Dickens and Me

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
(COPYRIGHT 2009 Anita Birt)
Greg fed the baby his infant cereal. "What do you think I should do, kid? Give up on her? I get the feeling she's holding back something. Keeping me at arm's length. Why? I don't bite and I shower every day.
"Ma, ma. Da, da."
"Hey you put two sounds together. Maybe that's an omen. Tell you what. When your grandmother's here to look after you, I'll try something different with Caroline."
"Da. Da." Davie squeezed his lips together, shook his head and refused more cereal.
"Not a good idea, is that it?" He gave Davie a wooden spoon and a pot lid to bang on while he had breakfast.
He cleaned up the kitchen and fed the dog and the cats, made up two bottles, put one in the fridge, wiped cereal from the baby's face and carried him outside to rock on the swing.
While Greg held the bottle Davie clasped his little hands around it. Smiling contentedly he studied Greg's face. It'd be nice to have a kid. He was getting like a broody hen anxious to raise chicks of his own.
They rocked in the swing until Davie finished drinking. "Okay, now we're ready to face the world. I'll lock up the house and we'll go to the park. Your grandmother won't be here until after lunch." He chased a fly away from Davie's face.
"After we've played in the park we'll go to the toy store in the Mall and buy some toys. What do you think of that?"
"Ma. Ma. Da. Da." Davie smiled toothlessly.
"We'll shop for groceries on the way home."
Greg loaded his baby bag with a bottle of water, a clean diaper and a few arrowroot biscuits. Ready for the expedition he secured Davie in his car seat and set off for the park in the center of town.
The playground was alive with young mothers and children of various ages and shapes. Greg got the stroller out of the car, put a hat on Davie and wheeling along like a proud father approached the baby swings. They were all in use.
A pretty mother in short shorts and a tight T-shirt lifted her small child from a swing. "I'm finished with this one. You can have it."
"This is our first time in the park," Greg said and hoped she hadn't noticed his quick admiring glance at her bouncy breasts, thrusting nipples, bare midriff and exposed belly button. He quickly suppressed the vague arousal humming deep in his gut.
It was definitely time to start dating before he turned into an ogling old gent haunting the park for stimulation.
Greg studied the swing. Davie was too little to sit in it unless he held him. After a struggle to poke kicking legs into the leg openings, Greg whooshed the swing slowly back and forth
"How do you like it?"
Davie held on to Greg's hands. "Da."
"Is that yes?"
"Da, da." He loosened his grip on Greg's hands and grasped the bar at the front. "Da."
He caught the rhythm and swayed as Greg pushed. "We can't stay too long, kid. We've got things to do." He glanced at his watch. "Five more minutes."
Greg learned quickly that time meant nothing to the baby. Davie screeched when Greg stopped pushing.
"Okay. Okay. Cool it. A few more minutes and that's it." Time to show the kid who was boss.
When time was up he wrestled an angry struggling baby from the swing. The kid refused to sit in the stroller. Arms and legs flailing, he squirmed like a hooked fish. Determined not to be defeated by a six month old infant Greg held him at arm's length and looked into his eyes.
"Enough already or I won't buy you a treat."
The baby howled. His hat fell off. Greg squatted down to pick it up and Davie grabbed a fistful of Greg's hair and tugged.
"Okay, I give in. You don't have to go in the stroller." He loosened Davie's fist, tucked him under one arm and pushed the stroller with his free hand.
So much for adult intelligence, he mused on the way to the car. Davie had won that round. He'd stopped howling.
They returned home at noon, exhausted. Greg had seen mothers at the park and the Mall with kids in tow from babies on up, and wondered how the women kept track of their children. Must be a secret female thing that came from giving birth.
Greg fed Davie and put him down for a nap. Having a nap while the baby slept had an undeniable appeal.
He didn't expect his mother until late afternoon, time to rest up for her arrival. He stacked groceries in the cupboards, perishables in the fridge, made a sandwich, poured a glass of milk and carried his lunch up to his bedroom.
He'd eat and read for a while.
Kim's wild barking wakened him. He shot out of bed and ran downstairs. He found his mother hunkered down in the front hall patting the dog.
"Welcome home, Mom. You're early. I was having a nap."
She straightened up and hugged him. "You look great. Has the baby been good? Not keeping you up at night?"
"No. He sleeps like a top until six. I've had fun with him. We had a busy morning and crashed after lunch. He's probably awake now."
He linked his arm through his mother's. "I suppose you want to see him?"
"How did you guess?" She tilted her head. "I think I hear him crying." She darted away from Greg and ran up the stairs. "Bring up my suitcase."
"Mom." Greg called after her. "Do you know he's black?"
"I know. I met his father in Vancouver."
He carried her suitcase to the master bedroom. He heard his mother talking to the baby who had fallen silent.
Greg approached Davie's room and paused at the door. His mother had the baby in her arms. Tears trickled down her cheeks. She turned to Greg.
"Isn't he beautiful? He's like a little angel. You've taken good care of him."
"It was fun after I figured out how to change his dirty diapers. I bought him a yellow duck to play with in the bath."
Greg thought he'd be happy to be free of baby minding duties. Why did he feel vaguely sad?
Davie peeked at Greg. "Da. Da."
"Uncle." Greg waved at him. "Uncle."
"I have to change him." His mother said.
"I'll do it." Greg held out his hands.
"You've been on duty for three days. I'll take over." She kissed the baby and put him on the change table. "Your Grandma's here so Uncle Greg can have a break."
She glanced at him as she expertly changed Davie. "So what have you been up to since we left? Did you join the Tennis Club before Laura came with the baby? You talked about it."
Greg shook his head. "I forgot." He knew what was coming next and decided to take the conversational ball and run with it. "Funny you should mention that. A friend of mine is playing in a doubles match at the club tonight, I thought I'd drop by."
His mother picked up the baby. "Friend? Male or female?"
Greg grinned. "Mom, you are so obvious, still trying to marry me off."
"What else are mothers for? We all want grandchildren. So tell me, who is it?"
"Caroline Balfour. She's a doctor at the Markbridge Clinic."
"Are you two serious?"
Greg shrugged. "I wish. I'm working at it."
"So how did you meet her?"
"Bring Davie down to the kitchen, I'll make you a cup of tea and tell you how it happened."
"Sounds good. I'm parched." She cuddled the baby as they walked downstairs together. "Your Grandma is on the case. Let's go hear what your uncle has to say."
Greg filled the kettle and plugged it in. "There's not a lot to tell."
His mother listened intently to his story from his first meeting with Caroline at the clinic, to the accident and the aftermath, to calling at her apartment in the old Somerville house, to Caroline bandaging his heel, to his invitation to dinner and her excuses why she couldn't accept. "She's playing a doubles match tonight at the tennis club."
"What do you like about this woman?"
Greg tipped back in his chair. "Like? It's not so much like as being attracted. Wanting to get to know her. Wanting to know why she's so guarded around me. Maybe I'm making a damned fool of myself."
His mother poured a second cup of tea. "Well it sounds to me that you like her a lot so go for it. Check out her tennis game tonight. If you haven't seen the new club now's a good time to have a look. Ask Caroline for a drink in the lounge. It's very elegant."
She sipped some tea. "You mentioned the Somerville house. I heard it had been converted into apartments."
"That's the other news. Jack Somerville came by the other day. He's visiting with his wife and kids."
"Jack is married? Someone you know?"
"Tansy Thomas. She went to school with us. They've got three kids and another one on the way. They live in Detroit. Jack's brother, Pete, is married to Sarah Moreland. Her parents invited me to dinner tomorrow night, a kind of reunion for Jack, Pete, Tansy and me."
His mother finished her tea. "You've been out of the country so long, catching up on who is doing what should be fun. Show me what you have in the way of food. I'll cook dinner."
She played pat-a-cake with Davie and clapped his hands together. "Before dinner we'll have a swim. After that Uncle Greg will be ready to roll."
"Don't get your hopes up." His hopes had hit a wall but it would be worth a try to meet Caroline after her match.
* * * * *


Marjorie Moreland had said to dress casually. Greg pulled a rugby shirt over his head and left it hanging loose over his shorts.
