Читать книгу Marriage by Contract Part 3 - Sandra Steffen, Sandra Steffen - Страница 9

Tony entered his house the way he always did, via the back door. Trudging into the kitchen, he dropped his jacket over a chair and glanced around for a sign of Beth. She was nowhere in sight, but the kitchen was immaculate. In fact, the only things out of place were an empty baby bottle and a used teacup by the sink. A legal-looking document on the table caught his eye. With a sense of dread he understood all too well, he strode on over for a closer look. He scanned the top page and scowled. He’d been doing a lot of that this week, so much in fact that the people at the hospital had started steering clear of him. He could handle their furtive glances and obvious sidesteps, but the next person who asked him if he’d been taking ornery lessons from Abigail Horton was going to get a piece of his mind. As per Florence Donahue’s instructions, he’d rearranged his work schedule so he could be here to care for Christopher while Beth worked. Normally she worked on the weekend, but this time she was working the Thursday afternoon shift. A quick glance at his watch told him he’d arrived home with a few minutes to spare. Deciding that Beth was probably still getting ready, he headed for the stairs.

The entire house was quiet, except for the occasional note of a home-sung lullaby filtering down the open staircase. He’d heard her sing to the baby before, but he’d never known a lullaby to be desire-inducing. Man, he had it bad.

Following the sound of that low, sultry voice, he strode to the doorway of Christopher’s room. Beth was waltzing the baby around the room in a dance so slow and graceful it made his lungs feel too large for his chest. Christopher’s eyes were open, but Beth’s were closed, the expression on her face dreamy and full of maternal love.

She was wearing her nursing uniform. The material looked soft, as if it had been washed a hundred times, the fabric following the graceful contours of her slender body. A shudder went through him, a direct result of all the days of watching her, of wanting her and not having her.

She placed Christopher on the changing table, completely oblivious to his presence and to the chaotic turn his hormones had taken. “Whoever said there was no such thing as love at first sight?” she crooned, unfastening the baby’s tiny pajamas. “I took one look at you, and I was lost, yes I was.”

Tony stood motionless, listening to the lull of her voice. Her smile enticed, her eyes danced. He’d never seen so much emotion, had never heard so much tenderness, had never witnessed so much pure pleasure in another woman’s features. That tiny baby brought Beth to life as a mother, and in a way Tony had never thought about before, Chris brought her to life as a woman, too.

The desire Tony had been fighting changed subtly, only to be replaced with something he liked a lot less. Jealousy. He ground his teeth together, calling himself every name in the book. What kind of man was jealous of the attention his wife paid to an innocent child? A man who hadn’t made love to his wife in almost a week, that’s who. If that didn’t change soon, he was going to go out of his mind.

Beth must have noticed the glide of his hand into his pocket, because she looked up, her smile nearly buckling his knees. “Are you ready to tackle your first night alone with your son?” she asked.

That wasn’t all Tony was ready for.

He almost snorted. “What’s the matter? Don’t you think I can handle it?”

Beth’s chin came up like a whiplash, her eyes searching Tony’s face. He looked a tad ornery. He’d been looking like that a lot lately. Swallowing, she glanced at Christopher, and suddenly she felt unsure. “Maybe I should call in sick.”

“I deliver babies for a living, Beth. I think I’m qualified to handle Chris for one evening, for crying out loud.”

Of course, she thought to herself. Tony was extremely qualified to care for Christopher on his own. She was being paranoid. It was just that in the almost two weeks they’d had him, Christopher had never been out of her care, and these last few days, Tony had been as grouchy as a bear with a sore paw.

“I know you’re qualified,” she said, instilling her voice with as much calmness as she could muster.

“At least we agree on something.”

She didn’t allow herself to stare, mouth gaping, at the man she’d married. Instead, she went back to the task of diapering Christopher, snapping his sleeper as if she’d been doing it all her life.

“Tony,” she said, finishing the task, “I know you’re perfectly able to handle Christopher tonight, but if you’re too tired or if you run into problems or simply want some company, your mother and two of your sisters offered to baby-sit.”

Tony shook his head slowly, feeling like a kid who’d just had a temper tantrum in a public place. Strolling farther into the room, he said, “I know. I’ll keep them in mind for backup, but like Mrs. Donahue said, this will be good bonding time for Chris and me.”

She seemed to study his expression for a long time. Either she didn’t realize that his face had been so prone to frowns all week that the smile he was trying to give her hurt, or she was too prudent to comment, because she smiled in return and placed Christopher in his arms.

