Читать книгу Three Boys and a Baby - Laura Marie Altom - Страница 11

“What’ve you got?” Jackson asked, pulse raging upon seeing Hank’s number on his cell’s Caller ID.

“Great news. We’ve found ’em. All four tired and dirty, but safe and sound.”

Relief made Jackson fall to his knees.

“Jackson?” Ella demanded, kneeling beside him. “What is it? Are they hurt?”

Tears he never indulged in flowed.

He pulled her into a hug, burying his face in her hair. “They’re safe. Dillon, your boys—even this mystery baby. All safe.”

He’d started to release her, but now she was crying, quivering, so he held on for dear life. Celebrating life. The lives of their sons. His own life which had miraculously been returned.

“I can’t believe it,” she said, pulling away slightly, her happy, teary smile making her face glow. “I mean, I can. I knew they’d be safe—wanted to hope. But the fear, it took over.”

He nodded. “I know. Wanna go get them? Hank took them to the station. No doubt loading them with candy bars and cookies.”

“Hmm…” she teased, already rising, laughter crinkling the corners of her eyes as she held out her hand to help him. “With all those sweets in them, maybe we should leave them there till they come down from the sugar high?”

OLIVER DIDN’T WANT TO CRY when he first saw his mom running with Dillon’s dad toward him and Dillon and Owen, but as hard as he tried being big, being in charge of two kids and a baby for all that time had taken a lot out of him.

“Mommy!” Owen said, changing to his baby voice, like when he was scared of storms. He got to her first, throwing his arms around her waist. “I missed you so bad. I was starving and Oliver was mean and—”

“I wasn’t mean. I even gave you the last bite of that granola bar and—”

“Did not!” Owen complained. “And anyway, get back. I’m mad at you.”

“You get back! And quit hogging Mom.” Oliver nudged his creepy twin out of the way, grabbing hold of her himself. Squeezing really hard, he closed his eyes and sighed. Man, she smelled nice. Like those good-smelling dryer-sheet thingies she used.

“I missed you so much,” she said, hugging them both.

“Yeah, but you missed me more, right?” Owen pushed in closer. Geez, he was a spoiled brat.

“I’m oldest, so she missed me more, since she’s had me around longest.”

“Hey,” Mom said, scrunching down so she was the same height as them. “I missed both of you more than I can ever say.” She was crying and wiped at her eyes. Oliver hated seeing her cry. He especially hated that him and Owen had been the cause. But they’d had to protect the baby. “That said, I’ve never been more furious with you both. What were you thinking? Running off like that?”

Ella stood, hands on her hips. “You should be ashamed. How many times have I told you that if you have a problem, always to come to me?”

“It was his idea!” both boys said at once, pointing to each other.

“You are sooo lying!” Owen said. “Just trying to get me in trouble.”

“You’re trying to get me in trouble,” Oliver said.

“I don’t care which of you came up with the bright idea to run off,” Ella said. “I’m equally furious with you both.” Still, she couldn’t resist pulling them into another group hug, planting kisses atop their grungy heads. She loved them so much. An impossible-to-calculate much only a mother could understand.

But then she looked across the crowded police station to Jackson standing with Dillon in his arms. Looks like dads understood love, too. The boy rested his head on his father’s strong shoulder and was sucking his thumb. Dillon hadn’t done that in at least a year. The fact that he’d reverted to the old habit spoke volumes for how scared he must’ve been out on the run.

Though the station was a flurry of activity of National Guardsmen packing up equipment, and police slapping each other on their backs for a job well done, Jackson and his son had formed an island of serenity in a frenzied storm.

In all the years Ella had known the man, never had she seen him look more at peace. Well, obviously aside from when he and Julie had still been a couple. But that was a long time ago. He’d been a different man. Just as back then, still with Todd, she’d been a different woman.

“Mommy?” Owen tugged on her shirt. “Can we go home?”

“What about the baby?” Oliver asked. “We can’t just leave her here.”

“She’s at the hospital with Dr. Shepherd,” Ella explained.

“But I thought you’re a baby doctor.”

“I am, sweetie, but Sheriff Hank figured I’d probably want to spend time with my own babies tonight.”

“I’m not a baby,” Oliver pointed out.

“I am,” Owen said. “I’m never running—Hey, look! There’s Dillon’s mom. And she’s crying and hugging his dad. They getting married again?”

