Читать книгу Mad For The Dad - Terry Essig, Terry Essig - Страница 9

“My, oh my, would you look at that,” Rachel Gatlin commented as she propped her hip on the windowsill of her new apartment. Touching her cheek to the glass so she could get a better view down the street, she repeated, “My, oh my.”

Her sister, Eileen, on the other end of the phone and across town had no such opportunity to take in the view. “I hate it when you do that,” she informed Rachel. “Who’s there? What are you looking at? Tell me,” she commanded firmly. “It isn’t anything gross, is it? We should have done a better job of checking out that neighborhood before you signed the lease. I knew it.”

Gross? Not so’s you’d notice, Rachel thought before responding. The scene captivating her attention was anything but disgusting. “There’s this really cute guy, and I mean really cute guy—not that I’m swayed by externals any longer, you understand. Next time I’m going for substance—anyway, this really, really cute guy is coming down the block pulling a little red wagon loaded with two bags of groceries and a screaming toddler.” She paused, studying both man and child. “It’s so much funnier when it’s somebody else’s screaming toddler, isn’t it? And I just love it when the macho manly types have to play Mr. Mom and find out what it’s all about.”

“Yeah, I do, too. Hmm, did you say really, really cute? Two reallies worth of cute? Let’s think about this, Rachel. This could be your golden opportunity to start meeting the neighbors,” Eileen said, and Rachel could almost hear the wheels in her brain turning through the phone line. “Sooo,” she continued, “instead of sitting there admiring his body from a distance and gloating, why don’t you run down there and throw yourself in front of the wagon? Introduce yourself and promise not to sue if he’s willing to kiss you and make your owies all better.”

Rachel snorted inelegantly as she continued to watch the unfolding scene below. Mr. Macho had stopped the wagon in front of the two-flat next to hers. Little One had been trying to stand up. Looked like a boy from here. He was now being firmly placed back down on his little bottom. Even from two stories up, Rachel could see that the power struggle between adult and child was causing the grocery bags to list and the wagon to wobble a bit. She wanted to open the window and warn him of the impending disaster, but managed to refrain. One shouldn’t interfere in a domestic squabble, she reminded herself. Too dangerous—especially a battle of the wills involving a toddler.

“Maybe next time,” Rachel said noncommittally. “They’re already moving on, anyway.” Besides, the guy was probably married. He was out there with a kid, wasn’t he? And nobody with a backside like that—he was walking backward now in order to keep his eye on the child, so she was in a position to judge and it was good…Really good…Really, really good—could have survived all that long without somebody claiming him somewhere along the line. Rachel sucked in her breath. “Uh-oh. I’ve got to go, Eileen. Handsome just tripped over a big wheel he didn’t see. He’s flat on the ground right underneath my living room window.” She felt an odd sense of gladness that she was being forced to act. Rachel didn’t care to examine the feeling too carefully. It was simply an opportunity to meet a neighbor while performing a corporal work of mercy, that was all. It had nothing to do with his fantastic butt nor those exceptionally fine shoulders that were almost as wide as the strip of sidewalk he currently covered. She was immune to that kind of thing now.

She was sure she was.

“How can you not see a Big Wheel? What is he, blind?” Eileen asked.

“He was walking backward in order to keep his eye on the kid, all right?” Rachel said, defending the unknown man. “And right now he’s on his rear end. The wagon’s tipped over and there are apples and cans of something or another rolling down the sidewalk. From here, the kid looks like he’s screaming his cute little head off, although he, at least, got dumped into the grass and not on the cement sidewalk. I gotta go and make sure they’re all right.”

“While you’re out there, see if you can’t find out if he’s married—casually, of course,” Eileen immediately urged. “You never know. He might be just baby-sitting or something.”

