Mother's Day Babies (Holiday Babies Series) (14 page)

Barbara chuckled. “You’re too
cute, Lou. Please hand me the diapers. I’ll change them. Meanwhile, I’ll
appreciate it if you warm two bottles of milk in the microwave for ten seconds.
Make sure you remove the covers first.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He handed her
diapers, disappeared in the kitchen, and came back with two warm bottles.

“Here take Baby Lou and give him
his bottle. I’ll feed Chris.”

Lou settled beside her, a baby in
his arms.

“Glad you have their names embroidered
on their overalls. I’ve no idea how you can tell them apart. I’d be afraid to
feed one twice and starve the other.”

Silence hovered in the small
living room interrupted by the babies’ slurping.

“Oh my God, you’re so precious, both
of you.” Monica padded to the middle of the room a blissful smile on her lips.
“I slept during the crying but when it was too calm I woke up.”

“That’s the sign of a good mama,”
Barbara said with a smile, but Monica had already left them to their task. They
were both watching their babies when a flash startled them.

“The picture of the century,”
Monica declared with a wicked smile. “Dad, I can blackmail you to hell and
back.” She burst out laughing. Stunned, they both scowled at her. “I’m joking,
of course. You’re so adorable, sitting next to each other, each feeding a baby.
It’s my first feel of a real family. Thank you, Mom, Dad. I can sleep in peace
now.” She spun around and shuffled to her room.

“Hey, girl,” Lou called after
her. “Don’t forget to send me a copy or you’ll never hear the end of it.”
Monica’s laughter bubbled in the silence.

Her heart heavy, Barbara digested
Monica’s words and promised herself she’d never abandon her, regardless of what
became of her relationship with Lou.
Her first feeling of a real family.

“Barbara, I think we’ve reached
the point where you need help. How about I hire a maid to run your errands? I’m
leaving the day after tomorrow. I can’t let you deal with this mess alone.”

We won’t have so many errands
with you away
. “Good idea. We’ll need someone to help with the laundry,
dishes, and groceries.”

 “The babies are fed and asleep
now. And your kitchen is clean. I’ll be on my way to the launderette.” He stood
with Baby Lou in his arms, went to set him in his bassinet, and then he heaved
the plastic bag of dirty laundry and left.

Her heart twisting with pain,
Barbara closed her eyes.
The day after tomorrow
. When would they see
each other again?

He’d been wonderful today,
helping every step of the way, without complaint. But his eyes spoke volume,
sending tender messages that the powerful TV Director would do anything for her—even
washing dishes and feeding babies.

Should she throw herself in his
arms and tell him she loved him?

She already had, once.

Now was not the right time when
Monica needed her here and Lou had to go back to work. He was right. They would
take one a day at a time. And suffer through hell to find the right solution.

****

In his hotel room, Lou prowled in
circles like a lion in a cage too small for him. On his way out of the building
he stopped to talk to the janitor and secured a handywoman to help Barbara with
her various errands. What else could he do to convince her she was special to
him?

He’d never cleaned a kitchen
before. Not even his—he ate out most of the time or use disposable plates and
silverware—and his many girlfriends had never expected him to step in their
kitchens. Their living rooms and bedrooms satisfied his needs.

Barbara had thrown him off
balance with her expectations. But he'd enjoyed helping out.

He still couldn’t believe that it
would be marriage or nothing for her. Heck, if he’d married Jennifer, he’d have
divorced her after a month, and the rest of his girlfriends hadn’t survived
more than six months in his company.

Barbara is different
. Sure,
she’d be the one throwing him out.

He’d done his best to prove
himself today, the way she’d expected a good husband to behave. He wanted to
surprise her and have her meet him halfway. She’d been surprised all right. Not
that it made a difference in her feelings.

Patience, my friend
. He’d
wait for her to change her mind. Even if it killed him. After kissing her and
feeling her melting in his arms, he couldn’t stand the idea of touching another
woman.
Stop thinking about her kisses or you’ll end up with more cold showers
and a dose of bronchitis
.

His phone ring interrupted his
musing. Barbara needed him. He skidded to the night table and picked up his
phone.

