Baby, You're Mine

Ace turned to Elizabeth. “How about you?”

Placing her purse primly on her lap, she folded her hands over it. “No, thank you,” she said politely.

“You sure?” Ace asked. “Maggie makes a mean cinnamon roll.”

“I’m quite sure they’re delicious, but I don’t care for anything, thank you.”

Ace lifted a shoulder. “Whatever you say.” He started for the door, but Maggie beat him there by a foot.

“I’ll make Woodrow a plate,” she told Ace and darted from the room before he could stop her.

Stifling a sigh, Ace retraced his steps and sank down on an overstuffed chair opposite the sofa. He forced a smile. “How was the trip from Dallas?”

Woodrow glanced at the doc to see if she was going to respond. When she didn’t, he said, “It was fine. We hit Tanner’s Crossing before dawn, so we stopped by the house to catch a few Zs before heading over here.”

Ace nodded, then seemed at a loss as to what to say to fill the awkward silence that followed.

The doc solved the problem for him.

“I’d like to see my niece, if that’s all right with you.”

“She’s still asleep. I thought we’d visit for awhile until she wakes up.”

Woodrow could tell by the way the doc pursed her lips, she didn’t want to wait, but she nodded her agreement.

Maggie returned with a tray and set it on the coffee table in front of Woodrow.

“You like your coffee black, right, Woodrow?”

He eyed the plate of cinnamon rolls, his mouth watering in anticipation. “Yeah. And about a dozen of those rolls, if you don’t mind.”

Maggie filled a cup with coffee, then transferred two rolls to a plate and passed it to him.

Woodrow balanced the plate on his thigh and, ignoring the fork she’d provided, picked up a roll and took a healthy-size bite. Groaning, he closed his eyes. “Damn, Maggie. If you weren’t already married, I swear I’d drop down on a knee and propose.”

“You propose?” she repeated, then snorted a laugh as she sank down on the chair next to Ace. “I thought you were a confirmed bachelor?”

He gulped a swallow of coffee to wash down the roll, then dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. “I am. But a man would be a fool to let a woman who can cook as good as you get away.”

Ace laid a possessive hand on Maggie’s leg. “Sorry, bro. She’s taken.”

Elizabeth cleared her throat, drawing their attention to her.

“Woodrow was unable to tell me how Renee died.” She looked to Maggie, directing the question to her. “He said that you’d know.”

“Preeclampsia.”

“Toxemia,” Elizabeth said thoughtfully, then frowned. “I would think her obstetrician would’ve caught the signs early enough to take the necessary precautions.”

Maggie shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “He might’ve if Star had seen him regularly. From what her doctor told me, after verifying her pregnancy, Star never returned to his office for her prenatal checkups.”

An infant’s cry had all four adults jerking to attention.

Maggie leapt to her feet. “That’s Laura. I’ll get her.”

The doc rose and placed a hand on Maggie’s arm, stopping her.

“May I?” she asked, then added, “Please?”

Maggie opened her mouth, as if to deny Elizabeth’s request. Then flopped back down on her chair and turned her head away. “The nursery’s the third door on the left.”

Elizabeth followed the sound of the baby’s cries down the hall, silently counting the doors she passed. At the third, she paused to take a deep breath, then twisted open the door and stepped inside.

Sunlight greeted her, spilling from tall windows on either side of a crib placed against the opposite wall. A mobile of colorful farm animals bobbed at the crib’s head, set into motion by the infant’s fussing. Bumper pads covered in pink-and-white gingham lined the crib’s sides, blocking Elizabeth’s view of the baby. Though she knew her niece lay only a few feet away, she hung back, frightened to take that first step nearer.

Would the baby look like Renee? she worried. Would she have Renee’s blond curly hair? Her mesmerizing blue eyes? Her dainty features? Would she, Elizabeth, be able to bear it, if the infant did look like Renee?

As the infant’s cries grew stronger, she took a cautious step nearer. Another, and a tiny fist appeared above the bumper pads, batting angrily at the air. Another step and she had a clear view of the baby. Her chest tightened painfully at the sight. My niece, she thought, gulping. She took the last step and closed her hands over the top rail of the crib, looked down.

An angel, was all she could think. Though the infant’s face was flushed an angry red and tears streaked her cheeks, Elizabeth was sure she was looking into the face of an angel.

The infant’s cries rose higher.