“Yeah, right.” Men that looked like Greek gods did not baby-sit in order to make ends meet, at least not in Rachel’s experience. Rachel squinted and studied him more thoroughly. No, this was no male nanny. A man with a body like that could make a fortune modeling undershorts—the snug, close-fitting kind. He was up on his hands and knees now, clearly not in need of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Rachel sighed in disappointment. “Even if he was free, I’m sure he’d be too young for me. I’m telling you, Eileen, I think I might have had a hot flash the other day. At the very least, it was a definite sensation of warmth.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you’re not that old. Get a grip and stop with the self-pity. Pinch your cheeks on your way down the stairs so you’ve got a little color and get out in front so you can see how badly they’re hurt. If it’s anything serious, they’ll be half dead by the time you get your buns moving. Be sure to look at his ring finger when you check for broken bones. And find out where he lives. One never knows.”

Rachel rolled her eyes, but rather than get involved in another discussion, she bit her tongue and kept her mouth shut.

“Call me back. I’ll want all the gory details.”

“In your dreams. Goodbye, Eileen.”

“I mean it. Now hurry up, before somebody else beats you to him. Go.”

“I’m gone. Bye.” Rachel hung up the phone in defeat. Eileen was only two years older than Rachel, but Rachel had never come out on top of an argument yet. She shrugged philosophically—in the long run, she’d be proven right this time. Handsome was married and the screaming meemie down there was his, she just knew it. She grabbed the keys to her apartment from the end table over by the sofa. Then she took off out the door to check on Handsome and his little progeny, but it was only because she was a Good Samaritan and her First Aid Certificate had another six months before it expired, that was all.

By the time Rachel bounded down the steps and out the entrance of the two-flat, the object of her concern had picked himself up and was trying to comfort the toddler he now held to his chest. Little One was still exercising his vocal cords at top volume. Handsome alternated between awkwardly patting him on the back with his free hand and covering his ear—the one closest to the tyke’s mouth. With his feet, he was attempting to corral cans and apples into a smaller area near the overturned wagon.

“Hi,” Rachel said, breathless from doing the stairs and not from the realization that up close, the man truly was drop-dead gorgeous—not that her interest sprang from anything other than the purely aesthetic appreciation such an outstanding example of male perfection of form deserved, of course. “I saw your mishap from my window. What can I do to help?”

The man looked at her, frustration evident in his body language and written all over his face—but even so he was still as gorgeous as they came. Hair encompassing at least five different shades of color ranging all the way from white blond to brown fought to ignore the strictures of his last haircut and enjoy the light breeze. Shoulders as wide as the red wagon was long greeted Rachel at her eye level. Eyes the color of a pale blue sky hypnotized her so that she barely noticed when the man actually blushed.

“I didn’t realize anyone had seen me,” he said, his words barely audible over the child’s carryings-on.

“Oh. Well, I just happened to be looking out the window. I’m sure nobody else did,” Rachel reassured him. “My name’s Rachel. I just moved in here.” She waved at the gray stucco two-flat behind her. “I could use a break from unpacking boxes. Why don’t you let me give you a hand for a minute or two until you’ve got everything back under control?”

Even though she was long past the diaper stage in her own life and she’d have little in common with the father of a toddler, the four walls of her apartment upstairs were already starting to get to her. So, she’d help him out for a bit and start meeting some of the neighbors. It was a good plan. And maybe, just maybe his wife would rent him to her for the next event she and her ex-husband, Ron, had to attend as Mark’s parents. Wouldn’t Ron’s mouth just drop to the floor if she showed up with this hunk of masculinity at her side? The thought of there having been even a remote possibility of performing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on this specimen practically had her mouth watering. She swallowed hard and made a stab at conversation. “Where do you live?” she asked as she averted her eyes and surveyed the wreckage.

“What? Oh, down on the corner.” He gestured vaguely down the block in the direction he’d had the wagon headed before he’d crashed it.

“Well, that’s not so bad then,” Rachel declared optimistically. “It’s what? Three houses? We can handle that. What’s Little One’s name?

“Todd.”

“Uh-huh, and yours?”

He grimaced. “Sorry, I’m not myself at the moment. My name is Daniel. Daniel Van Scott. I’m very pleased to meet you, Rachel.”

