Читать книгу Be My Baby - Holly Jacobs - Страница 10

“The forecast for Erie, Pennsylvania, calls for lake-effect snow. We’re expecting anywhere from twelve to more than eighteen inches in the snowbelt tonight. Just another snowy Erie winter. It’s good to know that some things never change…”

Change.

Amelia Gallagher switched off the radio with a bit more force than was required. She could do with a change. But it looked like what she was getting was more snow.

A lot more snow.

“If you keep glaring like that, you’re going to scare away the paying customers,” Larry Mackenzie said as he walked into Wagner, McDuffy, Chambers and Donovan law firm.

She watched him as he stomped his feet on the entryway floor, leaving a small pile of snow on the carpet.

Mac was easy on the eyes. As a matter of fact, some might say the phrase tall, dark and handsome had been invented with him in mind. But Amelia knew the truth. Her mother used to say pretty is as pretty does, and what Larry Mackenzie did best was annoy her.

Of course, she did her best to annoy him right back.

He didn’t feel the name Larry inspired the type of confidence an attorney should inspire, so he preferred being called Mac, which is precisely why Amelia said, “Larry—”

“Mac,” he corrected her for the millionth time.

Amelia hid a smile as she continued. “You’re making a mess on the floor and I’m not cleaning it up.”

He scowled, which cheered her considerably.

She handed him a number of memos. “You’ve had three messages from a Kim Lindsay while you were at court. She says to call her right away.”

He glanced at the top paper she handed him and studied the name a moment. “Lindsay…Kim Lindsay? It doesn’t ring a bell. Did she say what it was about?”

Amelia shrugged. “Listen, I just take the messages, I don’t get an autobiography. You probably met her at a bar last week and have forgotten her already.”

“The only bar I attended was a Bar Mitzvah for Mark’s kid.”

“Funny, Larry.”

That was the thing about Larry Mackenzie—he thought he was funny.

Come to think of it, most people agreed with him. But Amelia didn’t, although she could think of a number of descriptions she did feel suited him.

Annoying.

Egotistical.

Frustrating.

Cavalier.

Annoying…oh, she’d already thought that.

Gorgeous, if a woman was into superficial looks…which Amelia wasn’t. It’s just sometimes she forgot she wasn’t and couldn’t help but enjoy the view.

Like right now, as he stood, laughing because he thought he’d verbally bested her with his Bar Mitzvah comment…if he was anyone else, she’d have to say that twinkle of humor in his eye was endearing.

But endearing wasn’t one of the words she’d ever use to describe Larry Mackenzie.

To clear her head of such inappropriate thoughts, she stared at the puddle he left on the floor with his unstomped shoes.

There. She felt better.

Larry was annoying.

Egotistical.

She sighed as she realized that she was just recycling terms. She’d just have to spend the rest of her day thinking up other appropriate adjectives—non-gorgeous ones—to describe Larry Mackenzie. It wouldn’t do to run out of them if she needed them.

“Listen, if you can’t manage calling me Mac, maybe you should call me Mr. Mackenzie?”

“Or maybe I should simply call you—”

She couldn’t think of a barb to end the sentence with, but thankfully, Larry would never know because at the moment, Elias Donovan, the firm’s newest partner, walked into the building and said, “Tsk, tsk, tsk, kids. If you’re going to fight, I’m going to have to put you in separate corners.”

He’d kicked off most of the snow outside on the steps, which was considerate, unlike some people who didn’t care how much work they made for others.

“Separate is always good, at least when it comes to Larry and me,” she said.

Mac, without saying another word, stalked up the stairs toward his office.

“Do you have to pick on him like that?” Donovan asked.

“No. I also don’t have to floss every day, but I like my teeth and hope to keep them, so I do. Just like I enjoy needling Mac and would hate to lose my edge.”

Donovan laughed as he started up the stairs to his office. He turned and added, “In case I forget later, call me if you need a ride Monday, okay? Your car won’t make it out of the drive if the storm hits.”