Last night had turned him off Caroline. She'd deliberately misled him about the double's match. It was scheduled for next week. Why couldn't she have said she had other plans instead of inventing an excuse?
His mother was in bed when he got home from the club and hadn't pressed him for details in the morning. She'd sensed he was in no mood to talk and had taken Davie out for the day to visit friends and show him off.
Already Greg missed his busy days with the baby. He missed their conversations. He missed making up silly rhymes. He missed Davie's infectious giggly laugh when he blew bubbles on his belly.
A jealous pang skipped around his heart. He wasn't needed. Like an elderly relative of little use he had no one special to love and care for.
If he didn't want to end up like a grumpy old man he had to start socializing. Like tonight.
He made a mental list.
Make an effort to meet women.
Where? Tennis Club?
Find a suitable companion/friend/lover.
How? A newspaper advertisement?
"Wife wanted for charming..."
Words failed him.
He'd have to rely on luck.
Given his failure to interest Caroline in his brilliant mind, quirky sense of humor and his not bad looking body he'd begun to wonder if he'd lost the ability to attract women.
He had all his teeth, no bad habits, a work history second to none and money in the bank. He even had recent experience caring for an infant.
Not bad for a man barely into his thirties.
He had to start the wife-hunting ball rolling or sit on the shelf a miserable, gloomy old gent.
Greg locked up the house. His Corvette gleamed in the late afternoon sun. Not a car for a wife and kids, a car for a guy looking for action. Maybe he'd luck in tonight. Maybe luck in with a luscious female who liked guys with good taste in cars.
He shifted into gear and headed down the drive to the road. The Moreland's lived on Park Lane Circle on the far side of town. If he stuck to the speed limit, it'd take a half hour.
If he floored it?
Better not. The cops were doing spot checks.
Greg slowed down in front of the Moreland home. Three cars were parked in the driveway, one with Michigan plates, Jack's car, and one from Ontario. Greg thought his car was safer on the street in case one of the guests had to leave early.
Leaning on the side of caution he locked the steering wheel and set the alarm. Corvettes were prime targets for thieves.
He ran up the wide stone steps and rang the bell. A handsome middle-aged woman answered the door and held out her hand.
"Marjorie Moreland. You must be Greg. Come in. We're out on the patio." She escorted him through the house. "We have another guest coming. She's been delayed but should be here any minute."
Greg's socializing antennae reacted to the news. The expected guest might be an elderly family friend or a young friend of the family. Not too young and not too old, he hoped. A sensible, attractive woman in her late twenties would fit the bill.
They stepped on to the patio. "I think you know everyone except my husband and our son, Mark."
Her husband held out his hand. "Gerry Moreland. Glad you could come. Mark will get you a drink while I fire up the barbeque."
Mark stood to greet Greg. "What can I get you?"
"A beer, thanks." He settled in the chair next to Tansy. "Good to see you again. Who's the missing guest? Someone you know?"
Tansy shook her head. "A friend of Dr. and Mrs. Moreland, I think. Sarah's never met her."
Jack waved his bottle at Greg. "Isn't this great? Four of us from Markbridge High, older and wiser, I hope." He chugged down beer. Jack had always been a chugger.
"What do you think of Pete? Looks great, doesn't he?" Jack downed the last of his beer.
Greg hadn't seen Pete for years. Time hadn't been kind to him. The long, lanky, athletic teenager had gained weight and developed jowls. Sarah sat beside him on a padded wicker love seat.
"He sure does. Marriage must agree with you, Pete." Greg said. And wondered if he'd changed that much. He surreptitiously felt his chin and neck. No jowls.
Pete grinned. "We've been married two years. You should try it before you get too old."
Despite the sting Greg grinned. "Can't find anyone who'll have me."
"Give me a break, Greg. You must have women beating down your door." Tansy rested her hand on his arm.
Slightly embarrassed he raised his brows. "I guess I haven't been home long enough to lure them in."
Mark handed Greg a cold beer. "It's from a local microbrewery. Supposed to be excellent but I'm no judge of beer, never touch the stuff, I prefer wine."
Greg couldn't let that pass. Wine snobs rubbed him the wrong way. "Good for you. Beer is an acquired taste, like olives. It's a better thirst quencher on a hot day than wine."
Mrs. Moreland carried a loaded tray out to the patio. "I heard the doorbell, Mark. Would you answer it? My hands are full."
* * * * *
Caroline thrust her fingers through her hair still damp from the shower and hoped the party would be relaxing. She'd been on call since seven in the morning. Summer Saturdays were always busy with falls, cuts, bruises and sunburn. Today she'd attended two non-life threatening bicycle accidents.
Not as bad as hers though. Kids had fallen off their bikes and scraped their knees and hands. No cars involved. Kids on bikes and cars were a bad mix.
She was off duty for the next twenty-four hours. Sleeping late on Sunday morning would re-charge her batteries.
The man who opened the door resembled Dr. Moreland. He held out his hand. "Mark Moreland. You have to be Caroline Balfour. Dad's been keeping you a secret."
"A secret?"
"He didn't tell me he had a beautiful doctor on staff."
Caroline made her lips smile. "Thanks for the compliment."
Mark Moreland wasn't wasting any time. She wasn't in the mood to play flirty games until after she'd eaten and had a glass of wine to take the edge off her fatigue.
He grasped her elbow. "We're outside on the patio. I think you should sit with me so we can get to know each other."
Caroline's hope for a relaxing evening sank like a stone. She hadn't dated for years and supposed Mark's approach was typical of the new millennium. Hit hard and score.
He held her hand as they stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine. "Hi everyone. I want you to meet Caroline Balfour. She's on the staff at the clinic."
Mrs. Moreland paused to put down a tray of assorted hors d'oeuvres she'd been passing around.
"Welcome, my dear. I'm sorry we've not met before. Come and let me introduce you to the others."
Panic rooted her to the spot. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Her head reeled.
Get a grip! Get a grip!
She sucked in a deep breath. If there was a flaming hell on earth designed to shrivel her nerves this was it. Jack and Pete Somerville, Tansy Thomas and Greg, all in one place, all looking at her.
With her hand on Caroline's arm, Mrs. Moreland walked her to the group and introduced her. "Our daughter, Sarah, and her husband, Pete Somerville. Tansy is married to Pete's brother, Jack, and that's Greg Fraser sitting next to Tansy."
Caroline nodded and forced her lips into a smile.
"Jack, Pete, Greg and Tansy went to school together in Markbridge. We've planned a mini-reunion for them." Mrs. Moreland said.
Caroline's legs wobbled. Could she plead a sudden headache? Collapse from overwork? Fall down dead?
Greg stood. "I've met Dr. Balfour." He grasped her hand and held it a few seconds before releasing it. "I missed seeing you at the club last night."
He'd gone to the club!
Trapped, unable to meet his eyes, she struggled to breathe. Words stuck in her throat. Her pretence of not knowing him had come full circle. To this place. In front of witnesses. Guilt added to her misery. She'd lied about the tennis match.
"Come sit by me." Tansy's voice broke through the despair dimming Caroline's thoughts.
"Tell me how you know Greg. He's an old boyfriend of mine." A quirky smile tipped her lips. "That was before Jack and I started going together. I'm expecting my fourth in September. That's what love can do."
"Yes, love can do that." Caroline said and sank gratefully into the chair beside Tansy.
How was she going to get through the rest of the evening? If she smothered some yawns, talked about her busy day, she'd have an excuse to leave early. Two hours, max. She could handle that.
Or she could tell Dr. and Mrs. Moreland she was acquainted with the Markbridge High crowd.
And then? Caroline wilted inside. Her courage failed. What if Greg told them she had never mentioned the connection? She'd feel like a fool. So much for her plan to meet him in the park.

www.anitabirt.com

Dickens and Me

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
(copyright 2009, Anita Birt)
Confident he'd work something out Greg returned to the kitchen, spooned ice cream from the container and remembered to leave some for Davie when he wakened. They'd go shopping tomorrow and load up with good things to eat.
