Barbara McMahon - Men In Uniform - Burning For The Fireman - Firefighter's Doorstep Baby / Surrogate and Wife / Lying in Your Arms

He turned into the lane that led to the cottages. Stopping by hers, he considered his next step. Knock on the door to see if all was well? Would that scare her? A knock in the middle of the night? What if she’d merely fallen asleep with the lights on?

He glanced toward the east. A slight lightening of the darkness. Dawn was not that far away.

He heard the baby cry.

Quickly he went to the door and knocked.

A tearful Mariella and wailing baby opened the door.

“Cristiano, what are you doing here?”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, stepping inside.

“He’s been crying most of the night. I can’t get him to stop. I’ve checked everything, given him warm milk, but he doesn’t even want the bottle. I don’t know what to do.” With that she burst into tears.

“Here, give me the baby,” he said, preferring dealing with a crying child than a woman’s tears.

She complied and then wiped her cheeks. “I’ll be right back.” She fled.

The baby continued to cry and Cristiano juggled him, remembering another baby who had cried. The smoke and cement particles floating in the thick air had only exacerbated his distress. He would never take fresh air for granted again.

He bounced the baby gently. Watching Dante, he took a breath, testing the limits. Nothing but a warm cottage and a crying baby.

“Hey, little man, none of that. You’ve kept your mamma up all night by the looks of it,” he said easily.

The baby scrunched up his face and looked ready to let fly again.

“Now, now, what’s wrong?”

Cristiano rested him against his chest, upright so his head was by his own. Slowly he rubbed the baby’s head with his cheek.

Dante hiccuped and then stopped crying, swaying back enough to look at Cristiano. His face was wet with tears, his eyes red. But he looked at Cristiano as if examining a wondrous thing.

“That’s better. Give your mother a break. People normally sleep at night.”

Mariella entered, having washed her face and pulled on a sweatshirt over her nightgown.

“What are you doing up so late at night? People normally sleep. And how did you get him to stop? He’s been crying since before midnight!” Mariella peered at the baby. He still looked as if he’d start crying any second, but so far he was distracted by Cristiano.

“I woke early, took a ride.”

“It’s freezing outside.”

He shrugged. Nothing colder than the way he felt after the nightmares.

“Well, I’m glad you did. Do you think he’ll feel like going to sleep?” she asked hopefully, worried eyes studying the baby.

“I don’t know, but you look like you could keel over without a problem.”

She nodded and brushed her hand lightly over Dante’s head. “I am so tired. But if he can’t sleep, neither can I. I think he’s teething. It’s what the baby books say for this age. He won’t eat, won’t sleep, I don’t know what else to do.”

“Take a nap. I’ll watch this little guy.”

She looked at him.

The hope brimming in her eyes made Cristiano laugh.

“Really?” she said.

He nodded.

She reached up and pulled his head down for a fleeting kiss. “Thanks. I’m so tired I can hardly stand on my feet. Call me if you need anything.” With that she turned and went to the bedroom.

Cristiano watched, feeling the soft press of her lips against his. The lurch in his heart had surprised him. Without wanting it, without knowing it, Mariella had captured his heart. He’d give anything to have her kiss him every day. To share the tasks of caring for the baby, of seeing her sleepy and ready for bed. Desire shot through him and he shook his head. He had a cranky baby in his arms, she was dead tired, and all he could think about was her in that bed, alone. How her blonde hair would be spread across the pillow, soft and silky. Her skin would be warm and smooth.

He turned away from the door and his thoughts and he looked at Dante.

“Your mother weaves a spell on men, watch out,” he said.

The baby looked as if he was dazed, his head weaving back and forth.

“Okay, let’s get comfortable.”

He put Dante down on the sofa to shrug out of his jacket. He hadn’t even dropped it on the chair before the baby started crying again.

“Hey, none of that. Your mom needs sleep.” Cristiano scooped him up and walked him around the small living room. The child was light and warm. Cuddling him gave Cristiano a sense of peace he hadn’t had in a long time. He remembered the infant he’d saved. How was he doing these days? Would he ever have even the faintest remembrance of that awful day? He hoped Dante never had anything more difficult to face than teething.

A few minutes later Dante’s head fell against his shoulder. Looking at him, Cristiano realized the baby had finally fallen asleep.

He sat on the sofa, careful not to disturb the sleeping child. Rubbing his back slowly, he let the peace of the cottage take hold. If he could bottle this and take it with him, any time a flashback threatened he’d be instantly cured.

Slowly dawn arrived. The baby slept; Cristiano relished the feel of him in his arms. But his thoughts winged to Mariella. He knew she was sleeping, but he wished she’d wake up and come talk with him. They could discuss options to make Dante’s teething easier on all concerned. He wish he knew what the future held.

Even more than that, he wished he’d kissed her back when she’d kissed him.

The sun was well up when Mariella came back into the living room. She’d had several hours of much-needed sleep. Stopping in the doorway, she smiled at the sight. Cristiano was sprawled on the sofa, holding Dante. Both were fast asleep. Even in sleep, his arms cradled her son, keeping him safe.

She stared a long time, longings and wishes surging forward. He was a marvelous man. Strong, sincere and capable. Plus sexy to boot. The beginning beard gave him a rakish look. The muscular chest made the baby seem all the smaller—yet well protected and loved.

She went into the adjacent kitchen and quietly prepared coffee. While it brewed, she looked into the refrigerator for breakfast. She’d feed her savior of last night and send him on his way. She didn’t want to impose on his time. He’d already helped more than she should have any reason to expect.

Hopefully Dante would sleep most of the day and she could get another nap.

She heard the baby fussing before she finished boiling the eggs she planned for breakfast. She knew she was no cook, but they could have eggs and toast. And coffee. She excelled in coffee.

“Something smells good,” Cristiano said when he walked into the kitchen carrying Dante.

“Coffee. And I boiled us each an egg.”

He laughed and, as naturally as if they did it all the time, he stepped closer, leaned in and kissed her sweetly on the mouth. Mariella savored the touch, too quickly ended.

“I like boiled eggs,” he said a moment later.

Flustered Mariella could only stammer, “And toast. I can do toast.”

“A feast indeed.”

“Thank you for letting me sleep,” she said, stepping away, feeling overwhelmed with the sensations spinning out of control. She wanted to put Dante in his crib and grab Cristiano with both hands. But she had responsibilities.

“Let me take him and feed him,” she said.

“I can hold him while you get things ready. But I would take a cup of coffee.”

“Done.”

They worked together as if they’d done so before. Soon Dante was nursing on his bottle, but still fussy. Mariella encouraged him to eat, conscious of Cristiano only a few feet away. She wished she’d taken more care in dressing, had put on some makeup.

“I wish he could tell me for sure if he’s teething. Babies start getting teeth at six months and he’s almost that old already,” she said as she teased his lips with the nipple. Dante chewed on it for a moment, then sucked some more, then looked as if he would cry.