“Thanks, Donovan,” Amelia said.

Donovan was a nice guy…unlike some other people in this firm.

Why, Mac wouldn’t care if she got stuck somewhere between home and work, but Donovan did. He’d just purchased a new four-wheel-drive truck last fall and had given her rides on a few of the worst days between then and now.

Of course, it helped that she was good friends with his wife, Sarah. Sarah worried about her and probably told Donovan to ask. But it didn’t matter who told him, Donovan was a nice guy who was right, her car wouldn’t make it if the storm hit.

Amelia’s old car was on its last legs—or tires as the case may be. But she’d just paid her brother’s last tuition payment, and as soon as she could save up a down payment, she was going to celebrate by buying a new car.

Brand new.

Something that had that new car smell.

Cloth seats at the very least.

Maybe even leather.

Her friend, Libby, had just bought a new car with automatic ignition and electric seat-warmers. Just push a little button from the warmth of your house, and then walk out five minutes later to a warm car and warm seats.

Oh, the utter decadent luxury of it all.

Soon Amelia would save enough money to get something like it. After years of taking care of other people, she would finally be able to concentrate on what she wanted.

Their dad had left them when Amelia was young, not that he’d ever really been with them, even when he still lived at home.

She hadn’t mourned her father’s leaving. But her mom…when she had died, Amelia thought her heart would break. She was only twenty-one, but knew what she had to do. She dropped out of college and took over as head of the family. Her brothers deserved all the breaks she could give them.

After scrimping and scraping for the last six years to get both Marty and Ryan through college, she was now a financially independent woman. She’d spent her life looking after people, now all she had to do was look after herself. She could do all the things she’d always dreamed of.

At least, she could if she could figure them out.

Maybe she’d go back to school. Maybe she’d take up skydiving. Maybe…

There was a world of opportunity out there. A new car with seat-warmers was just the start. Life was just waiting for Amelia Gallagher to discover it.

No, not Amelia.

That was a name that sounded weighted with responsibilities.

Mia.

Her family had always called her Mia when she was younger. When she was carefree. Somewhere along the line they’d stopped and she’d become Amelia.

Amelia. The responsible one. The one who took care of things…who took care of the rest of them.

Well, she was carefree again and she would soon discover what that meant. She was Mia again. Amelia might not know just what she was going to do, but Mia was going to figure it out.

Annoying attorneys forgotten, Mia continued to fantasize about all the things she could do now, starting with the car she was going to buy soon.

Very soon.

“This is just a stop-gap measure, Mr. Mackenzie. You’ll have to decide soon, very soon.”

“Legally, it’s my right.” Mac didn’t know many things—and at this moment, the biggest thing he didn’t know was what he was doing—but he knew the law.

“I don’t know if exercising that right is in the best interest of the child, and that’s all that concerns me,” Ms. Lindsay said, giving him a look that clearly stated that she was positive Mac couldn’t handle the job.

“Her mother named me guardian, and as such, it’s up to me to worry about Katie’s upbringing.”

He was responsible. The thought scared Mac to the very core of his being, and he was man enough to admit it. At least to himself.

He was responsible for a baby.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do about her, but he was sure he wouldn’t drop the ball…not like his parents had.

He slammed the door shut on that thought.

He wouldn’t mess things up for this baby like his parents messed things up for him.

It wasn’t as if it was a life-long commitment. He would find her a home—a loving, dependable adoptive home with people who would love her and always be there for her—and that would be that.

It amazed him how much things had changed in just one short hour.

Just sixty minutes ago he’d returned Kim Lindsay’s call. Of all the things he’d expected, this wasn’t even the glimmer of a possibility. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of Esther Thomas’s living room with the mysterious Kim Lindsay.

She wasn’t someone he’d met and forgotten as Amelia had suggested. Leave it to Amelia to always suspect the worst of him. Just this once, he wished she’d been right. It would be so much easier if Kim Lindsay was just another person he’d met and could forget. But no, Ms. Lindsay was a social worker assigned to his case.

