The Baby Bond

“I am so sorry,” she said to Brad’s mother. “I don’t know what else to say.”

The matronly woman fell against her with a sob. “I can’t believe this. I kept hoping we would get here and discover some kind of ghastly mistake had been made.”

Hadn’t she prayed for the same thing?

Thomas, a portly man, stood by looking helpless, his jowls droopy with sorrow. “How could this have happened?”

“I don’t know,” Cassidy said honestly. “I suppose the fire marshal will investigate.”

She glanced at Nic, amazed that he hadn’t left. He nodded and extended a hand to Thomas. “Nic Carano. I was at the scene last night.”

“Did you see them?” Beverly, eyes puffy and red, pulled away from Cassidy to face the fireman. Her short brown hair, shot with gray, was in disarray as if she’d run her hands through it over and over again in her distress. “My son and his wife?”

“Yes, ma’am. I brought them out.”

“Are they certain of the identities?”

The heartbroken mother was grasping at straws, hoping for a miracle that would not come. Cassidy’s stomach rolled, sick with grief.

“I don’t know about that, ma’am, but I can assure you they died peacefully and easily in their sleep. Smoke inhalation. No pain. No suffering. No fear.”

Thomas clapped a huge paw onto Nic’s shoulder, mouth downcast, as he drew in a shuddering breath and then nodded once. “Thank you for that. It helps.”

The atmosphere ached with sorrow.

“Yes, sir.”

“Nic rescued Alex, too,” Cassidy said, glad for the first time that Nic had returned to the room. His professional ease and knowledge of the situation seemed to be exactly what the devastated Browns needed.

“Thank you, Nic,” Beverly said and hugged him. The firefighter embraced her as if he’d known her forever. No surprise there. Nic Carano was comfortable with people, especially women.

Cassidy’s grandmother had kept her peace for about as long as she could. “We need to plan services, I suppose.”

The other four turned to look at her. Perched on the chair like a queen on her throne, Eleanor would run the show or die trying.

Somehow Cassidy stumbled through the visit to the funeral home, the preparations for the services and the double funeral four days later. In the midst of making all sorts of arrangements and decisions she hadn’t realized were necessary, she’d warded off Grandmother’s attempts to “deal with the issue” of Alex until after the funeral.

She and the Browns had taken turns sitting with the baby at the hospital where they’d discussed the painfully few options for her nephew, but none of them were emotionally ready to make a permanent decision.

To Cassidy’s discomfort, Nic Carano had returned every day as well, sending the baby into an excited display of arm and leg pumps and slobbery smiles. Cassidy, on the other hand, suffered a pain the size of Dallas. Every time she saw him, she had an unbidden vision of the yellow-clad fireman carrying Janna from the house, limp and dead. He was too much of a reminder of that night, of her sister’s last hours and moments.

Out of uniform, he looked different, more like the wild and crazy Nic in funny T-shirts she remembered. She couldn’t understand why he kept coming around. Surely not to see her. Having had her fill of womanizing playboys, she’d let him know from the start that she was not interested.

Alex was the only explanation. Through the shared tragedy, Nic had bonded with the child. That’s all it could be.

Until today, the doctors had kept her nephew in the hospital for observation and respiratory therapy. Two hours ago, he’d been discharged into Cassidy’s care—temporarily.

Now on this pleasant April afternoon, she sat on the off-white sofa in her tidy living room with Alex asleep in her lap, feeling as if she were a house of cards, ready to tumble at the slightest breeze. The grandparents were on their way to make the decision.

“Oh, baby boy,” she whispered to his peaceful, innocent face. “What is going to become of you?”

Earlier, her pastor had stopped by with a word of counsel and a prayer for comfort and guidance as she made important decisions in the days ahead. He’d prayed for Alex, too, that God’s will and perfect plan would unfold. To her way of thinking, God’s perfect plan should have been Janna and Brad raising their son together. Yet, she’d found relief in Pastor John’s prayers. Since the accident, praying had been difficult.

Heart as heavy as it had ever been in her life, Cassidy dreaded the family meeting that would decide Alex’s fate.

A bitter laugh escaped her throat.

“Family,” she muttered with a shake of her head. “Some family you have, baby.”

Beverly and Thomas Brown were fine people, but Beverly’s heart wasn’t strong. She’d had two bypass surgeries already. They couldn’t raise an infant and had admitted as much, though they loved Alex with all the grandparent love in the world. Eleanor, thank goodness, had never even considered “taking him on.” Had she wanted Alex, a moving freight train could not have stopped her.

Grandmother wasn’t a bad person, just a focused, determined businesswoman who’d never forgiven her only daughter for marrying a penniless missionary and then dying in a “heathen” land. Janna and Cassidy had borne the brunt of her unforgiveness.

With a shudder, Cassidy made up her mind that her nephew would never live that way. She wanted him to have love and family and warmth and support. A dear cousin in Baton Rouge was interested in adopting Alex, but Louisiana seemed so far away. Cassidy wanted him nearby, close enough that she could be part of his life.

If only she were married or had a less demanding job. If only she possessed the natural mothering instincts of her sister. If only her future weren’t laid out before her like a tidy road to the top of her game.

But it was. Regardless of the crazy thoughts going through her mind every time she looked into Alex’s face, she had no business raising a child.

“Lord,” she whispered, smoothing her fingers over Alex’s velvety forehead. “Show me what to do. Make Your plan clear. I’m dreadfully confused.”

Grandmother had declared today the final day she would “worry” about this situation, because she had business to attend to. Though Cassidy had urged Eleanor to return to Dallas and let her and the Browns decide, Grandmother wouldn’t hear of leaving until the issue was settled.

“I take familial duty very seriously,” she’d insisted with an insulted sniff. Behind her back, Cassidy had rolled her eyes.

Someone pounded on the door. Cassidy jumped. Baby Alex jerked and threw his arms out to the side but didn’t wake.

“They’re here, lamb,” she told him, stomach churning to know that after today, she would be separated from this baby she’d loved since before his birth.

Having no crib, and worried he would roll off the sofa, Cassidy placed Alex on a blanket on the floor, and then went to the door expecting to find the Browns or her grandmother waiting.

Instead, the handsome face of Nic Carano grinned down at her. In a snug black T-shirt imprinted with “Slackers give 100%, just not all at once,” he looked firefighter fit and beach tanned.

Cassidy’s stomach fluttered in a troubling and inappropriate response.

“Hey,” he said, slouching against her door.

Charm absolutely oozed from the man.

“Nic?” Her voice was cool to the point of frost. Maybe he’d get the idea. “What are you doing?” And why won’t you go away?

“Went by the hospital to see the little dude and they said he’d escaped with a beautiful blonde.”

She refused to fall for the compliment. It rolled from his silver tongue far too easily. “I brought him home this morning.”

“I called the sibs.” With a jerk of his thumb, he indicated an oncoming barrage of humanity. “Told them a friend needed some baby stuff and here they are.”

A parade of people she didn’t know had piled out of cars and were trailing up the sidewalk like smiling, supply-laden ants. Each carried something that related to an infant.