The polite thing to do would be to grant them privacy, so how come Ella felt riveted to the sight of Jackson and his ex?

“WANT ICE CREAM for dinner?” Jackson asked his son. The light at the intersection of King and Pine turned yellow. Easing to a stop, he added, “Banana split. Hot-fudge sundae. You name it.”

Dillon shook his head.

“What’s up, bud?” The light turned green, and Jackson accelerated. “You sick?” He reached across the SUV’s front seat to feel his son’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever. Stomach ache?”

“Nah. I just miss Mom. And the baby. Think she’s okay?”

“Mom? Or the baby?”

“The baby. I know Mom’s okay, ’cause she said she’d be home when we get there.”

Swell.

“The baby’s fine. Hank said they’re going to keep her at the hospital nursery until someone claims her.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Comes to pick her up. Hank’s hoping maybe her mom or dad will have second thoughts about leaving her.”

“I don’t know…”

“What?”

“Well, if her parents left her in a basket on the merry-go-round, do they deserve to get her back?”

Jackson sighed. “Good question.” Guilt rumbled through him at his own less-than-stellar parenting skills since Julie left.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?” Jackson pulled the car into their driveway, glad to be home. Gladder still for his son to be safely home, for this second chance to prove how much he loved him.

“Do you think maybe we could keep her?”

“The baby?” He killed the engine.

“I’d take care of her. You’d hardly even know she was here.”

Laughing, ruffling his boy’s dirty hair, Jackson said, “If she’s half as noisy as you were when you were a baby, trust me, the whole neighborhood would know she’s here.”

Dillon made a face.

Jackson made one right back.

He’d only been teasing with his son, but the scowl settling around his lips as Julie pulled her silver Mercedes convertible into the single-lane drive was the real deal.

“I DON’T KNOW, HANK…” On the phone, Ella looked to her boys—finally clean and not bickering, seated at the kitchen table eating salad swimming in ranch dressing. While they’d been playing with their action figures in the tub, she’d cleaned away the remnants of having a house full of concerned neighbors. Claire, from a few houses down, had offered to help with the dishes, but Ella had politely refused. Call her crazy, but it felt good doing something homey and domestic. “I’ve just gotten this place feeling back to normal. What am I going to do with a—”

The doorbell rang.

“Just a minute,” she said, “someone’s ringing the bell.”

Covering the mouthpiece of her cordless phone, she jogged to the living room. Pushing at the front screen door—in muggy weather it tended to stick—she frowned at her first glimpse of the man standing on her porch.

She pressed the phone’s off button.

“Don’t tell me,” she said, taking the pink-swaddled baby from Hank’s outstretched arms. “The hospital’s nursery was full?”

“Damnedest thing,” Hank said, hefting two huge sacks of baby gear inside. “Three gals gave birth this afternoon. The place is swamped. Anyway, I really could use your help, Ella. Odds are, whoever this cutie belongs to, she’s not far away, and we’re quietly checking into things.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Ella asked, gingerly taking a seat on the couch.

“I don’t want this beauty ending up in the system, you know.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Hank. Look at her. She’s gorgeous. Do you have any idea how many couples are out there, begging to adopt newborns? Claire and Jeremy Donaldson have been trying for years to conceive. She’s a second-grade teacher at the twins’ school and her husband’s an amazing carpenter. Lately, they’ve been looking into adoption. Maybe you should take her to them?”

“Sounds like a good call, but I’m not exactly playing by the book. If I get Child Protective Services involved, everything’s going to get messy. It’d just be overall easier if you’d keep her for a few days until the birth mother is back in her right mind and comes to claim her.”

“Hank…” Ella warned. “This mother left her newborn infant in a basket on a playground. Does this really sound like the move of a responsible parent?”

“You’ve got a point. But look how clean the kid was when your boys found her. The polite note. That tells me there’s love involved. What if this girl’s young? Scared? Didn’t anyone ever give you a second chance?”

“Anyone ever call you a big softy?”

“DILLON, GUESS WHAT,” Oliver whispered into the phone, checking around the corner to make sure his mom wasn’t spying.

“What?”

“We’re keepin’ Rose.”

“No way! That’s not fair. How’d you get her?”

“Sheriff Hank just brought her over. Wanna come play? You can eat here. We’ve got tons of food.”

Dillon was quiet for a little while.

“Well?” Oliver asked. “Are you coming?”