Not his case, but Katie O’Keefe’s case. It had been Kim Lindsay’s job to find out if the infant had any relatives to care for her and to make arrangements if she didn’t.

Katie O’Keefe didn’t have any relatives, but she had Mac.

Her guardian.

He was responsible for the baby. That was something Ms. Lindsay was having problems remembering.

“I already have a foster home lined up for her,” Ms. Lindsay said. “The super let me into Marion’s apartment and I found your name as her emergency contact.”

“Not an emergency contact, a guardian. I’ve shown you copies of all the papers.” He was glad that he’d thought to bring them.

“And you told me that you never imagined it would come to this, that you don’t know the first thing about babies, and don’t plan on keeping her. If that’s the case—”

“I’d be willing to keep her, for a fee. Just enough to cover the costs,” Esther Thomas wheedled.

Mac looked at Marion O’Keefe’s neighbor. She looked frail with age, hardly able to take care of herself, much less a baby.

“No,” he said, his response was quickly echoed by the social worker. They exchanged conspiratorial smiles. They might not agree on where Katie O’Keefe should stay, but they obviously had no trouble agreeing it wasn’t here.

“I mean,” Mac said when the old woman scowled, “while I appreciate all you’ve done for Katie, her mother wanted me to care for her, and that’s just what I’m going to do.”

“Ms. Thomas, would you excuse us a moment?” Ms. Lindsay asked.

“Yeah, whatever. Her mother never wanted me to baby-sit either, as if I can’t take care of a baby…” The older woman wandered down the hall, muttering to herself.

Ms. Lindsay studied a file.

Mac recognized the move. He often employed it himself. Looking at the file gave her a feeling of authority, reminding both of them that she was in charge.

Mac waited to see what her next argument was.

He didn’t have to wait long.

She looked up from the chart and met his gaze. Before she could say anything he said, “I’m taking her with me. After all, it’s just short-term. Her mother trusted me with her care.”

“Tell me again how that came about?”

“Ms. O’Keefe didn’t have any family. The baby’s father died before she was born. Marion wanted to see to it her daughter never ended up in a foster home. She knew she needed a guardian, someone to see to the baby’s future in case anything happened. She’d read about some of my cases, and knew that I’d been instrumental in arranging a few adoptions.”

Mac did pro-bono work for Our Home, a nonprofit agency that tried to place special needs children into adoptive families. But he didn’t work with the children personally and he’d never served as anyone’s guardian.

He should have told the woman no. It was legal in Pennsylvania for a lawyer to serve as guardian, but rare. He should have simply said no.

Mac had been ready to do just that. But when Marion O’Keefe had come to his office she’d seemed so alone as she told him her story. And despite his best intentions, he empathized. He knew what that felt like to have no one to turn to.

She’d looked at him, her need apparent in her eyes. “There’s no one else to ask, Mr. Mackenzie. I wouldn’t expect you to raise her, but you’ve done adoption cases, worked with a lot of kids. You’d find her a good home.”

“Her?” he’d asked.

“Her. I had a sonogram. It’s a girl.” Marion had smiled then and run her hand lightly across her stomach, a small caress filled with love.

That’s when he realized he couldn’t say no.

The memory still hit Mac hard. At that moment he’d envied the unborn baby. Her mother had wanted her so much. Marion O’Keefe had loved her child before she was even born. She’d worried about the baby’s future and had trusted him to see to that future if she couldn’t.

In the end, he didn’t have the heart to refuse her request. He’d agreed to act as her unborn child’s guardian if anything should happen to her, and then dismissed the entire incident. After all, Marion O’Keefe had been young and seemed healthy. No one could have predicted the aneurism that had taken her life.

Mac felt a stab of sorrow for the woman’s passing, for the baby who would never know how loved she’d been before she was even born.

