The roar of the engine died and another roar replaced it. A baby’s wail.
When Garret opened his driver’s side door, the howls reached a crescendo. Certainly, the kid had been born with a good set of lungs.
“Hi, Garret,” James said, surprised by his brother’s late night visit. “How’s it going?”
“Loudly. Mom’s been trying to lull this little one to sleep for an hour. I thought a car ride might do the trick but...”
Garret slid open the back door and James could now see, as well as hear, Holly—her face pinched, her tiny tongue quivering as she yowled. Garret exchanged shouted pleasantries with April, before turning back to James.
“I got as far as the covered bridge and thought about you out here, Jimmy. You and your golden throat. A lullaby might be worth a try.”
“You don’t know any lullabies, Garret?” April asked.
“If the kid heard me sing, she’d probably cry harder.”
“I don’t know if that’s possible,” she joked back. “Look, why don’t we take her tonight. Give you guys a break.”
“That would be great. If you’re sure you don’t mind.”
When April said she’d be happy to help out, James agreed to the plan. How could he refuse? From day one, Garret and the family had been caring for the baby. Possibly his baby. He should have stepped up without being asked.
More selfishly, now that Holly was here, he’d be able to take her sample cheek swab in privacy.
“Thanks, April. Thanks, Jimmy.” And, just like that, Garret plunked the tot in James’ arms.
He knew how to hold an infant, how to support its head and cup its bottom, how to cradle a child near his body, to provide warmth, comfort and safety. But he kept Holly an inch away, feeling awkward with the baby. He didn’t even have the strength to correct Garret on his name and say James, and barely said goodbye to him before he drove off. All he could do was gaze down at the poor kid, sobs pouring out of her mouth, her cheeks red with the effort.
Inside the house, James searched Holly’s face for his own features, as he made tracks to his room off the kitchen. Did she have his nose? His eyes? Bawling like she was now, she didn’t look much like anyone. Maybe a red-faced politician.
Garret had brought over supplies with the baby, which April helped James juggle—the child’s carrier, bottles of formula, extra diapers, powder. After checking to see if she was wet (no) or hungry (absolutely not), rocking her seemed the next order of business. James struck out at that, as well.
“Do you think she’s ill?” April asked.
James kissed the baby’s forehead. “She’s not hot, so I don’t think she has a fever.”
Looked like a serenade was in order. Someone once said, music could soothe the savage beast. James hoped it would have the same effect on a baby beast, since he had to practice for the recital.
He slipped Holly into her carrier, setting it on the floor so he could rock her with his foot while both of his hands were occupied with his guitar. While the baby howled, James quickly figured out the chords of the Pete the Cat song and began to play and sing.
April sat on the bed. And wherever April went, Marcus and Bandit followed. The cat jumped on the comforter, curled into a ball and closed his eyes. The boy dragged along his magnetic board and letters, setting them up beside his mom.
“I’m surprised you didn’t pursue a career in music,” April said, after a few minutes.
“It’s a tough industry. I wasn’t good enough.”
“You were. You are.”
“Thanks for thinking so.” He’d missed having her as his number one fan. As he repeated the song, perfecting his fingering and experimenting with the tempo, Marcus approached.
James tried to keep his excitement in check—a captivated ten-year-old and a baby who was nodding off—maybe he did have some magic when it came to kids, after all. Then he realized, Marcus was more interested in the baby than the music.
James knew the boy enjoyed seeing things spin, like April’s potter’s wheel. Maybe the rocking attracted him.
April gravitated to her son’s side. “As far as I know, he’s never been around a newborn,” she told James. “Gentle,” she said softly, coaching Marcus.
The boy paused and then knelt at the baby’s feet. He stayed there motionless for several minutes and then flopped down on his belly, his head propped up on his fists, so he was almost eye level with the little girl.
James and April looked at each other, and then back to the boy. Something was happening. Marcus was truly fascinated with the baby, when normally he wasn’t interested in people at all.
Then Marcus began to hum.
