Mad For The Dad

Rachel looked down at her arm in surprise then at Daniel, then back at her arm. It had tingled when he’d touched her to make her hold—what was his name?— Todd. That kind of electrical impulse upon contact sort of thing hadn’t happened to her since early high school. How bizarre. If it hadn’t been August and humid as all get-out, Rachel would have been convinced Daniel had been scuffing his feet and had zapped her with static electricity.

Her eyes narrowed. No wonder he knew nothing about caring for small children. If Daniel could do that to a relative stranger, he’d probably fried his wife’s brain out making love to her ages ago. No doubt she was nothing but a shell of her former self by now, unable to think for herself and doing anything and everything Daniel bid. How disgusting.

Daniel, meanwhile, began to grab cans and toss them haphazardly into the wagon as quickly as he could. He’d never realized how freeing it was to have two hands for a task—not until two days ago. “Don’t be silly. I’ve never been married in my life. I lived with a girl briefly right out of college, but nothing permanent came of it, certainly not a child.”

Rachel cringed as Daniel flipped the apples in after the cans. Didn’t he know they’d be so bruised from the rough treatment as to be inedible? “Todd’s not yours then?”

Daniel straightened and wiped his forehead with the inside of his arm. “He is now.” He stood and absentmindedly brushed his hands off on his pants, then grimaced as the grit-embedded scrapes on his palms made contact with the fabric. Thoughtfully he examined the gift from God in front of him. The woman-Rachel, wasn’t it?—had shifted Todd onto one softly padded hip and gently bounced him there. For the first time in forty-eight hours the child looked—if not happy, close enough to it for government work. He’d definitely stopped wailing and was staring, fascinated at Rachel’s silken tresses. Daniel snapped his fingers and pointed. “It’s the right color,” he said.

Rachel frowned at him as she twisted her head to one side to keep Todd from reaching her hair and pulling it. “What is?”

“Your hair.”

“The right color for what?”

“For Todd. It’s the right color for Todd,” Daniel said, apropos of nothing as far as Rachel could determine. Evidently he’d burnt out his own brain as well as his former girlfriend’s.

“Fine,” she said, determined to hand Todd back to Daniel and get out of there. The child was absolutely darling—when he wasn’t yodeling at top volume, but as far as Rachel could tell, the situation was rapidly deteriorating. So much for meeting the new neighbors. She’d think long and hard before getting involved with strangers—emphasis on strange—next time.

Daniel took a step backward while shaking his head. He wasn’t taking Todd back on a bet. Not while this woman with the magic touch was here. “Listen, just carry him down three houses. That’s not so much, is it? Just three houses. Keep showing him your hair, it’s just like his mother’s was.”

Was? Past tense? Rachel looked down on the child in her arms with newfound empathy. “If he accidentally gets a hold of it, he’ll pull it out,” she warned.

And that would be a shame, Daniel couldn’t help thinking. Rachel had gorgeous dark sable hair shot through with threads of some very light color. She wore it shoulder length, turned under in a gentle bob. Under ordinary circumstances he’d—but no, these were not ordinary circumstances. He couldn’t afford to digress or get distracted—some things transcended mere incidentals like bald spots on otherwise beautiful women. “I’ll buy you a wig,” he promised, then rashly went on, “I’ll buy you anything you want if you’ll just stick with me for the next half hour or so.”

The man was pathetic, Rachel decided then and there. Absolutely, totally, one hundred percent pathetic. It was her moral responsibility, her civic duty even, to make sure this poor child happily tugging on the extremely low carat gold chain around her neck—whomever he belonged to—was fed, changed and put down for a humor-restoring nap.

Daniel read her wavering in her eyes. Wanting to consolidate any ground he might have just gained, he decided to start walking. She’d have to follow, wouldn’t she? What would he do if she didn’t? He was a desperate, desperate man. It would be a mistake—a sign of weakness to turn and look. Daniel pulled the wagon another two feet. He couldn’t stand it. He turned and looked anyway. Rachel was reluctantly following. Todd still straddled her hip and he was still complaining, but the greatly lowered volume showed that the sincerity of the complaints was now in serious question. “Thank you,” he breathed. “Thank you very much.” The first was directed to the heavens, the second to the angel in human disguise following him down the sidewalk.

