loved getting up with Angel. But he was wearing down, he had to admit.
“Hello?” Izzy called from the bedroom. Russ realized he’d never told her his name.
He hurried into the bedroom, his hands reaching out to take the baby.
“Hi. I…I need a clean diaper.”
Her eyes, just as blue as Angel’s, weren’t glittery with fever any longer. Her black hair hung down her back in tangled curls, and her pajama top was almost slipping off her slender shoulders. He thought her face was a little gaunter than it had been when she was running a fever.
“I can change her. I’ve gotten quite good at it in the past couple of days.”
“I’m sure you have,” she said softly, smiling shyly. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
He tried to resist the warmth and charm. “No need.” He held out his hands for the baby again.
“She needs a new nightgown. If you’ll bring me one…”
“I’ll take care of it,” he said firmly, and scooped Angel into his arms. Then he hurried out into the living room.
He’d made part of the sofa into a changing table. He lay Angel down on the soft blanket he’d spread out. “I just stole you from your Mommy, didn’t I, little girl. But I missed you. Did you drink all your milk? What a good girl you are,” he added, smiling at her. He was crooning nonsense to her, and she loved it, as usual.
She was too young to smile at him, he’d decided, but she put those rosebud lips together and tried to blow bubbles. “Did you miss me? Did you think I’d gone away? Of course not.”
He gently removed her nightgown. Pretty soon he’d need to wash a load of baby clothes. Would his regular laundry soap be all right? He’d have to call his mom again. Not that she’d mind. She seemed to be enjoying his calls.
He changed her diaper and found another soft nightgown, this one pink, instead of a blue print. “Pink is your color, my Angel. It makes you look beautiful. You’ve got your mother’s hair, of course.” It was black and curly, making her look like an expensive doll. He could imagine her in her terrible twos, those curls bouncing in every direction as she raced through the house, getting into trouble.
To his surprise, the picture was as clear as could be. Much clearer than his memories of Abby. He stared at the baby in horror. What was wrong with him? This baby wasn’t his. Abby was his. His memory, his love.
Angel’s face puckered up, as if he’d frightened her. Abby would never want that. Russ relaxed once more, using his soothing voice to reassure the child.
“Hello?” called Izzy. “Has she gone to sleep?”
He still hadn’t told Izzy his name. “Just a minute,” he called back. Then he picked up Angel and walked to the door of the bedroom. “She’s settling down now. I’ve been letting her sleep in the carrier. Is that all right?”
“Yes, of course, but if you put her here, I can feed her when she wakes up.”
“Not unless you get up and make a bottle.”
He felt badly about his abrupt return to reality. She bit her bottom lip. “Maybe I can manage that, too.”
“I apologize, Izzy. What in hell is that short for, anyway?”
“Isabella.”
“Oh. That’s a lovely name. I’ll go put Angel to bed. Then I’ll come back and introduce myself.” That was the least he could do. It looked as if she was finally getting well. He’d talked to Jon several times to make sure he was doing the right thing.
He laid the baby in the carrier and tucked a blanket around her, thinking he’d never seen anything quite as beautiful as Angel sleeping. The phone rang and he hurried to answer it so it wouldn’t wake the baby.
“Hi, son. It’s Mom. Everyone is waiting for our daily report. How’s the baby doing?”
He chuckled. “I’m doing fine, Mom, thank you for asking.”
“Well, I can tell that. Now, how’s the baby?”
“Doing fine, too. She just finished her bottle, had a change of clothes and has gone back to sleep.”
“You’re doing a wonderful job,” Janie said.
“Well, her mother fed her just now. I guess she should get some praise, too.”
“The mother’s awake? How is she doing?”
“I think she’s better. I was just going to fix her something to eat. Why don’t I call you back after she eats?”
“All right. Ask her—”
“I know what to ask her. Talk to you later.”
He’d fed the woman soup ever since they’d been in his apartment, but he didn’t think she’d finished as much as a can. He stepped to the door of the bedroom. “Isabella, I’m going to make an omelette and share it with you. I’ll be back in a minute.”
A faint thank-you drifted after him as he headed for the kitchen. He concentrated on the omelette, able to handle that with no trouble. He wondered about the woman, was not even sure she was a good mother. After all, she and her baby had been alone in a storm.
Of course, the storm had come up suddenly. Even the weatherman hadn’t given them much warning. Nevertheless he’d warn her to check more carefully before she set out again.
He made a vegetable and cheese omelette. Once he made sure she would eat meat, he’d fix her a steak. But he thought this would go down easier for her first real meal. He cut about a fourth of the omelette for her. Then he put the rest on his plate.
He dug out a tray and put both plates on it. Then he added some orange juice and some buttered toast. That should be enough for her first meal.
He entered the bedroom to find her eyes closed. Going to the opposite side of the bed, he set down the tray. Then he leaned over the bed and shook her shoulder. “Isabella? Wake up. I’ve brought you some lunch.”
She blinked several times, staring at him. Again he was reminded of how much Angel’s eyes were like her mother’s. “I…don’t think I can keep anything down.”
“Just try a little bit. You won’t get stronger until you eat something.”
She struggled to sit up against the pillows and he shoved another pillow behind her. Her fingers were trembling and she grabbed them to try to hide her weakness.
“Do I need to feed you?”
“No! No, I’m s-sure I can manage.”
But when she picked up the fork and it shook, he realized he shouldn’t have asked. “This time I’ll feed you. I don’t want you getting my pajama top dirty,” he added with a smile.
Unfortunately that apparently reminded her
