The Road To Love. Линда Гуднайт
and she wasn’t responsible for rescuing him. But his eyes had pleaded with her so earnestly. Ellen felt herself beginning to weaken. No! she mumbled under her breath. Reed had Danielle, and as far as Ellen was concerned, they were on their own.
However, by the time she arrived at the undergraduate library, Ellen discovered that she couldn’t get Reed’s pleading look out of her mind. From everything she’d heard about Danielle, Ellen figured the woman probably didn’t know the first thing about babies. As for the term paper, she supposed she could put it off until Sunday. After all, she’d found excuses all day to avoid working on it. She’d done the laundry, trimmed the shrubs, cleaned the drainpipes and washed the upstairs walls in an effort to escape that paper. One more night wasn’t going to make much difference.
Hurriedly, she signed out some books and journals that looked as though they might be helpful and headed for the bus stop. Ellen had to admit that she was curious enough to want to meet Danielle. Reed’s girlfriend had to be someone very special to put up with his frequent absences—or else a schemer, as Derek had implied. But Ellen couldn’t see Reed being duped by a woman, no matter how clever or sophisticated she might be.
Her speculations came to an end as the bus arrived, and she quickly jumped on for the short ride home.
Reed was kneeling on the carpet changing the still-tearful Jenny’s diaper when Ellen walked in the front door. He seemed to have aged ten years in the past hour. The long sleeves of his wool shirt were rolled up to the elbows as he struggled with the tape on Jenny’s disposable diaper.
Reed shook his head and sagged with relief. “Good thing you’re here. She hasn’t stopped crying from the minute you left.”
“You look like you’re doing a good job without me. Where’s Danielle?” She glanced around, smiling at Jimmy; the little boy hadn’t moved from the sofa, his face still hidden in the cushions.
Reed muttered a few words under his breath. “She couldn’t stay.” He finally finished with the diaper. “That wasn’t so difficult after all,” he said, glancing proudly at Ellen as he stood Jenny up on the floor, holding the baby upright by her small arms.
Ellen swallowed a laugh. The diaper hung crookedly, bunched up in front. She was trying to think of a tactful way of pointing it out to Reed when the whole thing began to slide down Jenny’s pudgy legs, settling at her ankles.
“Maybe you should try,” Reed conceded, handing her the baby. Within minutes, Ellen had successfully secured the diaper. Unfortunately, she didn’t manage to soothe the baby any more than Reed had.
Cradling Jenny in her arms, Ellen paced the area in front of the fireplace, at a loss to comfort the sobbing child. “I doubt I’ll do any better. It’s been a long while since my brother was this size.”
“Women are always better at this kind of stuff,” Reed argued, rubbing a hand over his face. “Most women,” he amended, with such a look of frustration that Ellen smiled.
“I’ll bet Jimmy knows what to do,” she suggested next, pleased with her inspiration. The little boy might actually come up with something helpful, and involving him in their attempts to comfort Jenny might distract him from his own unhappiness. Or so Ellen hoped. “Jimmy’s a good big brother. Isn’t that right, honey?”
The child lifted his face from the cushion. “I want my mommy.”
“Let’s pretend Ellen is your mommy,” Reed coaxed.
“No! She’s like that other lady who said bad words.”
Meanwhile, Jenny wailed all the louder. Digging around in the bag, Reed found a stuffed teddy bear and pressed it into her arms. But Jenny angrily tossed the toy aside, the tears flowing unabated down her face.
“Come on, Jimmy,” Reed said desperately. “We need a little help here. Your sister’s crying.”
Holding his hands over his eyes, Jimmy straightened and peeked through two fingers. The distraught Jenny continued to cry at full volume in spite of Ellen’s best efforts.
“Mommy bounces her.”
Ellen had been gently doing that from the beginning.
“What else?” she asked.
“She likes her boo-loo.”
“What’s that?”
“Her teddy bear.”
“I’ve already tried that,” Reed said. “What else does your mommy do when she cries like this?”
Jimmy was thoughtful for a moment. “Oh.” The four-year-old’s eyes sparkled. “Mommy nurses her.”
Reed and Ellen glanced at each other and dissolved into giggles. The laughter faded from his eyes and was replaced with a roguish grin. “That could be interesting.”
Hiding a smile, Ellen decided to ignore Reed’s comment. “Sorry, Jenny,” she said softly to the baby girl.
“But maybe he’s got an idea,” Reed suggested. “Could she be hungry?”
“It’s worth a try. At this point, anything is.”
Jenny’s bellowing had finally dwindled into a few hiccuping sobs. And for some reason, Jimmy suddenly straightened and stared at Reed’s craggy face, at his deep auburn hair and brilliant green eyes. Then he pointed to the plaid wool shirt, its long sleeves rolled up to the elbow. “Are you a lumberjack?”
“A lumberjack?” Reed repeated, looking puzzled. He broke into a full laugh. “No, but I imagine I must look like one to you.”
Rummaging through the diaper bag, Ellen found a plastic bottle filled with what was presumably formula. Jenny eyed it skeptically, but no sooner had Ellen removed the cap than Jenny grabbed it from her hands and began sucking eagerly at the nipple.
Sighing, Ellen sank into the rocking chair and swayed back and forth with the baby tucked in her arms. “I guess that settles that.”
The silence was so blissful that she wanted to wrap it around herself. She felt the tension drain from her muscles as she relaxed in the rocking chair. From what Jimmy had dropped, she surmised that Danielle hadn’t been much help. Everything she’d learned about the other woman told Ellen that Danielle would probably find young children frustrating—and apparently she had.
Jimmy had crawled into Reed’s lap with a book and demanded the lumberjack read to him. Together the two leafed through the storybook. Several times during the peaceful interlude, Ellen’s eyes met Reed’s across the room and they exchanged a contented smile.
Jenny sucked tranquilly at the bottle, and her eyes slowly drooped shut. At peace with her world, the baby was satisfied to be held and rocked to sleep. Ellen gazed down at the angelic face and brushed fine wisps of hair from the untroubled forehead. Releasing her breath in a slow, drawn-out sigh, she glanced up to discover Reed watching her, the little boy still sitting quietly on his lap.
“Ellen?” Reed spoke in a low voice. “Did you finish your math paper?”
“Finish it?” She groaned. “Are you kidding? I haven’t even started it.”
“What’s a math paper?” Jimmy asked.
Rocking the baby, Ellen looked solemnly over at the boy. “Well, it’s something I have to write for a math class. And if I don’t write a paper, I haven’t got a hope of passing the course.” She didn’t think he’d understand any algebraic terms. For that matter, neither did she.
“What’s math?”
“Numbers,” Reed told the boy.
“And, in this case, sometimes letters—like x and y.”
“I like numbers,” Jimmy declared. “I like three and nine and seven.”
“Well, Jimmy, my boy, how would you like to write my paper for me?”
“Can