Baby in His Arms

If the plants weren’t enough to affirm his first impression of Haley, the porch did the trick. She was a tad on the flakey side. Out there. A throwback flower child. A wood nymph who’d lost her way.

The front porch was cluttered with an array of stuff. A pair of wicker chairs bracketed the front door; a bright blue front door with a wooden purple-and-yellow fish hanging smack in the middle. Running the width of the white framed house, the porch was crowded with a painted milk can, a wrought-iron cart loaded with more plants, various yard ornaments and, to top it all off, there were plaques and signs and an old Coca-Cola thermometer nailed to the siding. In fact, there were so many items jammed in the small space that his eyes couldn’t take them all in.

Yes, sir, Haley was a flake.

He asked himself again: What was he doing here?

Rather than answer his own question, Creed sought a doorbell, and finding none, rapped at the side of the house with his knuckles.

No answer.

He knocked again, this time with the outside of his fist.

The sun was warm, hanging over the edge of the mountain like a giant egg yolk in a bowl of faded blue jelly. A bird of some sort scolded from the huge chinquapin oak in the front yard.

Creed figured he should forget this dumb idea of his. Go back home, call it a night. He could phone Haley tomorrow.

But here he stood holding a pink teddy bear. There was no way he was arriving at his apartment complex with this thing in tow.

“Sorry, pal,” he murmured to the stuffed face. “Somebody’s taking you off my hands.”

A pair of shiny black eyes gleamed at him in amiable silence.

He pounded the door once more for good measure and was looking for a clear spot on one of the wicker chairs to park the bear when he heard a woman’s voice coming from the backyard.

“So that’s where they are.” Hoisting the pink teddy over one shoulder, he made his way around the house. Other than a burst of minty-smelling plants that spilled out of an ancient wheelbarrow, the side yard looked a little bare compared to the front.

He rounded into the backyard, feeling awkward and uncertain, two emotions he didn’t deal with on a regular basis. He was a confident guy, easy in his own skin. Wonky situations didn’t rattle him, but he’d been rattled all day today.

Haley was sitting on the back step next to a towheaded boy with a cowlick so prominent that it split the front of his hair into a fountain. She and the boy had their heads together over an unassembled kite. A wide-brimmed straw hat had been cast aside next to her.

At Creed’s approach, Haley glanced up...and her smile froze. “Oh, it’s you.”

So much for a jolly welcome.

“Hi.” He tugged at the neck of his shirt, growing more uncomfortable by the minute. What was he doing here? “I just came by to see...” He looked around and saw no sign of the tiny girl he’d rescued from the church. A frisson of alarm shimmied through him. “Where’s the baby? Did someone already take her away? Did they find the mother?”

Haley put aside the kite parts and stood, brushing slender hands over the long flowered skirt. She was barefoot. Her hair, parted in the middle, hung to her shoulders, the evening sun burnishing the auburn to a darker red.

“You didn’t expect a newborn baby to be out here in the backyard, did you?”

Well, yes, he had. Not that he knew a thing about newborns.

“Is she still here?”

Haley stood with hands loose at her sides, watching him as if she’d read his thoughts and knew he considered her a flake. He thought her eyes were brown, but in the glare of sunlight, all he knew for sure was that they were staring a hole through him.

“Why?” she asked.

“Why? What kind of question is that?” Frustrated, he thrust his arms out to either side. She was the strangest woman. “I found her. Crazy as it sounds, I feel invested in her well-being.”

“Why would you feel that way?”

He opened his mouth and shut it back. What was the point? The woman was too flakey to carry on a simple conversation.

“Never mind. I don’t know what I was thinking by coming here.” He shoved the teddy bear into her arms. “I should go.”

He started to do a sharp, pride-wounded about-face when she touched his arm.

“Wait.”

Her touch was featherlight, but it stuck his feet to the green grass like superglue. He wasn’t a weak man, but he felt a tad wobbly all of a sudden.

“Why?” he asked and was surprised when she laughed.

“I guess we’re even.”

“Even?” What was she talking about?

“I asked why. You asked why. We’re even.”

“Ah. Right.” Strange. Flakey. Out-there.

“Sit down.” With a movement as graceful as a ballerina, she gestured toward the porch. “This is Thomas.”

That was all. Just Thomas. Not her foster child. Just the boy’s name. Kind of nice.

