Adrianne Byrd - She's My Baby

“Ma’am, you were screaming at the top of your voice. Is something wrong?”

She blinked out of her trance and glanced around the neighborhood.

Garrick looked as well and saw a few people milling out of their houses.

“Just great,” the woman mumbled under her breath. “Sam has turned me into a screaming lunatic.” She turned, clutched the bassinette tighter, and headed toward her front door.

Still concerned about the crying baby, he followed. “Who’s Sam?” he asked.

“My soon-to-be-deceased sister.” She entered the house. “Okay, little baby,” she cooed awkwardly. “You can stop crying now. Everything is going to be all right…I hope.”

Garrick frowned. “Ma’am. Is everything all right? Do you need me to call someone for you?”

“Call someone. That’s a good idea. I can call someone to come and help me with…uh—this baby.” She stopped in the foyer and then squeezed the large bassinette onto a slim table. “But who? Everyone is gone for the holidays.”

The baby wailed at full volume.

“Okay. Okay. I can do this,” she affirmed and reached for the baby.

Garrick still didn’t know what to make of any of this.

The baby, dressed in all pink, flailed tiny hands and feet as the screaming continued.

Dumbfounded, Garrick eyed the bizarre woman as she held the child away from her body as if the child were a stick of dynamite. “Have you ever held a baby before?”

“Uh, yeah—but never when one was crying like this. I think something is wrong with it.”

It? “I take it this is not your child?”

“Good heavens, no.” Her face twisted. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” she assured the child.

Garrick wasn’t too sure about that and apparently neither was the baby—if the screaming was any indication.

“Why won’t it stop crying?” the lady asked in obvious distress.

It again. “First, I’m guessing by all the pink that it’s a girl,” he said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Second, I’m thinking you would want to hold her a little closer to your body if you’re trying to comfort her.”

The lady looked as if he’d told her to jump off a cliff; but in the next second, she was bobbing her head in agreement. “Okay, okay. I can do that.”

She nearly did, too—until an unmistakable sound alerted them that the baby had just unloaded half her body weight into her diaper.

“Oh-my-God,” the woman croaked, stretching her arms farther out from her body. “Did you hear that?”

The corners of Garrick’s lips twitched into a smile. “Yeah, I heard.” He reached for the baby. This wasn’t exactly the kind of emergency he’d had in mind when he’d bolted over here, but it was a job that still needed to be done.

Garrick nestled the little girl in the crook of his arm. As he swayed back and forth, the baby quieted down. “That’s a good girl,” he cooed, smiling down at the chubby-cheeked baby. She was actually adorable with her nest of curly hair and sweet brown eyes. Still, he couldn’t imagine who was insane enough to leave their baby with this woman.

“How did you do that?” his neighbor asked, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

“I’ve been told I’m a natural with babies and animals,” he boasted proudly.

“You’re a godsend.”

The woman raked her fingers through her hair—something she should stop doing, he noted.

“Yeah, well, I guess if you just get us a new diaper, I can help you change her and get out of your hair.” He didn’t mean to mention her hair, but it had a way of drawing the eye.

She blinked. “A diaper?”

“You do have diapers, right?”

“Uh.” She turned back toward the bassinette and searched inside it, but the only thing she pulled out was a thin envelope.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“It’s from Sam,” she said with a note of dread, and then lifted her large, sad brown eyes up at him. “It could only mean bad news.”

On the porch of her Sea Symphony Villa, Roslyn stared out at Barbados’s powdery white sand, turquoise sea, cerulean sky and wanted to pinch herself. Everything was postcard perfect—and yet she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering back home.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Patrick eased his arms around her waist and nibbled on her exposed shoulder.

Though his lips were pleasure, they failed to draw Roslyn from her troubled thoughts. “I was thinking about Samantha,” she answered honestly.

Her husband groaned and laid his head against her shoulder. “This is supposed to be our vacation.”

“It is.” Roslyn turned in his arms and fluttered a smile at him. “I was just hoping everything is okay, you know? This time of year is always hard for her.”

Patrick nodded, but his gaze inspected her. “This time of year is also hard on you…and Leila.”

Instant tears welled in Roslyn’s eyes and she lowered her gaze to stare at the span of his broad chest.

Gently, he lifted her head again so their eyes met. “All I’m saying is…you can’t fix your sister. Everyone has demons to fight. Samantha is going to have to fight her own.”

“It’s not that easy.” Roslyn pushed out of his arms and shook her head. “Samantha isn’t strong. She’s not like Leila—who can take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’. And she’s not like me.” She took Patrick’s hand. “I have an incredible man who I can lean on and who can pick up the pieces when I fall apart.”

Patrick bowed his head.

“I know you’ve never cared for my baby sister.”

His head jerked up again. “That’s not true.” He hedged as he selected his next words. “I just don’t like how she emotionally blackmails you…or anyone who tries to get too close.”

“And what if Ms. Friedman is right? What if she has had a baby? Do you think that she’s emotionally stable to raise a child?”

“We don’t know—”

“Hypothetically?”

Patrick drew a deep breath and gave the questions careful consideration. “I honestly don’t know.”

Roslyn nodded and returned to his arms. “Neither do I.”

“Your sister abandoned her baby?” Garrick asked, mentally snapping pieces of the puzzle together.

“Looks that way.” Leila ripped open the thin envelope and unfolded the enclosed letter. “Dear Leila, I’m sorry.” She stopped and closed her eyes to pray for strength.

“Is that all it says?” Garrick asked, bouncing and patting the baby’s back.

Slowly, the child’s wails teetered off to soft coos.

Amazed, Leila glanced up. “How are you doing that?”

“It’s like I said—” he cocked his head with a disarming smile “—I’m a natural.”

At that moment, the little girl released a high-pitched squeal to contradict his claim.

A smug smile curved Leila’s lips.

“Any chance I can get that diaper?” he asked.

“Oh.” Leila’s brain kicked into gear. “I think I saw a bag in the kitchen. Hopefully there’s one in there.” She rushed to the kitchen and breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted an unmistakable pink diaper bag on the table. “Bingo! I found it.”

She unzipped the bag and found a stockpile of tiny diapers, bottled milk, plastic toys and singing stuffed frogs.

Garrick strolled into the kitchen while making funny noises to Leila’s new niece. “She’s adorable,” he said, taking one of the diapers. “What’s her name?”

“No clue.”

“You never even met her before?”

“What can I say? Not every family is like the Huxtables,” Leila huffed, and then remembered the letter she still clasped in her hand.

Her new neighbor quickly changed the subject. “Where should I change her?”

Leila lowered the letter again and glanced around. “Uh, I guess we can do it in the living room?”