Читать книгу Jingle Bell Baby - Kate Little, Kate Little - Страница 9

The snow was falling fast and deep as Jessie slowly drove the familiar route home. Her small white farmhouse was just a few miles outside of town but she had rarely recalled the ride taking so long. As she guided the Jeep over bumpy, snow-covered roads, she could see the police car’s headlights shining steadily a short distance behind her. She thought of the baby, secure in her basket in the back seat of Clint’s cruiser—and she thought of Clint—and tried to ignore the odd little glow inside her.

The Jeep fishtailed as she turned into the long driveway and she steered hard to avoid skidding into a pine tree. Finally the vehicle lurched to a stop, the front end sunk into a hip-high drift.

She sighed and rested her head on the steering wheel for just a second before turning off the engine. She would have to do some digging to get this heap on the road again, but right now she had more important business to tend to.

Jessie hopped out, then glanced back to the police car that had pulled up behind her. Clint was already reaching into the back seat for Daisy’s basket. He was quickly at Jessie’s side, his long legs gliding effortlessly through the deep snow.

“You go ahead and open the door,” he said.

Jessie trekked up to the door and got it unlatched, Clint following close behind. He stumbled into the house, holding out the basket like a fullback coming over the fifty-yard line.

“This baby could sleep through a tornado,” he said. “Where do you want her?”

“In the living room will be fine for now, I guess.” Just behind him, Jessie peeked inside the basket as he carried it into the living room and set it down near the Christmas tree. Daisy was still, miraculously, sound asleep. Jessie reached in and arranged the blankets around her.

“Don’t start fussing over her too much now—she’ll wake up,” Clint whispered as he crouched down next to her.

“Do you think she’s okay in there? Maybe I should make a little bed for her from a dresser drawer or something,” Jessie whispered back.

“She looks pretty snug as is. I wouldn’t move her. You’ll put her in your bedroom tonight, while you’re sleeping, right?” he asked.

“Of course I will—” Jessie turned to him, wide-eyed and indignant. “As if I’d let this little girl sleep down here all by herself.”

“All right. Just checking,” he whispered back with a hint of laughter under his voice. “No more questions, promise. I know you’ll take good care of her.”

She would indeed. That was certainly no lie. She’d take the most excellent care of this baby, even if she had to stay up all night staring at her like a loyal watchdog. What she didn’t know about baby care Jessie was determined to make up for in dedication.

“Tell me something, Jessie,” he whispered. “When you got up this morning, did you ever think you’d find something like her under your tree?”

Jessie glanced at him, but made no answer. He had a teasing edge to his voice that Jessie would bet one didn’t hear too often. She looked down at the baby again and made a tiny adjustment in Daisy’s blanket.

“To tell you the truth, she’s exactly what I asked Santa to bring me.”

“You must have been a very good girl this year,” he replied.

She gave him a questioning sidelong glance, then looked back at the baby. “What are you expecting in your stocking this year? A lump of coal, I’d bet.”

“Sounds about right,” he admitted with a nod. “But I do have my memories.” His wicked grin made her heart skip a beat.

She smiled despite herself, but didn’t dare stare into his eyes for too long.

“She’s a miracle, isn’t she?” Jessie said, turning the conversation back to the baby.

“She is, indeed.” Clint nodded, his gaze moving from the baby back to Jessie. Had he done the wrong thing by letting her take this baby home, even for one night? The expression on her lovely face was enough to move even his old battered heart. How was it that she wasn’t married with a houseful of kids of her own? This lady wanted a baby—a baby and all the trimmings. All the things that he could never give a woman.

And he had wondered why he was even thinking in that direction. It had to be the baby that had put him in this strange mood. He knew how a child, a sweet little baby girl like this one, could so easily steal your heart. And he knew the pain of losing one.

“Well, everything seems to be under control,” he whispered. “I’ve got to go.”

Abruptly he stood up. Jessie stood up, too, wondering about his abrupt change of mood. She had just been about to offer him coffee, but it was probably better that she hadn’t, she decided. She had to admit that now that he was leaving, she felt just the tiniest bit nervous about being alone with the baby.

