A Daughter's Trust / For the Love of Family. Kathleen O'Brien
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met the woman’s dark brown eyes, taking in her impatience, the blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, the T-shirt and jeans and bare feet. “Can I help?” he asked over the crying, motioning to the babies in her arms.
“No,” she said. She was bouncing her babies. One of whom, the crying one, needed its nose wiped. His nose wiped, if the blue sleeper was anything to go by. “But as you can see, I’m busy, so—”
“I’m Rick Kraynick.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Kraynick,” she said, backing up enough to be able to close the door.
“Wait! Which one is Carrie? I’m standing here. What would it hurt to point her out to me?”
“If you don’t leave this instant, I’m going to call the police.”
Obviously his suit and tie and shined shoes had done nothing to reassure her that he was a good guy. He’d left the jacket on, just in case, in spite of the almost seventy degree temperature.
“I’m going.” But he couldn’t take a step back. Not yet. All three babies were adorable. But one…she reminded him of…“Just tell me which—”
Her foot shot to the door. And just as she was kicking it shut in his face, the crying infant in blue spewed what had to be a full bottle of formula, as though shooting a ball from a cannon. The sour burst hit the face of the baby in the carrier, who promptly started to cry. It covered Ms. Bookman’s arm and chest, her floor, her door and Rick’s shoulder.
The shooter, once he was done, let out the most piercing wail Rick had ever heard.
He was one sick puppy.
Without further thought, Rick stepped inside the still partially open door. Relieving Ms. Bookman of the boy, he placed the smelly baby against his chest so he could rub his back. Soothe the ache.
Some skills, once learned, never left you.
“Go ahead, tend to them and yourself,” he said, loudly enough to be heard over the crying. “There’s no cure for colic but patience. And soft pressure on the stomach. I’ll follow you so you can keep me and shooter here in your sight at all times.”
“I can’t—” The baby still in her arms started to cry.
Reaching for his wallet while juggling the messy baby, Rick threw it on the table. “My license is in there,” he called out over the noise. “My school ID is as well. And all my credit cards. They’re yours while I’m here,” he added. “And I can’t kidnap Carrie while you’ve got her…Go!” he called, sending her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
With another worried look in his direction, she went. Rick followed, making sure to stay in view at all times.
Chapter Six
IT DIDN’T TAKE SUE LONG to get the babies cleaned up. Or herself, either, once she had the girls settled on a blanket on the floor with several brightly colored toys in their vicinity, encouraging exploration. She’d have liked to change, but they had a stranger in their midst.
Settling for hot soapy water and a couple of baby wipes, she was as good as she was going to get.
Rick Kraynick, in the meantime, standing within sight at all times, managed to get three-month-old Jacob cleaned up and to sleep.
“You’re very good at that.” Something about his splayed fingers covering the baby’s entire back, his forearm supporting Jacob’s diapered bottom so tenderly—and competently—made her more aware of the man than she should have been. Than she wanted to be.
She reached for Jacob. And her fingers brushed against the solid warmth of Rick Kraynick’s chest, where the baby was nestled.
“I’ve had some practice.”
Jacob didn’t stir as she laid him in the newly changed bassinet in the family room.
“You have a family of your own?” she asked, handing Rick a wipe for a spot he’d missed on his shoulder. Why wasn’t his wife there with him on his mission of mercy?
“No.”
So he was unattached. The fact made him no more attractive. Made no difference to her. Right?
He’d said he’d grown up in foster homes—a great place to get child care experience. His lack of wife, his life, were not her business.
She headed toward the door.
“Sorry about the suit,” she said, jittery and anxious to be rid of him. She had to get dinner started. And she didn’t need any more complications right now.
He didn’t follow her to the door. Instead, Rick Kraynick, baby wipe still in his hand, watched as Carrie rolled over. And over again. To reach the bright yellow rattle that was her favorite. It went straight to her mouth. And Sue wondered, not for the first time, if the little girl was going to teethe early.
She’d rolled over a couple of weeks sooner than Sue had expected, too.
Her visitor’s expression—soft and filled with pain, too—called to her, making her nervous.
“Mr. Kraynick, you have to go.”
He nodded. “That’s her.”
He was moved by the baby. And why did she care? This man was a total stranger to her. So why didn’t he seem like one?
“I’m not going to—”
“I know—confirm or deny. But you don’t need to. That’s Carrie.”
He was right. But then, he’d had a fifty-fifty chance.
“You need to leave.” Please. Before I do something I’m going to regret. Like let you stay.
“She seems to be a happy baby.”
“Mr. Kraynick.” Barb would be arriving soon to collect the two babies she’d had to leave with Sue when her third had a reaction to this morning’s inoculation, running a fever of 104, and had to be taken to the emergency room. “You have no idea which of those babies might or might not be your niece. Now I’m asking you to leave.”
“I heard you,” he said, still watching the baby.
Sue opened her mouth to threaten to call the police. He was breaking the law, refusing to leave her home. And then she noticed that his eyes were glistening.
And it occurred to her that they’d both buried a family member that week.
“Mr. Kraynick.” She hadn’t meant to allow any softness in her voice. He really had to go. His presence was causing her to feel things she couldn’t afford to feel.
“She…I’m sorry. She looks exactly like…someone I used to know…” His voice faded away.
Just when she was going to lose her battle with herself and allow him to pick up the baby, Rick Kraynick, the oddest man she’d ever met, turned, thanked her for her kindness and walked out of the room. And out of her life.
“I CAN’T STOP THINKING about her.”
“Rick, come on, man. What are you doing?” Mark easily dribbled around him and went for the layup. He scored.
Again.
And rebounded his own ball. Holding it against his side, he stopped and stared at Rick. “You aren’t seriously considering trying to get her yourself, are you?”
“I’m not just considering it, I’m going to do everything in my power to get her.” He’d given up on family. On making a family, or hoping for one. But he was not turning his back on family that already existed. Period. His mother aside. Her he’d written off years ago. “She’s my flesh and blood, man. She’s my sister’s child. And I know I can be a good father to her, give her a happy life. Hannah certainly had no complaints.” With a lunge, he stole the ball from the former college all-star point