English Girl in New York

The little bundle shifted in his arms and started to whimper again. There was colour coming into the baby’s cheeks and his tongue was starting to play around the edge of his mouth. He sighed. ‘I guess our boy is getting hungry. I’ll give Mr Meltzer a call and see if he can open the store so we can get some supplies. Know anything about making baby bottles?’

Carrie shook her head quite forcefully. ‘I’ve told you—I can’t help. This isn’t my thing.’

But Dan was already on his feet, shifting his weight and moving the baby into her arms, whether she was ready or not. ‘My computer’s right next to you. Do an internet search while I’m gone.’ He flicked through the nearby phone directory and punched a number into his phone. ‘I’ll only be five minutes.’

He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door again. What was her problem? He wasn’t so chauvinistic that he expected all women to want to be mothers, but he did expect any responsible adult to help out in an emergency situation.

Maybe it was just the cop in him. Maybe his expectations of the average person were too high. But he’d seen the way she’d looked at the baby. She might not have experience, but she couldn’t hide the tenderness in her eyes.

Maybe she was just uncomfortable with the pyjama situation. Maybe he should offer to let her go back upstairs and get changed.

He pressed the send button on his phone as he headed along the white street. Whatever it was, she’d better get over it quick. There was no way he was doing this on his own.

* * *

Carrie sat frozen on the sofa.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

There was a weight pressed firmly against her chest. Like a huge dumb-bell just sitting there, taunting her to try and pull some air into her lungs.

He was scowling at her again. The baby. Nearly as much as Daniel Cooper had scowled at her when she’d tried to pull out all the lame excuses under the sun to get out of here.

It must make her seem like a bitch. But right now she didn’t care.

She could feel tears starting to flood into her eyes. This was someone’s precious baby. Someone’s living, breathing, precious bundle. What on earth could happen in this life that would make you leave a baby on someone’s doorstep in the middle of a snowstorm?

It wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair.

Last time she’d held a baby it hadn’t been moving. Its little chest didn’t have the rise and fall that this little boy’s had. It didn’t have the pink flush to its cheeks.

She blinked back the tears. The tightening in her chest was getting worse.

It.

A terrible term.

But she couldn’t use any other right now. She couldn’t think about her daughter. She couldn’t think about Ruby McKenzie. She couldn’t let that name invade her thoughts.

Because then she would spiral downwards. Then she would remember the nursery and pram. Then she would remember the routine check at the midwife’s, followed by the urgent scan. Then she would remember the forty-eight-hour labour, with no cry of joy at the end of it.

Then she would remember the disintegration of her five-year relationship, as both of them struggled to cope with their bereavement.

The whimpering was getting worse, turning into full-blown screams.

She’d have given anything to hear the screams of her daughter. She’d have given anything to see her daughter screw up her face and let out a yell like that.

She shifted the baby onto her shoulder. Five minutes. Dan would be back in five minutes.

She put her hand on the keyboard of the computer and did a quick search. If she could keep her mind on something else, she could fight back the feelings. She could stop them from enveloping her. How to sterilise and prepare bottles.

She read the screen in front of her, scanning quickly. Her hand automatically moving and patting the baby on the back. She could do this. She could help him make a bottle and then leave.

He couldn’t expect any more. She couldn’t give any more.

She could feel herself pulling in—withdrawing inside herself. Turning into someone else. Stepping outside herself to a place where there was no hurt, no memories. Switching off.

It was the only way she’d coped before. And it was the only way she could cope now.

She glanced at the clock. Ten minutes maximum.

She could keep this face painted in place for ten minutes when he got back. That was how long it would take to sterilise the bottle, make up the powdered milk and leave him positioned on the sofa.

Her eyes registered something on the screen. Darn it! Cooled boiled water. How long did the water have to cool for before it was suitable to give a baby?

Maybe he’d only just boiled the kettle. She juggled the baby in her arms and walked over to the kitchen countertop, putting her hand on the side of the kettle. Stone cold. She picked it up and gave it a shake—and practically empty.

Nightmare.

She ran the tap and filled the kettle, putting it back into position and flicking the switch for it to boil.

Then she felt it—and heard it.

That first little squelchy noise. Followed by a warm feeling where her hand was resting on the baby’s bottom.

No nappy. This little boy had no nappy on.

Her heart sank like a stone as she felt the warm feeling spread across her stomach. Could this night really get any worse?

CHAPTER THREE

DAN ENDED THE CALL on his phone. His captain had let out the loudest, heartiest laugh he’d ever heard when he’d told him about the baby. It hadn’t helped.

He could hear pandemonium in the background at the station. He should be there helping. Instead of doing a late-night recce for baby supplies.

Mr Meltzer, on the other hand, had been full of concern. Loading up supplies on the counter and waving his hand at Dan’s offer of payment.

‘If I help the little guy get a better start in life that’s all I need.’

The words tormented him. Ground into him in a way they shouldn’t. If only everyone felt like Mr Meltzer.

He pushed open the door to the apartment building and kicked the snow off his favourite baseball boots. They were really beyond repair.

Carrie was waiting and she pulled open the inside door. ‘Did you get some milk?’

He nodded and dumped the bags on the counter.

‘Wow, how much stuff did you get?’