He picked up the phone to check his messages. His mother had called. "Dad has two weeks of business meetings in Hong Kong so I'm flying home to meet our grandson. I've spoken to Laura. I'm stopping off in Vancouver for a day to touch base with her and Colin. Expect me tomorrow. You'll probably need a break. I'll take a taxi from the airport. Bye."
Greg didn't need a break. He liked minding Davie. They were getting along just fine. If Davie's spots returned or he got sick his mother would take him to the clinic, sabotaging part of his plan to see Caroline.
She'd left a message on his voice mail, cool and to the point. It sank his immediate prospects of getting to know her better. His life had definitely taken a turn for the worse. Saturday she another engagements. Friday she'd promised to play in a mixed doubles tournament at the club. He had the distinct feeling she was glad to have excuses to avoid having dinner with him.
* * * * *
Caroline knew she couldn't go on pretending she didn't know Greg. Time to confront him. Maybe confront wasn't a good idea. Better to remind him he used to know Kate Southern. To remind him they'd traveled to Ottawa when they were both eighteen to represent their school in a mock parliamentary debate. To remind him they'd partied with students from across Canada their last night in the city.
Why had she let her guard down? She wasn't used to alcohol. She loathed and detested drunks after the miseries her father had inflicted on her and her mother.
Thirteen years ago.
She'd paid for one drink, a glass of white wine. A boy from New Brunswick insisted on buying her a rum and coke.
Greg had rested his hand on her shoulder. "You've got unusual eyes."
"Unusual?"
"The color is sort of like violets." He grinned. "Are you having a good time?"
"Yes."
Greg's hand resting protectively on her shoulder as if he cared about her. He liked the color of her eyes. She wasn't used to compliments, wasn't used to being noticed, especially by someone like him the most popular boy in school. His attention made her feel like a different person, not like familiar Kate Southern, someone special.
He'd ordered a Tequila Sunrise. She ordered one as well. It embarrassed her to remember she had done it to impress him hoping he'd think she was used to partying and might find her interesting.
The drink was tangy and delicious. She ordered another.
What happened after that was a blur. She'd wakened in the morning with a pounding headache.
She was naked in her bed. Greg was naked. He was asleep with his right hand on her breast. A burning pain stung inside her vagina.
They'd had sex. She could feel it. He'd been inside her. She felt stretched and sore.
He said she'd invited him into her room, stripped off her clothes, helped him undress and fondled his erection before they stretched out on the bed.
"But I was a virgin. Why didn't you stop?"
"I didn't know you were a virgin until I was half way inside you. You didn't seem to care. I used a condom first time but you wanted to keep on."
He said they'd made love twice before they fell asleep.
She'd burst into tears, told him she didn't remember anything after drinking the second Tequila Sunrise. He'd apologized but said she should be glad it was him and not one of the other guys, at least she knew him.
He'd promised not to tell anyone what happened and didn't. She would have died of shame if he'd bandied her name around Markbridge High as the girl who'd lost her virginity when she was drunk. After learning she was pregnant she discovered the kind of person he really was.
Caroline sighed. He was back in her life. Time to be honest. She couldn't keep fending him off. She'd left a message on his voice mail declining his dinner invitation.
She'd lied about the doubles tournament it was scheduled for next week. She had a valid excuse for Saturday. Dr. Moreland's wife, Marjorie, had invited her to dinner to meet their daughter, her husband, and their son, Mark.
Tomorrow she'd phone and arrange to meet Greg. Where? Not a local café, too many townspeople knew her and gossip would fly from voice mail to voice mail.
The city park? It'd be quiet in the evening. A bench under the trees would be private. That'd be the best place. She'd walk away and leave him to think about the past.
Caroline finished writing up her charts and paused in the quiet reception area. Betty called her over.
"Isn't Greg Fraser handsome? He's the best looking man to walk through these doors since I've been working here." She grinned at Caroline. "If I were twenty years younger I'd follow him home."
"Betty Harris, you are happily married to a lovely man, and you're a mother and grandmother. I thought you'd become sensible in your old age," Caroline teased.
"Because I'm sensible doesn't mean I can't look, does it?"
"As long as you don't suggest I should be interested in Mr. Fraser."
"Would I suggest such a thing?" Betty raised her brows. "But he's not your patient so there's nothing to stop you following him home."
Caroline shook her head. "You are such a romantic. Mr. Fraser wouldn't give me a second thought and I'm not interested in him."
"Too bad," Betty sighed. "You two would look good together. Don't you think he's a real sweetie the way he's looking after his nephew?"
Caroline held up her hand. "Yes, he's a real sweetie and I'm going home. See you in the morning."
She smiled on the way to her car. Betty's matchmaking efforts were an ongoing joke between them. She was right, of course, Greg was the best looking man she'd seen in years and he was a good guy for taking of Davie and doing it so well.
She thought about him on the drive home and supposed he had put the past behind him.
Thirteen years ago, young and drunk, she had lost her way.
Like a falling star she had crashed. Indifferent to her desperate plea for help Greg had left her to pick up the shattered pieces of her life.
* * * * *
Greg was bathing Davie when the phone rang. Maybe it was Caroline saying she'd changed her mind about coming to dinner.
Not a hope in hell of that happening. She'd been coolly polite, not exactly unfriendly but definitely not friendly.
"Let it ring." He chanted to amuse the baby. "Who cares? Three bears. Bears care. Let it ring."
"Da," Davie said.
"Caroline," Greg said, and holding the baby firmly, lifted him from the tub. He placed him on a big towel and blew bubbles on his plump little belly. Davie kicked and laughed.
"One more bubble, then I have to dress you. Your grandmother is coming today and we have lots to do." He bubbled under Davie's chin.
"Da." The baby chortled and waved his arms.
With the kid wrapped snugly in the towel Greg carried him to the bedroom and dried him off. In the space of two days he'd learned a lot about babies. He thought he'd done ratThe thing about babies is to love them. He powdered Davie and diapered him. The baby grabbed a handful of Greg's hair and tugged.
The other thing about babies, he gently loosened Davie's grip, is not to let them pull your hair.
Greg enjoyed their morning routine. He showered and shaved while his nephew played in his cot and talked to Kim. Like a trained guard dog she stationed herself at the baby's open door every night and moved in closer when he wakened, but not too close or Davie would pull her ears.
Still on guard, she followed them downstairs to the kitchen.
Greg checked his voice mail. The baby sat in the high chair mashing a handful of pureed banana into his mouth.
A Marjorie Moreland had called. In a pleasant breezy voice she identified herself as Sarah Somerville's mother and invited him to dinner on Saturday. Might as well go, he thought. He didn't have a date and Mom would mind Davie.
He called back and accepted the invitation. His social life had foundered. Hit a wall. The few times he'd spoken with Caroline had ended in a draw as he tried to entice her into a relationship she obviously didn't want.
Much as he loved Davie their conversations were not exactly mind challenging. He needed adult company, female preferred.

www.anitabirt.com

Dickens and Me

CHAPTER TWELVE
(copyright 2009 Anita Birt)
A heat haze shimmered over the street. Greg wheeled the stroller around to the front of the clinic. The petunias in the window boxes had perked up but the soil looked dry. He stuck his finger in. Not a lick of moisture. Not his problem but he'd ask the receptionist for a pitcher of water. His good deed for the day.
The air-conditioned reception area was a welcome relief from the humid heat beating down on the town. A worrisome thought intruded on Greg. The baby only had on a cotton outfit. He'd freeze in here. He was too little to withstand the cold.
Greg parked the stroller at the reception desk. The real Betty Harris smiled at him. "Good morning. Do you have an appointment?"
"I'm Greg Fraser. I have an appointment with Dr. Balfour at eleven, not for me, for my nephew." He'd made that crystal clear when he telephoned for the appointment.
Betty Harris handed Greg a clipboard with a form attached. "Please fill this out with your nephew's name, age, the usual information."
"May I borrow a pen?" he asked.
She handed him a ballpoint. "Dr. Balfour is running a little late."
"That's okay. I'll have time to answer the questions and if you have pitcher, I'll water the petunias in the window box. It's a scorcher out there."
"That's very thoughtful of you. Not to worry. I always see to the flowers at the end of the day." She smiled and turned to greet a patient.
