English Girl in New York

It was so funny being on the outside looking in. He loved his home. He cherished it. But he’d never really taken a moment to stand outside and stare in—to see what the world must see on their way past if he hadn’t pulled the blinds. His grandmother had left it to him in her will and he knew how lucky he was. There was no way a single guy on a cop’s salary could have afforded a place like this.

But it was his. And he didn’t even owe anything on it. All he had to do was cover the bills.

A little thought crept into his mind. He hadn’t quite pulled the blinds fully tonight. He just hadn’t gotten round to it. Was that why someone had left their baby here?

Did they see into his home and think it would be a safe place to leave a baby?

It sent a shudder down his spine. The thought that a few minutes ago someone could have been out here having those kind of thoughts.

The snowfall was getting even heavier—he could barely see ten feet in front of him. This was pointless. He was never going to find any clues in this weather. He had to concentrate on the immediate. He had to concentrate on the baby.

He hurried back into the apartment. Carrie turned to face him. ‘Nothing?’ The anxiety in her voice was obvious. Was she just a concerned citizen? Or was it something else?

He shook his head and pulled off his jacket, hanging it back up behind the door.

He walked over to where she was standing at the window and had another quick look out into the deserted street, searching for something, anything—a shadow, a movement. But there was nothing. Just the silence of the street outside.

He stood next to her, watching the way she cradled the baby in her arms. She was holding the baby, but he could sense she was uneasy. She’d said she didn’t know the first thing about babies—well, neither did he. And in a snowstorm like this, it was unlikely they could get any help.

Most of the people who stayed around here were professionals. He couldn’t think of a single family that stayed on this street. There were a couple of older people who had lived here for years. Mrs Van Dyke upstairs, but her family had long since moved away. There really wasn’t anyone they could call on for help.

He watched her. The way her blue eyes were fixed on the face of the baby, still swaddled in its blanket. It was then he noticed the way her arms were trembling. It was slight—ever so slight. Making her chestnut curls waver and the pink flush of her cheeks seem heated.

She was beautiful. Now that he was close enough to take a good look at her, Carrie McKenzie was beautiful. Even if she didn’t know it herself. Even with the realm of sadness in her blue eyes. He wondered what they looked like when they were happy. Did they sparkle, like the sun glinting off a turquoise-blue sea?

They were standing too close. He was sure his warm breath must be dancing across her skin. He could smell the orange scent of her bath oils, still present on her skin. He liked it. It was nicer than the cloying scent of some perfumes that women wore. The ones that prickled your nose from the other side of the room. This was like a warm summer’s day. Here, in his living room, in the middle of a snowstorm in New York.

She looked up at him with those sad blue eyes. She didn’t pull away from him. She didn’t seem to think he had invaded her personal space. It was quite unnerving. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this close to a beautiful woman in his apartment—and certainly not one in her nightwear.

A smile danced across his face. If he’d ever pictured a woman in his apartment in her nightwear it certainly hadn’t been in fluffy pyjamas and bed socks. She blinked and it snapped him out of his wayward thoughts and back to the current situation.

‘I don’t even know your name,’ she whispered.

Wow. He hadn’t even introduced himself. What kind of a New Yorker was he that his neighbour didn’t even know his name? His grandma would kill him for his lack of manners and hospitality.

Why hadn’t he ever introduced himself? Was it because he was so used to the constant flow of traffic up above him that he hadn’t thought it worth his while? The thought shamed him. Because this woman definitely looked as if she could do with a friend. ‘Dan. Daniel Cooper.’

‘Daniel,’ she repeated, as if she were trying to associate his face with the name. Her lips curled upwards. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Daniel,’ she whispered, her gaze steady on his. ‘Even if I am barely dressed.’ He liked that about her. Even though her arms were trembling and she was clearly out of her depth, she could still look him clear in the eye and make a joke at her own expense.

The baby let out a whimper, reminding them of its presence, and he jerked back to reality. ‘Maybe it’s time to find out whether we’ve had a boy or a girl.’ He raised his eyebrows at her and held out his hands to take the bundle from her.

It only took a few seconds to relieve her of the weight. There was a noticeable sigh of relief in her shoulders as she handed the baby over.

He walked closer to the fire and unwound the little blanket. His cast made it awkward. There were no baby clothes underneath—no diaper. Just a little wrinkled towel. Carrie let out a gasp, lifting her hand to her mouth at the sight of a piece of string and a barely shrivelled umbilical cord.

Dan sucked in a deep breath. ‘Well, like I said, I’m no expert but I guess this means we have a newborn.’ A million thoughts started to flood into his head but he tried to push them aside. ‘And I guess I should say congratulations, we’ve got a boy.’ He rewrapped the blanket and lifted the little one onto his shoulder, trying to take in the enormity of the situation.

‘I have a friend who works at Angel’s, the children’s hospital. Let me give her a call.’

‘Her?’

He lifted his head. It was just the way she said the word her. As if it implied something else entirely.

‘Yes. She’s a paediatrician. Since neither of us know what we’re doing and we can’t get any immediate help, I guess she’s the best bet we’ve got.’

He walked over to the phone and dialled quickly, putting the phone onto speaker as he adjusted the baby on his shoulder, away from his cast. ‘Can you page Dr Adams for me? Tell her it’s Sergeant Cooper and it’s an emergency. Thanks.’

It only took a few seconds to connect. ‘Dan? What’s up?’

The relief he felt was instant. Shana was the best kids’ doctor that he knew. She would tell him exactly what to do.

‘Hi, Shana. I’ve got a bit of a problem. I’ve had a baby dumped on my doorstep and from the looks of it, it’s a newborn.’

‘What?’ He could hear the incredulous tone in her voice. ‘In this weather?’

‘Exactly.’

Shana didn’t mess around. She was straight down to business. ‘Is the baby breathing?’

‘Yes.’

‘How cold? Do you have a thermometer? What’s the baby’s colour? And how is it responding?’

Carrie burst in. ‘We think he was outside for just over five minutes. His skin was cold when I brought him in—and he was pale. But he’s started to warm up. He looks pinker now.’ Her brow was furrowed. ‘Do you have a thermometer, Dan?’ She was shaking her head. ‘I don’t.’

‘Who’s that?’

Daniel cleared his throat. ‘That’s Carrie, my neighbour from upstairs. It was she who heard the baby crying. And no, Shana, we don’t have a thermometer.’

‘No matter. Crying? Now that’s a good sign. That’s a positive.’

Carrie shook her head. ‘Not crying exactly, more like a whimper.’

‘Any noise is good noise. You said he’s a newborn. Is the cord still attached? Is it tied off?’

‘Yes, it’s tied with a piece of string. Doesn’t look the cleanest. But the baby was only wrapped up in a blanket. No clothes. No diaper.’

‘Sounds like no preparation. I wonder if the mother had any prenatal care. Does the baby look full term?’

Daniel shrugged and looked at Carrie, who shook her head and mouthed, I don’t know.

‘To be honest, Shana, neither of us are sure. I guess he looks okay. What does a full-term baby look like?’

‘Does he have a sucking reflex? Is he trying to root?’

‘What? I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ He was trying hard not to panic. This was all second nature to Shana. These types of questions were the ones she asked day in, day out. To him it all sounded like double Dutch.

They could hear the sound of muffled laughter at the other end of the phone. ‘One of you, scrub your hands thoroughly under the tap then brush your finger around the side of the baby’s mouth. I want to know if he turns towards it, as if he’s trying to breastfeed or bottlefeed.’