Gulping, Elizabeth forced her fingers from the death grip she had on the rail and reached for the baby. She lifted her carefully, turning for the rocker placed before the window as she drew the infant to her breasts. So tiny, she thought as she sank down, her gaze fixed on the infant’s features. So perfect. She stroked a finger beneath the baby’s eye, and the infant stopped crying and blinked up at her. Startling blue eyes glimmered with crystal tears.

Oh, God, she thought, as emotion rose to close her throat. Renee. She looks just like Renee had as a baby. The same eyes. The same curly, white-blond hair. Blinded by her own tears, she caught the baby’s hand and brought it her cheek, held it there. A tear slipped over her bottom lid and fell to splatter on the infant’s gown, leaving a wet spot to spread on the delicate pink fabric.

Oh, Renee, she cried silently, as the crack in the dam opened, releasing a flood of emotion. Why did you have to die?

Ace sat on the edge of his chair, his elbows on his knees, the heels of his hands dug into his forehead. Maggie paced in front of the fireplace, one arm hugged at her waist, nervously worrying a thumbnail between her teeth.

Reared back on the sofa, Woodrow watched them. He’d never seen two more uptight people in his life. But he supposed he understood their concern. Even shared a bit of it. After all, the doc had been in the nursery for over ten minutes with the kid.

“Do you want me to go and check on her?” he asked.

Maggie stopped her pacing. “Oh, Woodrow,” she said, her face crumpling in a mixture of relief and desperation. “Would you?”

Ace glanced up. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s entitled to a little time alone with the kid.”

“But she’s been back there forever!” Maggie cried. “Laura’s bound to be hungry. I’ll get a bottle,” she said and headed for the door.

Ace bolted from his chair and caught her by the arm. “No, Maggie. Give the woman some time.”

She struggled to break free. “But, Ace—”

He caught her by both arms and gave her a firm shake. “Maggie. It’s only fair.”

She dropped her forehead to his chest. “Oh, Ace,” she cried, clinging to him. “Please don’t let her take Laura away. Please. Don’t let her take her.”

“Ah, Maggie.” Cupping a hand at the nape of her neck, he rested his chin on the top of her head, his Adam’s apple bobbing convulsively. “We’re going to do everything we can to keep Laura with us. I promise, we will.”

Unable to sit by and watch his brother and sister-in-law suffer a minute longer, Woodrow pushed to his feet. “I’ll check on the doc. See if she wants to give the kid a bottle.”

Ace looked up. “Thanks, Woodrow,” he said gratefully. Murmuring softly to Maggie, he drew her back to the chair and pulled her down onto his lap.

Blowing out a long breath, Woodrow headed down the hall for the nursery. He stopped outside the closed door, unsure if he should knock or just walk in. Undecided, he leaned his ear close to the door and listened. Not hearing a sound, he pressed his ear against the wood but still didn’t hear anything. Frowning, he straightened and twisted open the door.

The doc sat in the rocking chair in front of the window, the baby clutched to her breasts. She had her cheek pressed to the infant’s and her eyes squeezed shut.

He took a cautious step inside. “Doc?” he said quietly.

When she didn’t respond, he crossed to the rocker and dropped down on a knee in front of her. “Doc?” he said again. “You okay?”

She opened her eyes and the grief, the sadness he saw behind the lenses of her glasses, nearly broke his heart.

“R-Renee,” she said and clutched the baby tighter against her chest. “She l-looks just like Re-Renee.”

Woodrow was at a loss as to what to say, what to do. “I wouldn’t know.”

“I—I—” A sob rose, choking her. She dropped her head back and gulped, blinking furiously. “I c-couldn’t stop h-her. Sh-she kept running a-away.”

He laid a hand on her knee, sure that she was talking about her sister. “I doubt it was your fault.”

She dropped her chin to look at the baby and a tear slid down her face. “It-it was my fault. I was s-supposed to take c-are of her. W-watch after her.”

The tears fell faster now, a steady stream of misery that Woodrow was helpless to stem. Sobs shook her shoulders, seemed to wrack her entire body. He gave her a knee a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on, Doc,” he said, trying his best to calm her down. “Crying so hard like that…you’ll make yourself sick.”

She hugged the baby tighter, rocking slowly back and forth, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Woodrow?”

He glanced behind him and saw Ace standing in the doorway. Maggie stood behind him, straining to see over his shoulder. Both of their faces were creased in concern.

Scowling, he stood. “Here,” he said quietly to the doc and reached for the baby. “Let me take her.” He quickly carried the infant to Ace and handed her over. “The doc’s upset,” he said, stating the obvious. “I’ll take her home with me and see if I calm her down.”

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