Читать книгу Ooh Baby, Baby Part 2 - Diana Whitney - Страница 9

The woman turned, tightening her grip on the tiny baby girl nested at her shoulder. Peggy’s heart, jolted by shock, raced in fear. She stepped back, bumped into a large, warm body and spun around with a yelp.

Travis Stockwell reached out as if to steady her, eyed her raised fists and thought better of it. “I see you and Sue Anne have met,” he said, nodding toward the brick of a woman who flashed a warm, vaguely familiar smile.

Bewildered and disoriented, Peggy Saxon dropped her arms, turned and stared at the dark-eyed, dark-haired person who was tenderly cuddling newborn Virginia in her mannish, muscular arms. “Sue Anne…your sister?”

“Guilty as charged,” Sue Anne said cheerfully. “I’ve got to tell you, hon, these are two of the cutest babes I ever laid eyes on. Now I see where they got those adorable feathers of red hair. Whoa, sweetie!” She turned her face toward the blinking infant. “My, that was a big one. Betcha feel better now, hmm?”

Peggy moistened her lips, fighting the urge to leap forward and rip her child out of the stranger’s arms. “I’m pleased to meet you, but why— I mean, what—”

“What am I doing here?”

“That question did flash through my mind.”

Chuckling, Sue Anne laid Ginny back into the crib, cooed once, tweaked the tiny little cheek and straightened, eyeing her brother with blatant amusement. “Tell her, Travis.”

Peggy swung her gaze around, scraping him with a look. “Yes, Travis, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Well, ma’am,” he drawled, barely able to contain a smug smile, “looks to me like your in-home assistance finally got here.”

“My what?”

“Guess I’ll be moseying along.” With that, Travis tucked his hands in his pockets and sauntered out, grinning like a cat with feathers in its teeth.

Peggy sagged against the wall for a moment, then hurried over to check each of her babies. T.J. was on his back, sound asleep. Virginia was awake, but yawning. Peggy inspected her daughter carefully, checking each and every baby appendage.

“Not that I wouldn’t like to steal a couple of those sweet little toes,” Sue Anne said with a knowing sparkle in her eyes. “But I figured the child might be needing them someday.”

Peggy turned, propped her hip against the crib and regarded the woman, realizing that her smile had been familiar because it was very much like her brother’s. The siblings shared the same whiskey-colored eyes and full, flashing grin, but the resemblance stopped there. Travis was lean and slender, with a tight, rounded rear that made blue jeans look like denim skin. Sue Anne Conway, who was wearing a plaid shirt and a pair of Levi’s, was built like a tractor, squat and square, with shoulders broad enough for a man to envy. Peggy recalled that Jimmy Conway’s shoulders were larger, but not by much.

Recognizing the blatant appraisal, Sue Anne laughed. “Believe it or not, I’m the spitting image of our mother. Travis takes after Pa. Except Travis isn’t a wimpy, drunken fool.”

“I see.”

There was enough ice in the comment to make Sue Anne wince. “Guess he didn’t mention that I’d be dropping by.”

Peggy folded her arms. “It must have slipped his mind.”

“Honey, nothing slips my brother’s mind. He’s got a reason for everything he does or doesn’t do.” She cocked her head, smiling kindly. “My guess is that he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of the look you’re giving me right now. Most men would rather be gut-gored than face off with an angry woman, and Travis isn’t any different. Except in his case, you can add babies to the list. He’s scared to death of the little critters, which is why it’s so comical he got stuck delivering yours in his taxi during the storm. First babies he’s ever touched in his life, as far as I know. If he had his way, they’ll be the last, too.” Her eyes twinkled. “But somehow, I doubt he’ll have his way on that. Thing is, he’s a stubborn cuss, and he’s been fretting about you.”

“Why? He barely knows me.”

“How much does a person have to know to recognize someone in need?”

“I am not in need—”

“Sh, now, don’t get your dander up. Everyone can use a helping hand now and again. There’s no shame in that.”

Peggy sucked her lips between her teeth, feeling inadequate, fighting tears.