“How ya doing, Thomas? You’re building a kite?”

“Yeah.” The boy’s blue eyes, hidden behind thick glasses, fastened on Creed. He wasn’t very old. Maybe nine or ten. “Haley said you fly helicopters.”

Creed eased a look toward Haley. She’d talked about him?

She twitched, and then smooth as a windless flight, she shot him down before he could get cocky. “You flew over the house today. I explained to Thomas that you’d found the baby.”

No big deal. He didn’t need compliments.

“So, how is she doing?” Tight as a bowstring, he sat on the step next to the young boy.

“Sleeping most of the time.” Absently, Haley settled a hand on Thomas’s slim shoulder. He looked up at her and smiled. Something in the gentle gestures loosed a string of tension inside Creed.

“Is that normal?”

“You don’t know much about babies, do you?”

“Nothing.” He lifted one shoulder. “I’m an only child.”

“Me, too, but I know about babies.”

“You’re a girl.”

“Sexist,” she said, though her tone was more amused than insulted.

“Guilty. I like the differences in boys and girls and think they should be celebrated.” He grinned. “Often and with gusto.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Haley stood, moving to the back door to listen. “Baby girl is awake.”

Without waiting to be asked, Creed followed Haley inside the house. He’d come to see the infant and he wasn’t leaving until he did.

The inside of Haley’s house was unexpected. Where the yard was a riot, the small interior was sparse and tidy. The back door led directly into a country kitchen. Fussy baby sounds came from a long, sand-colored basket on a small, square table that had seen better days.

“Come here, precious,” Haley cooed as she gently lifted the infant from inside the basket. “Are you hungry? Are you starving? Yes, you are.”

Creed was fascinated by the change in Haley. Her voice had gone soft and cootchy coo and she asked questions as if a day-old baby knew the answers. The baby’s response was a high-pitched wah-wah-wah.

“Can I do something to help?” Creed asked above the noise.

“Hold her while I prepare formula.” Before he could admit that holding a baby made him nervous, she plunked the child against his shoulder. The moment the tiny face touched his shirt, she began turning her head side to side, mouth wide and seeking like a rooting puppy.

“Hey, why’s she doing that?”

“She thinks you’re her mama. Rub her cheek with the side of your finger.”

He did. The baby turned toward the touch. “She’s soft as a—”

“Rose Petal. That’s what I call her.” Haley produced a baby bottle of water, scooped some powdery stuff inside and shook the bottle hard.

“You call her rose petal?”

“She doesn’t have a name. I have to call her something.”

A sharp pain twisted in Creed’s gut. A baby should have a name, a real one, well-thought out and dreamed about. But he didn’t say that. Haley would think he’d gone soft in the head.

“Hippie name,” he muttered. “Rose Petal.”

Haley took the comment in stride. She widened her eyes and grinned. “Better than sneezewort or moonflower.”

Nice. She had a sense of humor.

“Or dandelion,” he shot back.

“Hey, I like that!”

“Figures,” he said, grinning to soften the teasingly spoken word. Maybe the flakey foster mom wasn’t so bad, after all.

Haley moved in close, maneuvering at Creed’s shoulder to slide the bottle nipple between Rose Petal’s seeking lips. Creed tilted his chin down to watch the tiny jaws latch on. Watching Haley’s long slender fingers hold the bottle, Creed caught a whiff of something flowery mingled with the milky scent and realized how very close the three faces were. He lifted his gaze and there was Haley, watching him watching the baby.

Brown. Her eyes were brown with flecks of gold and a black ring around the irises. A small mole dotted one cheek next to her nose, but instead of detracting, the beauty mark enchanted him. He had a crazy urge to touch it.

When the baby made soft, contented nursing sounds, Haley smiled into Creed’s eyes.

A starburst of feeling exploded inside him, warm and colorful.

It was as if they were a couple and this was their baby. Creed’s pulse did a giddyap, stealing his breath. He was mesmerized by the child and the woman. Their soft, clean smell. Their natural beauty.

Creed’s head swam and his chest filled with inexplicable tenderness. Flakey Haley must be burning some kind of wacky weed to make his head spin, make him lose his mind. Weird. Very weird.

The back door opened. Haley glanced in that direction. The strange, tender moment dissipated like dandelions on the wind. Creed found his breath again, though his pulse still galloped.

