Ooh Baby, Baby Part 3. Diana Whitney
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by a cloudy vapor. But Peggy could hear his voice and knew without doubt who he was. “But I cried, Daddy, and so did Mommy. We were so sad without you.”
“I know.” The vapor grew thicker, more opaque. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry….”
“Daddy?” As Peggy reached out, empty mist swirled around her fingers. “Daddy, please come back. I’ll be a good girl, I promise. I promise, Daddy.”
A wail emanated from beyond the cloudy wall, a cranky, frightened sound that pierced her very soul. She clawed forward, only to find herself lost in the mist. The cry intensified, more desperate now, more terrified. She had to find the source. She had to.
She had to.
* * *
Travis pulled up to the curb, letting his truck idle a moment before turning off the ignition. He didn’t have a clue why he was here, or what he was going to do. All he knew is that he’d left the diner heading south, back toward Grand Springs. Now he was parked in front of Peggy’s duplex, wondering why the kitchen light was on at three o’clock in the morning.
At the risk of once again finding himself staring down the business end of a police revolver, he exited the truck and went to have a look-see. Of course, the twins couldn’t tell time, and he knew their hungry little bellies didn’t much care if the sun was up or not. Still, he couldn’t shake the sensation that he really ought to check things out.
He considered peeking in the back window, a notion quickly discarded when he remembered how frightened Peggy had been the last time he’d slunk around her house like some kind of perverted peeper. Instead, he strode up the front walk. By the time he reached the porch, he could hear the twins crying. He listened a moment, waiting for the change in pitch or intensity that confirmed they were being tended. The cries continued unabated, desperate, choking little wails that went straight through his heart.
“Peggy?” He tapped on the door, waited, then pounded it with his fist. “Peggy, it’s Travis. Open the door.”
Nothing. No lilting voice, no flurry of footsteps. Only silence.
A quick twist of the knob confirmed that the door was locked, so he sprinted around back, rushed through the gate and found the kitchen door locked, too. In a sickening rush of déjà vu, he took a step back, booted it open and dashed inside.
What he saw nearly stopped his heart. “Oh, God. Peggy.” He knelt beside her crumpled form, frantically massaging her chalky cheeks. “Peggy, honey, wake up. You’ve got to wake up, honey, you’ve got to.”
She moaned. He nearly wept with relief. At least she was alive.
“Babies,” she murmured, rolling her head. “My babies.”
“They’re fine, honey, just fine.” At least, he hoped they were. “I’ll, ah, be right back.”
Travis sprinted down the hallway, into the nursery where both babies were still wailing. He skidded to Ginny’s crib. The pathetic little thing was beet red, flailing her hands and kicking madly. A wet stain on the mattress hinted to at least one of her problems.
Travis awkwardly patted her rigid tummy. “There, there, darling.” She sucked a startled sob, blinked expectantly up at him, then screwed up her face and wailed even louder. Travis wrung his hands, muttering. He grabbed the pink pacifier at the foot of the crib and wiggled it inside the baby’s open mouth. Instantly, she clamped her gums together and startled to suckle.
“One down,” he mumbled, then headed toward T.J., who was just as red-faced as his sister and twice as loud. Frantic, Travis searched the crib for the blue pacifier, finally spotting it on the floor by the dresser. He scooped up the precious piece of plastic, sprinted into the bathroom to scrub it off with hot, soapy water. By the time he’d managed to dash back and pop the clean pacifier into T.J.’s greedy little mouth, Ginny was crying again.
He ran to her crib, retrieved the pink pacifier, which had slipped away and fallen under her ear. When he tried to reinsert the rubbery nipple, she turned her face away, yowling in protest. “I know it’s not exactly what you had in mind, but it’s the best I can do. Make believe it’s Mommy, okay, darling?”
Ginny stared up, heaved a resigned shudder and accepted the pacifier.
Travis exhaled all at once. “That’s my girl.”
With his heart pounding, he retrieved a wet washcloth from the bathroom, then lurched back down the hall and knelt to sponge Peggy’s pale face.
She moaned again. “You do love me,” she whispered without opening her eyes. “I knew you did. I knew it.”
A lump the size of Wyoming wedged in Travis’s throat. He wanted to speak, hell, he wanted to holler that yes, yes, he loved her. But those words had never touched his tongue before, and he couldn’t form them now.
Her lips moved. “I love you, too, Daddy.”
Every drop of moisture instantly evaporated from Travis’s mouth. Peggy didn’t love him. Hell, she didn’t even know who he was. She was delirious, dangerously sick and out of her mind with fever. There was only one thing to do.
So Travis did it.
* * *
The first awareness Peggy had was of an uncomfortable tightness pressing the bridge of her nose and the hiss of oxygen being fed into the mask. She blinked at the light, squinted at the blurred form leaning over her. It was a woman with short blond hair and a gentle smile. “Easy, now. You’re going to be fine.”
“Where am I?” The question came out slurred, muffled by the mask, but the female EMT didn’t seem to notice.
“In an ambulance,” she replied.
An ambulance? The answer was confirmed by a jarring bounce as the vehicle sped along a bumpy road. Peggy lifted a weak hand and grasped the female medic’s wrist. “My babies…”
“Your babies are fine,” the woman said, loosely grasping Peggy’s wrist and pressing a thumb against the pulsing vein. “Your friend is taking care of them.”
“My friend?”
“Umm.” The medic studied her watch, then smiled and placed Peggy’s hand back onto the cot. “You had us worried for a while, but your pulse is much stronger and your blood pressure has stabilized.”
“I don’t have any friends,” Peggy blurted.
“Well, you certainly have one. He probably saved your life.”
“He?” Disoriented as she was, Peggy took a moment to clear her fuzzy mind.
The medic chuckled. “Very much a ‘he.’ Big brown eyes, shoulders to die for, and hips that look so good in jeans it ought to be illegal.”
Peggy moaned. “Oh, God. Travis.” She yanked at the mask, tried to sit up, fought the medic’s attempt to calm her. “Please, I have to get back, I have to go home.”
“Sh, you’re going to be fine.”
“You don’t understand. Travis can’t take care of the twins. He doesn’t know how, he’s even afraid to pick them up.” Peggy fought against the woman’s restraining hands. “Please, you have to take me back…aah!” A burning sensation shifted Peggy’s attention, and she stared in horror at the tube jutting from her taped arm. A fluid bag was suspended above her head, dripping clear liquid into the tube.
Memories slid through her mind, fuzzy images of the lighted kitchen, the tilting tunnel door. She remembered the feel of rough carpet against her cheek, the desperate cries of her babies. How long had she been unconscious? How long had her babies lain there, crying with hunger, with fear?
Reality hit like a sledge. If Travis hadn’t come back, it might have been days before anyone found them.
But he had come back, and he’d saved their lives. Again.
* * *