Jingle Bell Baby

“Of course I’m going to burp her,” Jessie said indignantly. She lifted Daisy up to her shoulder and began patting the baby’s back, as she had seen it done.

Why did people make such a big deal out of taking care of a baby? There didn’t seem to be all that much to it.

As she gave Daisy’s back gentle pats, she turned back to the object of her ire, who had now come closer and was standing right over her. At close range he was even bigger, more imposing…and even better looking.

“Who the hell are you, anyway? Barging into my place, sticking your two cents where it definitely doesn’t belong—”

“This is your place?”

“That’s right. Jessica Malone, owner, manager, tonight’s star waitress.” She introduced herself, her tone edged with sarcasm.

He did not look the least bit mollified.

“Sorry, I’m new in town. I haven’t gotten around to meeting all the local—” She could have sworn he was about to say “characters” but he caught himself just in time. “Business owners.”

He smiled at her, not exactly a warm smile. Still, it did something wonderful to his face, Jessie couldn’t help but notice, crinkling his eyes most attractively around the corners and causing an astoundingly deep dimple to crease one cheek. She would bet dollars to doughnuts—baked on the premises, of course—that this man didn’t smile often. Not from the heart, anyway.

“Apology accepted,” she said. “And you are—?”

“Clint Bradshaw, town’s new sheriff.” He flipped open one side of his jacket to show her his badge, pinned on a black crew-neck sweater that stretched across his muscular chest.

“Congratulations,” Jessica said dryly. She felt her gaze fix on the man’s rather impressi e physique. He caught her looking and smiled again, just the hint of a grin at the edge of his well-formed lips that said, “Gotcha!”

She turned away, feeling the color rise hotly in her cheeks.

It was a classic, nonverbal, male-female exchange, one of the “taking inventory” variety. Not that Jessie had been taking inventory of all that many men lately. But at twenty-nine years old, with one broken engagement under her belt and a few more “definite almosts” on her record, she certainly knew the difference between looking at a man and looking.

She’d been caught looking, and now, at this very moment, she could feel Sheriff Clinton Bradshaw looking at her. She shifted in her seat, patting Daisy a little faster and feeling suddenly self-conscious.

All right, she knew she was a sight tonight, her outfit chosen for comfort, not high fashion. The pink waitress uniform was borrowed for the night from one of her employees, Ivy—who was ten years younger, ten pounds thinner and a good three inches shorter. It fit Jessica like a short, tight minidress. Beneath the short-sleeved dress she wore a red, long-sleeved thermal undershirt. But if that wasn’t bad enough, Jessica had chosen to cover the damage with Aunt Claire’s old gray wool vest. The handknitted vest, a most valued piece of her wardrobe, now looked like the ragged coat of an old dog, she knew, but she couldn’t resist wearing it from time to time for purely sentimental reasons. Especially on a night like tonight, when she had felt so alone and down in the dumps.

Foreseeing the snow, she’d pulled on a pair of black tights and thick socks and her beat-up, clunky hiking boots that gave her legs a real Frankenstein look. Her long reddish gold hair had been swirled into a careless knot and secured with a large clip. The arrangement was now listing to one side of her head, the loose strands hanging in corkscrew curls.

Jessie unconsciously smoothed a few curls behind her ear as the moment of uncomfortable silence stretched on and she tried to think of something, anything, to say that would send this man on his merry way.

Daisy saved her, letting loose an amazingly loud burp.

Both of them stared wide-eyed at the baby for a moment, then Jessica started to laugh. She switched the baby from her shoulder to a sitting position on her lap. Daisy stared up at both of them, smiling and looking quite pleased with herself.

Clint didn’t join in her laughter, Jessie noticed. But he smiled just enough to cause that devastating dimple to make another brief appearance. Jessie met his gaze for a moment and felt her toes curl inside her hiking boots.

“Look, the point is,” he said, “I’d feel a whole lot better if you’d close up here and let me give you two a lift home. Your husband must be worried about you driving in this weather with a baby.”

His tone suggested that any man worth his salt would not only be worried about the situation, he would be parked at the doorstep, waiting to escort the two of them home safe and sound in a snug little snowplow.

Jessica stood up and cradled Daisy’s little head against her shoulder. The baby’s prize-winning burp seemed to have worn her out completely. Though her eyes were wideopen, Jessie had the feeling that if she played her cards right, the baby would drop off to sleep in no time. Without another ear-splitting crying jag, she hoped.

