Читать книгу The Marine's Babies - Laura Marie Altom - Страница 10

“Um, Becca,” Jace said, forcing himself to meet the Goth girl’s dark-shadowed eyes. Though it was only early Monday afternoon, his exhaustion level made it feel closer to midnight. “I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me, but I’m thinking I may need someone with a little more experience.” Not to mention, fewer piercings!

“But I’ve got five younger brothers and sisters. And I just got evicted from my apartment, so I could really get into the whole sleepover aspect of this gig. Ready to talk money?” Kicking back on the sofa, she slipped off black flip-flops before putting her feet on the coffee table. Granted, he sat like that nine times a day, but it was his place. “Comfy,” she said, crossing her legs at the ankles. “Yeah, this is gonna work out fine.”

What worked for Jace was booting this applicant to the curb.

With one more interview to go, he spent the next thirty minutes reacquainting himself with the sticky tabs on the babies’ diapers. Though he’d been with them a week—and now faced the reality of being their father every second of every day—Jace still couldn’t fully wrap his head around the situation.

Just yesterday, the PI had informed him that Vicki had, for all practical purposes, vanished, meaning, Jace didn’t have any option other than to step up.

“Okay, kiddos,” Jace said upon finishing his task. “You’re good to go for at least another couple of hours.” Until Vicki could be found, he’d finished setting up his home office to double as a nursery. He felt bad about its plainness. Beige walls and a do-it-yourself computer station that leaned to the left. The cribs and changing table had been borrowed from fellow Apache pilot, Morris “Birdman” Harlow. He had three girls and one boy and all the gear that went along with them.

From their carriers, the babies stared up at him.

He stared back.

They were cute, he’d give them that, but what was he supposed to do with them? In the Marine Corps, there was a manual for everything. This whole father thing? Complete and utter mystery.

The baby nearest him cooed.

Kneeling in front of her, he touched the palm of her tiny hand with his pinkie. She curled her fingers around it, drawing it to her bow-shaped mouth to slobber.

“Hey,” he said with a laugh. “Do I look like a chew toy?”

Seeing how she kept right on gnawing, apparently, yes, he did resemble a giant teething ring. And her mini fangs were sharp!

After freeing himself, Jace grabbed a carrier in each hand, hauling them to the living room. He wanted to see how the next applicant interacted with the girls. Just because he didn’t have a clue how to be a father, didn’t mean he didn’t expect the highest level of professionalism from whomever he entrusted with the twins’ care.

He’d grabbed a Coke from the fridge when the doorbell rang.

Leaving his can on the counter, he jogged to the front hall, praying this woman was The One.

WAITING FOR her potential employer to open his door, Emma wasn’t sure what she felt. Nervousness. Worry that emotionally she had no business taking on such a task. Fear that if she didn’t get the job, she’d drown in loneliness and self-doubt. If she were given the responsibility of looking after this man’s babies, she wouldn’t just be working, but proving to herself that she’d been a wonderful mother. In doing that, she wouldn’t erase her grief over having lost Henry, but she would exorcise the demons Rick had created.

Inching her purse higher on her shoulder, she forced a deep breath.

The redbrick house’s front porch appeared as forlorn as she felt. Lining the two steps were three green plastic pots holding wilted flowers. Dust coated a porch swing as well as paned windows in need of a good scrubbing. The dandelion-strewn yard needed mowing. Any annuals adorning the flower bed had been choked out by weeds.

The door burst open, and there stood a broad-shouldered Marine, who’d presumably placed the ad. “Hey,” he said, holding open the door with one hand while shaking her hand with the other, “You must be Emma.”

“Yes,” she said, instantly at ease at her first sight of the man’s easy, white-toothed smile. He wasn’t handsome. Not in the conventional sense. His nose was slightly off kilter, as though it might have once been broken. A strong jaw held at least two days’ stubble. Like any good jarhead, his dark hair consisted of little more than short spikes. But then there were his eyes. Amazing green eyes that drew her in.

“I’m Jace. Please, come in.” Stepping onto the porch, he held open the door, gesturing her inside. “Have a seat. The place is an embarrassing mess. I usually run a tight ship, but I’m new to this whole baby thing.”

“Oh?” she asked, eyeing a white plastic laundry tub, brimming with tiny pastel apparel. The coffee table was littered with how-to-raise-baby books, rattles and disposable bottles. In the middle of it all, lounging on a fuzzy pink blanket were two gorgeous infants.