He might not have thought it would come to this, but the baby was his responsibility. He wasn’t going to fail Marion or her child. Marion’s baby would never know her mother’s love, but Mac would see to it she was placed in a home where she would know love. He wouldn’t trust her care to strangers. Until he found her a new home, he’d watch over the baby.

“I promised her mother and I have an ethical obligation to personally see to the baby.”

“But—”

“Ms. Lindsay, unless you can come up with a legal reason why I can’t take the child, then this conversation is over.”

The woman sighed. “Would you at least take my card and phone if you need anything?”

“Listen, I might be stubborn,” he flashed her a smile, hoping to charm her out of her annoyance, “but I’m not stupid.”

He took the card. “I’ll call regardless and let you know how we’re doing and what I decide.”

“Fine. There wasn’t much at the apartment. Not even a crib for the baby. I don’t think her mother had much.”

“I don’t either,” Mac said. “I offered to write her will pro bono, but she refused.”

Marion O’Keefe had been a proud, loving woman. She’d made payments. Five dollars every week, like clockwork.

Mac would make sure Katie knew that about her mother.

“The super said he’d pack all her personal items and ship them to you for Katie.”

“That’s fine.”

The social worker started toward the door. “Mr. Mackenzie, do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

“She’s how old?” he asked, knowing it was less than a year since Marion O’Keefe had sat in his office.

Ms. Lindsay glanced at her chart again. “Seven months.”

“Seven months.” He laughed. “How hard could it be?”

This time it was Kim Lindsay who laughed. “I’ll talk to you in a couple days and you can let me know your answer then.”

Ms. Thomas came back down the hall, carrying a bag. “I put her clothes and stuff in here. There’s only two more diapers, so you’d better stop and get some.”

“Thank you, Ms. Thomas.” He took the bag.

“Let me go get her.”

It would have been so much easier if Mac had allowed Ms. Lindsay to place the baby with someone who had experience with children. Social Services shouldn’t have much trouble finding someone to adopt a baby.

Yet, he couldn’t entrust her care to someone else.

He might not know this baby, but he knew that she was special.

So, he’d find a loving home for her. Someplace where she’d never want for anything, emotionally or financially.

“Here she is,” said Ms. Thomas. She held the baby in a clean, soft blanket that looked out of place in the run-down apartment.

Mac took it and looked down at an angelic-looking face. Sleeping, her thumb tucked into the corner of her mouth, Katie O’Keefe was a beautiful baby. He ran a finger across her small pudgy cheek and something inside him twisted. She was so small, so vulnerable.

He pulled the blanket away from her head and revealed an amazing shock of red hair. She reminded him of her mother. He felt a surge of sympathy for this baby who would never know her mother, would never remember how much she was loved.

He’d find her a home—the perfect home. Until he did, he’d watch out for her.

“Thank you again, Ms. Thomas.”

The old woman humphed an inarticulate reply.

Mac started toward the door.

What on earth was he going to do now? He’d assured the social worker and the baby-sitter that he could handle this. He knew the child had immediate needs, but he didn’t even know where to begin.

He needed help.

But asking for help wasn’t Mac’s forte.

He tried to imagine who he could go to. He could call Mrs. Z., who was the closest thing he had to a mother, but she was in Pittsburgh. Not that he doubted she’d come help, but he couldn’t impose on her.

The head of the firm, Leland Wagner, had grown daughters, or maybe even his wife would give him some pointers. But the idea of going to Mrs. Wagner for help didn’t sit well.

There were other women attorneys and wives of attorneys at the firm. He could call one of them and ask for help in getting the baby settled.

He tried to concentrate on asking one of them, but the whole time, a mental image kept forming in his mind. It wasn’t an attorney, or a spouse.

It was Amelia Gallagher.

Why on earth had asking her for help even crossed his mind? She didn’t like him and went out of her way to show it. Which was fine, because he didn’t like her either.

Oh, she was a beautiful woman…very beautiful. But she didn’t seem to notice it. She was completely unaffected. But any red-blooded man noticed. Short blond hair and amazing blue eyes. Pleasant enough features. But that was just a laundry list of Amelia’s physical attributes.

