Baby in His Arms (3 page)

“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

T
he 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.”

“What do you mean?”

A bumblebee buzzed past. Haley gently waved her hand to send it on its way. “She forgets to feed him, forgets he’s even there, so she calls social services to pick him up.”

Creed whistled softly and turned a thoughtful gaze to the boy. A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Must be tough.”

“He’s strong about it.” So far. “He misses his mom, but he’s seen her spiral downward. Her illness scares him. He worries about her.”

“A kid shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“Mental illness isn’t a choice, Creed. His mother can’t help being sick.” But sometimes Haley wondered why a good God didn’t change things. Why people had to suffer. Why children were tossed in and out of the social system. Why some mothers’ needs were more important than their children’s. Foolish thoughts. Life was just that way. Good today and bad tomorrow.

She yanked another dandelion. “Did you know these are edible?” she said, more to stop thinking than because she cared to share her knowledge of dandelions.

His expression was amused. “Yum.”

“No, I’m serious. The lowly dandelion is one of the most useful plants God created.”

“Really?” He dipped his head and looked at her from beneath raised eyebrows.

She could see he didn’t believe her. He probably thought she was a space cadet. Not that she cared. Still, she felt compelled to prove her point.

“The flower can be battered and fried, made into wine or jelly and a lot of other things. The leaves—” she yanked a handful and held them up “—when tender are similar to spinach. Toss them into a bowl with feta cheese, add vinaigrette and voilà, you have salad. Even the roots can be dried and ground into a coffee substitute.”

Creed chuckled. “No one will starve with you around. You should sign up for a survivor show.”

Let him laugh. She knew what she knew. Haley pushed up from the grass, watching the leaves flutter to the ground. Creed moved as if to offer a hand but she shied away. “I should run inside and make sure Rose Petal is still sleeping. Want something to drink?”

“Fresh ground dandelion coffee?”

She made a face at him. “You’re not funny.”

Yet, as she walked away from the handsome pilot, she giggled inside. She didn’t want to like him, but he
was
kind of charming.

* * *

Creed pivoted so that he had one eye on Thomas and the other on the woman striding with a lithe, easy swing of her arms toward the back porch. Tonight she wore khaki shorts and a white tank top beneath a gray zip-up hoodie. Beneath the hem of the shorts her legs weren’t long but they were...nice. Lightly tanned. Shapely. Come to think of it, so was the rest of her.

All her silly talk about dandelions had confirmed his suspicions. Haley Blanchard was a throwback flower child. Flakey but harmless. And pretty cute.

“Looking good out there,” he called to Thomas.

The boy, both hands firmly on the twine reel, grinned. “My arms are getting kind of tired.”

“Ready to land that bird?”

“I don’t want to tear it up.”

The kite was cheap to make and easily replaceable, but to a boy who’d never had one, taking care of the thin plastic mattered.

Creed’s heart squeezed.

“Tell you what,” he said, coming up beside Thomas. “You reel her in. I’ll catch her before she hits the ground. Deal?”

Thomas nodded. “Okay.”

By the time they’d safely landed the kite, Haley exited the back door, Rose Petal in her arms. “The baby’s awake and hungry. You can come inside if you want to.”

The invitation wasn’t the most enthusiastic he’d ever received, but Creed was going to accept, anyway. He’d dreamed about Rose Petal last night, waking with a knot in his throat. In his dream, he’d skipped his usual prayer time and no one had been at church to find the baby. She’d been alone and helpless and crying hysterically.

The memory clung to him like the scent of mint clung to the backyard as he fell into step with Thomas and his kite. Haley waited on the porch, baby in arms.

The plastic kite crinkled and fluttered in Thomas’s hands. “I had fun.”

Creed grinned down at the boy. “Flying’s the best. Even if you’re on the ground.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a safe place to store your mighty dragon?”

“I’ll keep it on my dresser. Well, the dresser is Haley’s, but you know what I mean. I hope I can take it with me when mama comes.”

“The kite? Sure, you can. It’s yours.”

“If Mama says I can. Some things freak her out.”

“Oh.” Creed didn’t know where to go with that one so he kept quiet.

Sharply sweet smells rose from a half barrel of red flowers as they joined Haley on the porch, their shoes thudding on the hollow wood. Creed sniffed, liking the smell. Geraniums, he thought, and some other flowery things he didn’t recognize. Mom grew geraniums, though not in nearly as much abundance.

No one on the planet crowded as many flowers and green things into a pot or a spot as Haley Blanchard. A cord strung across one end of the porch held some brown, odd-shaped squash-looking things. Gourds maybe?

With an inner smile, he wondered if she ate those, too.

Thomas reached the door first and opened it, waiting politely while Haley carried Rose Petal inside.

“Nice job, ladies’ man.” Creed said the last to make Thomas laugh and was rewarded with a display of crooked teeth.

Inside the apple-green kitchen, Haley jostled the fussing infant against her chest while attempting to prepare formula with one hand. More of the brown, odd-shaped fruits—or whatever they were—were scattered on newspapers along the short countertop. Haley elbowed them to the back.

“Thomas, grab a snack if you want one. You’ll have plenty of time to read a book before your bath.”

Thomas groaned. “A bath!”

Creed felt his pain. No ten-year-old liked baths. He scruffed Thomas’s hair. “Someday you’ll enjoy smelling good.”

“So I can be a ladies’ man?”