Val Daniels - Santa's Special Delivery

It was almost midnight when Andy showed up at her door again. He knocked softly.

This time, the baby wasn’t asleep and didn’t look like she had any intention of going soon.

Lori’s newly hired attorney looked weary, she decided, inviting him in. Tiny stress lines decorated the corners of his eyes. She hadn’t noticed those before.

He’d changed his clothes. How could a man look as good in worn, comfortable-looking jeans as he did in a tux? she wondered. Revealing muscular forearms, he pushed the sleeves of his loose sweater up to his elbows as he sauntered past her into the small living room. “It’s awfully warm in here,” he commented.

“I don’t want the baby to get cold.” She gestured toward the baby seat she’d wedged into one end of the couch. “She’s awake,” she added unnecessarily.

The baby lay there, mostly staring off into space but occasionally kicking or flopping her arms up and down.

“Babies are comfortable if you are,” he said.

“Oh? How do you know?”

He shrugged, frowning slightly. “Common knowledge, I guess. I don’t know where I heard it,” he added. “I just know it’s true.”

“I’ll turn down the heat,” she offered thankfully. She’d seriously been considering putting on shorts and a tank top if she ever got around to changing out of her cranberry-colored suit. As it was, she’d taken off the jacket and the hose as a concession to the heat.

When she returned to the living room, he’d settled beside the tiny girl and was softly talking to her. “Do you have your days and nights turned around, Baby?”

The tiny head turned toward Andy’s low voice and she seemed fascinated. That makes two of us, Lori thought.

As if aware of her watching him from the doorway, Andy looked up and smiled. Amazingly, he didn’t seem the least bit self-conscious to be caught talking baby talk—another reason to like him. “I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to figure out what you want me to do?”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” she said. “Like I said, I want to keep her.”

“For always?”

“For as long as she needs me to protect her.” Lori faced him less warily. “I think that’s for always, don’t you? I’d like to adopt her.”

He frowned. “That might be difficult since you don’t have a birth certificate or any kind of parental release.”

She came around the end of the coffee table and gazed at the little sweetheart. “And the state or social services do?” she asked, a touch of sarcasm slipping in.

“They have a way to get them.” His patience didn’t seem to run out.

“Yeah, they just declare whatever they want to be so. That’s what I want you to do for me. Make them declare it ‘so’ for me.”

“I wish it were that easy.” He moved the baby seat from the end of the couch to the middle so she could sit down.

“Then that’s what we have to do,” she said, sagging onto the space he’d made for her. “We’ll find her mother. We’ll get a parental release.”

The slow smile he gave her made her heart pick up a beat. “You make it sound easy.”

“I...” She lifted one shoulder. Her throat tightened and her pulse continued to race erratically. “I know who the mother is,” she defended her idea.

“You do?” He scooted toward the edge of his seat and leaned toward her, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I have to,” she said. “Look at the note.” She glanced at the coffee table and the cryptic message lying there. “It starts, ‘I know you...” She paused for effect. “Whoever she is, don’t you think she knows me?”

He sank back in his seat. “It says ‘I know you, meaning you, anyone in the general public.” His arm swept out in a broad gesture. “She was begging whoever found the baby not to let anything bad happen to her.”

“It was intended for me. If it wasn’t me, if she was just leaving her baby at any door, why didn’t she leave her at yours? You’re two flights easier to get to with a big box than I am.”

“Good point,” he conceded, his eyebrows rising as he straightened. “But that may have also been to get the baby away from the front door of the building. Her mother may have been protecting her from blasts of cold.”

Lori felt her conviction waver. She had a feeling he was a very good lawyer.

“That also means she was in the building for a little while. Someone may have seen her. We can—”

“No.”

He looked startled by her interruption.

“If we start asking questions, someone will report us,” she said quietly. “Believe me, I thought about it. I thought about going around and talking to the neighbors this morning. But then someone would tell and we’d have to leave.”

Andy scowled at her until she grew uncomfortable. “You’ve thought about who her mother might be?”

What started as a nod turned into a no. “It’s another reason I can’t tell anyone,” she explained. “Her mother, whoever she is—” Lori smoothed a silky curl of the child’s dark hair “—is in serious trouble now. Won’t she be a criminal for deserting her child? Couldn’t she go to jail?”

“She could,” he agreed. “It depends somewhat on the circumstances.”

“I don’t want her mother in trouble.”

“The court will take her situation and motivation into consideration. She may be very young,” he offered as an example. “Technically, she didn’t endanger the child.” He grinned.

Good grief, he could make her heart stop with that smile.

“She left her in good hands,” he continued.

“Oh, I wish I thought so,” Lori wailed. “Oh, please, you have to help me with that, too,” she begged. “I feel so lost. I have no idea how to take care of her. You seem to know about babies,” she added hopefully. “Will you tell me everything you know?”

Visibly taken aback by her outburst, the man beside her quickly regained his equilibrium. “You haven’t been around babies before?”

“You can’t tell?” Her dry tone brought back his killer smile.

“There weren’t any babies in the foster homes you lived in?”

“Well...” She grimaced. “There was a tiny one like this once, in one home,” she said, “but we weren’t allowed to touch him. Only the real kids could touch him.”

“The ‘real’ kids?”

She felt impatient with him, reluctant to talk about this. “You know. The kids who belonged there. The family’s real kids.”

“You were never asked to help take care of him?”

“Not that one. Sometimes, in homes where there were older babies—you know, walking and starting to talk—we had to help. But, that I can remember, I’ve never been around or even held a tiny one like this. Oh, and—” the whole conversation suddenly reminded her “—this baby still has that thing on her belly button.”

“The umbilical cord?” he asked.

She nodded. “Should I be doing something special about that?”

“I’ll show you later,” he offered.

“Does it hurt her?”

“No.” He reached toward her, then hesitated and dropped his hand to the yawning baby instead. “But it tells us she’s only days old,” he said with the same awe she felt in his voice.

The rush of warmth Lori felt toward him was scary. She looked at him and hoped he couldn’t see the stars she was certain were in her eyes. She couldn’t seem to help it Mr. Andrew McAllister was such a perfect mixture of practical knowledge, awe and concern, he intrigued her almost as much as the baby did. If she wasn’t careful, she could have a bad case of drop-to-her-knees hero worship on her hands.

“How do you know so much?” she asked as a caution bell went off in her mind. “Do you have children?”