“I don’t know. Mom’s here and Dad’s been acting weird. Wanting to play games with me and stuff. I think he wants me to hang with him. But then Mom’s wanting me with her, too. I should probably stay here.”

“Bring both of ’em. That way, they can play with Mom while we’re playing with Rose.”

“Sure it’s okay with your mom?”

“Yeah. She likes having company. Plus, she’s always wanting us to eat, so now she can feed you guys, too. It’ll be fun.”

BEHIND THE WHEEL of his SUV, Jackson killed the engine, then shot a glance in the rearview mirror at his son—engrossed in a handheld video game.

Jackson sighed, then rubbed his face with his hands.

“You all right?” Julie asked from beside him, a beribboned wine bottle on her lap.

“Sure. Long day—and night.”

“No kidding. Sorry it took me so long to get here. Judge Parker wouldn’t recess, so—”

“It’s fine. You’re here now, which is all that matters.”

She flashed him a smile and patted his thigh.

To say Jackson had been surprised by Ella’s impromptu dinner invite would’ve been the understatement of the week. His reaction had actually been more in the realm of shock. He felt badly about the way things had gone down in the woods—his getting all bent out of shape at her benign comment.

But shoot, for the most part, he felt as if even on a good day, he wasn’t exactly playing with a full emotional deck. On a day like today? When he hadn’t known if his son was alive or dead? Then Julie shows up, suddenly playing the part of concerned mom.

Let’s just say Ella had been lucky his outburst hadn’t been worse. Or maybe he was the lucky one, so that he didn’t look like even more of an insensitive jerk.

“Come on, Mom and Dad.” Dillon leaned into the front seat. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

“Sure,” Jackson said with a start, wishing the longer days of late spring didn’t also mean glaring sun at an hour when he’d have preferred the more soothing black of night.

While Jackson helped Julie from the tall vehicle, Dillon hopped from the car and raced across the yard. On the front porch that was decked out in red geraniums and white impatiens, Dillon didn’t bother ringing the doorbell, but instead, tossed open the screen door and walked right in. “Owen? Oliver? Where’s the baby?”

“Dillon?” called a female voice from inside.

Having ushered Julie onto the porch, then following, Jackson felt somewhat voyeuristic watching through the screen as Ella approached his son only to pull him into a hug. She’d changed from the jeans and T-shirt he’d last seen her in to white shorts and a pink tank. She’d washed her long hair and pulled it into a ponytail, the ends of which were still damp.

“What’re you doing here, sweetie?” she asked. “I would’ve thought you and your mom and dad would be having a special family night?”

“Nah. Owen and Oliver invited us for dinner. They said you’d be cool with it. ’Kay?”

“Um…sure, but—” She glanced outside, and Jackson lurched back. To what? Hide? “Jackson? That you?”

“Yup.” He resisted the urge to smack his forehead for not having called to confirm that the dinner invitation had been from Ella and not the twins. “And Julie.”

“Oh—hi. What a nice surprise. Come in.” She tried opening the screen, but it didn’t budge.

“You have to lift and then kick,” Dillon pointed out, nudging her aside to complete the task himself. “It’s almost, but not quite, broken, just like at our house.”

“Thanks,” she said, ruffling Dillon’s hair. “Sometimes I forget.”

“Ours is broken?” Julie asked.

“I’m on it,” Jackson said, marveling at the woman’s gall to call his home ours.

“Come on, Dad. Owen and Oliver said there’s lots of good food.”

“I’m sorry,” Jackson said to Ella. “Dillon said you’d invited us, but clearly he must’ve misunderstood.”

“Dillon!” Oliver said, cautiously maneuvering the front staircase, the baby in his arms. “Look how pretty she is in her little dress. The ladies at the hospital gave it to her.”

Ella turned. “Be careful with her, Oliver.”

“Awww…” Dillon raced in that direction. “She’s so cute.”

“She’s amazing,” Julie crooned. “Dillon, I don’t remember you ever being this tiny.”

“You might as well stay,” Ella said. “The neighbors were crazy generous with food.”

“They’re good folk,” Jackson said. “They did a lot for me after…”

My wife took off.

Ella, still holding open the door, cleared her throat and stepped aside. “Come on in. I’ll get out the plate of cold cuts and some bread.”

Jackson followed the two women to the kitchen. He didn’t want to be here. Forced into making small talk with a neighbor he hardly knew and the ex he more often than not wished he’d never known.