What was going on here?

Bemused and bothered, he eased Rose Petal from his shoulder and handed her off to Haley. The baby was fine, well-cared for. That’s what he’d come here to learn. Now he could leave and not look back.

Haley stepped away, hugging the baby close. Relief eased the strange tension in Creed’s shoulders. Apparently, the bizarre black-hole magnetism had been one-sided. Haley appeared completely unaffected. He, on the other hand, wondered what had just happened.

He exhaled another cleansing breath. Better. Much better.

Get a grip, Carter.

Thomas came into the kitchen, dragging the pieces of the still-unassembled kite. “Are you going to help me finish this?”

“Can’t right now, Thomas.” Haley swayed the baby back and forth in her arms.

Thomas looked dejected, as though the new baby intruded on his turf. Creed supposed she had. To tell the truth, he was so glad for the distraction that Creed said, “I’m a pretty fair kite builder. Want me to help?”

He should leave. He needed to leave. But he didn’t. Behind Thomas’s thick glasses, Creed spotted an irresistible gleam of excitement.

“Would you?” Thomas asked. “That would be cool. I bet you know a lot about how stuff flies.”

“You mean aerodynamics?”

“Yeah, that stuff.”

“More than we need to know to get this kite up in the air. Let me see what you’ve got there.”

He led them to the table, too aware that Haley followed, the baby now bouncing against her shoulder while she patted the tiny back. He tried not to notice Haley’s bare feet and the way her reddish hair curved against her cheek. Try being the operative word.

“It’s just a cheap kite from the dollar store. I hope it will fly,” she said.

“We’ll make it work.” To Thomas, he said, “You ever heard of Bernoulli?”

“No.”

“Well, you will. He was a famous scientist.”

“Did he invent the kite?”

Creed grinned. Cute kid. “No, but his theories explain why something flies.”

“Even a helicopter?”

“Right. Same principle. Let’s get the dowel rods in place first and I’ll show you what I mean.”

He helped Thomas spread the plastic diamond on the table and insert the balsam rods from point to point. Together, they tied the strings to hold the sticks in place. In minutes, the kite was formed.

Haley lurked at his elbow, watching, commenting. He felt her there, smelled her garden fresh scent and heard the soft murmurs she made to the baby.

Try as he might to remember his mission—the baby and a kite—Haley’s presence made him itchy, as if he’d rolled in poison ivy in her yard. Considering the jungle out there, maybe he had.

“You can put the tail and string on in a minute, but first let me show you something.” Holding the center rod, he lifted the kite parallel to the table. “Here’s where Bernoulli’s law comes in.” He passed his hand over and under the kite. “There’s air in this room all around the kite. But the kite divides the air so the air underneath is blocked and slowed down. When the wind is blowing, the pressure builds up against the bottom of the kite until—” he tilted the kite upward as if it was about to fly “—you have lift.”

“Did you learn that in pilot school?”

“Actually, I learned it in Mr. Winton’s junior high science class. But I studied it more in pilot school. Helicopters and planes fly the same way.”

“Wow.” Thomas took the unfinished kite and holding the frame as Creed had, sailed the plastic dragon around the room. “I want to fly, too.”

“He’s fascinated by helicopters,” Haley said and looked none too happy at the admission. “Every time you fly over, he runs outside and waves.”

Creed winked at the blushing boy. “I’ll wave back next time.”

“You will?”

“I’m a man of my word.” To Haley, he said, “Is she asleep again?”

“Fed, changed and sleeping.” Gently, she placed the baby in the blanket-lined basket. “Sleeping is what she’s good at so far. I have a feeling tonight may not be as easy as the day.”

“Don’t you have a regular bed for her?” He watched as Thomas fashioned a kite tail out of strips of cloth. Those, he knew, didn’t come with a cheap kite. Haley must have cut them for the boy.

“This bassinet is a loan from social services. It’ll work fine for the time she’s here. I don’t expect to have her long.”

He’d been enjoying himself, but now the fun leached out. Rose Petal, a temporary name for a nameless child, slept in a loaner bed because she was only passing through. “Doesn’t seem right.”

“Maybe not, but that’s the way foster care operates. Deciding her fate is not my job. That’s up to the courts.”

“Don’t you care what happens to her?”

