Baby, I'm Yours. Karen Templeton
his sick momma, I got work coming outta my ears. An’ I jus’ bought a new truck. You can use the old one if you want. She looks like crap, but she still runs, an’ that’s what counts, right?”
“That would be great, thanks,” Kevin said, relieved. Upholstery wasn’t his first love—he much preferred working on houses to recovering sofas—but he was good at it. And work was work. As wheels were wheels. He smiled. “Funny, you don’t look like an angel.”
A row of very bright, very straight teeth glinted from underneath a brush-roller mustache. “Are you kiddin’? You’re the one who’d be saving my ass. So maybe I see God’s hand in this, no? An’ you can stay with me an’ Lupe as long as you like. No, no, no,” he said, his head swinging as one hand shot up. “No arguments. Maybe our place is no five-star hotel, but it’s free. An’ the food is great, yes? As long as you don’ mind dodging Frannie’s little rug rats. Her husband’s done a runner on her again, the bastard.”
Kevin smiled, wondering how it was that the people with the least to give were so often the most generous. The Padillas lived in a tiny, three-bedroom adobe in the South Valley, which would have been fine if it’d just been the two of them. But invariably one or more of their grown kids—with their kids—were in residence, too. Not that Kevin had issues with sleeping on the futon in their living room, but he hadn’t planned on staying more than a night or two.
Yeah, well, he hadn’t planned on discovering he was a father, either.
Another jolt. Damn, he was beginning to feel like a rat in a science experiment, getting a shock every time he went the wrong way in the maze.
And didn’t that pretty much sum up his life?
A glance around the jumbled shop confirmed that Felix’s offer hadn’t been out of pity. “Okay, I’m in. At least until Orlando gets back.”
“Put it there, my frien’,” Felix said, hand extended, teeth flashing. He chuckled. “Only please tell me you can start right away. My back is killin’ me.”
“Deal,” Kevin said, thinking, One problem down, only five million left to go.
Several hours later, after helping Felix make several deliveries, Kevin begged off to go apartment hunting. Not that he didn’t appreciate his friend’s offer, but obviously Kevin was going to need a place of his own. And soon. Someplace he could take his daughter. As it was, prying Pippa away from Victor wasn’t gonna be easy. Without a job and/or a home? Fuggedaboutit.
Even if settling in Albuquerque hadn’t been part of his plan. Okay, plan might be stretching it—truth be told, Kevin hadn’t really thought much past squaring things with Robyn. Even so, although he liked the Duke City well enough, he’d always thought of it as part of his drifting phase. In terms of then, not now. And having finally mended a fence or two with his family, he’d begun to seriously consider returning to Springfield, give in to his sisters-in-laws’ blatant attempts at fixing him up with assorted friends, sisters, cousins. Finding peace right in his own backyard and all that.
He hadn’t told his folks about the baby yet. Although, after forty years of parenthood—not to mention all the hell he’d put them through—he sincerely doubted this would even register on the “You did what?” scale.
Pippa would make their fourteenth grandchild. Not counting the three extras Rudy and Mia brought to the table by virtue of falling in love with people who already had kids. There were towns in New Mexico with smaller populations than the Vaccaro clan, Kevin thought with a slight smile…one that flattened as he slowed down in front of, then drove past, yet another sullen-looking apartment complex that offered month-to-month rentals.
Sure, there were knockout apartments in the city, with stunning landscaping and pools and the like, places he knew Victor Booth would approve of. Places Kevin didn’t dare sign a lease for until he nailed down a steady job. Not to mention, he thought, idling at a stoplight, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as hip-hop vibrated from the car radio, all the baby crap he’d have to buy. Cribs and changing tables and strollers and…things.
And then there was the whole day-care issue. Finding it, paying for it, worrying about it.
Although…he could take the baby back home, he supposed. His parents certainly had the room, and there’d be more baby stuff than he could shake a stick at, and day-care options, and family, and he could probably find work without too much trouble, doing construction or renovation or whatever. And it wasn’t like anybody could say anything. He was the baby’s father for godssake.
So why didn’t this feel more like a solution? Why, instead of feeling another layer of worries peel away, did he suddenly feel like hurling?
The truck’s wheels scraped the curb as Kevin swerved into a parking space alongside one of the many little parks dotting the city. The door shoved open, he stumbled out of the car, gulping for air as he staggered toward a pool of shade underneath a large ash tree close to the brightly colored playground. Long, thick grass soothed his palms, cushioned his backside when he dropped onto it, tucking his head between his knees for a moment until the nausea passed. A bunch of little kids, under the watchful eyes of their mothers chatting at a picnic table nearby, took turns zooming down a blue twisty slide, screaming, thrilled.
One of the mothers reminded him of Julianne. Slender, blond, with glasses. Shapeless clothes. But a lot more lively—and louder—the woman’s unfettered laughter carrying across the park.
Kevin forked both hands through his hair, remembering the look in Julianne’s eyes when he’d handed Pippa back to her. When she’d told him about losing her husband. Her baby.
Holy hell, he thought as the light dawned—it wasn’t Victor who’d be the biggest obstacle between him and his little girl.
And the longer she stayed with Julianne…the harder removing Pip was going to be.
He dug out his cell phone, his heart slamming against his rib cage for several seconds before he finally flipped it open.
His father answered on the first ring.
Chapter Three
Almost every evening—once the sun was at a kinder tilt—Julianne plopped Pippa in her stroller and took her for a walk around the neighborhood. The excursions did both of them good, getting Pippa used to different sounds and sights and getting Julianne out of the house—out of herself—without having to deal with the tiresomeness of being sociable. Occasionally they’d pass a lone jogger or cycler, an older couple fast-walking their way back to youth, but for the most part it was just Julianne and the baby and the quiet. She loved the quiet.
When she didn’t hate it, that is.
Because while the quiet brought peace, it also provided a far-too-fertile ground for memories. For reflection. For the nagging little voice asking her exactly how much, and for how long, she intended to let herself rot away. This evening, of course, the stroller shimmying over the bumpy sidewalk as they headed back to her father’s house, Kevin Vaccaro had joined the ranks of Stuff to Worry About. As in, what would he do? Would he take the baby…? When would he take the baby…? Would Julianne ever see her again…? Was there any way to solve this without somebody getting hurt? That sort of thing.
Sunlight flashed off a windshield as they turned the corner. Julianne slipped her cheapo sunglasses back on over her regular glasses, pushed the stroller hood forward before Pippa’s squawk of annoyance could rev up to a full-out wail and thought, Nobody told you to tell him the truth, dimwit.
A sigh scampered to catch up with the thought. Because, damn her goody-goody conscience, she could never have lived with herself if she’d deliberately ignored the chance to do what was right. Now all she could do was trust that Kevin Vaccaro would do what was right, as well—
The sunspot on that windshield gradually diminished, revealing who was standing beside the from-hunger pickup surrounding it.
Well, hell.
“How’d