“Mayo or mustard?” Ella asked in front of the fridge.

“Both,” Jackson said.

“Nothing for me,” Julie said.

“Hey, Dad!” Dillon hollered, rushing into the room, the baby in his arms. “Guess what?”

“You need to slow down.” Jackson gestured to the pink bundle. “The, ah, well, baby’s fragile.”

“Duh, Dad. And her name is Rose. We named her after the flower.”

“Here, Mom—” Grasping the infant under her arms, Dillon gingerly handed her to Julie.

Julie tucked the baby against her chest and began to coo. “Aren’t you a sweetie pie? Yes, you are…”

“She likes you,” Ella said to Julie. “That’s a good sign that you make her feel loved and safe.”

Loved and safe? Ha! It took everything Jackson had in him not to snort. How about the emotional number she’d pulled on their son?

Still, watching Julie with Rose sent him back to when Dillon had been a baby. To when he and Julie had been overwhelmed with the enormity not just of the logistics of bathing, diapering and keeping up a steady supply of mushy carrots and peas, but love. The love they’d both felt holding their infant son in their arms, or lying in bed with him early mornings, wondering what went on behind his enormous brown eyes.

Jackson glanced up to find Ella staring his way. He cast her a faint smile. They shared a kinship of sorts, as they both belonged to the cheating spouse club. Granted, Julie’s lover had been her job, but it’d destroyed their marriage all the same.

Ella smiled back, making him feel even more lousy for the way he’d acted that afternoon.

The three boys each snagged a sandwich from a plate of them Ella had already made, then dashed out the back door. A few years earlier, Ella’s ex-husband, Todd, had installed a wooden swing, slide and clubhouse combo. The guy was a jackass for having cheated on Ella, but apparently, the neighborhood kids still got a kick out of his handiwork.

“She does like you.” Ella leaned against the counter.

“Thanks,” Julie said. “I’d forgotten how wonderful babies are. Like a fresh start in human form.”

“I’ve never heard it put quite that way,” Ella said, “but sure, you’re right.”

The back screen door creaked open, and in ran Oliver. Face flushed, he asked, “Is it all right if we take Rose to show her to Whitney? She doesn’t believe we have a baby.”

“I suppose it’s fine. But I don’t want you leaving our street.”

“May I have her?” Oliver asked Julie.

“Um, sure.” Before handing her over, she kissed the top of Rose’s head. It was a fleeting thing. Barely even noticeable if Jackson hadn’t been staring right at her. But curious all the same. Parental instinct kicking in?

“Thanks. Bye!” Oliver was off.

“Slow down!” Ella called after her son.

“Whew,” Julie said, fanning her face. “Being responsible for that tiny life for even a few minutes was exhausting. Remember, Jackson, how tough it was with Dillon when he was a baby?”

“Sure.”

“And, Ella, I can’t imagine how difficult it must’ve been for you—with twins.”

Ella chuckled. “Difficult is an understatement. There were times Todd and I wished we could send them back. But now,” her expression turned wistful, “I wouldn’t trade them for the world.”

“I feel the same,” Jackson said. “About Dillon.”

Had Ella imagined it, or had the man’s statement been loaded with animosity? Ella had many times wondered how Todd could’ve left their boys, happily trotting off to start a new family. She could never even conceive of such a thing. Yet in a sense, Julie had done the same.

“Where, ah, is your restroom?” Julie asked.

Ella directed her to the powder room tucked beneath the front stairs.

Though she’d been exasperated with Jackson that afternoon, Ella now softened. Jackson might be a bear on the outside, but on the inside, she suspected he was a spooked puppy, growling at what most scared him. And at the moment, what scared him more than anything in the world was love. Kindness of any kind. With Julie, he’d been happy. Complete. Then, like Todd, Julie had shattered that happiness, yanking the rug out from beneath him. Whether he knew it or not, strictly from a professional point of view, she suspected the man was emotionally floundering.

Not that Ella was one to talk, seeing how since the divorce, her ice cream addiction had resulted in twenty extra pounds.

“Tell me something,” she said after Julie had left.

“What?” Jackson sat at the kitchen table.

“Earlier today, in the woods, when you got all huffy with me. What about the phrase, for better or worse—aside from the obvious broken wedding vow connection—set you off?”

Jaw clenched, hands fisted, he said, “Unless you’re deliberately trying to set me off again, kindly drop it.”