Kris Fletcher - First Came Baby

“We should write our own comic book. Super Mom. Instead of bracelets that can deflect bullets, she would have a nursing bra that bounces insults back at rude people.”

Allie snickered. “Didn’t Wonder Woman have a fancy lasso for making bad guys tell the truth? Maybe instead of that, Super Mom could shoot guilt trips with her eyes.” She pitched her voice slightly lower in an imitation of their mother. “You want to tell me exactly what you’re doing? And don’t bother saying it’s nothing, because I can see by the look in your eyes that it’s definitely something.”

Kate laughed hard enough that she had to put the paint roller into the tray or risk ending up with a polka-dot floor. Probably the wisest course, since the purpose of this work was to make the place marketable, not marked up.

“Good idea.” Allie nodded toward the dormant roller. “In fact, you should sit down for a few minutes.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know you are. Now. But in about two or three minutes you’re going to realize that you haven’t had anything to drink in a couple of hours, and you’re going to get suddenly and horribly overcome with thirst and exhaustion. Then I’m going to remember that I promised Mom I wouldn’t let you overdo it, and I’m going to feel guilty and run off to get you some water. And when I come back you’re going to be half-asleep in the chair. So then I’ll have to burp Jamie, which means I have to get him off your boob, which kind of grosses me out. And then, he’ll probably spit up on the clothes I have to wear until this room is done. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather bypass the drama. So. Sit.” She pointed at the ancient wingback Kate had dragged into the room. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Kate had a fleeting notion to argue, then decided it would be easier to go along. Because though she hated to admit it, she did feel a little thirsty. “Okay.” She lowered herself into the chair slowly, so as not to interrupt mealtime—though these days Jamie was more likely to be distracted by new sights and sounds than by movement—and settled in.

Oh. That felt good.

“Bring me a cheese stick, too, will you?” she called in the direction of the footsteps echoing down the stairs. Allie’s answer came not in words but in a snort of laughter that Kate easily recognized as code for told you so.

As alone as it was possible to be with someone doing the vacuum cleaner thing at her breast, Kate closed her eyes and breathed out tension. Not that she had been working too hard. Far from it. She was still new-mama tired, but she hadn’t made it to the ripe old age of thirty without learning how to pace herself. Nor did the tightness in her shoulders have anything to do with painting. She’d been doing plenty of that over the past months as she brought Nana’s house back to life. Well, as much as she could do on her own.

No, it wasn’t exhaustion or painting that had her wound so tight. It was the reason behind them.

Jamie was slowing down a little, the space between his swallows growing longer. Time for a burp. She broke the suction, raised him to her shoulder and patted his back while rocking in the chair and talking over his wails.

“I know, I know. You don’t like to stop. But we do this every time, buddy. You might want to learn that pattern.”

His little head smashed against her shoulder. Hard.

“Ow! Don’t get violent, okay? You’ll get more in a minute. But then you have to give me time to really paint, because the room has to be done this afternoon. We need to get it ready for—” she lowered her voice “—for your daddy.”

So much for relaxation.

She patted some more, focusing on the April-fresh air coming through the window she’d cracked open, trying to soothe the anxiety that gripped her every time she thought of Boone coming home. Not that he had ever lived here, in either this house or Comeback Cove. Not that he even thought of Canada as home anymore.

But in two days, he would be here, whether she was ready or not. And painting was the least of her worries.

Allie bounded up the stairs, her footsteps eliciting the usual symphony of creaks and protests from the aging stairs. Jamie’s loud burp was just one more note in the song. By the time Allie sailed in, Kate had Jamie settled on the other side, leaving her free to cross her legs, sit back and gratefully accept her sister’s offerings.

“Ooh. That’s not a cheese stick.” Kate drank deeply before tucking the bottle of water at her side and diving into the plate of cheddar, crackers and apple slices with gusto.

“Yeah, well, I figure I’m allowed to pamper you once in a while. Though seriously, when are you going to learn to set an alarm on your phone to remind you to drink?” Allie mock scowled before grinning and gesturing toward the wall in front of her, where hints of faded wallpaper still peeked out from the first coat of robin’s-egg-blue paint. “I still don’t know if it was a good idea to paint right over this.”

“In a perfect world, I would have scraped off all seven layers and made a fresh start. But there’s a limit. Besides, this place is so old that the wallpaper might be the only thing holding it up.”

“You love it and you know it.”

“Well, yeah. But love doesn’t always make you blind to faults.” She grinned. “If it did, Mom would have run out of things to say to us years ago.”

“True that.” Allie grabbed her roller and attacked the wall once more. “So, Katydid, not that I don’t adore spending a gorgeous Sunday helping you paint instead of hanging out with Cash the Wonder Boyfriend, but how about you tell me the real reason this needed to be done so quickly? I mean, it was one thing when we had to get the first floor ready in record time. Things had to be perfect for Prince Jameson.” She curtsied to the baby. “But you said you weren’t going to put this place up for sale until he was a year old or so, and honestly, there’s lots of other work that’s more pressing than making this room look decent. So, what’s the rush?”

Kate let her head fall back against the chair. She had known this talk was coming. She simply hadn’t thought of the right way to handle it yet.

“Boone is coming.”

Oops. She should have waited until Allie had finished reloading her roller. That might have helped prevent the blue streak now decorating the floor.

“Son of a...” Allie grabbed a rag from the bucket of water and swiped at the wayward paint. “He’s finally making an appearance?”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“And why not? I mean, I know you guys only got married so Nana wouldn’t freak when she found out you were pregnant, but still. He’s been gone a year.”

“Ten months.”

Allie waved the words away. “Details. The point is, he has a beautiful baby who is five months old, growing every minute practically, and Boone hasn’t bothered to even meet him? Excuse me if I’m not feeling incredibly gracious.” She frowned at the half-painted wall. “Or if I suddenly don’t feel like busting my butt on this.”

“Allie, come on. You know he wanted to come back sooner, but it’s not like you can easily do a long weekend run from Peru to here. And with his partners gone, it’s been up to him to keep Project Sonqo running.”

“I know. I know.” Water splashed as Allie tossed the rag back into the bucket. “Look, I have lots of respect for what he’s doing there. The way he and the MacPhersons started Project Sonqo, the way they’re connecting the crafters with new markets and teaching the women how to see themselves as small businesses... It’s all good. Great, really. And I know that Boone had to step up when—what’s his name—Mr. MacPherson—”

“Craig. Craig and Jill.” Jamie was falling asleep, his swallows slacking off and his eyes closing in the classic milk-drunk pose. Kate gave him a gentle jiggle. She had no problem with him nursing himself to sleep, but she wanted to be sure he’d had enough. She didn’t want to lay him in his crib and get herself put back together only to have him wake up in fifteen minutes because he decided he needed more.