She rocked the baby from side to side, mulling over her situation. She knew that sooner or later she had to officially report that she’d found an abandoned baby. And quite conveniently out of the blue, here was a suitable “official” to report it to. Yet, Sheriff Bradshaw had assumed that Daisy was her baby and her heart told her to just let Sheriff Bradshaw continue on with his assumption.

It wasn’t as if she were telling him a lie; she just wasn’t telling him…everything. If she did tell him the truth, it would only set the official wheels in motion and part her and Daisy all the sooner. Daisy sighed, snuggling closer. Jessica brushed her chin against the baby’s unbelievably soft hair.

Couldn’t it all wait until tomorrow? Or even the next day? her heart whispered.

But Jessica hadn’t been raised that way. It was simply impossible for her to be anything less than completely and totally forthright. Although at times like tonight, she wished her nature would let her get away with just a little white lie here and there.

“No husband,” Jessie succinctly informed him, “so I don’t have to worry about anybody worrying.”

“Oh.” He looked down at his shoes for a moment, then back up at her. His expression was unreadable but his gaze was intense, making her lose track of her thoughts for a moment.

“Not only is there no husband, Sheriff, this isn’t even my baby.” Jessie took a breath and held Daisy a little closer in her arms. “I found her. That is, someone came in here a little while ago and left her. Right on the countertop in that laundry basket.”

“Left her? Are you sure?” His thick brows came together in a frown.

Clearly the good sheriff was having a hard time believing that anyone could be so unconscionable as to abandon a helpless little baby.

“Is anyone you know in the habit of misplacing their baby?” Jessie asked him. “Here, look at this. It was attached to the basket.”

Jessica picked up the note from the counter and handed it to him. His head bowed, he quickly read it.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He let his hand drop to his side, still clutching the note. “Have you reported this to anyone yet?”

“Well, I’m reporting it right now, to you, I guess,” Jessie told him.

He looked right into her eyes and for an instant she imagined that he had read every thought running through her head. I know you didn’t really want to tell me about this baby, did you? she could almost hear him saying aloud.

“You’d better tell me the whole story, from the beginning.”

“Well, let’s see.” She took a deep breath, deciding there were some details she’d just as soon edit out. Sobbing over that silly old movie, for one thing. “It was just about midnight, I guess. I was in the storeroom, catching up on some bookkeeping. The TV was on, too. I had just shut it off when I heard the bells on the front door ringing. Then I called out to whoever it was that I’d be right out—”

“There was no one else here?” he asked. Jessie nodded. “You don’t run this place by yourself, do you?”

“I gave everyone time off for the holiday. I—” She caught herself starting to disclose some more personal details. “I decided to keep the place open anyway.”

She didn’t have to tell him everything about herself, did she? Yes, she was alone here because she had given Sophie, Ivy and Charlie the night off. They all had somewhere to go and she didn’t. It was that simple.

Oh, she’d had invitations—more than she could remember refusing—from Sophie, who was making a huge dinner for her three children and eight grandchildren. From Charlie, who was going to his daughter’s home in Maryland. From Ivy, who was going to spend the holidays with her folks who lived just outside of town. And of course, from Aunt Claire, who was on the first leg of a world tour and had tried to persuade Jessie to join her in the Greek Islands. Claire was spending the holidays exploring ancient ruins, then heading off for India.

Jessie always had invitations from the good people who worked for her and all her friends in town. But somehow, this year, she didn’t feel like being part of someone else’s celebration. She didn’t feel like being the designated “favorite aunt,” the close friend of the family who sat just outside the golden family circle, looking on hungrily at other’s people’s happy marriages and growing children. Christmas was a time for family, and Jessie didn’t have one. And this year, she didn’t feel up to the challenge of wearing a happy face while, inside, she felt so keenly the lack of all she was missing.

Now, did Sheriff Bradshaw need to know any of this?

Not on her life, Jessie decided. Daisy, who was resting with her head propped against Jessie’s shoulder, gave a soft sigh. The baby felt relaxed and heavy, Jessie noticed, the milk in her belly taking effect.

“I think she’s about to fall asleep,” Jessie said, rocking slowly side to side.

Clint stared down at her solemnly and seemed suddenly lost in thought. Jessie was willing to wager that he wasn’t thinking about her or even about the baby. No, he was miles away in some very private place, a place that wasn’t a very happy one, either, Jessie would guess, for the expression that flashed across his face was one that Jessie could classify only as total emptiness. Sadness. Loss.

It transformed his strong features for an instant, then just as swiftly, it was gone and he looked at her again, wearing an expression that revealed no emotion at all.