Maybe, Baby. Terry McLaughlin
as he carried the kicking, writhing bundle toward the dimly lit parlor adjoining the dining room. “You were just waiting for your uncle Wayne to figure things out.”
“Here, Burke,” said Jody as she handed him a platter piled with thick slices of glazed ham. “And please pass the sweet potatoes down to Will when you get a chance.”
He noticed the others were helping themselves to servings of beet salad, home-preserved peaches, dilled carrots, baked-bean casserole and corn bread. “Aren’t we going to wait for Wayne to join us?”
“He’s got Ashley.”
“Yes, but—”
“He’ll give someone else a turn in a minute,” she said, handing him a pottery jar filled with some kind of aromatic relish. “He likes her. Besides, he says he needs the practice.”
Burke didn’t understand why anyone would want to spend one minute more than necessary practicing to have his eardrums damaged.
“You’ll get a turn, too,” Jody said.
“Thank you, but that’s not—”
“Excuse me, Burke.” Nora fluttered impossibly thick lashes at him from across the table. “Could you please pass the butter?”
She looked lovely tonight, he thought, dazzled by her presence. He knew she was doing the dazzling bit on purpose, and he supposed he should be immune to it by now. But she was so bloody good at it.
She’d changed her top and pinned up her hair. A few wavy black tendrils wisped about her face and tumbled to drape along her long, shapely neck. Those impossibly dark almond-shaped eyes were somehow more exotic than ever without layers of makeup, and her famously pouty lips shimmered a clean, glossy pink. Motherhood had accentuated her mouthwatering curves, enough to send any man to his knees. She was a fresh-scrubbed Gypsy temptress, a siren in a white T-shirt and jeans, radiating so much charisma across the table he was afraid he’d burn to cinders in the heat.
“Burke?”
“Yes. Sorry.” He snatched up the butter and handed it to Ellie to pass along.
Wayne lowered the baby into Maggie’s arms and took his seat at the table.
“Have you heard from Fitz today?” Burke asked Ellie.
“Nope.”
“He hasn’t called you?”
“He knows better than to call me while I’m working.” Ellie shrugged. “Just like I know better than to call him when he’s on the set.”
Burke was no stranger to Fitz’s odd aversion to the phone—serving as a human message machine had been one of Burke’s most important duties during his years as an assistant.
Maggie handed the baby to Jenna.
“He called me,” Jody told Burke. “He wanted to know if you’d gotten here yet.”
“Checking up on me, was he?”
“Uh, that’s right.” Jody gave him a look that reminded him he was a conspirator in the smuggling operation. “I told him you got here safe and sound.”
The talk around the table turned to the day’s local news. A fender bender on the town’s main street, an injured basketball star denting the high-school team’s chance at a division championship. A herd of elk damaging a fence line between Granite Ridge and the Hammonds’ ranch.
The baby got passed to Jody, who stood and paced one slow, bobbing circuit around the table before returning to Burke’s side.
“It’s your turn,” she said.
“My turn for what?”
“Diaper derby. Whoever’s holding her when she poops has to change her diaper. Here.”
“But I don’t think—that is, I’ve never—”
I’ve never held a baby.
“Jody,” said Jenna, “He doesn’t—”
“Let him have a turn,” said Nora. “He hasn’t had a chance to hold her since he arrived. Have you, Burke?”
Her stare was a toxic mixture of guilt-inducing pleading and cool challenge. No hope of wiggling out of the situation. He shoved his chair back and prepared to deal with the inevitable.
“Put one hand here,” said Jody, grabbing one of his hands and sliding it under the baby’s head. “You don’t want to let her head drop.”
He was afraid to ask why.
“And here,” she continued, guiding his other hand toward the baby’s hips as she shifted the wiggling parcel into his arms, “support her back, like this.”
His every instinct screamed at him to hand it back, now, before he suffered a massive stroke and dropped it or experienced a freak muscle spasm that caused him to pitch it across the room, but if he moved too quickly its head would hit the floor, or its spine might snap in two, and Nora would be destroyed by grief, and he’d never forgive himself. So he did the next-best thing and pulled it close to his body, the way he’d seen the others hold it.
A tiny foot pummeled his stomach, and tiny fingers stretched and closed around invisible items. And then its face puckered in a ghastly grimace, and it flushed a rapid, unnerving shade of purply red.
“Uh-oh,” said Jody.
“What?” Burke was afraid to move, afraid to take his next breath. “What is it?”
“She’s winding up for a big one.”
“A big what?”
He glanced around the table, but no one else seemed to care what was happening. Apparently infant apoplexy was a common occurrence.
“You’ll find out,” said Jody, and she took her seat and resumed her meal.
The baby scrunched its features in an expression that would have put a facial contortionist to shame and flexed its back a bit. And then a most disturbing sound, a gelatinous, oozing kind of putt-putt emanated from the general area of the baby’s bottom as something unpleasantly hot seemed to gush into his hand, though it was separated from the infant’s skin by layers of nappy and clothing.
Burke had difficulty swallowing. “I think I just lost.”
“Don’t worry.” Nora dabbed at her mouth and rose from her seat. “We wouldn’t inflict a diaper change on a guest his first night here.”
“My first night?” Burke regretted the weak and pleading tone of his voice, but the memory of what had just slid into a space a fraction of an inch from his palm was still fresh.
Literally.
“I don’t suppose guest status could be extended indefinitely?” he asked.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Jenna leveled a warning look at the others around the table. “You’re not exactly family, although I certainly hope you’ll come to feel as comfortable with us all as if you were.”
He looked down at what he was holding and prayed that would never happen.
“Come here, sweetie.” Nora scooped up the baby and settled it against her. “Mama will take care of you.”
Its little face peeked over Nora’s shoulder, taunting him.
Burke picked up his fork and regarded it with a frown. He seemed to have lost his appetite.
Bloody hell.
AFTER DINNER Nora had faced a quiet consultation with Will, who was worried about the worsening driving conditions, followed by a brief argument with Jenna, who didn’t approve of the sleeping arrangements. Now she stood shivering in the amber band of light streaming from the back porch, having second thoughts about her stubborn defense of