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Somewhat awkwardly patting Daryn’s back as he rocked her against him, Tate spoke in a quiet voice intended to soothe the baby and convince the mother. “Unless you want to have me escorted out, you aren’t getting rid of me that easily, Kim. There is no way I’m leaving you this sick and with no one here to help you. Now, go get some rest and when you feel better, you can berate me all you want and then throw me out on my ear.”
She looked torn between anger and temptation. He supposed it would have been too much to expect gratitude, considering the way he’d barged in on her. “You don’t know what to do with Daryn.”
“I think I can figure it out.” Daryn had already stopped crying, subsiding to little sniffles as she rested her head on Tate’s shoulder. “If not, I’ll come get you. Now, go.”
Kim’s eyes looked suspiciously damp now. It was a measure of just how sick she was that she finally nodded and locked the front door. “Okay, fine. You’ll probably get sick, too, and then you’ll be sorry. And it will serve you right.”
“Yes, it will. Has Daryn eaten?”
Running a trembling hand over her hair, Kim nodded. “I just fed her a little. She wasn’t very hungry. I was going to give her a bottle.”
“I can do that. Is the bottle in the fridge?”
“I had just taken it out and set it on the counter when you rang the bell.”
“Okay. Go to bed. Sleep. Don’t worry about Daryn.”
She turned toward the bedroom, then looked over her shoulder. “I forgot to check her diaper.”
“Go to bed, Kim.”
Her steps dragged as she left the room.
Tate looked down at the tear-streaked child in his arms. Okay, now what? He had so confidently assured Kim she had nothing at all to worry about, but she must have been near delirium to have let him talk her into leaving him with her daughter. He didn’t have the faintest idea what he was doing.
Daryn gazed up at him with wide, curious eyes. Probably wondering what he was going to do next. Good question.
“So…bottle, huh? Or, uh, guess we should check the diaper first.”
She blinked, then gave him a faint smile of acknowledgment before turning somber again.
“Okay, we can do this,” he assured her. “Let’s go change that diaper.”
He carried the baby quietly into the hallway, shaking his head when he saw that Kim’s bedroom door was open. Probably so she could monitor every little sound coming from the other room. Peeking inside, he saw that she lay on the bed still wearing her T-shirt and shorts, as though she had intended to lie down for only a few minutes. She was sound asleep. Deciding she would be warm enough without coverings, he pulled the door almost closed so as not to disturb her when he passed by to Daryn’s room.
The nursery was both cheery and functional. The walls were yellow, the furnishings a dark honey wood, the bedding soft yellows and greens. Framed prints of nursery rhyme characters decorated the walls and an inviting rocker with a footrest sat in the corner facing the door. Toys were arranged neatly on shelves, and a changing table was stocked with diapers and wipes. Even a novice like himself could find everything easily in here, thanks to Kim’s efficient organization.
Somehow he managed to get a clean diaper on the baby. He vaguely remembered putting a diaper on a doll in a high school class that included “life skills” lessons, one of which had been diapering a child. As he recalled, they had also tested the heat of bathwater with their elbows and of heated bottles by sprinkling milk on their wrists, but he had no intention of giving Daryn a bath and he remembered that she liked her milk cold, so neither of those skills would be called upon.
“We can do this, kiddo,” he assured her, refastening her sleeper and lifting her back into his arms. “Piece of cake.”
She made a fretting sound that perhaps expressed doubt, but he didn’t let her skepticism daunt his determined optimism. “Let’s go get that bottle.”
It was an interesting night, to say the least. Daryn was fussier than he’d ever seen her and wouldn’t let him put her down even when she finished her bottle. He sat for hours with her and Mr. Jingles snuggled in his lap while he watched baseball and news programming on TV.
He dealt with two particularly nasty diapers th
at he could only assume were worse than usual because she’d been ill. And somehow he handled them without being sick himself. He even managed to wrestle the kid into a clean sleeper, which seemed to have a couple dozen tiny little snaps that were not made for a man’s clumsy fingers.
Every so often he tiptoed into the hallway to peek in and check on Kim. She didn’t stir. Some part of her, at least, must have trusted him with the baby, he thought in satisfaction as he pulled the door to again. Could she really have slept so soundly if she hadn’t, no matter how sick she was?
Growing hungry once his appetite recovered from the unpleasantness of the second dirty diaper, he rummaged in the fridge and found the makings for a sandwich. Assembling it with one hand while holding the baby in the other arm proved to be a challenge, but he managed. He swallowed the sandwich in a few bites while Daryn watched him with an intensity that was both amusing and a little disconcerting.
He talked to the child in a low voice during the evening, a running commentary of what he was doing or what was going on in the ball game. He didn’t expect her to understand a word he was saying, but it seemed natural to speak to her when she was awake. At least the monologue seemed to entertain her enough that she didn’t cry, though she whimpered occasionally until he rocked her or jostled her or—at one desperate moment—sang softly to her. That seemed to surprise her more than impress her, but at least her fussing subsided before growing into shrieks that would have disturbed her mother.
Daryn finally fell asleep, so deeply that Tate was able to carefully lay her in her crib without waking her. He remembered that Kim had laid the baby on her back in the travel crib, so he did the same now. He set Mr. Jingles nearby, then hesitated there, uneasy about walking away. He rested a hand lightly against her flushed cheek. Did she feel a bit too warm?
Maybe he’d just sit in the rocker for a few minutes, until he was sure she was resting comfortably. He’d slip out in a little while to check on Kim, then crash on the couch until Daryn woke up at her usual early hour. He imagined Kim would feel better in the morning, after a good night’s rest, and she’d probably throw him out then. But as soon as he was sure she was fully recovered, they were going to have to talk.