Her eyebrows dipped together. “Of course I care. I wouldn’t be a foster parent if I didn’t.”

He wasn’t sure he believed her. “I need to go. Sorry for bothering you.”

He started toward the door but stopped when Thomas said, “Aren’t we going to fly the kite?”

Creed smothered a sigh. A glance outside gave him an excuse to decline, though in truth, he wanted to get away from Haley and the weird feelings he’d had all day. “Getting dark now, pal. Sorry.”

“Tomorrow? Will you come back tomorrow?”

Creed shoved a hand in his pants pocket. He wasn’t an overly emotional man, but today had wrung him out. Looking into Thomas’s pleading blue eyes wasn’t helping matters at all. “I don’t want to bother your...Haley. She’s pretty busy with the new baby.”

Thomas gazed at him and then at his foster mom. “It’s okay if he comes over again, isn’t it, Haley?”

Haley looked everywhere but at him. “Creed is probably too busy.”

She didn’t want to invite him back, a fact that bugged Creed more than he wanted it to. Women usually liked having him around. What was the trouble with earth mother Haley that made her so prickly where he was concerned?

The stubborn streak his parents had battled through junior high raised its petty head.

“Have the string on and ready to fly tomorrow evening,” he said to Thomas. “I’ll be here by six.”

Chapter Three

The next evening, after the dinner dishes were put away and homework completed, Haley found herself watching the clock. Would Creed really show up? If he didn’t, would Thomas be disappointed?

At ten minutes until six, Thomas laid his kite and string on the table. The cheap kite had turned out well thanks to Creed Carter. A bright blue-and-red dragon with a tail made from scraps of cloth she’d cut from an old shirt, to Thomas the toy was the next best thing to an airplane.

“Creed will be here any minute,” he said with that absolute certainty only a ten-year-old could have. “He said six o’clock and Creed’s a man of his word. He told me so.”

A better question would have been, how disappointed will he be when the flyboy doesn’t show up?

She glanced at the clock again. Five more minutes and the man was toast.

She’d not particularly wanted Creed to come over tonight, but now she’d be furious if he didn’t. Thomas had enough disappointments in his life.

She’d thought about the flyboy too much today. About the way he looked so military-neat and masculine-handsome. About the way he’d fretted over Rose Petal. But especially about that tingly moment when they’d been feeding the baby. Haley knew all about tingly moments with a guy, enough that she’d long ago decided attraction was grossly overrated. Especially after Creed had insulted her yesterday and made it clear he thought she was unfit to foster Rose Petal.

But he’d better show up tonight or else be prepared to receive a very irate phone call tomorrow.

She poked a finger in the potted seedlings growing by the kitchen window, finding the dirt still moist. In another week or two, she’d transplant the gourds outside and hope this year’s crop did better than last year’s. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. More important than the seedlings were the unfinished pieces in her work room. An artist couldn’t sell what wasn’t finished.

“He’s here!” The shout from Thomas jolted her from her worry.

Following the sound of male voices, she entered the living room to find Creed Carter standing inside the front door. She needed to have a talk with Thomas about letting men into her house!

“You came,” she said.

Creed, wearing a black Carter’s Charters T-shirt, gave her a long, piercing look. “I said I would.”

She tilted her chin. “So you did.”

If Thomas caught the sizzle of antagonism between the adults, he was too excited to be bothered.

“I put the string and tail on like you told me to. See?”

“She looks like a worthy vessel,” Creed said. “Ready to fly her?”

“Yes!” Thomas didn’t need any other invitation. Kite in hand, he led the way through the kitchen and out onto the back porch. The adults followed.

“He’s been bouncy all day,” Haley said. “Very excited.”

“Flying a kite is no big deal.”

Haley fought an eye roll. He’d probably come from the perfect family where disappointments were rare. But her foster son hadn’t. Creed didn’t understand. Flying the kite wasn’t the issue. Having a man care enough to show up was. “It’s important to him.”

And to her. For Thomas’s sake. She eased around the troubling pilot, careful not to let her arm brush his in the narrow hallway. She didn’t want a repeat of last night’s touchy-feely episode.

As they passed through the kitchen, Creed glanced toward the table. “Where’s the baby? Rose Petal.”

“I moved the bassinet into my bedroom.” As Haley had expected, Rose Petal had cried off and on all night.

“How’s she doing?”

