Laura Marie - Three Boys and a Baby

“The baby?” He killed the engine.

“I’d take care of her. You’d hardly even know she was here.”

Laughing, ruffling his boy’s dirty hair, Jackson said, “If she’s half as noisy as you were when you were a baby, trust me, the whole neighborhood would know she’s here.”

Dillon made a face.

Jackson made one right back.

He’d only been teasing with his son, but the scowl settling around his lips as Julie pulled her silver Mercedes convertible into the single-lane drive was the real deal.

“I DON’T KNOW, HANK…” On the phone, Ella looked to her boys—finally clean and not bickering, seated at the kitchen table eating salad swimming in ranch dressing. While they’d been playing with their action figures in the tub, she’d cleaned away the remnants of having a house full of concerned neighbors. Claire, from a few houses down, had offered to help with the dishes, but Ella had politely refused. Call her crazy, but it felt good doing something homey and domestic. “I’ve just gotten this place feeling back to normal. What am I going to do with a—”

The doorbell rang.

“Just a minute,” she said, “someone’s ringing the bell.”

Covering the mouthpiece of her cordless phone, she jogged to the living room. Pushing at the front screen door—in muggy weather it tended to stick—she frowned at her first glimpse of the man standing on her porch.

She pressed the phone’s off button.

“Don’t tell me,” she said, taking the pink-swaddled baby from Hank’s outstretched arms. “The hospital’s nursery was full?”

“Damnedest thing,” Hank said, hefting two huge sacks of baby gear inside. “Three gals gave birth this afternoon. The place is swamped. Anyway, I really could use your help, Ella. Odds are, whoever this cutie belongs to, she’s not far away, and we’re quietly checking into things.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Ella asked, gingerly taking a seat on the couch.

“I don’t want this beauty ending up in the system, you know.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Hank. Look at her. She’s gorgeous. Do you have any idea how many couples are out there, begging to adopt newborns? Claire and Jeremy Donaldson have been trying for years to conceive. She’s a second-grade teacher at the twins’ school and her husband’s an amazing carpenter. Lately, they’ve been looking into adoption. Maybe you should take her to them?”

“Sounds like a good call, but I’m not exactly playing by the book. If I get Child Protective Services involved, everything’s going to get messy. It’d just be overall easier if you’d keep her for a few days until the birth mother is back in her right mind and comes to claim her.”

“Hank…” Ella warned. “This mother left her newborn infant in a basket on a playground. Does this really sound like the move of a responsible parent?”

“You’ve got a point. But look how clean the kid was when your boys found her. The polite note. That tells me there’s love involved. What if this girl’s young? Scared? Didn’t anyone ever give you a second chance?”

“Anyone ever call you a big softy?”

“DILLON, GUESS WHAT,” Oliver whispered into the phone, checking around the corner to make sure his mom wasn’t spying.

“What?”

“We’re keepin’ Rose.”

“No way! That’s not fair. How’d you get her?”

“Sheriff Hank just brought her over. Wanna come play? You can eat here. We’ve got tons of food.”

Dillon was quiet for a little while.

“Well?” Oliver asked. “Are you coming?”

“I don’t know. Mom’s here and Dad’s been acting weird. Wanting to play games with me and stuff. I think he wants me to hang with him. But then Mom’s wanting me with her, too. I should probably stay here.”

“Bring both of ’em. That way, they can play with Mom while we’re playing with Rose.”

“Sure it’s okay with your mom?”

“Yeah. She likes having company. Plus, she’s always wanting us to eat, so now she can feed you guys, too. It’ll be fun.”

BEHIND THE WHEEL of his SUV, Jackson killed the engine, then shot a glance in the rearview mirror at his son—engrossed in a handheld video game.

Jackson sighed, then rubbed his face with his hands.

“You all right?” Julie asked from beside him, a beribboned wine bottle on her lap.

“Sure. Long day—and night.”

“No kidding. Sorry it took me so long to get here. Judge Parker wouldn’t recess, so—”

“It’s fine. You’re here now, which is all that matters.”

She flashed him a smile and patted his thigh.

To say Jackson had been surprised by Ella’s impromptu dinner invite would’ve been the understatement of the week. His reaction had actually been more in the realm of shock. He felt badly about the way things had gone down in the woods—his getting all bent out of shape at her benign comment.

But shoot, for the most part, he felt as if even on a good day, he wasn’t exactly playing with a full emotional deck. On a day like today? When he hadn’t known if his son was alive or dead? Then Julie shows up, suddenly playing the part of concerned mom.

Let’s just say Ella had been lucky his outburst hadn’t been worse. Or maybe he was the lucky one, so that he didn’t look like even more of an insensitive jerk.

“Come on, Mom and Dad.” Dillon leaned into the front seat. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

“Sure,” Jackson said with a start, wishing the longer days of late spring didn’t also mean glaring sun at an hour when he’d have preferred the more soothing black of night.

While Jackson helped Julie from the tall vehicle, Dillon hopped from the car and raced across the yard. On the front porch that was decked out in red geraniums and white impatiens, Dillon didn’t bother ringing the doorbell, but instead, tossed open the screen door and walked right in. “Owen? Oliver? Where’s the baby?”

“Dillon?” called a female voice from inside.

Having ushered Julie onto the porch, then following, Jackson felt somewhat voyeuristic watching through the screen as Ella approached his son only to pull him into a hug. She’d changed from the jeans and T-shirt he’d last seen her in to white shorts and a pink tank. She’d washed her long hair and pulled it into a ponytail, the ends of which were still damp.

“What’re you doing here, sweetie?” she asked. “I would’ve thought you and your mom and dad would be having a special family night?”

“Nah. Owen and Oliver invited us for dinner. They said you’d be cool with it. ’Kay?”

“Um…sure, but—” She glanced outside, and Jackson lurched back. To what? Hide? “Jackson? That you?”

“Yup.” He resisted the urge to smack his forehead for not having called to confirm that the dinner invitation had been from Ella and not the twins. “And Julie.”

“Oh—hi. What a nice surprise. Come in.” She tried opening the screen, but it didn’t budge.

“You have to lift and then kick,” Dillon pointed out, nudging her aside to complete the task himself. “It’s almost, but not quite, broken, just like at our house.”

“Thanks,” she said, ruffling Dillon’s hair. “Sometimes I forget.”

“Ours is broken?” Julie asked.

“I’m on it,” Jackson said, marveling at the woman’s gall to call his home ours.

“Come on, Dad. Owen and Oliver said there’s lots of good food.”

“I’m sorry,” Jackson said to Ella. “Dillon said you’d invited us, but clearly he must’ve misunderstood.”

“Dillon!” Oliver said, cautiously maneuvering the front staircase, the baby in his arms. “Look how pretty she is in her little dress. The ladies at the hospital gave it to her.”