Bummer, it was Monte Damon. Now,
at 11 pm. “Roland speaking.”

“Lou, I need you here tomorrow
first thing...”

Lou listened and nodded. Going
back to work a day early would do his rattled nerves a world of good. He was
losing his identity around Barbara, his daughter, and his adorable grandsons.
Not that he minded being needed and helpful, or holding the little scamps.

Now that Barbara had mentioned
it, he could see a lot of himself in Monica. He’d even smiled at her last
impudence. Taking a picture of him and Barbara feeding the babies and
threatening him with blackmail while calling him Dad. Strange, but at that
moment, he’d wanted to hug her for snapping a picture he’d always treasure.

He booked his ticket, packed his
suitcase, and scrolled through his Paris pictures. Bitterness faded away at the
sight of Barbara’s smile. He contemplated the many photos with her in his arms
and smiled. They made a great couple. She was the right height and fitted
perfectly against his chest. He trailed her features, delicious mouth. Such a pretty
neck. Hmm, and her cleavage, and... Damn it, he needed a cold shower right away.

In the morning, Lou called
Barbara from the plane and explained the situation. “Monte Damon has secured an
interview with the Prime Minister of Israel. We have a big meeting at the
office today and some arrangements to make during the rest of the week. I’ll be
leaving soon.”

“Ah. Be careful, Lou. The
situation is unstable there.”

He smiled at her concern. “Don’t
worry. The security is great too. How are my daughter and grandsons?”

“We had a good night. Feeding at
midnight, then at 3 am, and then at 6 am,” she said in a resigned tone,
accepting the inevitable.

“You call that good?”

“Well, they ate every three hours
instead of every two hours, and slept in between. So Monica and I slept too.
Thanks for the handywoman. She knocked on the door at nine and said she was
recommended by the janitor at your request.”

“Oh yes, I should have told you
last night, but I didn’t want to wake you in case you were already asleep. I’m
sorry I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye... I mean to say bye before leaving.”

“Actually it’s better like this,”
she said with a weak voice. “I’ll miss you, Lou. Don’t forget to call, please.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

He called her again as the plane
landed in Atlanta. And again when he reached his office.

Things were going great. He
didn’t have to worry with Barbara captaining the little ship.

****

Barbara clutched her bottle of
water with both hands. In spite of the continuous reassurances she’d fed Lou in
the last five days, things were not going well at all. The babies had developed
rashes which wasn’t surprising considering their clothes were washed in a
public launderette and not ironed to kill germs.

Baby Lou’s colic had kept him
awaken two nights in a row. Barbara rocked him in her arms for hours. She’d
sent her handywoman to the pharmacy twice to get her the right medicine and
finally fired her and ran downstairs to get it herself. For the last three
days, she’d done her own errands while the babies napped, darting from one
aisle to the other at the local supermarket.

Monica wouldn’t stop crying and
whining that she’d been lumbered with more than she’d bargained for. Then she spent
an hour on the phone complaining to a friend about life unfairness while
Barbara fed the babies.

Sleeping on the uncomfortable
sofa gifted Barbara with a back ache that threatened to develop into a
permanent problem.

“Mom, why don’t you come home?”
Heather urged on the phone. “We miss you.”

Finally, Barbara related the
whole Monica’s story and swore Heather to secrecy. “You know, sweetie. You’re
right. I’m losing my sanity and my back here. Plus, I don’t feel safe in this neighborhood.”

“Monica, I’ve decided to go
home,” she told the weepy mommy after she hung up with Heather.

“Home? As in Kentucky?” Monica
stopped crying and glared. “So you, too, are abandoning me, Mrs. Ramsey?”

Barbara snorted. Now she was the
recipient of Monica’s insolence, or rather insecurity. “No, sweetheart, I’m
taking you and the babies with me. Tomorrow I’ll rent a van and we’ll drive to Kentucky
right away. How would you like to live in my big house in Lexington?”

Monica opened big eyes and then
bit her lip. “Nothing really keeps me here. I came to live in New York because
the Morevs insisted I should stay in the same city as them. I’d love to live
with you, Mom. Your daughters won’t mind?”