Greg pushed the stroller over to a corner away from a mother and two tough looking noisy boys aged about four or five who were racketing around the room. Criminals in the making for sure, he thought. They grabbed a stuffed rabbit by its ears taking turns whirling it around before pitching it towards their mother, missing her head by inches and disturbing patiently waiting patients.
Impervious to their noise and the rabbit zipping past, she never raised her eyes from the magazine she was reading.
One of the kids stalked over to the stroller and poked his finger into Davie's arm.
"You've got a black baby." The brat smirked.
Davie's lower lip quivered and he started to cry.
"Bugger off." Greg hissed and lifted Davie to safety. He huddled against Greg's chest.
"You said a bad word." The criminal in the making yelled. "Mom, he said a bad word. He said bugger."
"Mr. Fraser." The receptionist came from behind her desk. "Please come with me."
"Where can I park the stroller?" He didn't want the little monsters climbing all over it.
"Leave it beside my desk. It'll be fine there."
He shoved the clipboard into the baby bag, slung it over his right shoulder, tucked Davie against his left and pushed the stroller to its parking spot.
The receptionist apologized as they walked along the corridor. "I'm sorry those children bothered your baby."
"Pity the doctor who has them as patients. Looking after them would be worse than swimming with sharks."
"It's all in a day's work for Dr. Halliday. They never say boo to him." She paused at Caroline's door. "Here we are. Dr. Balfour is seeing another patient. She'll be with you in a few minutes." With a friendly nod, she closed the door.
Greg studied the room. When had he called at the clinic? Last week? It felt like years had passed since he'd seen Caroline for the first time. He hadn't noticed the examining table by the window. He'd been concentrating on making an impression on the doctor, and failed.
Sitting Davie on his lap, he fished a sweater out of the bag and managed to get it on the kid. "There, now you won't catch cold."
Mothers, he decided, must have the sharpest reflexes on the planet. Hanging on to a wriggling baby while pushing unwilling arms into little sleeves required a special talent.
"Davie, I have to fill out this form. You must be quiet as a mouse. As a mouse," Greg whispered and clicked the pen. Davie grabbed it.
"Wa," he shouted and banged the pen on the clipboard. The pen flew out of his hand, slid across the floor and rolled under a wheeled stool.
"Da!" He waved his arms and bounced on Greg's lap.
Holding Davie like a sack under one arm, he crossed the room, hunkered down and retrieved the pen. He didn't want to frustrate the kid but the pen wasn't a toy or a saucepan lid.
Davie tried to grab it but Greg was too quick and returned to his chair.
"No. I have to fill out this form." With Davie held snugly in his left arm and the pen held firmly in his right hand he examined the form teetering on his lap. The baby jiggled. The clipboard careened off his lap and hit the floor.
Impossible to write and hold a baby. One or the other had to go and there was nowhere to put Davie safely. The kid was like an over active snake. He'd roll off the examining table and break his neck. Holding the snake firmly Greg reached down and picked up the clipboard.
Caroline tapped on the door, walked in and closed it. Betty had told her Greg had specifically requested to see her when he made the appointment. She'd noted his name on her page in the clinic register. Betty had also made it clear he was not her patient, his nephew was.
Shocked at how quickly she had jumped to a wrong conclusion about Greg at the airport she looked forward to seeing Laura's baby.
"Good morning, Greg." She pulled over the wheeled stool and sat in front of him.
"Hello." She smiled at Davie. He smiled back.
"How old is he?"
"Six months. I tried to fill out the form but he threw the pen away and wouldn't sit still." He paused. "I'm not very good at this. If you'll hold him I'll answer the questions if I can. I don't know his birthday or if he has any allergies or what shots he's had or if he's had any serious illnesses."
"Da," Davie said.
"What's his name?"
"David Fraser. I call him Davie. He's my sister's baby. His father is Colin Ferguson. He's got chickenpox in Vancouver. I was supposed to mind Davie for two days but Colin can't travel for a week." He flashed his lady killer smile at her. "So I'll be baby sitting longer than I expected."
Against her will Caroline's heart notched up a beat. "What's the problem with Davie?" Coolly professional she refused to let her heart rule her head and jotted Davie's name on the form with Greg's address.
"He's got splotchy spots, back and front. There are some on his legs. I don't know anything about babies and spots so I thought you should have a look at him." She made notes on the form.
"Good. Undress him on the table and I'll have a look at his spots. When did you first notice them?"
"I've only had him since yesterday evening. I noticed them this morning when I took off his sleepers. He doesn't feel hot and he isn't cranky so I guess he isn't itchy."
Caroline watched Greg wrestling the baby out of his clothes raising the specter of what might have been.
David was a lovely dark chocolaty brown and cute as a bug
Their last meeting when she'd bandaged Greg's heel had been a disaster. Her behavior shamed her. She'd lashed out at him for having advantages growing up as if it was his fault she'd had to scrimp and save to pay her way through school.
Being near him made her edgy. Pulled in two directions at once. Attracted and repelled. Repel was the wrong word. Repel didn't feel right. Keeping her distance felt right. Like keeping away from a burning flame.
So what was she afraid of? No way would she get involved with him. Once was enough.
As soon as his sister returned and freed him from caring for Davie, she'd arrange a meeting. More and more she felt like a fool for keeping up the pretence of not knowing him.
"There." Greg kept one large hand on the naked infant. "He's like an eel. If it's all right with you, I'll hold him still while you examine him, and be careful, he might pee on you."
"Thanks for the warning." She concentrated on her patient while studiously ignoring Greg standing beside her. Easier said than done. Caught in a force field beyond her control, she fought the attraction drawing her farther into his orbit.
"Hi Davie." The baby's toothless grin delighted her. "Let me have a look at your spots."
Smiling, she glanced at Greg. "You'll have to move your hand."
"Okay, but be careful."
"I've examined hundreds of babies and haven't let one get away yet."
She checked the baby from head to toe, heart, lungs and throat. "You can dress him now." She stepped aside for Greg to take over and picked up the clipboard from the stool.
"What's wrong with him?" Greg fished a diaper from his baby bag and slid it under Davie.
"My guess is the spots are a reaction to something he's eaten or from a disruption in his routine. They seem to be fading. If they return, call and make another appointment."
"Am I supposed to do anything for him?"
"Don't let him get overheated and make sure he drinks water as well as his formula. He's a perfectly healthy baby."
Greg concentrated on securing the diaper.
"I think you've got it backwards," Caroline said quietly.
"Backwards?"
"The diaper. It won't go on that way." She smothered a smile.
He switched it around and pressed the tabs. "I'm learning as I go."
"You're doing fine. Keep in touch if you're concerned about Davie." She walked to the door. "How is your heel?"
"Fine so far."
She opened the door. "Good."
"Wait."
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry if I upset you the other day. Will you have dinner with me tomorrow or Friday or Saturday? It will have to be at my house because I don't have a sitter. I can barbecue a steak or order in a pizza."
Caught completely off guard the earth shifted under Caroline's feet. "I'm sorry I was rude to you. It was inexcusable of me."
"Let's forget what happened and try again. Will you come to dinner?"
Falling back on medical ethics she shook her head. "Sorry, I can't accept. You're my patient."
"Not true. Davie's your patient. I'm not. I'm his temporary guardian."
Caroline's professional calm deserted her. She didn't want to have dinner with him at his home. They'd be alone, the baby probably in bed asleep.
"I'll call if I can make it." Clutching the clipboard like a shield, she opened the door and paused. "I thought you'd like to know the police tracked down Big Jack Weaver and he's given them a statement that clears me of neglecting the girl in the car."
"That's great." Greg said.
"It is." Smiling briefly she closed the door.
Greg wasn't sure what to make of Caroline's hasty departure. Did she have a slew of patients waiting to see her or was she avoiding having to answer. His invitation had surprised her.
Frowning over his task he finished dressing the baby. "Well, kid, we didn't win any brownie points with the doctor, did we? You couldn't even hang on to your spots so I'd have an excuse to see her again."
Not ready to give up on his pursuit of the elusive Caroline Balfour, Greg shifted Davie into his left arm, picked up the baby bag, returned to the reception area and secured the baby in the stroller.