“Hormones,” Sue Anne commented with a knowing gleam in her eye. “After my babes were born, I cried at detergent commercials.”

Peggy sniffed. “I feel silly.” Not to mention fat, bloated and besieged by postpartum uterine contractions that made her wonder if she was going back into labor. “Listen, Mrs. Conway—”

“Sue Anne.”

“Sue Anne, I really do appreciate your concern, but it isn’t necessary for you to take time away from your family on my account.”

“It is to Travis.” Sue Anne brightened. “Say, you must be neigh onto starving by now. I got a casserole in the oven.”

A spicy aroma wafted down the hall, making Peggy’s mouth water. “Casserole?” She wandered to the doorway, sniffing appreciatively. “As in real food?”

“Nothing fancy, just chicken and noodles, but I figured you’d be too tuckered to fix anything nourishing for yourself.” Sue Anne scanned Peggy as if sizing up a prized hog. “Looks like you haven’t been filling your plate for quite a spell. You’re nothing but bones. But don’t you worry, hon, we’ll fatten you up in no time.”

Peggy angled a morose glance down at the tummy pouch that threatened to pop the elastic on the only pair of prepregnancy slacks she could squeeze into. “Fattening is the last thing I need.”

“Leftover flab, eh?” Sue Anne clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “Well, don’t worry about that, sugar. It’ll tighten up. After Danny was born, my belly sagged so low I could squeeze it between my knees.”

“Really?” Peggy felt her spirits lift. “I thought it was just, you know, me.”

Sue Anne’s laugh was deep, resonant and warming. “Heck, no hon, we’re all sisters when it comes to the pains of womanhood. There’s nothing happening with you that hasn’t happened to most all of us at one time or another.”

For some odd reason, Peggy found that immensely reassuring. “What about, well…” Embarrassed, she made little scratching gestures at the sides of her abdomen.

“Stretch marks?” At Peggy’s miserable nod, Sue Anne’s eyes warmed with sympathy. “They’ll fade some.”

“They won’t go away?”

“Think of them as a merit badge, the purple heart of motherhood.” She tossed a sisterly arm around her. “Are your stitches giving you grief?”

Peggy rolled her eyes and nodded.

“A real pain in the butt, hmm?” Sue Anne grinned at her own joke and gave the new mommy’s shoulders a squeeze. “And speaking of pain, let’s talk breast-feeding. Just wait until your little sharks get teeth.”

* * *

For the next few hours, Peggy’s fear and loneliness dissipated in a rush of giggles and girl talk. With twenty years of mothering experience under her ample belt, Sue Anne anticipated and answered all of Peggy’s questions, and shared tips on caring for babies—tips that hadn’t even been hinted at in the parenting books Peggy had read. Sue Anne even helped give the twins their first bath, which was more a damp mop job than the full submersion wash, which she suggested could wait until their little umbilical cords had healed.

After the sponge bath, when the twins were clean and comfortable, Peggy was flushed with exhilaration along with more self-confidence than she’d felt in a very long time.

Then, with T.J. cradled in Peggy’s arms and little Ginny nestled in Sue Anne’s, they spent hours talking—about nothing and everything, about midnight feedings and the horrors of breast pumps, about diaper rash and maternal insecurity, and about the very real pressure of just being a woman.

Sue Anne was able to expose Peggy’s fears without exploiting them, to rationalize seemingly irrational emotions, and to offer valuable reassurances. By evening’s end, she’d become the confidante Peggy so desperately wanted, the sister she’d never had, and the mother she’d lost—all rolled up into one wisecracking bundle of effervescent energy.

Even more important, Sue Anne became exactly what Peggy needed more than anything in the entire world. She became a friend. Which was, Peggy suspected, exactly what Travis Stockwell had in mind.

* * *

“You mean you just left her alone?”

Sue Anne hiked a brow and flopped on the sofa, balancing a bowl of buttered popcorn in her lap. “What did you expect me to do, roll out a sleeping bag on her living room floor?”

