Expecting His Baby

Trying not to favor her sore arm too obviously, she pulled out her long waterproof pants with their silver braces, and the boots with the strips of fluorescent tape on them, and began talking about them in a quiet, uninflected voice. She moved to the jacket, the straps for the oxygen tank, and her helmet with its protective shield, trying them all on as she went; and was steadily aware that Emmy was listening, even though the child was giving nothing away. Then, finally, she took out her mask, and saw Emmy’s dark lashes flicker. “See, these are the head straps, they’re adjustable. And this black coil connects with the oxygen tank I carry on my back. Feel it, you can make it longer and shorter. Sort of like a Slinky toy, did you ever have one of those?”

Tentatively Emmy reached out her hand, poking at the coil. “It changes the way I look,” Lise said, and held it up, putting her face behind it. “But it’s still me. Nobody scary. Nobody who needs to be in a nightmare.” Lowering the mask, she put all the reassurance she possibly could into her smile.

“It’s too big for me,” Emmy said.

“Yes, it is. It might fit Plush, though.”

Emmy blinked. “Do you think he wants to wear it? Isn’t he scared of it, too?”

“Why don’t we try it on and see?”

With some reluctance, the little girl passed over her bear. Carefully Lise fastened the mask to his face, tightening the straps around his caramel colored fur. “There,” she said. “He doesn’t seem to mind it, does he? In fact, he looks rather dashing, don’t you think?”

“Maryann wants to put Plush in the washing machine with lots of soap so he won’t smell of smoke,” Emmy said in a rush. “But I don’t want her to. I keep him around all the time. That’s why he was in the attic with me.”

Emmy had given Lise the perfect opportunity to satisfy her curiosity. “Were you in the attic because you were running away from the fire?” she asked with a careful lack of emphasis.

For the first time, Emmy looked right at her. “Oh, no. When my dad’s away and I’m lonesome, I sleep in the attic.”

And does that happen often?

Fortunately Lise hadn’t asked the question: merely thought it. But she was aware of a steady burn of anger that Judd could so cavalierly leave his daughter alone while he went off on business trips. Or so-called business trips, the ones where he was with a woman. How could he?

“Well,” she said easily, “I’m really glad it was me who found you and Plush. You were both very brave to keep each other company. He’s earned a pot or two of honey for that, I’d say—if he’s anything like Pooh Bear.”

As Emmy gave a small chuckle, Lise’s lips curved in response. “A little something at eleven,” Emmy said shyly.

To her dismay, Lise wanted very badly to hug Emmy; and knew it would be the wrong move. Too soon. Too much. She said gently, “Would you like to take Plush’s mask off?”

Her small fingers very nimble, Emmy loosened the clasps and eased the mask away from the bear. “He likes it better without it,” she said.

Lise laughed. “So do I. It has its uses, but it’s not what you’d call comfortable.” With no ceremony, she started shoving all her gear back in the bag. “All these clothes make me as fat as Pooh the time he got stuck in Rabbit’s front door.”

If she’d hoped for another of those sweet smiles from Emmy, Lise was disappointed. The child was clutching Plush to her chest, and in some very real way had retreated from her. Had she, Lise, reached Emmy? Helped in any way that would be lasting?

A tap came at the door, and a plump elderly woman in a flowered housedress came in the door carrying a tray of tea and cookies. Judd introduced Lise to Maryann, the housekeeper, who gave her a disconcertingly keen look before leaving the tray and closing the door behind her. Emmy drank a glass of milk and ate an oatmeal cookie, answering Lise’s artless questions with unfailing politeness and no warmth whatsoever. In the course of her job, Lise often visited schools, and rather prided herself on her rapport with children. But whatever her gifts in that direction, they weren’t working today, she thought unhappily, wondering why it should matter so much that a small, blue-eyed girl should rebuff her.

It was a relief when Judd got up and said casually, “I’m going to carry Lise’s gear downstairs, Emmy, and drive her home. Maryann’s in the kitchen and I’ll be back in a few minutes. Say goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Emmy said, looking at Lise’s shoes rather than her face. “Thank you for coming.”

