The Baby Magnet

“Yes, Carolyn?”

“All done.”

“The movie’s over already?”

In other circumstances, Marie would have laughed at the look of sheer panic Luke wore. She was sure he’d never admit it, but he was so obviously clueless as far as how to entertain the child that it was almost funny. Funny in the abstract, that was. Funny only until you took a good look at the little girl. Yesterday Carolyn’s face had been buried in Marie’s chest. When the child had finally fallen asleep in her car seat, her features had been red, swollen and splotchy from crying.

Today, well my goodness, today Carolyn was a beautiful child not yet a yard tall with crooked wheat-colored pigtails cascading in curls to her shoulders and soft brown eyes framed with embarrassingly long lashes. There was a spattering of freckles running over her cheeks and bridging her nose. As Carolyn’s top teeth bit into her quivering yet pink perfect lower lip, Marie noted those teeth were small, white and charmingly askew. Luke would drop a quick five grand straightening those in a few years, Marie decided.

Oh, God, Carolyn was still virtually a baby and she was so forlorn and lonely-looking as she stood there uncertainly in the doorway. So lost and vulnerable appearing as she looked to Luke for guidance as to what to do next in this foreign house with this foreign dad in this foreign town.

Marie’s heart went out to the little waif. Marie was a goner.

Not liking this situation didn’t change it.

“It’s almost lunchtime,” Luke finally suggested hopefully after staring nonplussed for several seconds. “How about if I open a can of tuna fish and put it on whole wheat bread? Doesn’t that sound good?”

Marie did a double take and stared at him. He was kidding, right?

“Do we got any hot dogs? I like hot dogs,” the child offered hopefully.

“A hot dog.” Luke raked a hand through his hair. He’d never get it to lie flat again, Marie suspected. “Let me look. Maybe there’s a package in the freezer. A hot dog’s protein. Sort of,” he mumbled to himself. “But there ought to be vegetables. Kids need vegetables to grow right.” He snapped his fingers. “A salad. We could have salad.”

Marie shook her head. Luke was lost, no doubt about it. No two-year-old worthy of the name would willingly eat salad. The man was definitely out of his milieu. Of course it would be a month or two before he’d admit it.

“Uh, Luke?”

“Yeah, what?”

“What about grapes or a banana? Don’t you have some fruit you could cut up for Carolyn?”

“Yeah, I suppose.” He frowned as he mentally reviewed his grocery supplies. “Maybe.”

Tactfully Marie suggested, “That might be a better choice than salad. Maybe you could convince her to try a little bit of carrot if you cut it up into matchstick size, but you might want to hold off on the salad for a little while.” Like twenty years.

Luke frowned and studied the tot. “I don’t want her to develop bad eating habits.”

“No, no, of course not,” Marie quickly assured. “But it would be all right to work up to salad, wouldn’t it? I mean, you could start with cooked carrots with a little brown sugar on them and go from there, couldn’t you?”

Luke picked up the paper clips from the holder on his desktop and began pouring the clips from hand to hand and back. “I don’t know. I’m still not sure about this hot dog thing, either.”

“It might be easier. Just for today, you know. Until Carolyn’s a little more at home, that is.” Marie gave the guy a month, two tops. She, too, had prepared only nutritious balanced meals and snacks when she’d first taken over responsibility for Jason. There’d been a lot of tension, unhappiness, and sneaking out to the local fast-food burger place with friends until Marie had finally caved. She’d never regretted sinking to PB and J and pizza. The peace alone was worth it. Now she slipped him his grains and oatmeal in cookie format, his milk and calcium in pudding or tapioca. Veggies were still a sore point, but life, if not perfect, had at least been salvaged from the proverbial toilet, which was about all you could hope for with an adolescent on the premises, Marie had decided.

At the time, Marie had had her epiphany. She’d discovered that all of life was a balancing act, a compromise if you will. Luke would eventually discover the same truth, but it needn’t be quite the same rough journey she’d made.

“Then maybe, after lunch, if she doesn’t need to nap, you could take her to a park. There must be one around here somewhere.”

“Kiddie Kingdom’s not too far,” Luke said, thinking out loud. “That’s not a bad idea. Then maybe she could watch another movie while I got some work done. I’ve still got to unpack those few boxes they sent along with her and I bought her some stuff for her room, sheets and things that match, more for a little girl, you know? Barbie. My sisters used to play with her and what’s his name—Kevin, Kent, whatever. Amazing, but she’s still around. It’s all still in bags in the front hall.”