Get a grip, she urged herself. You can’t admit now that you don’t know beans about taking care of her.

Besides, it was probably better that he was leaving. This dark, strong, mercurial man genuinely unnerved her. Still, she wondered why, while half of her was willing him to go, the other half was already wondering when she’d see him again.

“So, what happens next?” Jessie asked as she followed him to the door.

“Someone will come by tomorrow and pick up the baby. I guess they’ll call you in advance for directions and such. You’d better give me your number,” he added and took a small pad and a pen out of his jacket pocket.

Jessie gave him the number, silently registering that the someone who would call and come for the baby wouldn’t be Sheriff Bradshaw.

“Oh, and you’d better save all her blankets and the clothes that she’s dressed in. We’re going to need all of that for the investigation.”

“Investigation?”

“We’ve got to try and find her mother, or whoever it was that wrote that note,” he explained, sounding very much like an officer of the law, Jessie thought.

“But whoever left her doesn’t want her. It says so right in the note,” Jessie said. “Daisy wouldn’t be returned to someone who doesn’t want to take care of her, would she?”

The note of concern in her voice touched a nerve. The woman certainly had a point, but he sure as hell didn’t make the rules.

“It will be up to the court to decide,” he said simply. “That is, if we find her mother, or some other relative.”

“And if you don’t find anyone?”

“Then she’ll be adopted. There are thousands of couples waiting to give a baby like that lots of love and a good home,” he assured her.

Thousands of couples. The phrase echoed in Jessie’s mind. Sometimes it seemed that the world was designed like Noah’s ark; you couldn’t get anywhere if you weren’t traveling in a twosome.

“Yes, I guess there are,” she said quietly. Then in a brighter tone, she added, “Just one more thing before you go, Sheriff—”

“Yes?” he answered sharply, pinning her with a definite “what is it now?” look.

“Merry Christmas,” she answered.

“Right—Merry Christmas,” he replied gruffly. “You’ve been a great help with this situation. Thanks.”

“No thanks necessary,” Jessie replied lightly. “Thanks for trusting me with her.”

“Well, don’t think I’m not going to check you out before the night is through,” he warned her in a half-teasing tone.

“Oh?” Jessie’s eyes widened. Then she laughed. “Well, let me know if you find out anything interesting. A woman likes to live up to her reputation.”

He didn’t answer. He just stood staring down at her for a long moment, his gaze floating over her hair and eyes, lingering on her mouth. Jessie felt something passing between them that was positively electric. He was going to lean down and kiss her. She felt as if she could barely breathe. Jessie looked up at him, meeting his gaze. Her lips parted. She held her breath…

But he didn’t. He stepped back, and pulled open the door. “Good night,” he said abruptly. And without waiting for her reply, he stepped out into the falling snow.

Jessie watched from the doorway as he walked down the path to his car and drove away. He was a puzzle, wasn’t he? A tempting puzzle for a woman attracted by that kind of man.

But not her.

Not by a long shot.

She wasn’t going to get her tail tied in a knot over Sheriff Clint Bradshaw. Not tonight, anyway. She had a baby to tend to and the very thought made her glow with excitement and shiver with flat-out fear.

This was a definite case of “watch out what you wish for because you just might get it,” she reflected as she walked back to Daisy’s basket. Well, it was just one night, she reminded herself, and the night was nearly over besides. Surely she could manage to care for one little tiny baby for a few hours? Why, the poor little girl would probably be asleep the entire time anyway.

It was almost as if Daisy had read Jessie’s mind and had, on cue, decided to prove just how wrong a person could be about a baby. One moment, she was sleeping peacefully as Jessie looked on, contemplating how her tiny features were set in the most angelic expression. And a split second later, she was screaming at the top of her lungs, her body stretched with tension, her little face turning as red as a Christmas ball.

“Here we go again,” Jessie mumbled, shaking her head as she reached for the baby. “Oh, now, now, sweetie. What’s all this racket about, honey pie?” she asked the baby as she lifted her up.

It seemed unlikely that Daisy would be hungry so soon after having virtually inhaled that huge bottle, Jessie reasoned. It had to be something else. Her diaper! Yes, that was it. She hadn’t given the downtown area any attention recently and was sure that must be the cause of Daisy’s hysteria.