"Thanks for guarding it." He glanced at the motley group of patients seated in chairs along the walls. "Is it always this busy?"
"Pretty well. Do you want to make another appointment?"
"No, the baby's okay. I'm looking after him for a few days."
"He's lucky to have you."
"Thank you. I'm lucky to have him." Pleased that someone appreciated his efforts, he wheeled Davie out of the clinic and around back to the car. It was steamy hot. He opened the doors to cool it off.
"Davie, my lad, you and I have to make plans to lure Caroline out to the house but right now it's too hot to think. Let's get an ice cream cone and we'll lick it together."
With the kid safely in his car seat and the air conditioning blasting cool air, Greg changed his mind about stopping for ice cream. Davie was a messy eater. He'd drip ice cream on his clothes and, given half a chance, would mess up his uncle.
Better to buy ice cream and take it home. Before that they'd stop at the bookstore and buy a rhyming book suitable for babies.
He parked at the supermarket. The bookstore was a block away. "Into the stroller with you, Davie." Greg hurried up the street. He didn't want to keep him out in the heat too long.
What babies liked to listen to and look at was a mystery to him. A clerk led him to a section he'd never known existed, a large section filled with children's books.
"Davie likes rhymes." He said in what he hoped was a proud uncle voice.
"Than try a Dr. Seuss book. Kids like them. And here's one my daughter loved." She handed him, Goodnight Moon. "I read it to her night after night until she learned to read it herself."
"I'll take it and you choose a Dr. Seuss for me."
"This is one of my favorites, HOP ON POP."
"Thanks. Those two will do for a start."
Greg paid the bill and hurried to the supermarket. "Too cold in here for you, Davie, so we'll be quick."
He grabbed a small carton of strawberry ice cream and a box of arrowroot biscuits. He had just checked out when a pregnant woman rushed up to him.
"Greg Fraser! I don't believe it. You haven't changed a bit since high school. I guess this little guy is your sister's baby."
Greg tried to connect her with his past. "I'm sorry..." Then the light dawned. Pregnant. It had to be Tansy Thomas. Her face had fleshed out so had the rest of her. She wasn't the sexy Tansy he remembered.
"Tansy Thomas." He held her hand. "You're looking great, all motherly and pretty as a picture."
She flashed a flirty smile. "And you are handsome as ever." She lowered her gaze. "We had some good times didn't we?"
Her voice was as low and seductive as he remembered. Her words seemed to imply there'd be more good times. What was she thinking? She had three kids and a fourth on the way. She was being playful. As he released her hand her fingertips tickled across his palm.
Momentarily surprised he fussed over Davie. "I've got to take him home before the ice cream melts. Why don't you and Jack drive out and see me?"
"I'd like that. Wait a sec I want you to meet Pete's wife." She waved at a pretty young woman waiting by the exit with a loaded cart. "Sarah come and meet an old friend of mine."
Tansy linked her arm through her sister-in-law's. "This is Greg Fraser. We knew each other in high school."
Greg shook her hand. "Nice to meet you. Pete's a good guy, used to be a running back on our football team."
Sarah widened her eyes. "I didn't know that. You must know lots about him." She turned to Tansy. "Since you are old friends I think Greg should come to dinner at my parents' with you and Jack."
"Dinner? When?" Greg didn't want to screw up his social calendar in case Caroline accepted his invitation.
"Saturday. It'd be great to have you join us. I'll have Mom give you a call."
"It depends on whether I can find a sitter. I'll let your mother know when she phones." He smiled at Tansy. "Good to see you. If I can't make Saturday you and Jack have to come out to the house."
Tansy stood on tiptoe and kissed him. Not an air kiss brushing his cheek, a real kiss on his mouth. Her tongue darted between his lips, met his startled tongue, and quickly withdrew.
She stepped back and smiled into his eyes. "Nice. You taste just the same. See you on Saturday." Chatting with Sarah she trundled the loaded cart out of the market as though nothing had happened.
"Da," Davie yelled and bounced in the stroller.
"Da," Greg said. "Let's get out of here." He hustled Davie out to the car.
On the drive home Greg mused over the encounter with Tansy. She had kissed him, open mouthed and teased him with her tongue the way she used to when they were teens. Her stroke across his palm was no accident.
She'd risked tongue-kissing right in front of her sister-in-law.
What was she thinking? That he'd be interested in meeting with her and picking up where they'd left off. Get real. With a pregnant woman? The wife of his oldest friend? Forget it. She was being Tansy.
Shaking his head, he parked the car in the garage. "Davie, my lad, let's you and me have some ice cream and consider womankind. You may have some answers."
"Da," Davie said as Greg lifted him out of the car.
"I'll bring in your new books when you are safely in your highchair."
"Da, da."
Greg pointed at his chest. "Greg. Uncle Greg."
He unlocked the door, patted Kim waiting patiently in the hall and headed for the kitchen. The message light blinked on the phone. He'd check them later. He'd promised Davie ice cream and after the tongue kiss from Tansy, ice cream would be a pleasant diversion. He still hadn't figured out why she'd done it. Was he supposed to read something into it?
Spooning ice cream into Davie was the devil's own work. The kid loved it, grabbed some from the dish, mashed it all over his face and cried for more when his dish was empty.
Not sure how much to give an infant, Greg allowed him a few more spoonfuls before calling a halt. He wiped Davie's face with a damp paper towel and gave him an arrowroot biscuit to munch on. Within minutes the baby's eyes drooped. Greg didn't want to wake him to give him a bottle. The kid would be thirsty after his nap.
With the sleeping baby in his arms Greg walked slowly upstairs. He liked holding the relaxed little body. Liked the feel of absolute trust Davie had in his uncle.
Having the baby to care for had changed his attitude toward marriage. If he wanted to be more than an uncle he had to find a woman interested in marrying him and raising a family. He was thirty-one. Time to make a move or stay stuck.
Would Caroline like children? She'd been great with Davie, knew just how to make him comfortable while she examined him.
Greg eased the baby into his cot, covered him with a thin sheet and raised the bars. "Sleep well," he said and tiptoed from the room.
He had to devise a foolproof strategy to meet her away from work.
Where to begin? She'd been friendly at the clinic until he asked her for dinner. Up went her guard and she'd waffled around trying to find an excuse to turn down the invitation.
She presented a challenge and he wasn't ready to give up. It'd be like climbing an unfamiliar peak when a fog rolled down. He'd be careful in his approach. She could only say no in which case he'd try again.
Unless she was already involved.
Shelve that idea until he knew for sure.

www.anitabirt.com

Dickens and Me

CHAPTER ELEVEN
(copyright 2009 Anita Birt)
With varying degrees of wonder and admiration, Greg watched Jack go to work. "How many times a day does a baby fill its pants?"
"Depends on what they've been eating." He handed the soiled diaper to Greg who dropped it like a hot coal into a plastic bag.
"Sometimes they get stomach upsets and have diarrhea."
"Diarrhea?" Greg hadn't factored diarrhea into his master plan.
Jack cleaned the baby and put on a fresh diaper. "Pass me his sleepers and I'll get him ready for bed."
"In Laura's little guidebook he has to have a bottle before he goes to bed."
"Okay, you get the bottle and I'll sit on the rocking chair with him. Babies like rocking. It's very peaceful."
A mild prick of envy nagged at Greg as he made up the bottle in the kitchen. Jack and he were the same age and compared with Jack he had nothing.
Money in the bank. A vintage Corvette. Things.
Replaceable things.
No cuddly little kids to love. No wife to love.
He was thirty-one.
Is this how he wanted to live? Childless? Without a woman to share his life?
He'd almost left it too late to start a family and couldn't start a family without a wife.
His thoughts hit a wall.
He'd never seriously thought about settling down.
He'd have to give up his freedom.
With the warm bottle in his hand he walked upstairs. The words of a song hummed inside his head.
"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose."
Peace reigned in Davie's room. Jack rocked back and forth with the baby snuggled in his arms.
"Give me the bottle. I'll feed him. He's nearly asleep."
A surge of ownership swept over Greg. Jack had kids of his own. He didn't need Davie.
