She needs to be changed so she can go back to sleep.”
“I know that! I can take care of her!”
“Can you? You can barely stand. You certainly can’t carry her around, and you’ve been very sick. I don’t think you should push it.”
She gave up, though she didn’t think it was her nature. But he was right. She didn’t have any strength. She turned over and buried her face in a soft pillow. “Go away!”
She heard him stand and walk away. When she looked up she was alone again, the door closed. Wearily, she pushed her hair back from her face and tried to think about her next step. But it seemed too hard to make a decision. Gradually her lashes lowered over her eyes.
AFTER A SLEEPY Angel was settled back down in her carrier, Russ silently opened the door of his bedroom and discovered Isabella had gone back to sleep.
He breathed a sigh of relief. Last night she’d seemed sweet and cooperative. This morning she was difficult…except that she was too weak. He really needed to feed her again, but he was thinking they both might benefit from another couple of hours’ sleep. This was Angel’s six-o’clock feeding.
He returned to the air mattress he used when he went camping. It was better than the floor. He was too old to sleep on the floor. Okay, he wasn’t ancient, only in his early thirties, but he felt older.
He lay down, thinking of his king-size bed in the next room. He had a second bedroom, but he’d made it into an office. There was no bed there. One thing about taking care of Angel, though. He didn’t have to worry about falling to sleep.
That was true this morning, too.
AROUND EIGHT, Russ pulled on jeans and a sweater, using the spare bathroom. Then he headed for the kitchen. He first put on a pot of coffee. Then he put oatmeal on to cook. He fried bacon and added buttered toast. When it was all ready, he went to the bedroom door and opened it.
“Isabella, I’m serving breakfast in five minutes. Want to visit the bathroom beforehand?”
At least she’d opened her eyes. She stared at him, blinking several times.
Then she nodded and began shoving back the cover. Until she reached her bare legs. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
“That top comes almost to your knees. Come on. If we don’t hurry, the bacon will burn.” He noticed interest in her eyes when he mentioned bacon. That was a good sign. He helped her to the bathroom.
When he had her back in bed, he went to the kitchen and loaded the tray with their breakfasts and came back. He walked around the bed and piled the pillows behind her so she was almost sitting up. Then he slid the tray closer.
“Help yourself,” he said, picking up the bowl with the most oatmeal. She picked up her own bowl, but she stared at him.
“I like my oatmeal with a little sugar,” he said, sprinkling it on his cereal, “and then I add raisins. Does that suit you?”
She nodded and he added sugar and raisins for her.
“Want some milk to cool it off?”
She nodded again. He poured some for her. “Can you stir it up yourself?”
She nodded. Good thing he didn’t expect a lot of conversation.
“Eat a piece of bacon and a bite of toast while it cools,” he ordered. He figured if he gave her a choice, she’d refuse everything. She followed his lead. In fact, she ate half a piece of toast. Then he started eating the oatmeal and she followed suit.
Fifteen minutes later, the tray was pretty much emptied. He’d eaten most of it, but she’d done a pretty good job. “Feel better?”
She nodded again.
“Are you ever going to speak again?”
“Thank you for breakfast.”
“You’re welcome. Now, who were you coming to visit? They’ll be worried about you.”
“No. She didn’t know I was coming.”
“Then whoever you left will be worried. Tell me who to call and I’ll let them know you’re all right.”
She said nothing.
“What’s going on here? Why aren’t you talking?”
“Because there’s no one I want to tell.”
“You came from New York?”
“How did you know that?” she asked, stiffening.
He smiled as he shook his head. She was a suspicious woman. “I saw your license plate.”
“Oh.”
He’d told Jon he didn’t think she was a runaway, but now he wondered. “Are you hiding from someone?”
“What if I am? I’m an adult.”
“I don’t think that’s an adult way to handle things.”
“Well, I think it is. I’m too weak right now to fight. When I’m strong again, I’ll handle everything.”
She was already tiring, and he wanted more information before she went back to sleep. “Who is Angel’s father?”
“Timothy Walker, my…my husband.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s dead.”
Russ knew the elation that filled him was wrong. And it didn’t mean he could keep Angel, but at least for now, he was the only man in her short life. “When did he die?”
“Six months ago.”
“Angel looks about a month old. So you went through the pregnancy by yourself?”
She nodded, but she didn’t meet his gaze. Not quite the truth, he guessed, but she closed her eyes.
“I’m too tired to talk anymore.”
“Okay. We’ll try again at lunchtime.”
She didn’t answer. He picked up the tray, but he stared down at her for a moment. The food was helping her. She was going to regain her strength quickly.
But the mystery wasn’t solved. And he intended to solve it before he let Isabella and Angel go away.
HE HANDLED Angel’s ten-o’clock feeding as usual, except that he talked to her and played with her for about half an hour before he let her go back to sleep.
“Like mother, like daughter, little Angel. I can’t keep either one of you awake.” With a grin, he tucked the baby into her carrier. Then he took a quick look out the window. The wind seemed to be abating a little. He decided he’d better straighten up the living room before his