Travis slapped his hat on his thigh and muttered an oath. “Yes, dadgummit, if that’s what it took. Peggy just had those babies Saturday. It’s not right, her being left to fend for herself and all.”

“She’s just fine. Ted, hand me that flipper.” Sue Anne tossed a few kernels into her mouth while her oldest son, who was hunched cross-legged on the floor, felt around the carpet for the television remote. He found it and handed it over without taking his glassy eyes from a babes-in-bikinis beer commercial flickering across the screen.

Standing behind the sofa, Travis tossed his hat on a table, planted a hand on each side of his sister’s shoulders and shouted at the top of her head. “What if something happens? What if one of those babies gets sick?”

Sue Anne tipped her face back, grazing her frustrated brother with a bland stare. “Peggy Saxon’s a bright woman, Travis, and she’s good with those babies. A natural mommy. She’ll deal with whatever comes.” She refocused on the screen, aiming the remote. Her thumb jerked.

Ted spun around. “Hey!”

“I wanna watch the news,” she mumbled, continuing to flip channels as Jimmy ambled in from the kitchen with a half-eaten sandwich in his hand. Sue Anne spared him a glance. “Is Danny still handling dispatch?”

“Nah.” Jimmy smacked his lips and dropped into a worn recliner. “There ain’t been no calls for a couple of hours, so he flipped the switch to speaker and went on to bed.”

Since there was only one cab on duty during the slow overnight shift, the switch in question would sound an audible alarm throughout the house if a call came through dispatch. Most nights were quiet enough, which allowed the Conways to sleep undisturbed while the bored night cabbie snoozed through his shift parked by a quiet curb somewhere in town.

Jimmy finished his sandwich and eyed the bowl on his wife’s lap. “That popcorn?”

“Roasted maggots,” Sue Anne replied, tossing the remote aside and settling back to watch the news. “Want some?”

Jimmy leaned over and scooped up a handful. “Hmm, hot buttered maggots. Yum.”

Clearly revolted, Ted, who’d been known to lose his lunch at the sight of a kitchen ant invasion, left the room, muttering. A moment later, his bedroom door slammed.

“More for us,” Sue Anne said, grinning broadly to indicate that had been her plan in the first place. Jimmy concurred with a grunt, then dug another huge handful out of the bowl.

Travis was about to bust. “Forget the danged popcorn. What about Peggy?”

Jimmy looked up, his cheeks bulging. “Wha’ about her?”

“Don’t talk and chew at the same time,” Sue Anne growled. “Didn’t your mama teach you no manners?”

Properly chastised, Jimmy swallowed. “Yes, honey pot.” He heaved sideways in the chair, turning his attention back to Travis. “So, what’s wrong with Ms. Saxon?”

“Sue Anne left her alone, that’s what. Alone.” He shot an accusatory stare at the back of his sister’s head, which responded by jerking around as if it had been physically poked.

She glared at him. “Dang it, Travis, she’s a grown woman, and she don’t need no baby-sitter. If she wants help, she can pick up the phone.”

“And how long would she have to wait before help arrives?”

“Oh, sorry, Travis—”

“She’s miles out of town. Why, a person could choke to death before an ambulance could even get out of the downtown garage.”

Jimmy nodded. “That’s true.”

Sue Anne cowed him with a look. “No one is going to choke to death, or bleed to death, or die in their dadgummed sleep. Peggy and the babies are just fine.” She swiveled on the sofa and fixed her brother with a killing stare. “Got that, Mr. Always-Looking-For-Trouble? Nobody is sick, and nobody is going to get sick.”

“Wouldn’t dare,” Jimmy mumbled, feigning interest in the televised news program while his wife glowered.

Travis puffed his cheeks and blew out a breath. Part of him understood that his fear for Peggy went far beyond normal concern for a fellow human being, but he couldn’t help himself. He was consumed by thoughts of her, by memories of her vulnerable eyes, and the way her lips tightened when she was trying to be brave.