“The thing is,” he said, “I kind of—”

“Look at you…” Emma didn’t mean to be rude in ignoring her potential employer, but his babies were—Her throat swelled and her eyes welled with tears.

Since her loss, she’d avoided babies. Baby aisles. Baby magazine and TV ads. The pain was still too raw. But on Friday, having had a stranger’s infant thrust into her arms, something inside her had snapped. She could no longer avoid her pain. In that instant, she’d realized that if she were ever to regain even a portion of her former self, she’d have to face that gnawing emptiness head-on. Small steps. First, “borrowing” an infant, in this case, two, then maybe, if heaven were on her side, she’d be ready to live again fully.

Reaching for the nearest baby, scooping her into her arms, Emma lost herself in the angel’s sweet smell. She stroked downy-soft hair, deeply inhaled of baby shampoo and lotion and even the faint, clean, unmistakable scent of a freshly changed diaper.

“Um, you okay?”

Turning her back to the baby’s father, Emma pulled herself together. “Sure…” Heart shattering, Emma held the baby close. Henry, you’re back in my arms. Safe. Mommy’s here, my love.

“Do you need something to drink? Coke? Water?” The man’s hovering alerted her to the fact that if she didn’t want to end up alone back at her beach house, she’d better snap out of it. Of course, she realized this baby—even two babies—couldn’t take the place of her dear son, but if only for a moment, her pain had been eased. Her endless questions—why? What had she done wrong? Given a second chance, could she have saved her baby boy?—answered “I’ve probably got milk, too. But I’m not a big fan, so it might be spoiled.”

“Thank you,” she said, spinning to face him. “I’m good.”

“You don’t look it,” he said, instantly reddening. “Sorry. That came out wrong. You look fine. Compared to my last candidate, you’re amazing. Tears and all. Only…” Almost cautiously, he approached, holding out his arms for the baby girl she held. “I’ve gotta say, I am curious what it is about my interview skills, or lack thereof, that has you crying.”

“Sorry,” she said with a sniffle, passing off the infant, stiffening when the Marine’s fingers brushed hers. “You must think I’m nuts. But your little one reminds me of…someone I used to know.”

“Sure,” he said, though his puzzled expression clearly stated that, yes, he did find her to be at least somewhat off her rocker.

“What are their names?”

“The girls?”

“Yes,” she said with a faint smile. “Unless you have cats and dogs, as well?”

“Nah,” he said, scooping up the other baby, and then settling into an oversized recliner with both infants. “Truth is, I couldn’t handle much more.”

Following his lead, she eased onto a brown leather sofa. “So, their names?” she repeated.

“Right. One is Beatrice. The other is Bronwyn. Only way to tell is by the freckle on Bron’s big toe.”

“Oh.” Emma wondered why the marine sounded so detached, as if he was reading a dishwasher-repair manual. “Um, if you don’t mind my asking, where’s their mother?”

Repositioning himself, he said, “Here’s the part where you’ll think I’ve sniffed too much napalm, but truth is, I don’t have a clue.” After relaying the fantastic story of how the twins had been thrust into his life, he added, “The pediatrician I took them to gave them a clean bill of health.”

Brow furrowed, Emma scratched her head. “So their mom abandoned them?”

“Yep.” Jace told her about the one-night stand. How the woman hadn’t even told him she’d been pregnant until caring for two babies on her own had made her come undone. Yes, as Emma well knew, the first few weeks on your own with a baby were tough, but in a wonderful way. What kind of mother just up and left her children? A monster. Emma, having lost her son to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, having missed him every day since, couldn’t conceive of voluntarily giving up one child, let alone two!

Though she was bursting with questions, the only one Emma gave voice to was, “So the job would be permanent? I would stay on, even if you do find the mother?”

“Most likely. I mean, though I’m still learning this whole parental thing, I’ve always been a quick study, and one pretty basic item is that you don’t leave your kids. I’ve got the PI on retainer, but once I do find her, I’m not sure what’s going to go down.”

How could this Vicki not have left an address? Even if caring for the infants had been overwhelming, wouldn’t the woman at least want pictures? Reports of their growth?

“Anyway, with me being a single dad, that’s where you come in. I’m a helicopter pilot. Work ungodly hours. Sure, I’ve always wanted kids, but to have them dropped on me with as much finesse as a stork…” He sighed. “Bottom line, I need help. Reliable help. You said earlier that these guys reminded you of someone. That mean you have experience with diapers and bottles and stuff?”