“He just finished eating, so he should be ready for a nap soon. If he needs a clean sleeper, they’re in this drawer. The extra blankets are here.”

“Beth.”

She stopped talking and turned to look at him.

“We’ll be fine. I’ll feed one end and diaper the other. I promise to take good care of him. Now, go. You’re going to be late.”

Christopher let out a little squawk as if to accent Tony’s statement. Beth looked from one to the other, evidently realizing that the baby was in good hands. She strode toward them, lithely leaning down to whisper a kiss on Christopher’s forehead. Tony held his breath, wondering if she was going to do the same to him. When she turned, calling goodbye over her shoulder, he told himself he wasn’t disappointed.

From the doorway, she said, “Do you have any questions?”

He shook his head. “How about you?”

Her gaze slid from his, then slowly climbed back to his face. “There is one thing.”

“Yes?”

“I was just wondering if you’ve been spending time with Abigail Horton.”

She didn’t wait around for his comment. That was okay. He didn’t know what he would have said, anyway.

The scent of her expensive perfume lingered in the room after she left, the expression on her face lingering in his mind even longer. He wondered if she’d been aware of the smile that had stolen across her face at her stab at wry humor. He wondered if she’d had any idea what that smile of hers had done to him.

Tony thought about scowling, but he looked down at Christopher, who was staring up at him, and he smiled, instead. He hadn’t taken lessons from Abigail Horton, no matter what anybody said. But old Abigail could have taken a tip or two from him this past week.

“Bye, you two,” Beth called up the stairs. “See you shortly after eleven.”

“We’ll be here,” Tony answered.

By the time he walked to the top of the stairs, the foyer was empty. Moments later he heard the back door close. “Well, kid,” he said to Christopher. “It looks like it’s just you and me. Bethany said she’ll be back around eleven. We should be able to handle things for the next eight hours without too much trouble, right?”

The baby stared up at him silently.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to answer. I know what you’re thinking. This should be a piece of cake.”

* * *

A piece of cake, hell, Tony thought, stiffly switching Christopher to his other shoulder. The baby cried when he jiggled him. The baby cried when he patted him. He cried when he laid him down and picked him up. He’d been crying for the better part of the past three hours. And Tony was at the end of his rope.

Chris wouldn’t eat. He wouldn’t sleep. He wouldn’t burp.

It was like his and Beth’s wedding night all over again. Tony racked his brain trying to remember what Beth had done that night and every night since. She’d made it all look so easy.

“Easy, my eye,” he murmured in Christopher’s ear.

Christopher seemed to listen. Was it possible that his cries were beginning to wind down as he drew in a shuddering breath? Was his little body relaxing, his knees straightening slightly, his muscles softening just a little? Tony was almost afraid to hope.

“That’s better,” he murmured, to himself or Chris, he wasn’t sure.

The baby turned his head toward the sound of the masculine voice. He stared up at Tony’s face. Tony held his breath. Before his very eyes, Christopher’s lower lip jutted out in a little pout and his chin started to quiver. And then holy hell broke loose all over again. Tears squeezed out of his eyes and a high-pitched cry worse than fingernails on a chalkboard bellowed from his throat.

“What are you doing to that poor kid?” Gib yelled from the doorway.

Tony jumped, which startled Christopher, making him cry all the harder. Tony swore under his breath. “What does it look like I’m doing to him?”

“Can’t you make him stop?”

Tony shot his best friend a penetrating look. Gib, who had grown used to Tony’s moody side years ago, limped into the room. “Maybe a pin’s poking him.”

Tony snorted. A lot of help Gib was going to be. He may have been an expert in tactical maneuvers, but he didn’t even know that babies rarely wore diapers with pins anymore.

Tony knew he could have called his mother or any one of his sisters for help. But they’d surely recognize the strain in him, and he simply wasn’t willing to discuss his sex life, or his lack of a sex life, with the females in his family. So, he’d called Gib. At the time, it had seemed like a logical course of action. Now he wasn’t so sure.

All six foot two, two hundred and twenty pounds of Gibson Malone was looking bewildered and extremely unhelpful. “Maybe he’s hungry.”

“Of course he’s hungry,” Tony answered. “He hasn’t eaten in more than three hours.”

“Then, why don’t you feed him, for crying out loud?”

Gee, Tony thought to himself. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

Realizing that they weren’t going to solve anything by shouting at each other over the top of Chris’s dark head, Tony took a deep, calming breath and lowered his voice. “He won’t eat for me. He wants Beth. He’s not the only one.”