Travis Stockwell knew what it felt like to be alone and afraid. That’s how he’d spent his entire childhood—alone, afraid, waiting for his father to stumble home from the bar, terrified that he wouldn’t make it; terrified that he would. Sober, Silas Stockwell had been frightened by his own shadow. Drunk, he’d feared nothing, not even God. Why should he? Whiskey had made him omnipotent. And it had made him mean.

Travis had always feared his father would die in a bar fight, crumpled in a pool of his own blood. Instead, Silas had expired in his own foul bed, a skeleton of a man ravished by the cancer that had eaten a vicious path from his liver to his brain. Sixteen-year-old Travis had watched helplessly and been filled with unbearable despair.

Despite having endured years of cruelty and beatings and drunken rage, in the end Travis had cried for his father, for the man he could have been, for the man he’d become, and for the legacy of disillusionment he’d bequeathed his only son.

“Oh, almost forgot.” Sue Anne’s voice popped the sad bubble of his thoughts. “You got mail today, something from the pro rodeo association. Looks like a flyer.”

At the moment, Travis couldn’t have cared less. “Shouldn’t have left her alone,” he mumbled to no one in particular.

Sue Anne heaved an exasperated sigh. “Oh, for corn’s sake. Quit that dadgummed pacing and come sit down.”

“I don’t want to sit down.”

“Then go jog around the block or something. You’re driving me nuts—”

“Hush,” Jimmy said suddenly, pointing at the screen. “They’re talking about the mayor.”

Frowning, Sue Anne fumbled for the remote and hiked up the volume.

“Collapsing at her home before her son’s wedding…” The bespectacled anchorman shifted and stared into the camera. “Mayor Stuart was transported to Vanderbilt Memorial, where she later died. Sources confirm that the mayor’s final word, ‘coal,’ may have been a reference to the zoning vote on a strip mining operation that had politically pitted Mayor Stuart against her son, Councillor Hal Stuart, who favors the development. In other news—” the photograph of a man Travis vaguely remembered seeing at the hospital flashed across the screen “—police are requesting citizen assistance in identifying an apparent amnesia victim. The man, who calls himself Martin Smith, was first spotted by the occupants of a vehicle trapped by a mud slide….”

The newsman continued his report, but Travis was distracted when Sue Anne suddenly lowered the volume. “Terrible thing about the mayor,” she murmured, hitching her arm over the sofa back and swiveling around to meet her brother’s gaze. “I met her once, over at Higgen’s Five and Dime. Seemed like a real nice lady.”

“Good tipper,” Jimmy added, reaching for his wife’s can of soda. “Gave me ten for a two-dollar fare.”

Sue Anne tucked her legs up and scratched her choppy hair. “This sure has been a weird week. The storm, the blackout, the biggest social event of the season going to hell in a bucket when the bride takes a powder, then the groom’s mother meets her Maker worrying about fossil fuel….”

She paused, clicked her tongue and had just shifted her monologue into general political commentary about the ills of society when Travis jerked to a stop, staring at the television. “Turn it up.” Sue Anne tossed him an annoyed glance, but complied.

“Third rape in the area since May…Although a police spokesman denies that the incidents are related, a reliable source confirms that the possibility of a serial rapist is being investigated.”

When a map flashed on the screen, superimposed with large red Xs, Travis gripped the back of the sofa. “My God, that’s just a few blocks from where Peggy lives.”

Sue Anne drew her brows together in a worried frown. “Now, Travis, don’t go getting your shorts in a twist—”

But Travis wasn’t listening. He’d already grabbed his hat and hit the door running.

* * *

The cranky sound floated into Peggy’s slumber, disrupting the most marvelous dream about a moonlit night and a romantic cowboy who bore a striking resemblance to Travis Stockwell.

She issued a disappointed sigh as the dream dissipated, and the fussy little noise became more demanding. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and automatically whipped off the covers. A moment later she was padding toward the nursery, stifling a yawn.

She turned on the hall light to illuminate the twins’ room without flooding it with blinding brilliance, and went directly toward T.J.’s crib. His little face was screwed into a purple mask of pure displeasure.