“Three of them are married and
have their own places. Only Claire and Tiffany still have their rooms in the
family house. But Claire works in San Francisco for now. Tiffany is your age.
You’ll get along well.” And Tiffany would be a great role model for Monica.

“Won’t the babies’ noise bother
her?”

“You’ll have to do your part and
take care of your babies now that you’re almost recovered from the c-section.”

“Mom, I promise I’ll do
everything to be an easy guest.” Her gaze implored and her palms rose, waving
around her. “I hate this apartment, this area, and New York. I can’t believe I’ll
live in a real home, with a real family. It’s what I’ve dreamed of for my
sons.” She closed her eyes. Big tears rolled on her cheeks. “Thank you for
giving me another chance. Can I pack? When are we leaving?”

Chapter Twelve

“You’ve what?” Lou stormed on the
other end of the line. “Barbara, are you trying to give me a heart attack? You
can’t just drive for sixteen hours or more by yourself, with constant stops to
feed the babies,” he ranted without giving her a chance to answer.

“Don’t worry, Lou. It’s not the
first time I’ve driven a long distance.”

“No. Absolutely not. You can’t
leave tomorrow. If you want to go to Lexington, wait two weeks, I’ll come and
get you. The babies will be older.”

“I won’t survive for two more
weeks here, Lou.” She clutched the phone, restraining herself from shouting
that she didn’t have to take orders from him.

“Damn it, I knew this whole thing
would turn into a mess. Barbara,” he lowered his voice, obviously struggling
for self-control. “Be reasonable. I’m leaving for Israel tomorrow evening.”

“So? What has my driving got to
do with your trip?”

“I can’t travel if I’m worried
about you. I can’t carry an interview as important as this one when my mind is
preoccupied with your driving on the road for hours.”

“Calm down, Lou. We won’t drive
for more than three hours at a time. We’ll stop for restroom breaks and
baby-feeding, and if we can’t make it in one day, we’ll sleep in a motel on the
way. Good luck with your interview.”

She heard his
damn it, woman
,
and the line shut.

“Dad is upset?” Monica asked with
a curious smile.

“He’s worried about us on the
road.” Barbara hesitated and threw a jaundiced glance at the sofa. “My back
can’t take it here any longer.”

“Why haven’t you said something?
Tonight you sleep on the bed, and I’m sleeping here on the sofa. Especially if
you plan to drive.”

Barbara rubbed the small of her
back. “Thank you, sweetie. I’ll take your offer. Let me call for a rental car.”

An hour later, she had everything
arranged. The van would be delivered the next morning at 8 am. Meanwhile, Monica
had packed the baby clothes and the few items that fitted her in her only
suitcase. “Tomorrow we’ll carry down the baby car seats, bassinets, and the
changing table top. And of course the diapers, wipes, and a few bottles.
Anything else?”

“No, we can buy the rest in
Lexington. Heather has plenty of baby stuff to give you and she’ll be happy to
go shopping with you.”

“Shopping?” Monica’s eyes opened
wide. “I haven’t been shopping for years.”

“Okay, Monica, I’m going to bed.
You take care of the feedings tonight.” They wheeled the bassinets out to the
living room. Barbara sprawled on the bed and stretched her aching back with
relief. Soon she drifted off.

The knock on the door startled
her. Who on Earth could be knocking at midnight?

With pain she slowly sat and
shuffled to the living room. Sitting crossed-legged on the sofa, with two
pillows on her lap, Monica breastfed both babies at the same time, each
heartily latching on a breast. Fear froze her gaze. She covered her breasts
with a diaper and she whispered, “Someone’s at the door. What should we do?”

Barbara stiffened and heaved a
deep breath. “Just a minute, my husband is coming,” she said with a loud firm
voice.

“Open the door, Barbara. It’s me,
Lou.”

“Lou, oh my God! You came all the
way.” She snatched the door open and threw her arms around his neck, kissing
his cheeks, his throat, his lips.

He kicked the door closed behind
him and crushed his mouth on hers. And she responded. Boy did she respond. What
a wonderful feeling. She was back in his arms where she belonged.

He finally released her and
cradled her face between his palms. She scanned his mussed hair, shadowed eyes,
and eighteen-hour stubble. “You look so tired.”