Gib leaned heavily on his cane, his eyebrows the only part of him moving. Not much got past Gib Malone. Tony had a feeling he was going to pay for that little slip of the tongue. But right now, with Christopher screaming his mad little head off, Tony didn’t care. Right now, he had a baby to take care of. It shouldn’t have been so difficult. He’d handled hundreds of babies. Now that he thought about it, most of those had been screaming, too. Great. He brought babies into the world screaming, and he seemed to have the same effect on his new son.

“Here,” Gib muttered. “Let me try. Maybe the hair on your chest is tickling him. Where’s your shirt, anyway?”

Tony didn’t see much sense in explaining that he’d evidently left Chris uncovered too long when he’d been changing his diaper. The wet shirt had been a surprise, but the kid had a darned good aim.

He placed the wriggling infant in Gib’s big hands. “He’s strong, but you’ve still got to support his head.”

Gib’s mouth dropped open, a look of wonder crossing his face. “I can hardly tell I’m holding anything. How much does he weigh?”

“Just under six pounds.”

Tony removed his eyes from Christopher long enough to glance at his friend. Gib’s blond hair looked freshly washed and was secured at the back of his head in a stubby little ponytail. His face was clean-shaven. The man had seen horrors he wasn’t at liberty to discuss. Right now, his hazel eyes, eyes that were as changeable as the seasons, were trained on Chris. “He’s got a lot of cry for a six-pounder.”

Tony told himself there was absolutely no reason he should suddenly feel taller, broader, stronger. No reason why he should feel so, so proud. But he straightened his shoulders and fought the urge to ruffle Gib’s hair, anyway. “Yeah. He’s always been a fighter. He’s an amazing little kid.”

Feeling strangely uncomfortable with his new set of emotions, he reached for Chris, saying, “Here. He’s a baby, not a live grenade.”

Gib handed the baby over willingly. “Then, I guess throwing myself on top of him is out of the question.”

Tony laughed, the sound rumbling and burgeoning from deep inside. Whether it was the sound or the vibration or the feeling that he was safe, Christopher stopped crying. Just like that, the room became quiet.

Silence. Hell, it was golden. Silver, bronze and platinum all rolled into one.

“What happened?” Gib whispered incredulously.

Making a sound that was half sigh, half moan, all feeling, Tony said, “I think my son and I just reached a little understanding. Come on downstairs, Malone. Something tells me he’ll drink his bottle now. And then he’ll probably sleep for a couple of hours.”

“That’s good,” Gib answered, following more slowly. “Maybe that will give you enough time to explain why your wife had a marriage contract drawn up, and why you look frustrated enough to bite somebody’s head off.”

* * *

Autumn was in the air, and so was blessed silence.

Tony and Gib were sitting on the patio on the wicker furniture Martin Smith had helped move from Beth’s place less than two weeks ago. Now that Chris was sound asleep in his crib upstairs, the night was infinitely quiet, beautifully, amazingly, wonderfully quiet. Lights were coming on in houses up and down the street. The stars weren’t out yet, but the moon was full, and lights twinkled from the windows of the cabins sparsely dotting the face of the mountain.

“Whew,” Gib whispered, propping his left leg on a low stool. “It only took one six-pound baby to do what it usually takes a tall, voluptuous blonde to do. That kid of yours wiped me out. Wore me down. Turned me weak in the knees. If you’re lucky, I might have enough energy left to listen to what’s bothering you. So why don’t you tell me what’s going on, why you look ready to hit somebody, and what it all has to do with that marriage contract I happened to leaf through when I first arrived.”

Running a hand through his hair, Tony took a deep breath and eyed his friend. He hadn’t planned to confide in anyone about this, but suddenly he wanted to tell Gib. He didn’t really know where to start, so he started at the beginning. “I don’t know how to explain it, but something strange happened to me the night Christopher was born….”

Gib nodded every once in a while and asked the occasional question. For the most part, he listened, taking it all in, piecing it all together. Tony told him about the zing that had gone through him immediately after he and Bethany had helped Annie Moore bring Christopher into the world. He explained how Beth had asked him to marry her and why, and everything else that had happened since. When he’d finished the entire, sordid story, neither man said anything for several minutes.

Finally, Gib spoke. “You’ve gotta find a way to tell her you’re sorry, man. You are sorry, aren’t you?”

Tony was leaning ahead in his chair, his elbows on his thighs, his chin propped on his hands. Staring out into the darkness of his backyard, he said, “I’m sorry as hell. I’m just not sure what for.”

Gib shook his head and reached for the drink he’d been nursing for the past hour. “It looks to me as if Beth’s Achilles heel is her inability to have biological children. You found her most tender area and stomped on it.”