She’d noticed the bags. The front hall was probably right where Jason had dropped them. They’d made no progress since then. Marie rubbed her nose and considered the possibility that the bags’ lack of progress might be partially her fault. If Luke was frazzled, their accidental meeting yesterday might have something—not a lot—but something to do with it. She guessed it wouldn’t kill her to at least come up with a plan of action before she left.

“That’s a good plan,” Marie agreed tactfully. “But instead of another movie, after they deliver your car why don’t you stop at a home improvement place—you know, one of those glorified hardware stores—on the way home from the park and get a sandbox, a slew of sand, a bucket and a shovel? Then she could be playing actively instead of sitting passively while you work.”

Luke’s posture visibly straightened. He was definitely perking up. “That’s another decent idea, Marie. Thank you. I’d have eventually thought of it myself, of course, but this is good. Maybe a swing set, too. Kids like those, don’t they? Maybe I’ll get one of those fancy ones with a fort on one end and the sandbox underneath. There’s a house down at the end of the block with one like that.”

“They take time to assemble,” Marie warned. “It certainly won’t be done any time today. But I bet Carolyn would enjoy helping you open the packages you’ve got in the front hall and arranging her room with you.”

Luke was in a fever. Marie expected him to start taking notes any minute, although he kept his tone cool. “That’s good, Marie, that’s really good. I appreciate your input. Now, what do we do after that?”

What, he expected a minute-by-minute itinerary for the next fifteen years or so until Carolyn went away to college? Good grief. She thought fast. “Well, uh, walk up to the grocery store and get whatever you need for dinner. Walking will eat up some time and it’s good exercise for her. Help wear her out a bit for tonight, you know.” That should make it more appealing to him. “Stop in the school supply aisle and get her some construction paper, um, crayons—” Marie waved her hand expressively “—whatever else you see that looks interesting. She can color or mush that kiddie dough stuff while you get dinner ready. Hands-on experiences are very important for her age,” Marie concluded, hoping she sounded like she knew what she was talking about.

Luke was all admiration. “That is brilliant, absolutely brilliant.” He gave Marie a calculating look. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to—”

Marie concentrated on looking regretful. “Gee, I wish I could stay and help, Luke, but I’ve got to get back. Can’t leave an adolescent on his own too long. You never know what he’ll get up to. Why, right this minute he’s—” Marie swallowed her words as she thought. She wasn’t about to admit Jason wasn’t even home just then. “That is to say—”

But Luke wasn’t leapfrogging his way up the corporate ladder for nothing. He’d caught her slight hesitation, understood its meaning and pounced. “He’s what?”

“He’s at an audio equipment store with a friend who’s already got his license drooling over this outrageously expensive surround sound system he’s pressuring me to buy,” Marie admitted glumly. She’d checked out how long his friend had had his license and made sure Jason was the only other kid going to be in the car but still, she’d known letting Jason go out was a bad idea and here was the proof. She had no excuse now not to stick around and help Luke out.

Not only did she doubt it would be properly appreciated, she also had the issue of her own self-survival to consider.

Plain and simple, she didn’t want to be around Luke Deforest. He was too darn virile. Too appealing to that core of womanly essence deep inside her—the core she’d been sure had died an unnatural death a couple of months back. Marie shook her head in sorrow over her pitiful state. Basically, Luke made her ache. He made her yearn for things. Impossible things she’d long given up on having.

Luke was speaking. Marie shook her head to clear it and tried to catch up.

“—top of the line. We’ll have to get him over here and let him watch a movie or something—”

“You have surround sound?”

Luke gave her a puzzled look. “Isn’t that what I was just saying?”

“Do you have one of those subwoofer things?” Marie asked suspiciously.

“Yeah, sure. Of course.”

Marie slapped her thigh with her hand. She knew it. She just knew it. It was obviously a male thing. Some defect in the Y chromosome. She’d been right all along in her decision to have nothing further to do with the male half of the human race, relatives unfortunately excluded.

“You pwitty.”

Marie’s internal diatribe disturbed, she looked down. Little Carolyn had edged her way over and now stood right in front of her. Marie smiled. “Not half as pretty as you, sweetie.”

Carolyn turned to Luke for confirmation. “Her pwitty.”

Luke studied Marie for a disconcertingly long time before responding. “Yes, honey, she is. Very pretty.”

Marie couldn’t control her blush.

Carolyn caught Marie by the pant leg and didn’t appear inclined to let go. “Her have a hot dog too, Daddy?”