“There, there,” she murmured, scooping the firm baby body into her arms. “Mommy’s here.”

T.J. shuddered, then emitted a startled wail that roused his sister, who was clearly irritated by the interruption. With her cranky son nested against her shoulder, Peggy moved to her daughter’s crib.

“I know,” she whispered softly, laying T.J. beside his sister so she could tend them both. “Your brother is a noisy roommate, isn’t her?” Ginny blinked up, her tiny chin puckered and quivering.

It was, Peggy realized, a miniature duplicate of Clyde’s chin. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed that before. Scrutinizing her daughter’s adorable little face, she also saw that Virginia’s nose tweaked upward like her father’s.

Her father.

A venomous anger hit Peggy like a body blow. Clyde Saxon didn’t deserve the title of father. He was a coward and a cad, and Peggy was irrationally infuriated that his blood ran in the veins of her beautiful babies. It was her fault, of course. If she hadn’t been so gullibly naive, she’d have recognized the selfish serpent beneath the superficial charm. She never would have married him.

But as much as it galled her to admit it, she was secretly grateful to Clyde. If not for him, she wouldn’t have been blessed with her precious children. They were everything to her. They were her life.

Suddenly, her heart filled to overflowing as she gazed at her beloved infants laying side by side, rigid and wailing, united in baby outrage. Yes, she decided, Clyde did have one redeeming characteristic. From his gene pool this extraordinary life had sprung.

Peggy’s anger dissipated as suddenly as it had evolved. She smiled down at her children and lifted T.J. into her arms. “I think,” she murmured to both of them, “that dry diapers and a midnight snack will make you feel much better.”

Unconvinced, Virginia continued to fuss and flail her tiny fists while Peggy tended her brother. The changing process went efficiently, if not expertly. Still, Peggy was pleased. After all, she’d never changed a diaper in her life until this morning. Or was it yesterday morning? She glanced at her watch. Well after midnight, so technically it was Tuesday. She’d lost track of time.

She was a mother. Peggy could still hardly believe it.

“In less than twelve hours, you’ll be exactly three days old,” She told T.J., who didn’t seem impressed by the revelation. She tidied his gown, then repeated the changing process for his sister, who was immediately calmed by her mother’s touch. Peggy took a deep breath, smiling down at her precious babies. “There. Not bad for a rookie, hmm?”

The question so excited T.J. that he flung his fists, hit himself in the nose and let out a wail that was instantly matched by the howl of his startled sister.

Peggy’s confidence crumbled. “Sh, it’s all right, sweeties, Mommy’s here. Mommy’s—” she winced as they hiked up the volume “—here,” she finished lamely.

Clearly, the situation called for considerably more than her esteemed presence in the room. They were hungry. Both of them. At the same time.

Responding to her infants’ cries, Peggy’s breasts became engorged, painful. Two breasts. Two hungry babes. Fortuitous enough, but the thought of simultaneously juggling two feeding infants made her break out in a cold sweat.

She sighed, scooping up T.J. while Virginia thrashed with righteous indignation and struggled to focus newborn eyes. “Sorry, sweetie,” she murmured to her wailing daughter. “You’ll have to wait a few minutes. Your brother asked first.”

* * *

By a quarter of two, both infants had drifted into a satisfied slumber, and their exhausted mother returned to the sanctuary of her own tiny room. Peggy’s shoulders ached. Her head throbbed, and she was so tired she wobbled when she walked.

Her bed, invitingly tousled by her abrupt departure, beckoned like a lover. She sighed, crossed the room and glanced out the window. Something struck her as odd. She stopped, lifted a blind slat for a better look and saw a strange vehicle parked at the front curb behind her car.

A nervous skitter slipped down her spine. The full moon splashed the vehicle’s hood, providing enough illumination to confirm that Peggy had never seen it before, and she was certain it had no legitimate reason to be there.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow duck around the side of the duplex. A large shadow. A man’s shadow. Someone was out there, a sinister presence creeping beneath her bedroom window. Peggy had never been more terrified in her life.