“Okay, sweetie. I think I have a clue now—” With the crying baby slung over her shoulder, Jessie scampered around the house, pulling open drawers and closets with her one free hand as she tried to fix up a makeshift diaper station.

She brought all the supplies into the living room and tossed them on the couch. Then she laid Daisy down on the couch on an open bath towel and got to work. Removing the dirty diaper and cleaning the baby’s bottom was no problem. But the disposable diapers were not nearly so easy to use as they looked. Jessie found that securing one around a squirming, wailing infant was quite a challenge. Almost as fast as Jessie could get the diaper on her, Daisy seemed to twist and burst out of it, messing up all the sticky stuff on the tabs.

When Daisy was finally, though haphazardly, diapered to Jessica’s satisfaction, the room was littered with clean but unusable failed attempts.

The baby’s nightgown and undershirt were also wet, Jessie noticed while diapering her. After another long bout of squirming, crying and figuring out what seemed to Jessie a very complicated arrangement of snaps, Daisy had on a fresh diaper and a clean, dry undershirt and nightie.

Exhausted but proud, Jessie picked up Daisy and carried her back to her basket. Just as she was placing the baby back in her basket, however, she realized that somewhere during the clothes change, Daisy had managed to dirty her diaper again.

This time, in a more substantial manner.

“Courage, Malone,” Jessica said, bolstering herself. “You can do it.”

Daisy smiled up at her and stuck her fist in her mouth.

Jessica carried her back to the couch, and went through the entire operation one more time.

By the time Jessie had Daisy cleaned up again, the baby had begun a whimpering cry. Jessie realized that several hours had passed since she’d been fed. She fixed Daisy’s bottle quickly and fed her.

She was careful this time to remember to burp the baby. As Daisy gave out another astounding burp, Jessie glanced at the clock. It was well after three. Didn’t babies need to sleep a lot? Daisy seemed totally unaware of that part of her job description and did not look to Jessie at all likely to fall asleep anytime soon.

Jessie swaddled Daisy in a blanket and sat down with her in a rocker near the Christmas tree. The only lights in the room were the brightly colored tree lights, and through the large bay window Jessie could see the snow outside still falling.

In an hour or two, Christmas would be here, Jessie thought. As she rocked Daisy and hummed a lullaby, she thought back to the Christmas-morning rituals of her childhood. No matter how early she woke up, Aunt Claire had always gotten up just a little before her and there was a big mug of hot cocoa and a slice of her aunt’s special cinnamon Christmas bread waiting at her place. And even though the bread and cocoa were delicious, Jessie couldn’t sit still at the table long enough to eat them. With her mug and dish in hand, she’d dash into the living room and start unwrapping her presents as Aunt Claire looked on.

Jessie missed her aunt especially on the holiday. She could only dimly remember her parents, who died in a car accident when she was four years old. Claire, her father’s older sister, had taken her in.

Claire had never married or had children of her own, and though she was well into middle age when Jessie arrived in her life, she was a wonderful, devoted parent. She had showered Jessie with love and had been there for her, to celebrate her successes and support her over the rough spots.

Not that there had been all that many rough spots, Jessie conceded. She’d just hit one great big one, on Christmas Day five years ago; a major pothole on the road of life that had spun her life around like a crash car in a demolition derby.

She was to marry Sam Kincaid, the boy she’d grown up with, the first boy she’d ever kissed, had ever flirted with, danced with, had ever made promises and plans with. But when the time had come for their marriage ceremony to begin, Jessie had waited at the church, dressed in her white satin gown, as her family and friends looked on. Even now she remembered thinking how lucky it was that the veil had been pulled over her face, concealing her distraught expression as she’d waited. And waited. And waited.

Finally the minister had taken her aside. Some flowers had been delivered for her. He’d led her to his office and had given her the bouquet. A letter had been attached, from Sam. It’d been full of regrets and apologies. But still, Sam didn’t want to marry her. It wouldn’t be fair, he’d explained, since he had fallen in love with someone else. That someone else being a woman who was willing and even eager to make a life in the city—in Boston, or maybe even New York. While he knew that Jessie would never willingly leave Hope Springs.