Daniel Van Scott was a gentleman, Rachel decided. With dirt smudges on his chin, grit embedded in his hands and Todd still screeching his sweet little head off two inches away from his ears, poor Daniel would be justified in being less than pleased with anything life had to offer right then, but there he stood wiping his free hand carefully on his jeans before offering it to Rachel. Rachel elected to take pity on him. “Here, let me hold Todd while you gather up the—no, that wouldn’t work. Small children hate to go to strangers. He’d probably cry even harder.”

Daniel looked doubtful. “I don’t think that’s possible.

Rachel laughed. “Maybe not, although he does seem to be winding down a bit. I know he just had a scare, but I was watching you come down the block and he was already crying before you took your spill. What’s the problem? Is he tired? Is it naptime?”

Daniel’s eyes widened as he stared at her. Could it be that simple? For a man who’d effortlessly flown through school and his first accounting job while maintaining, if he said so himself, a, um, satisfying social life, he’d crashed big-time with the entry of Todd into his life. Daniel knew next to nothing about children. Truth be told, he was rapidly developing an inferiority complex—something he’d never suffered from in the past. “He’s been unhappy for the last hour and I haven’t got a clue. You know anything about little kids?” he questioned eagerly.

Rachel shrugged in surprise. God, his eyes were blue. Through dint of sheer will, she managed to respond to his question. “I had one that I managed to get through this stage without inadvertently killing him,” she admitted. “But it was a long time ago. Mark’s eighteen now.” And gone away to college. She’d be lucky if she heard from him once a week. He’d probably join a fraternity and stay out drinking all night. He’d insisted on a coed dorm. What if his roommate had girls in till all hours? What if Mark had girls in till—

Daniel interrupted her worn-out thought pattern. “You think putting him to bed would make the crying stop? I thought maybe he was hungry since I was starting to feel a few hunger pains myself.”

Didn’t he know his own son’s schedule? Rachel eyed the man dubiously, beginning to wonder about Daniel Van Scott. What kind of father was he? Her mother had explained to her once—this was before Ron had come on the scene and taken an interest in Rachel strictly, Rachel was convinced, so her mother could say I told you so— that the super good-looking ones weren’t always such a great catch. Girls were so grateful when the handsome ones displayed any interest that they never required anything of the hunks but to be seen with them. Now Rachel wished she’d listened to her mother, but who could tell a seventeen-year-old anything?

Who could tell a thirty-seven-year old anything? ‘Cause even though Momma’s words had already borne fruit once, Handsome here was too darn beautiful to throw back and waste if he wasn’t already spoken for. She glanced at the watch on her wrist. “It’s one-fifteen now. Todd hasn’t eaten lunch yet?”

Daniel shook his head eagerly. “No, that’s why we went up to the store. To get some food. You think that’s part of the problem, too?”

Rachel eyed him askance while she tried to figure out if he was serious. He certainly appeared sincere. Had Daniel’s genetic code worn itself out creating his truly spectacular exterior? “All I know is that if Mark didn’t eat by noon and crash in his crib by twelve-thirty every afternoon, all hell would break loose. Hungry, tired babies are cranky and decidedly unfun individuals to be around.”

Daniel suddenly felt reenergized. This woman was a godsend. He’d pick her brains and maybe he wouldn’t have to wade through all the child care books he’d bought yesterday. Galvanized into action he thrust Todd at Rachel “Here, you hold him for a minute while I throw this stuff back into the wagon. I thought he’d like the ride up to the store and back. Boy, was I ever wrong. He wouldn’t even stay seated in the wagon. I’m amazed we made it this far without a major catastrophe.”

“He’s not going to come to a stranger,” Rachel argued, leaving Todd dangling between them. “Why don’t you let me run upstairs for a washcloth so you can clean yourself up and some empty bags and then I’ll pick this stuff up while you cuddle him? Your bags ripped when the wagon turned over.”

“Listen,” Daniel said, still holding Todd out to her even though Rachel’s arms remained at her side. “You’re no more a stranger to him than I am.”

She should have minded her own business. She should have stayed up in that new empty-feeling apartment of hers and sulked for a few more days. Who cared if she never met her new neighbors? This one at least, was obviously a weirdo. She questioned him suspiciously. “How can you be a stranger to your own son? You’re not one of those people you read about who are divorced and kidnap their own children, are you?”

