dreaming, I think,” came that complicated, musical accent. Rising to his feet, Stephen stood next to Suzanne and they both looked down at baby Alice. “Look at that! Smiling, too,” he added.
“Smiling? Oh dear lord, smiling?” Suzanne couldn’t believe it. “She’s never done that before.”
“But she is now, in her sleep. Look! Isn’t it a great sight?” He laughed, a throaty sound of pure, genuine appreciation.
“I—I can’t believe it. Isn’t it just gas, or something?”
“It’s not impossible, Suzanne,” Terri McAllister interjected, having overheard. She was checking another baby in a nearby crib. “It seems like preemies should be too little to smile, when they should still be inside a tummy in the warm and dark. But actually they smile almost as early as babies who get born when they’re supposed to.”
Suzanne gripped the Plexiglas sides of the crib and leaned closer. The smile came again, quite unmistakable now.
“Oh, Alice! Oh, you are!” she cooed.
The smile was wider this time. It was an open-mouthed and completely toothless beam that scooped dimples into each cheek and softened the baby’s whole face, even in sleep. She stretched and arched her little neck. Her creamy eyelids still seemed almost transparent, their skin was so fine.
“What on earth can she be dreaming about that’s making her so delighted and happy?” Suzanne wondered aloud.
“You,” Stephen said. He was still standing beside her, and Suzanne felt the warmth of his forearm against her wrist. His hip bumped her side.
“Me?” she echoed.
She was trying desperately not to be so conscious of his accidental touch. Out of the corner of her eye she could see just how well made his arms were. They were strong and smooth, with lengths of honed muscle. He must keep himself fit.
“Yes, you.” He smiled at her for the second time. “Of course, you.”
This time, she noticed the way the smile crinkled the skin around his eyes and lit up his whole face. Like Alice’s smile. Again, there was a teasing quality to it that immediately made her smile back. Slowly she was beginning to lose that instinctive mistrust. Maybe here, at last, was someone else who didn’t just think about wants. Alice was his cousin’s child. Was it possible that he actually cared?
“She’s dreaming about your voice,” he continued. “Your fragrance. The songs you sing to her.”
They were both watching the baby again, intent on every tiny movement in her face, every eyelid flicker and every wobble of her little fists.
“How did you know I sing to her?” Suzanne asked.
“Of course you sing! I’ve heard so many mothers singing to their babies in hospital at home in Aragovia. I’m a family doctor, myself.”
Suzanne felt a sudden twist in her gut, and a shock of recognition. “Jodie was a pediatrician.” She blinked back tears.
“I know. I did my family practice residency here in the United States, when she had just completed her specialist training. We were quite good friends for a while.”
“I got the impression most people liked her.” She was still struggling, didn’t really know what she was saying. Why had his tone changed, on that last sentence? She had so many unanswered questions about the man, this one seemed too trivial to think about.
“It distresses you to talk about your sister,” he said. He’d noticed her face and her swimming eyes. “We won’t do it now.”
“You mean…?”
“At some point soon, we need to. For now, let’s watch Alice’s smile.”
He turned back to the baby and began a lullaby in a language she didn’t recognize, singing so softly that she could hardly hear it. The tune was poignantly beautiful, and there was a tiny catch in his voice on certain notes. Suzanne could almost feel the way the melody tugged at her heart. Did Stephen Serkin know what a gorgeous voice he had?
Of course he did. A confident man didn’t reach his thirties without knowing exactly which of his attributes and talents most appealed to women. She had the sudden instinct that there was something too deliberate about this, something that didn’t ring true.
She reacted against the emotion that had momentarily blinded her. Stepping away from him, she said in a cold tone, “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”
“It’s not such a mystery, is it?” he answered. “I had a business matter to attend to in New York, and I wanted to see my cousin’s child.”
“Then you already knew about Jodie’s death?”
“Yes.”
“Dr. Feldman contacted you? He went through all the names in Jodie’s address book.”
“I expect that’s how he reached me. I didn’t actually ask.”
“Then you’ve—?”
“I saw him yesterday, and he arranged for me to be able to visit here.”
“How long will you be in New York?”
“That depends. I’ll stay as long as I need to. It might be weeks. Longer.” He paused for a moment. “You seem suspicious about all this. About me. Why is that?”
Suzanne controlled a sigh and her mind raced as she sorted through what she felt safe in telling him, and what she didn’t want to reveal. She didn’t dare to look at him.
“Alice’s future is…so uncertain at the moment,” she said, still staring down at the tiny baby.
She was dressed only in a diaper as small and thin as an envelope, a white undershirt patterned with pastel rocking horses and little pink booties. She still had a feed tube in her nose, an oxygen mask on her face and monitors all over.
“It’s no secret that I’d like to get custody and bring her up as my own,” she added.
“Yes, so I understand.”
“I’ve been here every single day since she was born, and I love her so much. But that doesn’t mean I’ll be able to keep her permanently.”
“I know.” His voice had softened. “There’s your mother’s claim, too.”
“You know?”
“I talked with Michael Feldman for a while. I wanted to find out as much as I could. Look, we can’t have this discussion here. It’s too important, and there’s so much we have to work out.”
“Work out?” She was really alarmed, now. “What do we have to work out?”
Her head whirled around toward him too fast, and she swayed unsteadily for a moment. The neonatal unit went dark, then her vision cleared again.
“Are you all right?” His fingers brushed
