Linda Goodnight - The Baby Bond

“I’ll handle things from here. Thank you.” Her voice sounded strangely detached, as though her vocal cords belonged to someone else far away in a big, empty auditorium.

“If I can do anything….”

Cassidy managed a nod. At least she thought she did as she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The eerie quiet that invades a hospital deepened inside the room. Pale morning light from the curtained windows fell across a bulky form. Still dressed in the dark-yellow pants and black boots of a firefighter, stinking of soot and smoke, a man had pulled a chair against the side of Alex’s crib. Turnout coat hung on the back of the chair, his dark head was bowed, forehead balanced on the raised railing. One of his hands stretched between the bars, holding Alex’s tiny fingers.

Too exhausted and numb and grief-stricken to think, Cassidy paused in the doorway to contemplate the unlikely pair—a baby and a fireman. What was the man doing? Sleeping? Praying? Why was he here?

Unexpected gratitude filtered in to mix and mingle with her other rampaging emotions. After the night’s tragedy, she could hardly bear to think about anything related to fire—even the men who fought it—but she was very glad her four-month-old nephew had not been alone all this time.

The fireman roused himself, lifting his head to observe the sleeping baby and then to turn and look at her. Cassidy’s first impression was of darkness. The same black soot covering his clothes smeared his face, so that Cassidy had a hard time discerning his age or looks. His eyes, though reddened behind the spiky eyelashes, were as dark as his nearly black hair. Only the fingerprint cleft in his chin stood out, stark white against the soot.

With another look at the baby, the man carefully slid his fingers from Alex’s grip and stood. He wasn’t overly tall, but his upper body was athletic and fit beneath the navy Northwood Fire Department shirt. Weariness emanated from him.

“Are you the aunt?” he asked. “They said he had an aunt.” He glanced back at Alex, swallowed. “My sister has a baby.”

Then he stopped as if the word sister was too strong a reminder of the night’s loss.

“Yes, I’m his aunt. Cassidy Willis.”

She moved to the raised crib and gazed down at the child with her sister’s dark-blond hair and Brad’s high cheekbones. What was she going to do now? What would Janna want her to do? Who would be mother and father to her sister’s little boy?

“Is anyone else coming to be with you?”

Gripping the rail with both hands, she struggled to think. Her brain was a fog. Her emotions jumbled, but mostly numb.

“Brad’s parents.”

“Brad?” he asked gently, standing close as though he thought she’d faint. The scent of smoke seeped from him in insidious waves. Her stomach churned, fighting down a memory. She’d hated the smell of smoke before. Now she hated it even more.

“Alex’s father. My sister’s husband, Bradley Brown.”

“Ah.” He didn’t have to say the words. She could hear his thoughts. Brad Brown was dead along with her sister.

“His parents live in Missouri, just over the state line. They’ll come.”

“Have they been notified?”

She looked at him then, lost. Notified? Of what? “The fire?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I gave their information to the sheriff.” At least she thought she had. Those moments in her small living room with the solemn sheriff were a painful blur, a slow-motion torture of trying to comprehend the loss, of answering questions, of understanding that Alex needed her and she had no time to grieve.

She knew little about Brad’s parents except that they lived in Joplin and had raised a son who loved her sister. The pair of them had been building the one thing Janna and Cassidy had always dreamed of—a real family.

“The sheriff will make sure they are notified.”

Good. She wasn’t certain she could speak the words that resigned her sister to eternity. Dead was such a powerful term, as if saying it aloud made it so.

“They’re probably on their way now. My grandmother. I called her.” For whatever good it would do.

Grandmother Bassett had been detached from her life and Janna’s, an austere provider who sometimes seemed surprised to find them living in her house. She’d taken them in as orphans, but she’d been too busy with her business and her own social circle to be a parent. Though a good person in her way, Eleanor Bassett did not know how to comfort and nurture. If she came at all, she’d do so only to issue orders.

With a shudder of hopelessness, Cassidy realized she had no one now to understand and share her pain. No one to help her make decisions for Alex. No one but God. And at the moment, God seemed far, far away.

Oh, Janna. My beloved sister.

“Isn’t there someone close? You shouldn’t be alone.”

She’d always had Janna. They’d run to each other when trouble came. “No one, but I’m fine.”

For most of her life, she’d depended on no one but Janna or herself. Leaning on others, asking for help, did not come easily. She could handle this, the same way she’d handled the loss of her parents and growing up in a home that was less than warm. Without God, she wasn’t sure she would have survived to adulthood. This time, the burden was almost too much to bear.

Her body sagged. She crossed her arms in an attempt to remain upright.

The firefighter touched the back of her shoulder. “I could call someone for you. You need your family.”

He had no idea. She opened her mouth to reply that she had no family now, but she would be all right. He should go away and leave her alone. Leave her to think things through, to figure out where to go from here.

Baby Alex chose that instant to stir. Both adults turned their attention to the crib. Dressed in a hospital gown decorated with yellow ducks, he looked small and helpless. Murky blue-brown eyes blinked up at Cassidy. She touched his reaching hand and felt his strong grip against her fingers. Her heart turned over with love and regret.

“He doesn’t seem to have suffered any permanent effects,” she murmured, more to herself than to the fireman.

“He’s a tough one. A fighter.” The man reached inside the crib again as though he couldn’t keep his hands off the tiny survivor. Alex kicked his feet, happy with the attention. “His eyes are still red. They were streaming from the smoke when I brought him down.”

“You?” Of course, now his presence made sense. She turned slightly, caught the hint of emotion in the man’s face. This close, she could see he was about her age and was probably nice-looking beneath the grime. “You rescued Alex.”

Which meant he must have seen Janna and Brad, too. She wouldn’t ask about that.

“Handsome little dude.” His full bottom lip curved.

As if insulted, Alex’s small face puckered and he began to cry. Cassidy reached inside the crib and lifted him into her arms, thankful that he was not attached to the wires and tubes she’d feared.

He cried louder. She bounced him up and down, feeling as helpless as he did. She was his aunt, not his mother. What did she know about soothing a baby? She’d spent time with him, but Janna had always been nearby, ready to take over when the crying commenced. It had been a standard joke between her and her sister. Cassidy played with Alex. Janna did all the hard stuff.

“It’s probably breakfast time, don’t you think?” the fireman asked.

Oh dear. Breakfast. Cassidy’s stomach fell to her toes. “I don’t know what to do.”

He shot her an odd look, as if everyone knew what to do with a hungry baby. “Give him a bottle, I guess.”

Cassidy bit her bottom lip, both embarrassed and dismayed. “Janna was nursing him. He’s never had a bottle.”