Rachel stepped up onto the front stoop of the corner brick bungalow and waited for Daniel to unlock the door. It had been a long time ago and she’d been a younger woman when she’d last carted a heavy toddler around in her arms. They ached and she wished Daniel would hurry. Finally he got the door opened. Daniel’s manners at least couldn’t be faulted. He held it while she preceded him over the threshold.

“This is nice.” Rachel said as she took in the decorating with surprise. Not that it was totally feminine— although a woman’s touch was evident—it just wasn’t ultramasculine. No sofa made of leather cushions slung over shiny metal frames. No ultramodern framed graphics on the wall. And no heavy generic male-on-his-own brown and black against white walls color scheme.

Where was Daniel’s bachelor-on-the-loose decorating statement? And where, oh where, did Todd fit in to all this?

This house screamed of a married couple, not a single dad. It was a home Rachel could be comfortable in, decorating she might have chosen herself. Cream painted walls with cream-colored sheers and window scarves softened the views of the street. A sofa and love seat at right angles to each other were done in an eye-pleasing sherbet-toned tapestry fabric. Both pieces sat in front of a fireplace with a beautiful carved stone mantel and surround.

Rachel shook her head in bemusement. Daniel didn’t seem like the type to collect antique lace and have it framed on sherbet-colored matt boards. And the dusty rose carpet set off the sofa and accessories to perfection, but—well, suffice it to say no man she knew would have ordered it. Weirder and weirder still.

“The kitchen’s through here,” Daniel said, taking the lead.

Rachel followed. “Did you, um, have somebody do the decorating for you?” And did you pay the bill after you saw what they’d done?

“What? Oh, my sister did the decorating. She even reupholstered the sofa herself. I still can’t believe it. All that work and for what—?” Daniel shook his head, grief and sadness showing briefly in his eyes before determination once again glinted there. “Here’s the high chair.”

Gratefully Rachel tucked her burden into the seat and fastened the lap strap before pushing the tray snuggly against his little baby potbelly. She rolled her shoulders in relief. “Okay, so what did you buy to feed monster man here?” Rachel asked.

“Hot dogs,” Daniel announced. “Hot dogs and cheese. What kid could turn up his nose at that?” With a flourish he reached into the bottom of a bag, which was ripped down both sides, and handed her the plastic shrink-wrapped packages of hot dogs and a brick of cheese.

And he couldn’t have figured out Todd was hungry? “They have bite marks in them,” she said. “Both packages. Right through the plastic.”

“Yeah, well Todd’s got a real long arm reach for such a little kid. When he gets older I’m going to look into basketball camp for him, I think. Natural-born ball stealer, I bet. He got a hold of them and put up such a fuss every time I tried to take one away, the lady at the checkout told me not to bother. Said she’d seen it before. In fact, she acted like she thought it was kind of funny.”

“I’m sure she did,” Rachel responded drolly as she unwrapped the cheese and began to cut it into itsy bitsy cubes a toddler couldn’t choke on. “After all, it wasn’t her kid sucking on a wrapper that’s been handled or sneezed on by eight thousand unknown food handlers and shoppers with colds. Got a bib?”

Daniel blanched at that while he reached into a drawer. “Here. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with him. He’s sick. Maybe I should call the pediatrician.” Rachel snapped the bib around Todd’s neck, took the hot dog out of Daniel’s hand and began to dice it up. “I doubt it. Not that fast. Here, put this in the microwave and heat it up, but not too hot. Are there any vegetables we can give him?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. I think I saw a can of beans here someplace…here we go.”

Todd was stuffing bits of cheese into his mouth as fast as he could. He banged his fist on the tray and laughed when more went flying into the air. Rachel took the plate with the dismembered hot dog on it out of the microwave when it beeped and shoveled that onto the tray. Then she found a small handled cup and filled it with half an inch of milk. This, too, she gave the boy. Thirstily Todd drained it with only a small portion dribbling down his chin. Rachel gave him another half inch in the bottom of the cup before going to work on the beans.

