The Bad Son

“Sure. You’re like a rugged he-man you see in the magazines.” But Beau looked better than any man she’d ever seen in a magazine because he had a kind heart and a loving soul.

“You like those type of men?”

She grinned. “I’ll never tell.” She pushed back her chair. “I better get back to Delia. She’s probably awake by now.”

He followed her to the elevator. “Think I’ll go home, shower and change.”

“Would you mind checking on my gang and make sure they have enough food? And if you have time, let them out for a few minutes.” Beau had a key to her house and often checked on her animals.

“Okay. I’ll be back later.” He strolled away with his smooth, easy strides and she watched him with a heavy heart. She had to do something about their relationship and soon.

THE TIME SEEMED TO CRAWL as the baby was undergoing tests. Macy paced and watched the clock. Finally she went to Delia’s room. She was awake, drinking juice.

“How are you?” Macy asked.

“Sore from head to toe and ready to get out of this place. The doctor said the baby’s undergoing some tests. What’s wrong?”

“She’s making a squeaky sound when she breathes. They’re trying to determine the cause.”

“Dammit. I can’t even have a kid right. What the hell am I going to do with a sick baby? Macy, what am I going to do? I can’t handle this.”

Macy tucked Delia’s hair behind her ears and love for her sister filled her heart. So many memories surfaced from Delia’s childhood. Macy, help me. Don’t tell Mom and Dad. Just one small favor. I love you, Macy. And Macy never said no. She would always be there for Delia.

“Just love her,” Macy said simply.

Delia squirmed in the bed. “I don’t know how to do that. Macy, please help me.”

“You know I will. I’ll show you how to take care of her. I’ll show you everything.”

“I don’t think I can. I just can’t do it.”

She knew Delia was confused and overwhelmed at the enormous responsibility, not to mention that her hormones were out of whack.

“They’ll bring the baby in a little while for you to nurse. Once you hold her, you’ll feel completely different.”

“Nurse?” Delia pushed up in the bed, a look of terror on her face. “No, no. I can’t do that. This baby was an accident and I don’t plan on nursing it.”

Macy stroked Delia’s arm. “A lot of mothers choose to use formula.”

Delia squirmed again. “She won’t be like me, will she, Macy? Impulsive, foolish and a little crazy?”

“You only think of yourself that way. I see someone who could be an unbelievable young woman if you’d just let it happen.”

Delia sighed. “Go away, Macy. I have to decide what to do.”

“You don’t have a lot of options.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

Macy didn’t know what to make of that so she put it down to hormones. Delia would feel differently once she held her baby.

“I’ll go check on the baby. Get some rest. You’ve had a rough night.”

“Macy?”

She turned back.

“I’d like to name her Zoë.”

Macy felt a moment of relief. Delia was showing an interest. That was very good. “Would you like the father’s name on the birth certificate?” She might be pressing her luck, but she tried anyway.

Delia shook her head. “You just don’t give up, do you? Just put Zoë Jane Randall on the birth certificate.”

Macy was taken aback. Jane was her middle name, named after Irene’s mother. “I like it.”

“Thought you would. It’s for Grandma.”

“Grandma Jane would be proud.”

“Yeah. She was the only one who ever took an interest in me.”

That was very true. Delia had defied discipline as a kid, but Grandma Jane had a way with her. She passed away when Delia was twelve and after that Delia’s problems had escalated out of control.

“Is there anyone you’d like me to call?”

“Like who?”

“I haven’t seen you in a year, so you had to be living with someone, someone who might be worried about you.”

Delia scooted down in the bed and pulled a pillow close. “You’re the only one who worries about me. That’s because you don’t know any better and you never seem to learn.”

Delia drifted off to sleep and Macy walked out with a sigh.

BEAU CHECKED ON Macy’s animals and fed them—a ritual he was quite used to. When Macy worked and he was at home, the trio stayed at his place. He often let them out and took them for walks. Freckles didn’t believe in exercise, but the dogs jogged with him sometimes.

They followed him to the door, so he let them come to his house, knowing they wanted some company. They curled up on his bed while he showered and shaved. Putting on clean jeans, he watched them.

Macy had taught them all sorts of tricks. One was making up the bed. He’d just thrown the sheet and comforter back last night, intending to crawl into bed after the game. But he’d never made it.

Lucky caught the corner of the sheet with his teeth and pulled it across the bed, slipping off the side of the bed and hanging by his teeth until the sheet pulled tight. Lefty did the same with the comforter. Then both dogs jumped onto the bed and sniffed and pulled until they thought the job was done. Freckles hopped into the center, curled into a ball and promptly fell asleep.

Lucky and Lefty barked at her and Beau smiled at their antics. “Thanks, guys,” he said. “Time to go home.” They followed him to Macy’s. He hated to leave them, but Macy would be home soon. Or at least he hoped she would.

He drove to his mom and dad’s. He had to tell them about the move, which he wasn’t all that sure about anymore. The aroma of something good cooking greeted him as he entered his mom’s big kitchen, her haven. She loved to cook. Katie, his five-year-old niece and Jake’s daughter, sat on a bar stool pulled up to the island staring at some cookies that obviously had just been taken out of the oven. Bandy, a small black-and-white dog and one of Macy’s rescues, looked up at Katie, waiting for a morsel of food.

“Uncle Beau.” Katie jumped off the stool and ran into his arms.

He swung her around and kissed her cheek.