Ooh Baby, Baby Part 3. Diana Whitney
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just called. She’s awake and alert, and the doctors are examining her now.”
“I’ve got to get there,” Travis insisted.
“What you’ve got to do is take care of those babies.”
“Me? I don’t know anything about babies.”
“You’ve spent every spare minute with them for the past eight weeks. I figure you’ve picked up a tip or two.”
“That’s different.” Travis raked his hair, dragging the telephone toward the hallway until the cord went taut. He swore.
“Humph, nice language in front of those babes.”
“The twins are in the nursery. I’m in the living room. The blasted cord is too short.” He spun around, clutching the phone in one hand and the receiver in the other. “Sue Anne, please, I’m begging you. I’ll wash every cab in the fleet with a cotton swab and drive night shift for a year. Hell, I’ll even do your laundry. Just come over!”
She was silent a moment. “Does that include ironing?”
“Sue Anne!”
A chuckle filtered through the line. “Sorry, kid, much as I love to take advantage of panic-based generosity, I can’t leave the dispatch center.”
“Danny can take over.”
“He’ll be in Denver for the rest of the week. College registration—” A telephone rang on Sue Anne’s end of the line. “Hold on,” she muttered to Travis, then answered what he presumed to be the dispatch center’s call-out phone, which was a separate line for Conway Cab customers. He heard his sister speak briefly, repeat an address on the west side of town. There was a ripping noise, as if she’d torn a sheet of paper from a pad. A moment later, he heard her on the two-way radio, relaying the information.
Travis checked his watch and groaned. It was 6:00 a.m., and the day shift was just pulling out. Where had the time gone? The three hours since he’d first arrived had flown by in chaos, and Lord only knew how long it had been since those poor babies had anything to eat. They’d dozed off for a spell after he’d given them the pacifiers, but they were awake now and sounded hungry enough to suck off the wallpaper.
“Travis?”
He tightened his grip on the receiver. “Yeah?”
“Things are getting busy here. Grab your cell and put me on speaker phone.”
“I can’t. I forgot to charge it.”
“Listen, do you still carry that portable two-way in your truck?”
“Sure, but why…?”
“If you use it to patch into the dispatch center, I might be able to give you a few pointers while you’re caring for the kids.”
“Oh. Yeah. Great.” Travis dashed toward the front door, and would have made it if he hadn’t been carrying the telephone. The cord tightened, yanking the phone body out of his hand. The instrument bounced across the floor. He dove for it, retrieved the phone and lost the receiver, which skidded under the sofa.
Frantic now, Travis grabbed the curly cord and dragged it out hand over fist, hollering, “Sue Anne, Sue Anne? I can’t get through the front door. The cord’s not long enough—”
“Hang up, Travis.”
“Huh?”
A long-suffering sigh made him wince. “Hang up the telephone, brilliant brother of mine, then go get the two-way out of your truck and use it to contact the dispatch center.”
He frowned and rubbed his forehead, feeling like a damned fool. “I knew that.”
Sue Anne chuckled. “Sure you did.”
There was a click. The line went dead. Sue Anne had broken the connection, leaving Travis utterly alone with two hungry infants and a heart full of fear.
* * *
“Am I going to die?”
Dr. Amanda Jennings smiled and patted Peggy’s hand. “Of course not. We’re going to take very good care of you.”
“But you don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Not yet,” she conceded. “But we’ll run some blood tests, take a couple of X rays—”
“X rays?”
“You’ve got a nasty lump on your head. The paramedic report indicates that you probably struck the kitchen table when you fainted.”
Peggy bit her lip and turned away so the doctor wouldn’t see the tears form. For the first time, she realized how vulnerable her babies were. If anything happened to her, they’d be raised by strangers, alone and unloved. The thought made her nauseous. That couldn’t happen. She wouldn’t let it happen. “Could someone please call my ex-husband? I have an emergency number.”
“I’ll see to it myself,” Dr. Jennings replied kindly. She jotted the number on a blue scratch pad on the bed table, tore off the sheet and clipped it on Peggy’s chart. Then she gave Peggy a reassuring pat and disappeared between the folds of the drawn bed drape.
Peggy lay there, watching life-giving fluid drip into her veins and feeling more terrified than she had since the day she’d watched her father walk out of her life. At least she’d still had a mother to love and nurture her. One parent wasn’t enough, but it was better than none, which is exactly what her beloved babies would face if they lost their mother.
With her fingers tangled in the bedclothes she fought panic, reminding herself that even if the worst happened to her the twins still had a father. Clyde wouldn’t abandon his children to foster care. He’d come through for them. She knew he would.
She knew it.
* * *
“Oh, Lord.” Travis grabbed a towel, flapping it at the billowing white cloud.
The radio strapped to his belt crackled. “What’s going on?”
Travis continued flapping with one hand and poked the send button with the other. “A mite too much powder,” he muttered. “Got it under control.”
T.J. sneezed and whacked his little fists. The poor, redheaded little thing looked like a sugar-dusted carrot cake. Travis used a corner of the towel to clear white powder from the baby’s face, but his fuzzy little scalp was coated with the stuff. A problem for later, Travis decided. He tossed the towel aside, fastened the diaper’s sticky tabs, anchored the tiny pajama snaps and heaved a relieved sigh. Behind him, Ginny, who’d already been changed and diapered, had given up trying to get milk out of the pacifier and was wailing her little heart out.
Travis brushed his palms together and hit the radio switch. “They’re both clean and dry,” he announced. “Now what?”
“Well, what’s the first thing you want when you step out of your morning shower?”
His heart sank. “I don’t suppose you’re talking about a cup of strong, black coffee.”
“Not unless you suck it through a nipple.”
“Oh, for crying out loud—”
“Which is possible, I suppose, considering how many times I dropped you on your head when you were little. Accidentally, of course, even if you were a whiny little twerp who made my life miserable.”
“Dang it, Sue Anne, quit giving me grief and tell me what the devil I’m supposed to do here.”
“Does the word formula ring any bells?”
The image of Danny feeding T.J. white stuff out of a bottle came to mind. Travis sighed. “I don’t know how to make it.”
“Check the fridge,” Sue Anne suggested cheerfully. “My guess is that Peggy has a few bottles already