“You’re welcome,” Lise said, infusing her voice with genuine warmth. “It was nice to meet you, Emmy.”

Emmy, pointedly, said nothing. Lise trudged downstairs behind Judd. Standing in the gracious foyer, she asked, “Do you think I did any good?”

Judd said ruefully, “I very rarely know what my daughter’s thinking, and yes, I would suspect you did. You handled it beautifully, Lise, thanks so much…and now I’ll drive you home.”

Lise didn’t want Judd within fifty feet of her apartment. Not after the last time. “I have a couple of errands to run,” she said, “I’d rather get a cab. And I’m sure Emmy needs you more than I do. So she won’t get lonesome again.”

“Do you think I’m not blaming myself?” Judd said harshly. “Give me a break.”

“Angeline always complained about how much you were away.”

His lips tightened. “I’m sure she did.”

“Is there a phone nearby? For the cab?”

“You’re in an almighty rush to be out of here.”

She was; she was terrified he might touch her again, and the alchemy of his body transform her into a woman she scarcely knew. Then Judd took her by the arm, and Lise’s whole body tensed. He said tautly, “I have a proposal…and hear me out before you say anything. Emmy’s out of school for the next few days, it’s March break. I want to get her away from the house and the smell of smoke and all the repairs, so we’re going to Dominica—I have a property there. I want you to come with us.”

“Me?” Lise squawked. “Are you nuts?”

“I’m both sober and in my right mind,” Judd said curtly. “For one thing, I’d like you to be around in case the nightmares persist. Secondly, it’s a small way I can thank you for saving her life. And thirdly, you’re on sick leave and very obviously at a loose end. I could even add a fourth incentive. It’s March in Montreal—wouldn’t anyone rather be on a beach in the West Indies?”

Lise had never been south. Never lazed on a tropical beach or swum in a sea the color of turquoise. For a moment sheer longing to do something so irresponsible, so remote from her normal life, caught her in its grip. Palm trees. Papayas and mangoes. A holiday. A real holiday away from emergencies and sirens and the tragedies that inevitably went with the job. Away from weeping women, charred ruins, smashed cars on an icy highway. Away from the three or four men at the station who would never accept her as someone who could do the job as well as they, no matter how hard she tried. She was so tired of it all. Ten years’ tired.

A holiday with Judd.

How could she even be contemplating such a move? She was the one who was nuts. Trying to tug free, Lise said in a raw voice, “I can’t, it’s a ridiculous idea.”

“Give me one good reason why you can’t go.”

For a horrible moment Lise couldn’t think of one. “Emmy doesn’t want me around,” she blurted.

“She’d get over it.”

“I’d be using you.”

“You let me worry about that.”

“Judd, I can’t go! I’ve never in my life gone away with a man who’s a stranger and I’m not going to start now.”

“Come on, we met years ago, I’m not exactly a stranger.”

She stared up at him. He was smiling at her, a smile of such calculated charm that all her alarm bells went off. Judd was obviously expecting her to capitulate. In bed and out? she wondered, and heard herself say, “Anyway, there’s Dave.”

“There’s also the chemistry, Lise. Between you and me. The kind that starts conflagrations.”

Willing her knees not to tremble, Lise glared up at him. “Let’s have some plain talk here, Judd Harwood. I’ll spell it out for you. You’re quite a guy. Tall, dark and handsome nowhere near describes you. You’re sexy, rich and powerful, your smile’s pure dynamite and your body would drive any woman from sixteen to sixty stark-raving mad. Why wouldn’t I respond to you? I’d have to be dead in my grave not to. But it doesn’t mean a darn thing—I don’t even like you, for Pete’s sake. So please don’t feel flattered that I just about fell into your arms, it’s nothing to—”

Judd said flatly, “Great snow job, and I don’t believe a word of it.”

“That’s your ego talking!”

“Dammit, Lise,” he exploded, “there’s something about you that’s different. I don’t normally ask a woman I’ve spent less than three hours with to go away with me and my daughter. Especially my daughter. You can trust me on that one.”

“Whether I trust a single word you say is completely irrelevant. I’m not going to Dominica with you. I’m not going to the local grocery store with you. Now will you please call me a cab?”