Roz Fox - Baby, Baby

Faith heard only the warning that overlaid his apparent concern. Pain exploded in her chest. She should have suspected Michael was being nice at the funeral to put himself in a good light. Now she could believe this steely-jawed man with the hard eyes had driven her sister away. “And you’re lily-white?” she said angrily. “Lacy left you because you were obsessed with work. Somehow I doubt a judge will find it her fault that Kipp pretended to be single. No one knows better than you, Michael, that Lacy’s anti-rejection drugs were experimental. Who’d fault her for not wanting to jeopardize her unborn child?”

“I see. You and Lacy’s lawyer have it all figured out, don’t you, Faith? Well, I wouldn’t spend a lot of money furnishing that nursery if I were you.” Michael drew himself up to his full six-foot-three height. “Courts have been more favorable to fathers over the last few years, especially if they have the means to provide for their kids. I have the means several times over. And the desire. Tell that to your David Reed.”

Faith watched him stride down the aisle. She felt as if she’d been trampled by an elephant. Michael stopped to pay for his purchases, chatting easily with the sales-woman as she rang them up. He appeared impervious to the fact that he’d left Faith shattered and it struck her how little effect her words had had on him. Michael Cameron intended to apply the same tenacity that had made him a world-famous surgeon to overturning her guardianship of Lacy’s babies.

He obviously didn’t realize she could be tenacious, too. More determined than ever to outfit the nursery as Lacy would want, Faith finished her shopping and requested everything be delivered. Leaving, she visited a paint store. And lugged the heavy cans up to her third-floor apartment. Then she put all other plans on hold while she ran to the hospital to visit the babies. She needed to touch them. To hold them.

Faith cuddled Abigail first, and then Nicholas. “You’re going to love the room I’m fixing for you,” she told them both as they gazed at her with unfocused eyes.

The pediatrician came in while she was there. He unwrapped the babies and checked them over thoroughly. “They’re gaining like champs,” he said over their chorusing squalls. “Two more weeks at this rate and you’ll be able to take them home.”

“So soon? That’s wonderful news! The nurses seemed to think they’d have to stay here much longer.” Faith couldn’t contain a happy smile.

“If they’d lost a lot of weight, that would have been true. Nicholas only lost an ounce and Abigail two. The way they’re chowing down, unless something unforeseen crops up, my guess is they’ll both top five pounds soon. Dr. Finegold mentioned your predicament, Faith. For what it’s worth, I’ll be glad to put in a good word for you. The babies may be stable, but caring for premie multiples can be tricky. I like knowing they’ll be under the care of a trained nurse.”

“I appreciate your vote of confidence, Dr. Sampson. I’m planning to take at least six months off from work. A year if I can swing it financially. Our administrator said he’d hold a position open as long as possible. Otherwise, I’ll use our on-site day care. I’ve already placed my name on the waiting list. Gwen in E.R., said the day care has openings from time to time.”

“If you’re able to stay home six months, that’s great, Faith. A year would be icing on the cake. After I examine the twins next week, I’ll give you a call. I should be able to give you their actual release date then.”

“Thank you,” Faith murmured. She watched him cuddle Abigail while she diapered Nicholas. She felt all thumbs and hoped he didn’t hold that against her. She hadn’t diapered a baby since Lacy was little. “I’ll get the hang of this soon,” she promised.

Sampson laughed. “I have no doubt you will. Call my office and ask my receptionist to put you in touch with a parents-of-multiples support group. They have a newsletter and meetings where other parents of twins, triplets and upward exchange information. My other advice is to lay in a mountain of diapers. You won’t believe how many you’ll go through in a day.”

“Diapers.” Faith snapped her fingers. “I went shopping today and bought out the store. Even paint for the nursery walls. How could I have forgotten diapers?”

The physician handed her Abigail and gave a wry glance at the wet spot on the front of his lab coat. “Breaks of the trade,” he said as Faith apologized for leaving him holding a near-naked baby so long.

“Always remember to diaper Nicholas first. Or he’ll decorate those newly painted walls.”

“They aren’t painted yet. As soon as I leave here, I’m going home to do that. Two weeks,” she mused happily, giving each baby a kiss before she tucked them back into their warm cocoons.

By dinnertime that evening, Faith’s muscles ached so badly she could hardly stand up straight. The result of her labors pleased her, however. The walls looked cheery, complementing the soft gray carpet and white ceiling. She liked the room.

It suited her to keep busy and to restrict her thoughts to the subject of the babies. So after eating a light dinner, she went to work recovering the cushions on a comfortable rocking chair—the only piece of furniture she’d saved from the old house. The chair had belonged to her mother. Faith remembered how on good days her mom would sit by a sunny window and rock the infant Lacy. As the cushions cut from jungle-print chintz took shape, Faith imagined herself rocking Nicholas and Abigail to sleep.

It was an image that remained with her until she received a phone call from David Reed the next day. “Faith, could you come down to my office, please? I’ve got faxes from Kipp Fielding’s legal team, and also from Michael Cameron’s attorney. I want you to see what we’re up against. We need to plan our strategy.”

“What strategy?” she asked weakly. “Lacy signed custody of the children over to me, as you know. I agreed to raise, clothe and feed them. What other strategy do we need?” She heard his sigh and the creak of his chair.

“I know you’re not naive, Faith. I explained during our first phone consultation how messy custody fights can get. On top of that, this case is quite unusual.”

“How so?” she asked, although she knew more or less what he’d say.

“Normally it’s a matter of determining visitation rights for a noncustodial parent. Occasionally Family Court has to intervene for grandparents. But your case has two men claiming to be the twins’ father, and an aunt—you—to whom the biological mom assigned full custody. To say nothing of a very influential grandpa. Fielding Junior made a fortune on Wall Street. It looks as if he’s prepared to use it to guarantee himself a grandson.”

Faith’s legs wouldn’t hold her. She fell into a chair. “So are you saying it’s hopeless?”

“No. Oh, my, no. Your position in the triangle is equal to the others at this point. Old man Fielding may have New York judges in his pocket, but his clout won’t be half as great in Boston. I’ve cleared an hour on my calendar at one o’clock. It would be in your best interests to meet with me, I think.”

“Of course.” Faith barely had time to say she’d be there before he hung up. Her nerves were completely jangled. She could practically see Reed rubbing his hands together. He’d struck her as something of a barracuda. Maybe that was good. She hoped it was. And hoped he was clever enough to solve the matter in her favor, preferably within two weeks.

Faith showered and dressed with care, then left for her appointment. After all, if she expected the man to represent her enthusiastically, it would help if she made a good impression. She hoped his fees would be manageable—another thing that worried her. They hadn’t discussed what he charged. Faith had a fair savings account, but she’d need it to allow her to stay home with the twins.