I am sorry for the pain I have caused you, Jessie, he’d written, but I know someday you will look back and see that it has all turned out for the best.

Well, five years to the day had passed and still that elusive “someday” had not arrived. Jessie wondered if it ever would. Oh, she had quickly learned that there was indeed life after Sam. She’d picked up her skirts and plowed on, as Aunt Claire would say, and had never wasted a moment feeling sorry for herself.

The time had passed. People finally stopped talking about her “disappointment.” Year to year, her life changed. Aunt Claire decided she’d had enough New England winters for one lifetime and had retired to Arizona. She left Jessie the café and enough money to buy her own home.

In the past five years, Jessie had done her fair share of dating, yet she had never fallen in love again. Did you only get one chance for love and happiness? she sometimes wondered. Had her chance been used up on Sam Kincaid?

Maybe she was waiting in vain for something that didn’t exist. Maybe she should just marry the next nice, acceptable man that came her way. Was there even such a thing as true love? She believed she had felt it for Sam and yet, their marriage had been so…expected. Expected by their parents and friends—by the whole town, actually. Thinking back, she couldn’t even recall if Sam had actually proposed to her. Had she and Sam really loved each other—or were the feelings they shared more a mixture of familiarity, friendship and adolescent hormones?

Perhaps the only deep regret she had now about missing out on marriage was the fact that she wanted a baby—a baby just like sweet little Daisy, who was cuddled against her and not far from sleep.

Jessie glanced at the presents under her tree that her aunt and friends had sent her. The best gift of all this Christmas was Daisy, she realized, looking down again at the bundle in her arms. Daisy had finally fallen asleep, her head nestled against Jessie’s breast. Jessie stared down at her in wonder. She knew now what it was to hold an angel in her arms.

If only I could keep her, she thought. Keep her forever.

Daisy shifted in her sleep and Jessie wondered if she should get up and settle Daisy comfortably in her basket. But then she decided not to risk waking her so soon after she’d fallen asleep. Jessie closed her tired eyes and kept rocking.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Jessie opened her eyes. Someone was banging on the door. She started to get up and her sleep-muddled mind wondered for a second why she had fallen asleep in the rocker. Her body ached—especially her arms—and she realized in a flash that the strange weight in her arms was a sleeping baby.

Jessie’s eyes fully opened and it all came back to her. She had fallen asleep in the rocker with Daisy. She wondered what time it was. The living room was dark, but not nighttime dark. She glanced out the window and realized that the snow was still falling.

The thumping had stopped for a moment, but now started again in earnest. Daisy was squirming, but not quite awake. Jessie got up from the chair with the sleepy baby cuddled against her shoulder.

Jessie trudged to the door and pulled it open. She felt a knot instantly clench up in her stomach.

“Looks like I woke you,” Clint Bradshaw greeted her.

She hadn’t been able to guess who was banging on her door. But he was the last person she’d expected to see. Was he here to take Daisy after all? So early?

“I guess you did.” Jessie lifted a hand to her sleeptousled hair. She couldn’t imagine what she looked like. She didn’t want to know. “We—uh, had a late night,” she said. She pulled the door open wider and stepped aside. He came inside, his big body instantly filling up the small foyer and creating an uncomfortable sense of intimacy between them.

He stared down at her. “How’s the baby?”

“Oh, she’s fine.” Jessie looked at the drowsy baby, then back up at Clint. “Still a little sleepy, I guess.”

“Did she cry much last night?”

“A little,” Jessie replied. “I guess she missed her mother.”

Jessie could now recall falling asleep with Daisy in the chair the first time. Daisy waking, getting fed and changed and having another crying spell a few hours after that and Jessie ending up right back in the chair with her sometime right before dawn, only to fall asleep again.

“Yes, I guess so,” he answered, nodding.

Enough of the small talk, Sheriff, she wanted to say. It’s really not your style anyway.

“Have you come to take her?” Jessie forced herself to ask him.

He removed his hat and gloves. His expression showed no emotion. “Tired of her already?”