“Fine.” Her answers were short and to the point, maybe even abrupt, but the flyboy was too close in the small kitchen. And he smelled good. And looked all spit and polished. For crying out loud, had he gone home after work and showered?

She’d been in the garden most of the morning and in the work room all afternoon when she hadn’t been caring for Rose Petal. She probably smelled like a combo of Miracle-Gro and acrylic paint. Or baby formula.

Once outside, Creed’s focus, thankfully, was on Thomas, not her. Haley let out a tight sigh.

“Have you ever flown a kite before?” Creed asked, one hand on Thomas’s shoulder as he surveyed the spacious backyard.

Thomas shook his head. The pale blond cowlick quivered.

“Okay, then, here’s how it works. Check out the space above you first. A pilot never flies unless he has smooth sailing. Safety first. See any electric wires or trees?”

Her backyard was a mass of trees and plants with a single electric line slicing through the center. Not exactly kite-flying territory.

Thomas’s chin tilted upward. “Yeah, but there’s not any over that way.”

“Then, that’s our flight path.” Creed took Thomas’s arm and pointed. “Look down your arm. See it? Smooth sailing.”

“Yep. Smooth sailing.”

Smiling, Haley settled on the top step to listen as Creed talked in his rich, manly voice about wind direction and air speed. Behind his thick glasses, Thomas listened enrapt.

“Ready?”

Eagerly, Thomas nodded and the males, one small and pale, one dark and fit, moved across her long backyard. Creed held the kite and Thomas the string, slowly letting out the length until the diamond-shaped plastic caught the wind.

“We have liftoff!” Creed cried, teeth flashing against dark skin.

“It’s flying. It’s flying! Look, Haley, our kite is flying!” The boy was practically levitating from joy. Any moment she expected him to take flight along with his kite.

Such a simple thing, Haley thought, to make a child so happy. And, she admitted grudgingly, Creed Carter had made it happen.

From her perch on the back porch, she clapped. “Awesome!”

“Come on,” Thomas shouted. “You’ll have fun.”

Unable to resist the boy’s sweet pleasure, she leaped up and jogged to him, her bare toes tickled by the soft, new grass that smelled of moist earth and blue sky.

In his enthusiasm, Thomas lost control. The kite dipped, floundering. In wide-eyed panic, he shouted, “I’m gonna crash!”

Calm and cool as a fresh snowfall, Creed placed his wider hand atop Thomas’s to assist. “Feel that tug? That’s when you know to give her more string. She’s eager to ascend.”

Tension gripped Thomas’s voice. “Like this?”

“That’s the way. Catch the updraft.” Creed’s hand dropped away. He stood observing, ready to help, but letting the success belong to Thomas.

Even though she didn’t want to, Haley liked him for that.

The dark blue diamond rose higher and higher until the kite looked like a child’s colorful sticker pasted against the soft blue sky. Gradually, Thomas’s thin shoulders relaxed and his intensity turned to a smile.

“I’m doing it, aren’t I, Creed? I’m flying. Now I can fly anytime I want.”

“Whenever there’s enough breeze.”

Rapt, Thomas followed his kite across the open field, slowly reeling and unreeling string as he left the adults behind.

Haley stood at Creed’s elbow, more aware of him than she wanted to be. “You made that look easy.”

He slid a glance in her direction. “Flying a kite is easy.”

“Never was for me.”

“Then why did you buy him one?”

She raised a shoulder. “He wanted one so badly. I had to try.”

He gave her another of those cool looks she didn’t understand. He did that a lot, she noticed, as if she were from another planet and any minute he expected her green scales to show.

But his conversation was remarkably normal. “Thomas is a nice boy.”

“Yes, and a valiant spirit.” The child had endured loss and pain but hadn’t grown bitter or angry. At least not yet. She hoped and prayed he never would, but she was also a realist. Whatever happened happened.

Haley crossed her ankles and settled onto the grass.

Thomas had the kite well in hand now, his blond head tilted back to watch the spectacle.

Creed crossed his arms over the yellow helicopter logo but didn’t join her on the grass. “How long has he been in foster care?”

“Off and on most of his life. His mother has mental health issues.” Haley plucked a dandelion blossom and stuck the bright yellow flower behind one ear. “When she’s well, she’s a good mother. She’s also wise enough to know when she’s going downhill.”