Daniel was impressed. “Wow, you’re like an old hand at this.”

“It’s probably like riding a bicycle,” Rachel replied, knowing Todd was done when he began to throw the food on the floor. She began the washup procedure. “It’s been a while, but it does seem to be coming back to me.” Rachel held Todd’s cup up in front of the boy. “Look, Todd. This is your cup. See? Your cup is yellow.”

“Lellow.”

Rachel smiled, pleased. “That’s right. Yellow. Where’s his bedroom?” she asked Daniel.

Daniel pointed. “Right through there.”

She nodded. “Okay. How about if you finish cleaning up in here? I’ll change his diapers and see if I can get him settled down.” Feeling only slightly guilty—after all, it wasn’t her child who’d made the mess, was it?—Rachel left the kitchen area and headed for the nursery. There, she found a box of disposable diapers and replaced Todd’s soggy one and played with his toes briefly while he lay on the changing table.

“This little piggy went to market—” The room had been lovingly prepared by someone who hadn’t wanted to know the sex of their child beforehand. Someone who liked surprises had chosen a lovely but nonsexist pale lime tint for the walls. The woodwork was a crisp contrasting white.

“This little piggy stayed home—” A border of rainbows hung up high where the walls met the ceiling. Did Daniel ever stop and point them out to Todd?

“This little piggy had roast beef—” A big, fat, stuffed fabric rainbow splayed itself across the wall next to the crib. She’d used a similar theme in Mark’s nursery, Rachel remembered. Impossible as it seemed, it had been nineteen years ago when she’d decorated that nursery. Nineteen years. Rachel had been eighteen, practically a baby herself, she now realized.

Rachel sighed. “This little piggy had none—” She reminded herself that she was done being melancholy as of that morning.

“And this little piggy cried—”

Daniel popped his head in the doorway. “All cleaned up. How’s it going in here?”

“Wee, wee, wee all the way home.” Rachel brushed the bottom of Todd’s foot with a light ticklish motion and smiled when Todd grinned up at her and jerked his foot back. She picked up his other foot and blew a raspberry on the bottom of it. That got a laugh. Finally Rachel looked up. “Fine. I’m going to rock him for a minute to settle him down before I put him in the crib.”

“Fine, great, whatever. You get me a couple of hours of peace and quiet and I’ll be your slave forever.”

Rachel snorted at that. “Yeah, right.” But it was an interesting idea. A body like that, her slave? My, oh my. That certainly got the old heart valves pumping. She picked Todd up and noticed a framed birth announcement hung on the wall. Todd Michael Malone? Sarah and Michael Malone proudly announce the birth of their son, Todd Michael? “Daniel, who does Todd really belong to? Are you baby-sitting for a relative or something?” She’d just die if Eileen turned out right once again. But this Sarah and Michael must have been really hard up to leave their pride and joy with a man who knew next to nothing about children.

But Daniel’s indulgent smile immediately disappeared. His face tightened. “Todd’s mother, Sarah, was my sister. Her husband won a cruise as a prize in a sales contest where he worked. It was the first time they’d ever left the baby.” Daniel sighed. “There was a fire on board the ship. Barely big enough to make the papers up here, but Sarah, Michael and a couple of other passengers died of smoke inhalation. Todd stayed with Mike’s parents while I got my own life straightened out, but they’re well into their seventies and in a retirement complex with no children allowed. My mother has Alzheimer’s. Caring for her takes up all my dad’s time. That leaves Todd and me as a team.”

Rachel, gaped at him as she seated herself in the rocker. And she’d thought she’d had troubles. “Oh. I’m so sorry. How awful.”

Daniel ran a hand back through his hair. “Yeah, well, it’s been a little rocky the past couple of days, I have to admit.” He eyed the picture Rachel made there in the rocker with Todd happily sucking his thumb while, resting his head on her shoulder. “But I think maybe God just opened a window.”

Chapter Two (#ulink_e1444539-d05c-51e3-81f1-e34d3944a2cc)