Emma cleared her throat. “Yes. Extra emphasis on stuff.” Emotional stuff that she still didn’t fully comprehend.

Though she hadn’t meant her comment to be funny, the Marine—Jace—laughed.

“Have references?”

From the white leather purse she still held slung over her shoulder, she withdrew a handwritten reference sheet, and then stood, handing it to him. “Sorry it’s not typed. I don’t have a computer.”

“Don’t sweat it,” he said, reading over the top of the infants’ heads. “All of these are in Chicago. You’re not from around here?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Not at all.” One of the babies he held in the crook of his arms wriggled and fussed.

“Want me to take her?”

“Sure.” He cast Emma a smile. “And to make things interesting, how about a wager?”

“Like what?” Leaving her purse alongside the sofa, she took the complaining infant.

“Like if you manage to quiet that little lady, I’ll give you the job.”

“And if I don’t succeed?” Emma asked over increased wails.

He winced. “Then I guess I’m back to playing Mister Mom.”

FOR JACE, the next few minutes were entirely too long. Why had he said such a stupid thing? Betting the woman for the job? He, more than anyone, realized how desperately he needed her—even if Vicki showed up one day, he wasn’t just handing over the girls. Maybe if she proved she’d gotten therapy, or something, he might agree to partial custody, but that’s it.

Lucky for him, before he worked up too big a worry over what might happen should Emma lose the bet, she’d already won, having rocked and cooed the girl back into an adorable, three-toothed grin.

“How’d you do that?” Jace asked, in awe of the woman’s skill.

“No biggee. She probably had a gas bubble. Just needed to be jiggled out.”

“Even so, let’s make it official. Want the job?”

“Is it mandatory that I live here?” Was he only imagining it, or was she turning up her slim nose at his modest digs? “It’s lovely, but…”

As her words trailed off, it occurred to him how awkward it could prove having the woman move in. When he’d placed his ad, he’d anticipated a grandmotherly type sharing his digs. Someone who could not only tame a couple of babies, but make gravy and cookies and tackle the laundry. Emma was striking. Long, black hair and sun-bronzed skin. High cheekbones. Eyes clear and ocean-blue. Her flowery yellow sundress was modest, but short enough in all the right places to reveal toned arms and legs. Pink-tipped toes peeked out from white sandals.

“I get it,” he said. “Tell you what. I’m not expecting night training for at least a couple of months. So, for now, how about you show up around sixish tomorrow morning, and we’ll go from there?”

“You don’t need me today?” Was he misreading her, or did the sudden downturn of her lips mean she was disappointed not to be staying? She’d cuddled the baby closer, as well. As if she didn’t want to let her go.

“Thanks, but I’ve already got leave for today, so I’m good.”

“Um…” She nibbled her lower lip. “Tomorrow will be fine.” Without meeting his gaze, she passed off the baby to him, then grabbed her purse.

“Do we need to talk about what I can pay you?”

Already at the door, she said, “Whatever you can afford will be fine.”

“Sure?”

She nodded, then hurried outside.

Okay, when it came to dealing with women, he’d never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but had he done or said something to tick this woman off?

He didn’t have the opportunity to find out, as she’d already crossed the yard, climbed into a black Volvo station wagon then, without so much as a wave, sped out of his life.

Seeing how Vicki had left much the same way, Jace was starting to get a complex.

Emma would return in the morning, wouldn’t she?

LEAVING her new employer’s house, Emma trembled so badly that she had to pull onto the side of the quiet road. Tears followed. Hot and messy. The kind that well up from deep inside and for her, take hours to subside fully.

Holding the baby girl had been both exhilarating and heartbreaking. Emma had never wanted to let her go. When Jace told her she wasn’t immediately needed, it didn’t compute. The rational part of her realized her baby was gone. But that other part…

Tightening her grip on the wheel, Emma forced a deep breath. She had to pull herself together. She had to use this opportunity to heal, to stop the slide deeper into her solitary existence. Was it wrong of her to want to prove her ex the fool she believed him to be? In blaming her for their son’s death, Rick had hurt her to her core. He’d transformed an already impossible situation into Emma’s own private hell.

For that, she’d forever hate him.

What she would not do was succumb to his accusations. In caring for Jace’s twins, she’d prove to herself that she’d been an amazing mother. Henry’s death had been an unexplainable mystery. Something she’d never truly understand. What she could grasp was the fact that this Marine needed her, and she needed his girls.