Detective Daddy

He faced her again and nodded. “I—it’s sort of a personal thing between mother and child.”

Since he was looking at her almost with awe, Fay couldn’t help but understand how moved he was by watching her nurse little Marie. She found this incredibly touching.

After the baby finished nursing, Fay felt exhaustion creeping over her again. “Marie needs to be burped,” she said. “I don’t think I’m quite up to it at the moment. Maybe tomorrow. Could you—?”

Dan blinked. “Burped? How do I do that?”

“You hold her up on your shoulder so any air bubbles in her stomach can rise and come out. Otherwise they might make her stomach hurt.”

Fay watched him take the baby from her and position her carefully. It seemed to her each time he held Marie he did so with more confidence. They smiled at each other when they heard a soft but unmistakable burp. As he shifted the baby down to hold her in the crook of his arm, Fay noticed what had accompanied the burp.

“Uh-oh, she spit up a little on your shirt.”

“No problem. She couldn’t help it.” He looked down at Marie, his expression positively doting, which both amused and touched Fay.

As he crossed to lay the baby back in her makeshift bed, Fay threw back the quilt, sat up and plucked one of the old towel pieces from the couch back. She swung her feet to the floor, but when she started to get up, everything whirled alarmingly and she sank back down. Rats. No way could she make it on her own. She was going to need Dan’s aid to get to the bathroom and back. As if the poor guy hadn’t been already burdened enough.

“Need some help?” he asked, crossing to the couch.

“I’m afraid so. Sorry.”

“No need to be. You’ve been through a lot in the past eight hours.”

Once she reached the bathroom, Fay assured him she’d be okay until the trip back. Even if she had to do it by pure willpower alone, she thought. She had a vague memory of him undressing her and putting her in the shower before the baby was born, then dressing her in this way-too-big pajama top. Woozy as she’d been, she distinctly recalled the feel of his warm fingers against her breasts as he’d buttoned the top. The least she could do now was tend to her private needs alone, rather than embarrass them both.

But she was glad of his strength when she leaned against him as he led her back to the couch. He covered her with the quilt and it was all she could do to thank him before she fell into another deep sleep.

By the time Dan gathered up all the wet and soiled flannel sheets and diapers and baby blankets, he had a full load. Thank heaven his dad had installed the small washer with the dryer above it when he’d redone the bathroom.

If anyone had told me I’d be spending my administrative leave washing baby diapers, he thought, I’d have asked what he was on.

He wiped at the wet spot on his shoulder and stared at the few tiny milk curds on his fingers. Fay’s breast milk. He took a deep breath. Watching her breast-feed had triggered a strange new emotion, one he’d never felt before. It had nothing to do with lust or sex, but he was damned if he could figure out what it meant. Just like holding the baby and caring for her made him feel as though he’d been awarded some kind of privilege.

Whatever emotion it was unsettled him and he tried to reason it away. So they both needed him. So what. As a cop, plenty of people had needed his skills at one time or another. No reason to get all cranked up about it.

He started the washer, returned to the main room and put another log on the fire. He’d meant to make a meal for Fay, but she was sleeping so soundly he decided to wait. Rest was probably more important than food at the moment anyway. He’d sure hate to go through what she had, especially alone with a stranger in a cabin isolated by a storm.

He thought of his ex-wife and frowned. He couldn’t imagine Jean being as brave as Fay under the same circumstances. He stared down at Fay, dark lashes contrasting with too-pale cheeks, her brown hair tangled. Her eyes, he knew, were hazel, a sort of gold-green. She looked so vulnerable asleep, looked as helpless as her baby actually was.

He had no notion of how long it took a woman to recuperate from childbirth. Maybe she’d feel stronger tomorrow, as she’d said.

Little Marie whimpered, and he quickly moved to her side. She wriggled a little, but didn’t open her eyes. Blue eyes, he knew. Like his.

Come on, man, he scolded. Probably she had her father’s eyes. Besides, hadn’t he heard somewhere that babies’ eyes changed color when they got a little older?

The fine fuzz on top of her head was blond, also like his. He frowned impatiently. Marie was certainly not his daughter.

That had been one of the reasons he and Jean had gone their separate ways. He didn’t want children and she did. Something clutched at his heart as he looked down at the sleeping baby. What a world Marie would face as she grew up, danger lurking around every corner. He wasn’t a cop for nothing; he knew what kids had to cope with. None of his would ever have to, that was for sure. But it troubled him to think this little one would.

The next morning, when Fay tried to get up, she found she could make it all the way to the bathroom herself if she held on to furniture or the wall. But she still felt incredibly weak.

“I’ll have to ask you to go on taking care of Marie for another day,” she told him after she made it back to the couch. “I’m still sort of noodle-kneed.”

At his worried look, she added, “But I’m sure it’s only temporary.” What she meant was she hoped it was only temporary. Still, it had to be, didn’t it? “Any sign the storm’s letting up?”

He shook his head. “Usually these spring storms are three-dayers. Can last four, but no longer. We’re stuck here for a while yet.” As he spoke he brought her a tray of food, pulled the coffee table closer to her and set down the tray.

She eyed the toast and eggs with real hunger. “That gives me at least one more day to recuperate enough to ride into town, then.”

“More than one or two. The road’s private, so the county plows don’t come in here. The plow’s still on my truck, though, so I’ll get us out to the main road when the time comes. No use starting out from here unless the highway is cleared, and they won’t begin ’til the storm’s pretty well over. What I can do when the wind dies down is to go look for your car and bring back your stuff. Any idea how far you were from the cabin when you had the crash?”

Fay put down her fork. “I’m not sure. It seemed to take forever to see a light. To get here.” Chilled by the realization neither she nor the baby would be alive if she hadn’t, she hugged herself.

He reached down and touched her shoulder. “Hey, you made it. Eat up, you need to.”

She nodded and picked up the fork, aware he was right. She did need food. Without her breast milk, Marie would have no nourishment. “Thanks. I could use a change of clothes. And I did pack a box of disposable diapers and some baby clothes in the car, too.”

She swallowed a forkful of scrambled eggs, then paused. “It just occurred to me to wonder why you left that outside light on in the midst of a storm. Were you expecting someone?”

He shook his head, looking uncomfortable. “A habit left over from childhood, I guess.”

“You mean from when your mother left a light on for you?”

“You might say that.”

Puzzled, but also curious about his obvious uneasiness, she asked, “Have I said something wrong?”

He released his breath in a sigh before muttering, “At least I had the sense to leave the damn light on.”

She’d hit a nerve, though she hadn’t a clue why. Somehow she knew, though, it had nothing to do with her.

“Your eggs are getting cold,” he told her.

So they were. She picked up her fork again.

Between naps and nursing the baby, the time passed so quickly Fay was surprised to note darkness when she looked at the windows. Dan had run the washer and dryer, so temporarily, at least, Marie had clean diapers and blankets. That evening, after he’d prepared dinner and cleaned the dishes, he pulled a chair up beside the couch where Fay had propped herself up on pillows.

“I’m still curious about how you got here,” he said. “Want to talk about it?”

“Just the facts ma’am?” she asked, smiling at him.

“My dad used to watch Dragnet,” he said. “Police work in those days seemed pretty cut-and-dried.”

“My dad watched it, too.”

“Was he a cop?”

She shook her head. “He worked as a foreman in an automobile foundry until he retired.” When he could have been so much more, she couldn’t help thinking. At least she hadn’t inherited her dad’s lack of ambition. Fay sighed. “I guess you could say my dad is part of the reason I’m here in this cabin. He didn’t want me to have the baby.”