"Thanks, I'll take over." He picked up the baby before Jack could protest.
Davie scowled. "Wa!" He shrieked and waved his arms.
Not to be sabotaged by a six month old infant, Greg braved it out. "Wa, is his favorite word. It means duck and dog and spoon."
"You'd better give him to me. I'll settle him down."
No way was he going to give Jack the kid. "It's okay. He'll soon get used to me. Why don't you get us a couple of beers while I rock him to sleep?"
"Wish I could but I told Tansy I'd only stop by for an hour. We're staying with her parents at their farm. Why don't you bring the baby out to meet everyone and get to see our kids?"
"Are the Thomases still in the same house?" Greg's only memory of their property was the barn where Tansy had peeled off her clothes, lured him to a dark corner, stretched out on some hay and spread her legs.
"I'll only have Davie for a couple of days. How long are you staying?"
"Two weeks to give Tansy a rest."
"Wa!" The baby's attention grabbing, ear-piercing cry demanded quick action.
"Uncle Greg is going to feed you." He smiled hopefully into the baby's face. Davie eyed him and rewarded Greg with a little smile.
Jack paused at the door. "I'll call you tomorrow. I know Tansy would enjoy seeing you again. We can catch up on old times."
"That'd be great." Would Tansy remember seducing him? His introduction to the glories of sex was an unforgettable experience in his young life.
He heard Jack start his car and drive away. A second of panic disrupted Greg's forced calm. He was alone with his nephew. Could he cope?
If Jack could do it, so could he. Breathing deeply Greg sat in the rocking chair, tucked Davie into the crook of his arm and touched the nipple to the baby's lips.
"Ma." Davie gurgled, opened his mouth and sucked greedily. As he slowed down, his eyes drooped and he heaved a huge contented sigh.
Greg rocked back and forth until the bottle was empty. Outside the open window a robin trilled from the maple tree, a familiar sound from Greg's childhood. His mother used to say it was the robin singing its goodnight song.
"Goodnight, Davie." He slipped the nipple from the baby's mouth. He didn't stir as Greg stood, held him against his shoulder and patted his back. A satisfying belch rewarded Greg's efforts and he carried Davie to his cot.
"Time for bed," he whispered and lowered the baby slowly not to wake him.
Davie's eyes flew open. "Wa!"
Greg's stomach tensed. What was he supposed to do now?
He'd read somewhere you should let babies cry and they'd eventually fall asleep.
"Davie," he said in a stern uncle voice. "You have to go to sleep, if you don't you'll stunt your growth and turn blue."
He rescued the Teddy bear from under the sheet and gave it to Davie. He hugged it tight.
Greg raised the side of the cot and propped his elbows on it. "You don't want to turn blue, do you? All the kids at school will point their fingers and chant, Davie is blue. Blue as stew. Blue as glue. Blue as dew. Blue as poo. Blue as view. Blue as woo. Blue as zoo. Blue as...
The baby cocked his head to the side, smiled and closed his eyes.
Big uncle gazed at the sleeping infant. The kid liked rhyming words. If that's all it took to make him happy, Greg would drive him to town tomorrow and buy books full of rhymes.
Sensing he'd passed a critical test, Greg ran down to the kitchen and foraged for food. He'd forgotten to eat. Hadn't had time to eat since he picked up Laura and Davie. He was starving.
Tomorrow he'd work out a schedule for feeding the baby, the animals and himself.
The cats slunk out from behind the planter and purred around his legs. He hadn't fed them or the Kim. She plunked down at Greg's feet.
"Okay. I feed you guys first."
* * * * *
Greg wakened and peered at the clock radio. 6:14 glowed greenly. Forcing himself into semi-consciousness he tried to identify the strange sounds jolting him from sleep.
"Ma, ma."
Falling back on his pillow Greg pretended not to hear. It was too early to start the day. According to Laura's notebook, Davie slept through the night until eight o'clock.
"Ma, ma." Chanted the baby.
Kim padded into Greg's bedroom and stuck her wet nose on his face.
"I suppose the kid sent you in to get me out of bed." Kim licked him and whined.
Greg gave up and swung his legs over the side. "Okay you win. I can't fight you and the kid." He hurried to the bathroom to shave and shower but stopped at the door. If he was in the shower he couldn't hear the baby cry.
A quiver of fear skittered down his spine. He had no experience with babies. What if something happened to the kid? Like he got tangled in the sheet? Or banged his head on the bars?
He peeked in at Davie. The kid was happily thumping the bear on the bars. "Stay with the baby." Greg ordered Kim. She flopped by the cot and rested her head on her front paws.
Greg shaved and showered in record time. The bandage slipped off his heel and he tossed it in the waste basket. Dressed in T-shirt and jeans, he pulled on soft socks to protect the blister, eased his feet into sneakers and walked purposefully to the baby's room.
He patted Kim. "Good dog."
His first day on the job. Untrained. Unsure. He straightened his shoulders and marched up to the cot. Davie was shaking the bars. The bear was on the floor.
"Da, da." He pointed at Kim.
"Dog," Greg said, and was relieved there was no smell lingering in the room. According to Laura's instructions he was supposed to bath the kid first thing in the morning.
"Bath." He lifted Davie out of the cot and carried him to the bathroom.
Baby under his arm, he turned on the taps and ran water into the tub. Not too much and not too hot.
Kneeling on the floor he put Davie on the bathmat and took off his sleepers and wet diaper.
"Oh my God. What's this?" Davie had red blotchy spots on his chest and belly. Greg turned him over. Spots on his back and bum.
Stay calm. Stay calm. Spots aren't fatal.
He felt the baby's forehead. How was it supposed to feel? Hot. Cool. Or something in between?
Davie kicked and cooed on the bathmat. He didn't seem sick.
Determined not to panic, Greg tested the bathwater, ran some cold, tested it again and lowered the baby into the bath.
"Ma, ma."
"Water," Greg said and soaped a facecloth. Davie made a grab for it, missed and slippery as a wet fish slid out of Greg's arms, slithered backwards until his head was under water.
Scared the kid would drown in front of his eyes Greg scooped him out and hugged him.
"Davie, don't scare your uncle like that. You want me to have a heart attack?"
Davie clapped his hands. "Ma, ma."
"Okay, let's try again and don't try any funny business, hear me?"
Greg lowered him into the bath and decided life would be a lot easier if babies were born with tabs to hang on to.
Davie splashed. Afraid to let go, Greg held him with both hands. After five minutes splashing he decided the kid was clean and lifted him out of the water.
* * * * *
Greg phoned the clinic and made an appointment to see Dr. Balfour at eleven o'clock. He wasn't going to take any chances with Davie's health.
His crash course in baby care hadn't included what to do about spots. All things considered he'd coped pretty well from bathing a slippery kid, dressing him and feeding him baby cereal mixed with formula, a messy business but not a bad performance for a rank amateur.
His nephew had suffered no harm. Greg felt like cutting a notch in his belt to mark his success. He'd passed the first test.
Davie banged a wooden spoon on a pot lid while Greg ate two slices of toast and drank two mugs of energizing coffee.
The phone rang. Greg picked it up. "Greg Fraser."
"Hi. It's me. How's everything going?"
Laura's cheerful voice had an upbeat tone alerting him to watch his back. He'd learned how to read every little nuance in her conversations.
"Everything? You mean how's your baby?"
"Of course that's what I mean. How are you two getting along?"
"Fine, but he's broken out in spots. I'm taking him to the doctor this morning."
"What kind of spots?"
"Splotchy ones. He's covered in them. Well not quite, there are none on his face."
"Not to worry. He gets splotchy sometimes when he's upset."
Not to worry. Laura's mantra.
"I am worried. I'm taking him to the doctor. How is Colin?"
Greg heard an indrawn breath.
"He's got chickenpox. He's not supposed to travel for at least a week."
"No problem. You and I have had chickenpox so you can leave Colin and come rescue your child."
"Greg, it's only for a week. Can't you manage for one week? Colin is really sick."
Greg gazed at Davie. Davie grinned toothlessly. Laura had struck again. Hit him below the belt. She knew damned well he couldn't say no.
