The Baby's Bodyguard

When he entered, the living room lay quiet. Instead of loud music or the blare of a TV, only a soft humming from the direction of the bedrooms broke the peace.

“Casey?” he called. “In here.”

Pushing past his reluctance, Jack walked through a short hall and entered the nursery. Casey stood ratcheting a teddy-bear mobile onto the crib. When she saw him, she pushed a button on the device, setting off a music-box version of “The Teddy Bears’ Picnic.”

His wife smiled as tinkling music filled the room. Tiny teddy bears revolved, their furry paws outstretched as if eager for Diane’s arrival. You couldn’t have shot a better commercial for home and happiness, Jack thought with an ache.

At the first foster home he’d gone to, when he was eleven, he’d walked into a nursery where the parents’ own six-month-old sat cooing and playing with a clown mobile. He didn’t remember the tune, but it had made him long for his mother.

The foster parents had rushed in and ordered him out as if he posed a threat to their precious offspring. He was never to go in there again, the man had snapped. They’d set up a cot for him in the sewing room; that was his place.

He’d learned later that that couple had never cared for foster children before and had taken him in because they needed money. They hadn’t been prepared for the moodiness of a preadolescent, for his flashes of anger or even for his poor table manners.

Jack knew many foster parents provided loving care, sometimes adopting the children. He hadn’t been so lucky. The six months he’d spent in that first house had made it agonizingly clear he didn’t belong.

Every time he’d heard music from the nursery, the sound had underscored the fact that he no longer had a home and probably never would. He’d had to harden himself to hold back the tears, as he was doing now.

Casey misread his reaction. “You don’t have to glare at me! Anyone else would be glad I’d set up such a nice welcome for the baby.”

“You’ve done a great job,” he muttered.

“You might try to sound as if you mean it.”

He could see that she’d put in a lot of work. She’d painted the place and probably stenciled those birds on the wall herself. The yellow-and-white color scheme, the shelves holding a couple of leather-bound classics—who could ask for more?

Not Jack. What he’d asked for was less. “I can’t change how I feel, so let’s not argue about it,” he told her. “Do you want to hear my preliminary observations about the property?”

“Sure.” She closed her tool kit. Some of his strain eased as they exited through the hall.

After stowing her tools in her office, Casey led the way into the old-fashioned kitchen, where the lingering scent of baking soothed Jack’s spirit. He’d loved spending time in the kitchen while they were living together.

Without asking, she poured them both decaf coffee. He would have preferred the regular version but didn’t want to impose.

“Shoot,” she said.

No need to consult his notes. “To start, you need better lighting. Also, I’d recommend you consider fencing the yards.”

“Unless I put up barbed wire, a prowler could go over it or through the gate.” She dosed her cup with cream and sugar and served his black, the way he liked it. “I don’t see that it would do much good.”

“It’s partly psychological,” Jack explained. “It provides a sense of containment. It also gives an intruder pause because it can slow down his escape.” He found the brew more flavorful than expected. Or maybe he simply enjoyed it because this was Casey’s house.

“I can’t afford to build fences, anyway,” she said. “That’s not a request for money. It’s a statement of fact.”

He knew better than to argue. “I don’t suppose you can afford to put up lighting along the footpaths, either.”

“You got that right.” She still seemed remote and almost combative. Apparently his attitude toward the nursery had set her off.

Jack refused to apologize. He’d warned her how he would likely react to a baby, although he hadn’t been specific. “If you can’t afford lighting and fences, you certainly can’t afford guards.”

“I suppose not.” She propped her elbows on the table. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I called you for a recommendation. I felt so mad about getting sprayed, I couldn’t think straight.”

Maybe, he thought, she’d subconsciously hoped he would come. But he knew better than to count on it. “My next suggestion is to organize your tenants into patrols. Two-person teams carrying cell phones. Not twenty-four hours a day, obviously, but during the evening when this guy’s most likely to show up.”

“One guy’s in his eighties and Enid’s in her seventies. I don’t want them trying to play super cop,” Casey said. “Plus even my more able-bodied tenants could break an ankle trying to patrol these woods in the dark.”

“There’s one more choice.”

“And it is?”

“You’re going to have to put up with me until I find this guy.”

She shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but, as I said before, I think you should leave as soon as possible.”

“Last night, you were ready to do whatever it took to nail this louse. You felt desperate enough to call on your almost-ex-husband, and we both know that’s pretty desperate.” Jack hoped a little humor might soften her resistance, but he saw no change in her attitude. “Now I find out you’re pregnant and more vulnerable than ever, but you’re backing off. Let me run this guy down.”

It seemed the least he could do. A man didn’t abandon his wife when she needed him, even if she’d abandoned him first.

Casey rested her chin on her fist. It took all his self-control not to reach out and touch her cheek.

“Let’s be honest,” she said.

“I’ve never been anything else.”

“You don’t want to stay,” she said. “You feel obligated. You hate being here, hate being around anything that reminds you of babies. I can read you like a book, Jack. You’re going to make us both miserable.”

He couldn’t claim otherwise, so he ignored her point. “Pretend I’m some hired hand who’s here to do a job. Then you won’t care whether I go gaga over nursery stuff.”

“No.”

“That’s it? Just plain no?”

“Try this: nyet, nein, no way. Is that clear enough?”

He could be just as stubborn as she. “I’m not leaving until we wrap this up.”

“I’ll get a restraining order.” Casey folded her arms. “Well?”

Jack didn’t think she’d do it but he knew better than to push her. “Is that what you really want? You’re so eager to get rid of me you’re willing to risk having this guy keep bugging you?”

Her lips formed a thin, stubborn line. Finally she said, “I don’t even think it’s a good idea for you to stay a day or two.”

“Casey!” She was so stubborn, she made mules look compliant. Jack came very close to saying so.

“I’ll let you stay tonight because it’s getting late, but that’s all. Really, the more I think about it, the more I believe it’s probably just a neighbor’s kid,” she told him. “Nothing’s been stolen or damaged except for that mailbox, which might not even be connected. It’s not that serious. I overreacted.”

An assault on a pregnant woman seemed serious enough to Jack, but he’d run out of arguments. Before he could decide how to proceed, his cell phone rang.

Excusing himself, he answered. “Arnett.”