Emergency: Parents Needed

“It was worse,” he said glumly, rubbing the two days’ worth of dark whiskers on his face before he began preparing baby formula with actions testifying to an obvious lack of experience. “I haven’t slept for more than a few hours at a time and neither has she. I honestly don’t know how she has the energy to keep going.”

Strangely enough, his less-than-immaculate appearance only made him seem more human, more vulnerable, and far more appealing than he already was. He looked like a man in desperate need of a woman’s touch and she had to stop herself from wanting to be the one to give it to him. As much as she hated to think that he’d denied his own child, she couldn’t ignore the way he had to read directions for such a simple task. OK, so he didn’t talk about his daughter, but maybe he had a good excuse…Maybe her mother lived in another state; maybe he didn’t have access to his child until now, maybe it was too painful to discuss a baby who wasn’t a part of his life. But whatever the reason, as her partner, he deserved the benefit of the doubt.

“You haven’t done this very often, have you?” she asked softly, noticing how he spilled the formula as he poured it into a bottle and struggled to attach the nipple.

“Clearly, my incompetence shows,” he said wryly.

“I wouldn’t call it incompetence,” she said, trying to minimize his obvious failing. “Awkwardness, perhaps, but if you do anything often enough, it will become second nature. Before long, you’ll be able to fix her formula in your sleep.”

He cast a baleful glance in her direction. “Mixing formula is one thing. Understanding what to do to keep her from crying all day long is another.”

“Given enough time, you’ll learn that, too,” she predicted. “Didn’t you spend any time with her while her mom was around so she’d learn you weren’t a stranger?”

“No.”

“Then maybe you should call her and explain the problems you’re having,” she suggested. “She may—”

“No.” He shook his head for emphasis. “I can’t.”

How typical of the Joe Donatelli she knew. He could never admit failure, never admit he might be wrong or couldn’t handle a situation. She wanted to think his Italian heritage came into play, but she had enough males in her family to suspect his stubbornness was just a guy thing.

“Of course you can,” she said impatiently. “Admitting you’re out of your depth isn’t the end of the world.”

“Her mother’s dead,” he said flatly. “I’m on my own.”

Dead? He had a far bigger problem than she’d realized…“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

He raked his hair with one hand. “That makes two of us.”

“I assume it was recent,” she said slowly, testing his reaction.

Silently, he brought a small bowl of baby cereal and a jar of strained peaches to the table, then mixed some of the formula into the cereal. His jaw was clenched, and Maggie waited for his answer.

Finally, he nodded. “A week ago. Car accident on the other side of town. She apparently hydroplaned and struck a telephone pole.”

Maggie thought for a moment. “Oh, yes. I remember reading about the accident in the newspaper. That was Breanna’s mother?”

“Yeah,” he admitted gruffly. “That was Dee.”

“If I remember right, the guys from Station Two responded.”

“We did.”

Suddenly, it all became clear. He’d been more taciturn than usual on that particular Friday when they’d worked together. She’d assumed his grumpiness had been because he’d pulled an extra shift at Station Two on his regular day off to cover their staff shortage, but obviously she’d been wrong.

“And you were on the scene,” she guessed.

Again he nodded, his eyes bleak. “Yes.”

Maggie leaned back in her chair and stared at him as he began feeding Breanna, hardly able to reconcile everything she’d learned with her own perceptions. It was always difficult to lose a victim, but to know that individual on a personal level made it even more so. “I’m so sorry,” she said again. “You should have told us.”

“It wouldn’t have changed the final outcome.”

“No, but we could have supported you in your loss.” Then she added, “Do the guys at Station Two know?”

“I told them Dee and I were friends. Which we were.”

“Friends who had a baby.” Her mind raced with scenarios and possibilities of why Joe hadn’t told anyone about his daughter. Either he didn’t trust anyone with the information or he was as shallow in his relationships as Arthur had been. Neither option sat well.

“I know what you’re thinking, but you’d be wrong.” His voice was hard.

She raised an eyebrow. “Just what am I thinking, Donatelli?”

“That I walked out on her, leaving her to face her pregnancy alone, but I didn’t. I wouldn’t.”

Pain appeared in his dark eyes for an instant before it disappeared. “The last time I saw Dee, she didn’t have a steady boyfriend and she certainly didn’t look or say she was expecting. Naturally, when she talked about her daughter while we were working on her…” He paused, then cleared his throat before he continued, “I thought she was confused and imagining things because she’d always wanted a houseful of kids.”

Dee may not have been confused, but Maggie definitely was. Breanna was Joe’s daughter, yet when he’d known her mother, Dee hadn’t been seeing anyone and she supposedly hadn’t been pregnant.

“I didn’t know Breanna existed,” he went on, “until Dee’s attorney contacted me the other day. I was apparently named in her will as Breanna’s guardian if anything happened to her.”

Now the scenario made sense. Joe wasn’t the deadbeat dad she’d feared, denying the existence of his own child. He was a man who’d been granted custody of a friend’s baby. “I assume her father isn’t in the picture?”

He visibly winced and for a long moment didn’t answer. When he finally spoke, he sounded weary. “According to Breanna’s birth certificate, you’re looking at him.”

Chapter Two

HE WAS A FATHER. The concept was so completely foreign to him that Joe couldn’t make sense of it no matter how many times he repeated the fact. A father. A dad. A parent. Fate was surely having a laugh at his expense.

What the hell were you thinking, Dee? he silently railed for what seemed the hundredth time. You knew fatherhood wasn’t in my plans.

He wanted to wash away the past few days as easily as he washed away the smoke clinging to his body after a fire, but life didn’t work that way. He had to deal with the aftermath as best as he could, and right now that meant doing whatever was necessary to keep Breanna calm when he’d rather howl with her.

The only bright spot was that at this moment he wasn’t alone. Maggie was here, being an anchor at a time when he desperately needed one. Although, at the moment, his so-called anchor looked as if someone had pulled the rug out from under her.

“You’re her father? Her real, biological father?”

If the situation wasn’t so dire, he would have found humor in Maggie’s surprise. “So the paperwork says.”

“The paperwork,” she repeated. “You mean, you don’t know for certain?”

“No, I don’t. Dee and I…Our physical relationship was…” he winced as he chose his words carefully in the interest of full disclosure “…very short-lived. It didn’t take long for us to realize we were better friends than lovers, which was what we were during the entire time I knew her,” he insisted.

She raised an eyebrow. “I see. How old is Breanna?”

“Eleven months.”

“When did you meet Dee?”