If Davie could take it so could he but he'd force her hand.
"Four days altogether. Today is Wednesday. Day One. That's the deal. Not one day more or I fly out with the kid and dump him on you and your man." A feeble threat Laura could drive a truck through. Jeopardizing the kid's health by exposing him to chickenpox was not in the cards. She knew her brother's weaknesses too well.
"Is that four days after Friday? You promised to look after him until Friday."
Laura's noose tightened. "No it's four days altogether. That's the deal, take it or leave it."
"I think that'll be okay. Thanks a mill, you are the best brother," she crowed. "I've got to go. Kiss David for me." She hung up before Greg had a chance to get in the last word.
He finished his coffee. Had Laura really agreed to the four day deal or not? Her sweeping generalizations laid traps for her innocent brother. Whatever her plan, he knew the name of her hotel in Vancouver and would be on her case when he figured her time was up.
She'd reeled him in again but he wasn't going to remain hooked. Laura had to learn his endurance had limits.
"Da," Davie said and pointed at the dog.
"Dog," said Greg.
"Da." Davie banged the spoon on the lid.
Greg glanced at his watch. Time to get the kid ready to visit Dr. Balfour.
The baby gave him a good excuse to see her again. After Jack's visit he realized how few female contacts he had in town.
Actually he had none apart from Caroline. Would she accept a dinner invitation? It'd have to be here. He couldn't leave Davie with a sitter.
He got him out of the highchair and carried him upstairs to change him into going-out clothes. "You've got to be clean and smell good when we see Dr. Balfour. Promise not to poop."
He dressed him in a blue jump suit with snap fasteners and stowed a hat, sweater and socks in Laura's big black bag. Maybe he should take a bottle of water in case he got thirsty. He had one already made up in the fridge.
If Caroline could see him now would she be impressed?
Did he want to impress her? Or was she the only attractive, intelligent woman he'd met since he returned home? What the hell, admit it, he was interested in her. He wasn't sure what the attraction was since their relationship was more off than on.
They were linked through the accident, not exactly how he'd imagined meeting his future wiFuture wife? Where had that come from?
Minding the baby must have triggered a primitive desire in his brain, a desire to mate and create a family.
Aware of his own messy clothes, Greg left Davie in his cot with Kim on guard and hurriedly changed into a rugby shirt and tan slacks. All washable.
With Davie hooked under his arm and the bag slung on his shoulder Greg returned to the kitchen and tucked the baby bottle in a side compartment of the bag.
He patted the dog before locking up the house. Poor Kim didn't know what to make of the new arrival. Greg secured Davie in the car seat. "You're a good kid."
"Da," Davie said.
"Good kid." Greg agreed. He got behind the wheel and pushed the button to open the garage.
As he backed out he wondered if he was wasting time trying to get to know Caroline. She puzzled him. Her stiff-necked attitude changed when he'd called at her apartment to check up on her. She'd used him as a sounding board to let off steam about the threatened lawsuit but the minute he'd offered to find a lawyer her mood changed. Her colleagues at the clinic would know what to do.
No further help required was the unspoken message aimed at him and he was quietly sent on his way.
Caroline was an enigma. Yesterday as they sat on the garden swing her interested gaze had lingered on his naked chest and arms long enough to arouse him slightly. Maybe her examination was a cool clinical study of his physique rather than anything remotely personal but it had cranked him up.
He'd quickly diverted her attention to his heel by working the bandage loose and letting it slip through the slatted floor. She'd immediately become Doctor Balfour intent on saving him from an infection.
What if his heel became red and nasty or Davie got really sick he might not be able to drive into town?
Did she make house calls?
The thought cheered him as he drove into the clinic parking lot and stopped in the dappled shade of a huge chestnut tree. The sun blazed down from a cloudless sky. Greg slung the bag over his arm, got the stroller out of the trunk, Davie out of the car and settled him into the padded seat.
"Time to visit Dr. Balfour, Davie. I hope she likes babies because you are one cute little sucker."
www.anitabirt.com

Dickens and Me

CHAPTER TEN
(copyright 2009 Anita Birt)
Aching and dog-tired Caroline fell into bed as daylight faded into early evening. The accident on Sunday had ruined her three day week-end. The bruises and after shock had shaken her up. The car racing straight towards her. Her life hanging in the balance.
She'd gone into work for a few hours in the morning hoping to feel normal.
Normal?
What was normal any more?
Sleep eluded her. Trapped on an emotional roller coaster ride, unable to get off, she was up one minute and down the next.
Greg's return to Markbridge. The accident. His involvement.
She should phone and tell him she had passed his information about Big Jack Weaver to Sergeant Masters and the police had tracked him down. Or was keeping in touch with Greg asking for trouble?
Trouble? What kind of trouble?
Seeing Greg at the airport with his wife and baby. Peter Somerville's marriage to Dr. Moreland's daughter, that kind of trouble. Too many people from the past circling her.
She hadn't handled the situation with Greg well. It was as if he'd dropped into her life and put down roots.
He wasn't leaving Markbridge. Unless she changed her mind and cancelled her contract neither was she. She'd phone him after work tomorrow, tell him the police had succeeded in locating Big Jack and the threatened lawsuit had collapsed. Then she'd deal with the problem she'd created.
Unanswered questions buzzed in her. Unable to relax she got out of bed, put the kettle on and made some tea.
Mug in hand, she wandered over to the sitting room window that overlooked the park across the street. A full moon slowly crested the trees.
A June moon. A lover's moon.
Why a lover's moon?
Why not?
The ringing phone startled her. Thinking there might be an emergency at the hospital, she grabbed it on the second ring. The familiar ID on the display lifted her spirits.
"Hi Vickie."
"Hi, yourself. I've been expecting you to call."
Caroline blinked. "You have?" Although her old college roommate lived in Hawaii she had an uncanny sense of knowing when Caroline needed her.
"Okay, what's up? I've been thinking about you all day."
"How much time do you have?"
"All the time in the world. The baby's in bed and Seth is building a bat house in his workshop."
Caroline's spirits lifted. She'd been Vickie's only bridesmaid when she married Seth. He'd whisked Vickie off to live in Kauai but distance hadn't affected their friendship.
Caroline curled up on the sofa and imagined her friend doing the same. "Remember I told you about Greg Fraser?"
"The rat dumped you when you were pregnant."
"He's back in town."
"So? Avoid him."
"It's not that easy. Here's what's happened."
Vickie didn't say a word until Caroline had finished.
"Rotten luck about your bike but you're damned lucky to be alive so what are you going to do about Greg?"
"I can't avoid running into him. Markbridge is a small town.
"You can give him the cold shoulder. I've seen you freeze guys in their tracks who came on to you."
"I've been thinking I'd meet with Dr. Halliday and Dr. Moreland and ask them to release me from my contract."
"Can you do that? Last time we talked you told me the clinic was short staffed."
Caroline sighed. "You're right. For the time being breaking my contract is out of the question. We're already stretched to the limit." She'd signed for two years with an option to stay on if she wished.
Wished?
She wished she had never returned.
Everything would have been fine if Greg had stayed in Africa. If he hadn't walked in to the clinic. If she hadn't met him at the lake. If she hadn't had the accident. If she hadn't seen him at the airport.
If.
"Here's what I think," Vickie said. "Greg hasn't recognized you. If it'd make you feel better, talk to him, tell him who you are, get it off your chest, then forget him. He's nothing to you. Never has been."
Caroline sipped her cold tea. "That's what I should have done, but haven't got around to it."
"Then do it. And phone me next week."
Feeling as though a burden had been lifted from her shoulders, Caroline hung up the phone. Sensible Vickie had hit the nail right on the head.
She dumped the cold tea in the kitchen sink, rinsed the mug and returned to bed.
Greg had wiped her from his memory and was married with a baby.
Strange, she thought. He claimed to have a photographic memory but hadn't remembered her. Her eyes hadn't changed. A long time ago he'd looked into them and remarked on the color.
"Blue shading to violet," he'd said.
In the midst of noisy laughter from the students grouped around the drink-laden table at the Ottawa hotel, a warm glow had swept through her. No one had ever remarked on her eyes. For the best looking boy there to notice them made her feel special. She'd ordered another drink not to appear shy.
