t stop crying,” he replied, his frustration obvious. “I was hoping you could tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
Reaching out, Gretchen plucked the wailing infant from his arms and cradled her close. “What’s her name?”
“Kristen.”