James was so astonished, he stopped playing, but Marcus didn’t seem to notice. He kept humming for the baby, repeating the melody he’d just heard James play.
Tears gathered in April’s eyes, but she didn’t move. Nor did James. They didn’t want to do anything to ruin the moment.
Then, in her sleep, the baby yawned. That broke the spell. Marcus sat back on his heels, rose and walked away, retreating into his own world again, as if nothing had happened.
April made a mental note to get her eyes checked. They were leaking again. This habit of bursting into tears whenever Marcus made a connection had to stop.
“Sorry to be such a blubber-puss,” she said, wiping her eyes with the heels of her hands.
From her watery peripheral vision, she saw James set his guitar aside. A moment later, he was stroking her back. “You’re entitled. That was amazing.”
Why did his touch feel so good, so right? How was it that the warmth of him melted away the years, leaving her comforted while longing for more?
She turned to look at him and found herself enfolded in his arms. She tugged at the front of his shirt, making him bend to her until their lips met. This was what she needed—what she’d always needed. And, from the way he moaned into her mouth, the way his heart hammered against her palms, she knew he wanted it, too—that her suspicions about another woman in his life were unfounded.
He broke off the kiss too soon, before she’d had her fill. Still, he held her—tighter than before—as if afraid to let her go.
“You kiss me like you mean it, April. You make me—” His voice was hoarse, his breathing rough.
“I make you...what?”
“Scared.”
She pulled away slightly, enough so she could see his eyes. The Jimmy she’d known wasn’t afraid of anything. Not the tallest ski jump or the wildest horse.
“Scared of what?”
His jaw tightened. She smoothed her hand over it. “Tell me,” she whispered.
He glanced past her, probably checking on Marcus. In the silence she could hear her son playing with his plastic letters. And she had a clear view of the baby, still sleeping peacefully in the carrier. April was about to repeat her question, when Jimmy finally spoke.
“That your parents were right. That I wasn’t good enough for you. That one day you’d figure it out too, and leave me again.”
Dear God. Did he think she’d had a choice all those years ago? “I didn’t want to leave, Jimmy. My parents forced me.”
“But you agreed to the annulment.”
She had. That much was true. And she’d explained why in the letter he’d never received, never read. “They threatened me, said they’d charge you with kidnapping for taking me to Vegas.”
His gaze shot to her face. A furrow appeared between his brows, the one that used to surface whenever he was shocked or worried. In the old days, she’d kiss it away. She wondered what he’d do if she tried that now. If she stretched up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his forehead.
Would he let her? Would he think she was crazy?
She took a chance and did it, feeling the anxiety ease from his body before she continued her story. “I told them I’d wanted to go, that I planned the trip. They wouldn’t listen. They said they’d see you behind bars before they’d accept our marriage.”
Jimmy’s shoulders slumped. “Wow. They really hated me.”
“No. It was never about you. It was about me. And their need for control.”
She hugged her man close. “I didn’t understand it when I was younger. I understand it now that I’m a mother. They thought they were being good parents, protecting me. And, in a way, they were. But they forced the issue. We’d never have considered getting married so young, if my parents had tried, just a little, to understand how we felt about each other. Instead, they reacted with anger, because I’d defied them. They hurt me...and I hurt you...and I’m sorry, Jimmy. Truly, truly sorry.”
He let out a sigh, his hands slipping to her waist. “You keep kissing me and I’m going to feel much better real soon.”
She laughed and planned to kiss him until they were both breathless, but then she noticed the letters on Marcus’ board.
April wrapped her arm around Jimmy, dragging him over to take a better look. The sight in front of her made her freeze to the spot. Marcus had positioned his plastic letters to form a word. She rested her hand on her chest, fresh tears gathering in her eyes.
“Ba...by,” Jimmy said, drawing out each syllable, just as she did when she was teaching Marcus.
“What about the baby, my darling?”
Marcus looked at the board. Slowly, he picked out different letters from the pile on the bedspread. When he was finished, April read the words aloud.
“Smells nice.”