Daniel set Todd against Rachel’s chest and propped him there with one hand while he reached down with the other and grabbed her arm. He brought it up and wrapped it around Todd’s back before letting go.

Rachel looked down at her arm in surprise then at Daniel, then back at her arm. It had tingled when he’d touched her to make her hold—what was his name?— Todd. That kind of electrical impulse upon contact sort of thing hadn’t happened to her since early high school. How bizarre. If it hadn’t been August and humid as all get-out, Rachel would have been convinced Daniel had been scuffing his feet and had zapped her with static electricity.

Her eyes narrowed. No wonder he knew nothing about caring for small children. If Daniel could do that to a relative stranger, he’d probably fried his wife’s brain out making love to her ages ago. No doubt she was nothing but a shell of her former self by now, unable to think for herself and doing anything and everything Daniel bid. How disgusting.

Daniel, meanwhile, began to grab cans and toss them haphazardly into the wagon as quickly as he could. He’d never realized how freeing it was to have two hands for a task—not until two days ago. “Don’t be silly. I’ve never been married in my life. I lived with a girl briefly right out of college, but nothing permanent came of it, certainly not a child.”

Rachel cringed as Daniel flipped the apples in after the cans. Didn’t he know they’d be so bruised from the rough treatment as to be inedible? “Todd’s not yours then?”

Daniel straightened and wiped his forehead with the inside of his arm. “He is now.” He stood and absentmindedly brushed his hands off on his pants, then grimaced as the grit-embedded scrapes on his palms made contact with the fabric. Thoughtfully he examined the gift from God in front of him. The woman-Rachel, wasn’t it?—had shifted Todd onto one softly padded hip and gently bounced him there. For the first time in forty-eight hours the child looked—if not happy, close enough to it for government work. He’d definitely stopped wailing and was staring, fascinated at Rachel’s silken tresses. Daniel snapped his fingers and pointed. “It’s the right color,” he said.

Rachel frowned at him as she twisted her head to one side to keep Todd from reaching her hair and pulling it. “What is?”

“Your hair.”

“The right color for what?”

“For Todd. It’s the right color for Todd,” Daniel said, apropos of nothing as far as Rachel could determine. Evidently he’d burnt out his own brain as well as his former girlfriend’s.

“Fine,” she said, determined to hand Todd back to Daniel and get out of there. The child was absolutely darling—when he wasn’t yodeling at top volume, but as far as Rachel could tell, the situation was rapidly deteriorating. So much for meeting the new neighbors. She’d think long and hard before getting involved with strangers—emphasis on strange—next time.

Daniel took a step backward while shaking his head. He wasn’t taking Todd back on a bet. Not while this woman with the magic touch was here. “Listen, just carry him down three houses. That’s not so much, is it? Just three houses. Keep showing him your hair, it’s just like his mother’s was.”

Was? Past tense? Rachel looked down on the child in her arms with newfound empathy. “If he accidentally gets a hold of it, he’ll pull it out,” she warned.

And that would be a shame, Daniel couldn’t help thinking. Rachel had gorgeous dark sable hair shot through with threads of some very light color. She wore it shoulder length, turned under in a gentle bob. Under ordinary circumstances he’d—but no, these were not ordinary circumstances. He couldn’t afford to digress or get distracted—some things transcended mere incidentals like bald spots on otherwise beautiful women. “I’ll buy you a wig,” he promised, then rashly went on, “I’ll buy you anything you want if you’ll just stick with me for the next half hour or so.”

The man was pathetic, Rachel decided then and there. Absolutely, totally, one hundred percent pathetic. It was her moral responsibility, her civic duty even, to make sure this poor child happily tugging on the extremely low carat gold chain around her neck—whomever he belonged to—was fed, changed and put down for a humor-restoring nap.