They weren’t why she was beautiful.

It was her smile. He swore when her lips moved to the small upturned curve, it shot something right into her eyes and actually made them shine.

Katie made a small noise, interrupting Mac’s thoughts, which was a good thing, because to the best of his knowledge he’d never thought anyone had shining eyes before. And he sincerely hoped he never did again.

Shining had nothing to do with his point.

Katie gurgled.

“What is my point?” he asked her.

She gurgled again.

His point was, Amelia was a woman, so she must know something about babies. And he’d pay her. Goodness knows she always snapped at the chance to work overtime.

Paying her.

Hiring someone to help was better than asking someone for a favor.

Mac realized he’d reached his car. He looked down at the baby, the bag and car seat.

How on earth was he going to manage all of this?

It was four fifty-five. Five more minutes and Mia could call it quits.

Thank goodness.

This had been a long, exhausting day.

First the copier had broken down.

Then the copier repair guy said he couldn’t possibly come repair it until Monday, which meant half the firm came down to her desk clamoring for copies of life-or-death documents. So, Mia had forgone her lunch hour and taken a stack of papers to a neighboring copy center.

Phone calls, messages, and then there was the one distraught woman who’d left the office in tears. She hadn’t said what the problem was, but it had taken Mia a good fifteen minutes to get her calmed down.

The only highlight of her day was her argument with Mac.

Four minutes.

Mia stood and started to straighten up her desk.

A hot bath.

With bubbles and a good book.

Oh, she had such plans for the evening.

She pulled her boots from the coat closet and slipped off her heels. They weren’t the most elegant-looking boots, but Mia didn’t care about elegance. She cared about warmth. The heater in her car was broken, and most days she was lucky if it warmed up enough to keep ice from forming on the front windshield. It never truly got warm enough to take the chill off.

She slipped on her boots.

Three minutes to go.

“Night, Amelia,” Donovan and a couple other attorneys called as they all headed out together.

“Night.”

Two minutes.

Leland Wagner, the firm’s senior partner followed close on their heels. “You’ll lock up, dear?”

“Sure thing.”

“Would you like me to stay and make sure your car starts?”

Her battery had died last week and she’d had to wait for AAA to come and jump start her car. “No, sir. I had a new battery put in. I should be fine.”

“Very well. Good night, and drive carefully.”

“You, too.”

Five o’clock.

She was out of here.

She bundled into a sweater, and then her thin jacket.

Maybe before she bought a new car she’d buy a new coat.

Ah, but if she had a new car, she wouldn’t need a new coat. If she got the auto-ignition and seat-warmers it would be toasty before she ever got out there.

Pondering which was the wiser course, she wrapped her scarf around her neck again and again, then stuffed a woolen hat on her head.

Feeling stiff beneath her layers, she picked up her bag and walked toward the front door. She flipped on the security alarm, and then let herself out, checking that everything was locked up tight.

The world was white.

Snow was falling in big, thick flakes. There was at least a couple inches of snow since she’d left the office at lunch. It wasn’t a blizzard yet, but she had no problem imagining it turning into one.

Mia had just started down the steps when a blue Explorer pulled up at the curb.

The passenger window descended. “Amelia, I’m glad you’re still here,” Mac called.

“What did you need, Larry,” she said.

“I need you,” he replied, not even commenting on her use of his first name.

Mia managed to keep from choking at his reply, but barely. “Pardon me?”

“Not you, your help,” he corrected himself. “Get in the car, please?”

“But—”

“Please, Amelia?”

There was something in his voice that told Mia that now was not the time to argue or taunt him. Something was wrong.

She waddled her well-layered self toward the car, and as she got closer she heard noise. Lots of noise. It wasn’t music. Or if it was, it was the most awful music ever.

It sounded like—

She opened the door and peeked in the back seat.

It was.

A baby.

And a crying baby, at that.