was changing, there were a few things that always remained the same. Today it was the scent of strong coffee on the morning air.
He followed the unmistakable aroma into the kitchen and found his older brother at the counter across the room, pouring steaming brew into a large mug. Reed’s gaze settled on Joey, nestled securely on Marsh’s left arm, his eyes wide and his wispy hair sticking up in every direction.
Baby bottles filled the sink, and spilled formula pooled on the counter nearby. A load of clean baby clothes was piled in the middle of the table. It was hard to believe that two weeks ago the only items on the counter had been take-out menus, a cell phone or two and car keys.
“Did you get it?” Marsh asked without turning around.
“In the first pharmacy I tried.” Reed kept his voice gentle because Joey had locked his eyes on him over Marsh’s shoulder.
A toothless smile engaged Joey’s entire face and brought out every fierce protective instinct Reed possessed. Everyone they’d consulted agreed that Joey appeared to be approximately three months old. The sum of the baby’s age and the length of a normal pregnancy corresponded with the timing of the business trip Reed had taken to Texas last year.
“I heard from Noah,” he said, sharing news from their younger brother with Marsh. Noah never had been one for long letters or phone calls, and his text was no different. Two words, hot damn, spoke volumes. “I’d say he and Lacey are pretty happy.”
Joey smiled again, evidently happy, too. Already that little kid always assumed everybody was talking to him.
Reed tossed the discreet paper bag onto the table and continued toward his brother. “I’ll take him. It looks as though you could use two hands for that coffee.”
Joey didn’t seem to mind the transition from one set of strong arms to the other. He was trusting in that way. Reed wondered if that trait came from his mother.
Paternity-wise, they weren’t going to be able to make so much as an educated guess without the test, for Marsh and Reed were too closely related and nearly identical in height, bone structure and build. They were polar opposites in most other ways, however. Dark where Reed was fair, brown-eyed to Reed’s blue-gray, whisker stubble where Reed was clean-shaven, Marsh was two and a half years older. Today he wore his usual faded jeans, scuffed work boots and a holey T-shirt Reed hadn’t seen in years.
It reminded Reed that practically every item of clothing they owned was dirty. They needed help around here with laundry and dishes and especially with Joey’s care, which was why they were interviewing someone later this morning. Luckily, Joey seemed oblivious to the havoc his arrival had brought. Tipping the scales at eleven and a half pounds, he was a handsome, sturdy baby with hair as dark as Marsh’s and eyes that were gray-blue like Reed’s.
“Hi, buddy,” Reed said with more emotion than he’d known he was capable of feeling for a child so small. He carried the baby to the table and took a seat. “Is this formula still good?” he asked his brother.
Marsh looked at his watch, nodded, and Reed offered the baby the last ounce in the bottle. As Joey drank, he looked up at him and wrapped his entire hand around Reed’s little finger. Reed was growing accustomed to the way his heart swelled, crowding his chest.
He’d read a tome’s worth of information and suggestions about how to care for infants these past ten days. Maybe the way Joey grasped the finger of whoever was feeding him was reflexive. Reed was of the opinion that it had more to do with being a Sullivan, which among other things meant he wanted what he wanted when he wanted it.
Marsh was leaning against the counter across the room, ankles crossed as he somberly sipped his coffee. “How many times do you think we waited out the night sitting around that table?”
“During Noah’s rebellious years—which was most of them—and last year with Madeline? Too many to count,” Reed said.
It reminded them both that they weren’t novices when it came to handling tough situations. After their parents were killed in an icy pileup on the interstate thirteen years ago, twenty-three-year-old Marsh had suddenly become the head of the family. Reed had nearly doubled his class load at Purdue, and as soon as he graduated a year later, he’d come home to help. Noah had been a hell-raising seventeen-year-old then. Their sister, Madeline, had been fourteen and was struggling to adjust to a world that had changed overnight. It was hard to believe Noah and Madeline were both married now.
“This feels different, doesn’t it?” Reed said, looking into Joey’s sleepy little face.
“Different in every way,” Marsh agreed.
Marsh tore the paternity test kit package open, read the directions and then handed them to Reed, who carefully moved Joey to the crook of his left arm, then read them, too. They filled out the forms with their pertinent information and followed the instructions to the letter before sealing everything in the accompanying airtight sleeves.
“What do you think Dad would say if he were here?” Reed asked as he closed the mailing carton.
“After the shock wore off, he probably wouldn’t say much,” Marsh answered quietly. “Mom would be the one we’d have to worry about.”
Reed and Marsh shared a smile that took them back to when they were teenagers. Reed said, “She’d expect us to do the right thing. They both would.”
“We are doing the right thing, or at least as close to the right thing as we can under the circumstances,” Marsh said. “Have you decided what you’re going to do if Joey is yours?”
Reed eyed the baby now sleeping in his arms. If Joey was his son, it meant Joey’s mother was the curvy blonde waitress named Cookie who’d accidentally spilled chili in his lap during a layover in Dallas last year. She’d blushed and apologized and somehow, when her shift was over, they’d wound up back at her place.
“If it turns out Joey’s mine, and Sam locates Cookie and she has a legitimate reason for leaving him, I’d like to get to know her better.” He wished he’d asked more questions that night. She’d mentioned an ex-husband, somewhere, and a local play she’d been auditioning for. He didn’t recall ever hearing her last name. Now he wished he had asked. After all, if she was the mother of his son, she deserved better. She deserved the chance to explain. “What about you? What will you do if the test proves Joey is yours?”
Marsh took his time considering his reply. “The week I spent with Julia on the Outer Banks last year was pretty damn idyllic. I thought I knew her as well as a man could know a woman. I thought we had something. If Joey is our son, she would have had to have a very good reason for all of this. The Julia I knew wouldn’t have left Joey unless she had no other choice. I have a hundred questions, but it does no good to imagine what might have happened to her or what might be happening to her now. I only know that if Julia is Joey’s mother and I am his father, she will return for him, and when that happens I’d like to try to work things out, as a family.”
It wasn’t surprising that they wanted the same thing, for Reed and Marsh were both family men at heart. They grew silent, each lost in his own thoughts. The only sound in the room was Joey’s hum as he slept in Reed’s arms and the tick of the clock on the old stove.
“Why don’t you put Joey in his crib for his morning nap,” Marsh suggested. “The agency is sending another woman out for an interview later. You should have plenty of time to overnight the paternity kit and be back before then. Unless you want me to