Daniel read her wavering in her eyes. Wanting to consolidate any ground he might have just gained, he decided to start walking. She’d have to follow, wouldn’t she? What would he do if she didn’t? He was a desperate, desperate man. It would be a mistake—a sign of weakness to turn and look. Daniel pulled the wagon another two feet. He couldn’t stand it. He turned and looked anyway. Rachel was reluctantly following. Todd still straddled her hip and he was still complaining, but the greatly lowered volume showed that the sincerity of the complaints was now in serious question. “Thank you,” he breathed. “Thank you very much.” The first was directed to the heavens, the second to the angel in human disguise following him down the sidewalk.

Rachel stepped up onto the front stoop of the corner brick bungalow and waited for Daniel to unlock the door. It had been a long time ago and she’d been a younger woman when she’d last carted a heavy toddler around in her arms. They ached and she wished Daniel would hurry. Finally he got the door opened. Daniel’s manners at least couldn’t be faulted. He held it while she preceded him over the threshold.

“This is nice.” Rachel said as she took in the decorating with surprise. Not that it was totally feminine— although a woman’s touch was evident—it just wasn’t ultramasculine. No sofa made of leather cushions slung over shiny metal frames. No ultramodern framed graphics on the wall. And no heavy generic male-on-his-own brown and black against white walls color scheme.

Where was Daniel’s bachelor-on-the-loose decorating statement? And where, oh where, did Todd fit in to all this?

This house screamed of a married couple, not a single dad. It was a home Rachel could be comfortable in, decorating she might have chosen herself. Cream painted walls with cream-colored sheers and window scarves softened the views of the street. A sofa and love seat at right angles to each other were done in an eye-pleasing sherbet-toned tapestry fabric. Both pieces sat in front of a fireplace with a beautiful carved stone mantel and surround.

Rachel shook her head in bemusement. Daniel didn’t seem like the type to collect antique lace and have it framed on sherbet-colored matt boards. And the dusty rose carpet set off the sofa and accessories to perfection, but—well, suffice it to say no man she knew would have ordered it. Weirder and weirder still.

“The kitchen’s through here,” Daniel said, taking the lead.

Rachel followed. “Did you, um, have somebody do the decorating for you?” And did you pay the bill after you saw what they’d done?

“What? Oh, my sister did the decorating. She even reupholstered the sofa herself. I still can’t believe it. All that work and for what—?” Daniel shook his head, grief and sadness showing briefly in his eyes before determination once again glinted there. “Here’s the high chair.”

Gratefully Rachel tucked her burden into the seat and fastened the lap strap before pushing the tray snuggly against his little baby potbelly. She rolled her shoulders in relief. “Okay, so what did you buy to feed monster man here?” Rachel asked.

“Hot dogs,” Daniel announced. “Hot dogs and cheese. What kid could turn up his nose at that?” With a flourish he reached into the bottom of a bag, which was ripped down both sides, and handed her the plastic shrink-wrapped packages of hot dogs and a brick of cheese.

And he couldn’t have figured out Todd was hungry? “They have bite marks in them,” she said. “Both packages. Right through the plastic.”

“Yeah, well Todd’s got a real long arm reach for such a little kid. When he gets older I’m going to look into basketball camp for him, I think. Natural-born ball stealer, I bet. He got a hold of them and put up such a fuss every time I tried to take one away, the lady at the checkout told me not to bother. Said she’d seen it before. In fact, she acted like she thought it was kind of funny.”

“I’m sure she did,” Rachel responded drolly as she unwrapped the cheese and began to cut it into itsy bitsy cubes a toddler couldn’t choke on. “After all, it wasn’t her kid sucking on a wrapper that’s been handled or sneezed on by eight thousand unknown food handlers and shoppers with colds. Got a bib?”

Daniel blanched at that while he reached into a drawer. “Here. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with him. He’s sick. Maybe I should call the pediatrician.” Rachel snapped the bib around Todd’s neck, took the hot dog out of Daniel’s hand and began to dice it up. “I doubt it. Not that fast. Here, put this in the microwave and heat it up, but not too hot. Are there any vegetables we can give him?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. I think I saw a can of beans here someplace…here we go.”

Todd was stuffing bits of cheese into his mouth as fast as he could. He banged his fist on the tray and laughed when more went flying into the air. Rachel took the plate with the dismembered hot dog on it out of the microwave when it beeped and shoveled that onto the tray. Then she found a small handled cup and filled it with half an inch of milk. This, too, she gave the boy. Thirstily Todd drained it with only a small portion dribbling down his chin. Rachel gave him another half inch in the bottom of the cup before going to work on the beans.