“No—no, not at all. She’s not a bit of trouble,” Jessie protested, some part of her mind registering that in some sense, her words weren’t entirely true. The baby had been heaps of trouble and had kept her running all night long. But she wouldn’t have traded those hours with Daisy for anything.

Clint looked down at her, his gaze narrowed. And though the look was clearly a suspicious one, Jessie couldn’t help but notice the attractive little lines fanning out at the corners of his eyes. Damn, but the man was something to look at. Even more so in the light of day.

“Well, you can keep her here until tomorrow. Or maybe even the day after,” Clint said. “Providing, of course, you want to.”

“Two whole days?” Jessie felt her deflated heart fill with joy. “You mean it?”

“I guess that’s a yes,” Clint said dryly, the hint of a smile teasing the corner of his mouth.

“Of course it’s a yes.” Jessie smiled up at him. “But why? I thought you said someone would come for her today.”

“The roads between here and Whitewood are a mess with the snow and the social services people at the hospital are all off for the holiday anyway,” he explained. “Nobody seems to think that there’s any emergency about bringing her in.”

“Did you hear that, baby?” Jessie happily whispered to Daisy. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and it will snow for a week.”

“Yeah, well, it just might.” Clint didn’t seem to consider this a fortunate turn of events, Jessie noticed. “We’ll see how you sound two days from now, snowed in with a tiny baby.”

“I wouldn’t mind being snowed in with her for a month,” Jessie replied.

Daisy, who was balanced on her hip, reached up and grabbed a long loose curl of Jessie’s hair. She yanked it with surprising strength. “Ouch!” Jessie yelped and gently pried the baby’s fingers free. “No, honey. Not the hair,” Jessie said patiently.

Clint glanced down at her with an “I told you so” look, but she ignored him.

“I brought you some supplies,” he said. “They’re out in the car.”

“Supplies?”

“Diapers, bottles, formula, rubber ducks. Hell, from what I’ve seen, babies need mountains of stuff,” he said as he pulled on his gloves and hat again. “And you can’t very well take her out in this weather,” he added, his hand on the door. “She doesn’t even have a snowsuit or a car seat.”

“Uh, no, she doesn’t. I guess you’re right,” she had to agree.

Snowsuits? Car seats? Jessie wondered how he had become so well-versed in the secret language of babies. Was he married with enough offspring to fill a minivan? He looked and acted single. And he didn’t wear a wedding ring. But all that could be said of many men who were anything but unattached, Jessie reminded herself.

“I’ll be right back,” Clint said, swinging open the door. “Better keep her out of the cold draft.”

“Oh, right. I’ll leave the door unlatched,” Jessie said, heading for the living room.

As Clint disappeared out into the snow again, Jessie dashed to her bedroom, hugging Daisy close. She set Daisy on the bed and quickly changed her diaper. She had perfected her technique during the night and now managed to put a fresh diaper on the baby without using up half a bag of them in the process.

She was about to scoop Daisy up and take her back out to the living room when she caught sight of her own reflection in the mirror over her oak dressing table.

Jessie winced.

After bringing Daisy in last night, she hadn’t had a moment to think about herself. Not even time enough to shower and change into her nightgown. She had slept in the rocking chair, wearing a big plaid bathrobe over her waitress uniform. Half the pins had fallen out of her hair and it now looked like something was nesting on her head.

Oh, Lordy! It was amazing the man didn’t turn and run when I opened the door this morning, she thought. She was about to put Daisy down and attempt some emergency repairs when she heard an unholy roar from the living room.

“What in God’s name—” It was Clint. She scooped up Daisy, then rushed down the hallway just in time to see Clint standing in the doorway of her living room with white parcels hanging from each hand.

She wondered what the problem was. Had he hurt himself? Twisted an ankle in the snow? She drew closer and stood right behind him. She looked past his broad back and through the doorway to see what he saw.

The living room looked like a cyclone had struck. Large, white balls of rejected diapers littered the couch and floor. Baby clothes, towels, all of Daisy’s blankets, cotton balls and a few brightly colored plastic cups that Jessie had used to amuse the baby, covered every flat surface.

Just the fallout from her wild night with Daisy, but she hadn’t had a chance to tidy up.

He turned to her, his expression dark, his gaze pinning her like a butterfly on a specimen tray.

“What the hell happened in there?”

“It…uh, got a little out of control last night with the baby, I guess,” Jessie stammered. “She wasn’t…um, quite as easy as I thought to take care of.”

“You told me you knew all about taking care of a baby,” he reminded her in a stern, quiet tone.

Jessie’s mind raced. She could lie her way out of this. She could tell him that Daisy was a particularly difficult baby. The roughest, toughest, most stubborn little critter she’d ever come across. Though the baby’s present calm disposition certainly belied that explanation.

“Well? Do you or don’t you?” he demanded.

“It’s just—” Jessie cleared her throat and started over. “It’s just that it’s been a while since I watched a baby alone and those darn disposable diapers must have been factory rejects because—”

Daisy reached up and swatted Jessie’s mouth. The baby had obviously been entranced by the movement of her lips, but the gesture made Jessie think she was trying to say, “Cut the bull, Jessie. This guy isn’t buying.”

Jessie paused and looked down at Daisy. She took her little hand and pressed a soft kiss on the baby’s palm. Daisy gurgled and smiled.

“You don’t really have much experience caring for kids, do you?” he asked again, in a softer tone.

“Uh, no.” Jessie glanced up him, then down at Daisy again. “No, I don’t,” she admitted with a sigh. “But I must say I got a crash course last night.”

“It sure as hell looks like somethin, crashed in there,” Clint said, glancing into the living room again. “Crashed and burned.”

Jessie studied his expression. The elation she’d felt hearing that Daisy was staying for the next two days instantly drained away.

She walked past him into the living room and sat down in the rocker. She sat Daisy on her lap and rocked. The baby’s eyes widened and she smiled as the chair dipped to and fro.

“I guess that means you don’t want to leave her with me after all,” Jessie said with her gaze still fixed on Daisy.

Clint was standing near the chair, looking down at the two of them. He pulled off his gloves, then removed his jacket and placed it on a chair. He sighed and rubbed his face with his hand.

“I don’t know that I have much of a choice,” he finally replied.

Jessie looked up at him. She could feel her gaze getting misty, her eyes filling with tears. This was so silly. She knew the baby had to go sooner or later. Today or the day after next. What did it matter? And she had lied to him. She could no longer deny it.

She sniffed and looked down at Daisy again. She didn’t want to cry. At least not in front of him.

Daisy was happily amusing herself with Jessie’s fingers. She let out a happy, high-pitched shriek that shattered the tense silence.

“What now?” Jessie asked him in a thick voice.

He ran a hand absently through his thick hair. A muscle twitched in his lean cheek, yet his expression showed nothing. Not anger or even annoyance. Certainly not sympathy.

“I guess I’ll have to take her back,” he said.

And the look on her face just about broke his heart. Those huge brown eyes, glistening with unshed tears. Her head bowed again as she stared down at the baby who sat so contentedly in her lap. She looked as if she’d run herself ragged last night, he noted. Without a word of complaint, either. He had the craziest urge to lean over and wrap his arms around her, to feel her head rest on his shoulder as some of that wild, wonderful hair brushed against his cheek.

You are ten kinds of a fool, Clint silently cussed himself. He should have known better than to get involved with this woman—he should have known a hell of lot better by now.

Jessie cleared her throat and looked up at him. “You seem to know a lot about babies,” she remarked in a quiet voice. “What to do for them and everything.”

His eyes narrowed. His expression hardened. “I’m not able to care for Daisy, if that’s what you’re driving at. For one thing, there’s no one to stay with her when I’m on my shift, or called out for an emergency.”

All he’d said was true and certainly logical. But there was something under his words, some other, more personal reason why caring for Daisy by himself was not an option—though he clearly knew how. Something in his past, Jessie guessed. She had the urge to probe further, yet something in the way Clint looked at her at that very moment warned her off. His look told her that she was treading on very sensitive ground and would do best to back off.

“Oh, I understand,” Jessie said. “I wasn’t suggesting that you could look after her. It’s just that, I was thinking, since you do seem to know how to care for her so much better than I do, that you could stay awhile and show me what to do. You know, sort of give me some baby lessons?”