Daniel was impressed. “Wow, you’re like an old hand at this.”

“It’s probably like riding a bicycle,” Rachel replied, knowing Todd was done when he began to throw the food on the floor. She began the washup procedure. “It’s been a while, but it does seem to be coming back to me.” Rachel held Todd’s cup up in front of the boy. “Look, Todd. This is your cup. See? Your cup is yellow.”

“Lellow.”

Rachel smiled, pleased. “That’s right. Yellow. Where’s his bedroom?” she asked Daniel.

Daniel pointed. “Right through there.”

She nodded. “Okay. How about if you finish cleaning up in here? I’ll change his diapers and see if I can get him settled down.” Feeling only slightly guilty—after all, it wasn’t her child who’d made the mess, was it?—Rachel left the kitchen area and headed for the nursery. There, she found a box of disposable diapers and replaced Todd’s soggy one and played with his toes briefly while he lay on the changing table.

“This little piggy went to market—” The room had been lovingly prepared by someone who hadn’t wanted to know the sex of their child beforehand. Someone who liked surprises had chosen a lovely but nonsexist pale lime tint for the walls. The woodwork was a crisp contrasting white.

“This little piggy stayed home—” A border of rainbows hung up high where the walls met the ceiling. Did Daniel ever stop and point them out to Todd?

“This little piggy had roast beef—” A big, fat, stuffed fabric rainbow splayed itself across the wall next to the crib. She’d used a similar theme in Mark’s nursery, Rachel remembered. Impossible as it seemed, it had been nineteen years ago when she’d decorated that nursery. Nineteen years. Rachel had been eighteen, practically a baby herself, she now realized.

Rachel sighed. “This little piggy had none—” She reminded herself that she was done being melancholy as of that morning.

“And this little piggy cried—”

Daniel popped his head in the doorway. “All cleaned up. How’s it going in here?”

“Wee, wee, wee all the way home.” Rachel brushed the bottom of Todd’s foot with a light ticklish motion and smiled when Todd grinned up at her and jerked his foot back. She picked up his other foot and blew a raspberry on the bottom of it. That got a laugh. Finally Rachel looked up. “Fine. I’m going to rock him for a minute to settle him down before I put him in the crib.”

“Fine, great, whatever. You get me a couple of hours of peace and quiet and I’ll be your slave forever.”

Rachel snorted at that. “Yeah, right.” But it was an interesting idea. A body like that, her slave? My, oh my. That certainly got the old heart valves pumping. She picked Todd up and noticed a framed birth announcement hung on the wall. Todd Michael Malone? Sarah and Michael Malone proudly announce the birth of their son, Todd Michael? “Daniel, who does Todd really belong to? Are you baby-sitting for a relative or something?” She’d just die if Eileen turned out right once again. But this Sarah and Michael must have been really hard up to leave their pride and joy with a man who knew next to nothing about children.

But Daniel’s indulgent smile immediately disappeared. His face tightened. “Todd’s mother, Sarah, was my sister. Her husband won a cruise as a prize in a sales contest where he worked. It was the first time they’d ever left the baby.” Daniel sighed. “There was a fire on board the ship. Barely big enough to make the papers up here, but Sarah, Michael and a couple of other passengers died of smoke inhalation. Todd stayed with Mike’s parents while I got my own life straightened out, but they’re well into their seventies and in a retirement complex with no children allowed. My mother has Alzheimer’s. Caring for her takes up all my dad’s time. That leaves Todd and me as a team.”

Rachel, gaped at him as she seated herself in the rocker. And she’d thought she’d had troubles. “Oh. I’m so sorry. How awful.”

Daniel ran a hand back through his hair. “Yeah, well, it’s been a little rocky the past couple of days, I have to admit.” He eyed the picture Rachel made there in the rocker with Todd happily sucking his thumb while, resting his head on her shoulder. “But I think maybe God just opened a window.”