A shaft of moonlight shimmering through her bedroom curtains wove a pattern on the wall. Something like her life, Caroline thought, a weaving of her thirty-one years. By coming back to Markbridge she had complicated her life and it was up to her to uncomplicate it.
She'd work out her two year contract at the clinic. It would be dishonorable to abandon her patients.
If someone remembered Kate Southern it wouldn't be the worst thing that had ever happened to her.
Breathing deeply, she turned her back on the moonlight and snuggled under the covers.
* * * * *
Greg picked up the spoon David had thrown across the room and dropped it on the kitchen table. "I guess you won't need this."
Jar of peaches in his hand, Greg pulled his chair in front of David and sat down. "It's getting late, little fella, time to eat."
He dipped the teaspoon into the jar of peaches. Full of good will and confidence he prepared to feed the baby. "Open your mouth."
David grabbed at the spoon. Greg lost his grip. The spoon ricocheted off the tray, spilled the contents on Greg's lap and clattered on the floor.
"Wawawa!" David bounced in the chair. "Wawawa!"
Greg studied his soiled pants. How could one teaspoon of baby peaches make such a mess? He had baby puke on his shirt, baby pee on his face and baby peaches on his pants.
"Wawawa!" David shrieked and pointed at the spoon on the table.
His confidence evaporating by the minute, Greg puzzled over the meaning of wawawa as David bounced higher in his chair and thumped his fists on the tray.
A light dawned in Greg's befuddled brain. Spoon! Maybe wawawa means spoon. Smiling at his brilliance he handed David the spoon.
Bang! He drummed on the tray.
Greg put the jar of peaches on the kitchen counter and wiped peaches off his pants. He got a clean spoon, grasped the little jar, sat down and dipped the spoon into the fruit.
Like a soldier going into battle he approached David cautiously. "Time to eat. Open your mouth for Uncle Greg."
David clamped his lips together and shook his head.
"Come on. Be a sport. Open your mouth." Greg pleaded hoping the kid felt sorry for him.
David drummed on the tray.
"You have to eat. If you don't eat you'll get sick and it'll be my fault."
Greg tried different tactics. Peaches balanced on the spoon he sneaked up from behind the chair hoping to catch David by surprise. Didn't work.
He pretended the spoon was an airplane and flew it towards David's mouth. Didn't work.
The resistance of a six month old kid defeated him. He dropped the spoon in the sink and emptied the half eaten jar of peaches into the trash. First round to David.
Another tactic was called for. Greg freed him from the chair and lifted him up. "Let's go outside and look at the ducks before it gets too dark."
He pried the banging spoon from David's fingers. "Sorry, kid. I don't want you whacking me on the head. You've got a wicked throwing arm."
"Wawawa!" David shrieked and bounced in Greg's arms.
"No spoon. We're going for a walk."
With Kim dogging his footsteps Greg carried David out on the veranda and down the steps.
A blue jay flew down and perched on the swing. "Look at that! That's a blue jay."
David pointed. "Wa."
"Blue jay," Greg said.
"Wa." David smiled.
A good omen, Greg decided. "I'm going to call you, Davie, from now on. It's a better name for a baby. It's got a peaceful sound. What do you think, Davie?"
"Wa."
"That's what I figured."
Most of the light had left the sky by the time they finished talking to the blue jay. Anything for a quiet life, Greg thought. If Davie liked talking to birds, they'd talk to birds.
They meandered down to the duck pond where a couple of inches of muddy water remained. The moon rose slowly over the eastern hills.
Davie bounced. "Wa!" He pointed at the ducks messing around in the shallows.
"Ducks," Greg said. Caroline had interrupted his pond digging yesterday and he'd left his shovel on the pile of muck he'd dredged from the pond. She'd seemed okay drinking the beer, a bit edgy, but he hadn't expected her to fly off the handle when he'd mentioned relationship.
He wasn't talking about jumping into bed. He meant a couple of unattached people getting to know each other. After that...?
"Wa," said Davie and pointed at Kim.
"Wa." Greg nodded agreeably. Wa was an all-purpose word good for any number of things. Babies had a lot to teach adults. Keep it simple.
Ducks had limited entertainment value. "Time for a change of scene, Davie. We'll sit on the swing for a while. Then it'll be time for bed."
Greg dreaded putting the kid to bed. What if he wouldn't go? What if he screamed the place down? What if he held his breath?
His nephew had a powerful presence. He wasn't the logical little creature Greg had envisioned. He'd expected a docile, amenable child. What he got was a force to be reckoned with. Probably a sign of superior intelligence or a developing criminal mind.
Greg sat on the swing hoping to soothe Davie into a somnolent state. He'd only had the kid for a couple of hours and was exhausted. How did mothers cope?
He pushed the slats beneath his feet and the swing moved gently back and forth. Closing his eyes, he hummed tunelessly and Davie relaxed against his shoulder. The wiry little body rested quietly in his arms. Temporarily at peace Greg breathed deeply.
A car driving up disturbed his reverie. Resenting the intrusion, he opened his eyes. The driver had parked beside the house. Greg didn't recognize the car. Kim barked and raced to intercept the visitor.
Davie jerked up like a jack-in-the box.
"Wa," he cried. "Wa!"
"Oh damn," Greg muttered. "The kids going to have a tantrum."
He patted Davie's back in a fatherly manner and stepped off the swing.
"Greg, call off the brute." A man leaned out the car window.
"Jack?" Greg hustled up the slope. "Where the hell did you come from?" He hadn't seen his old high school buddy for years.
"Does the animal bite?" Jack got out of the car.
"Hasn't yet." Greg grabbed his hand. "How did you know I was home?"
Davie buried his face on Greg's shoulder. "Wa," he cried.
"Somebody told me you were back in Canada but I didn't know you were married." Jack grinned. "Who's the lucky lady?"
"No lucky lady. I'm minding Laura's baby for a couple of days. She left me with a book of instructions. Come on in. What are you doing in town?"
"Came to visit Pete and his wife. He's married and living in Markbridge."
Greg cuddled Davie and led the way to the kitchen. "Let's have a beer and tell me what you've been up to. I've lost touch with the old crowd."
He got two beers from the fridge. "You open them." He sat at the kitchen table with Davie crooked in his left arm.
Jack opened the bottles and pulled out a chair. "How long have you been home?"
"A few weeks." Greg swigged some beer. "I've visited your old house a couple of times. When did your parents sell?"
"Two years ago." Jack said. "Do you know someone living there?"
"Dr. Caroline Balfour. She's on the staff at the medical clinic."
Jack tipped back in his chair. "Young? Pretty? Are you dating? It's time you settled down."
"I'm not dating and I'd think twice about dating Caroline."
"Hasn't she fallen for your legendary charm?" Jack hooted and chugged down his beer.
Greg smiled at the memory. "You entered me in that stupid contest when I was eighteen. I should have throttled you on the spot."
"But you won the prize as Most Charming Student."
"Against my will, I might add." The baby squirmed. Greg held him up against his shoulder and patted his back. "You said Pete was married. What about you?"
"Married with three kids. Mary is six, Bobby is four and Melanie is two. We're expecting our fourth in September."
Greg could not imagine three children and a fourth on the way. It boggled his mind. "So how long have you been married?"
"Tansy's my second wife. We've been married eight years. I came home to visit my folks after the divorce and met Tansy Thomas. Do you remember her? She went to school with us. Wonderful woman."
Greg almost choked on his beer. Tansy Thomas? He'd lost his virginity to Tansy when he was fifteen and she was fourteen. She'd sizzled with sex. Sexy Tansy had offered herself to every boy in her privileged circle. How in the hell had Jack fallen for her?
"Sure I remember her." He changed the subject. "Are you still coaching at Michigan State?"
"Left after five years. I'm with a brokerage firm in Detroit. What about you?"
"Spent eight years in Africa. Haven't decided what to do now I'm home. My parents are out of the country for a couple of months so I'm holding the fort here until they return. After that I'm not sure whether I'll stay in Canada or do more climbing.
"I'm supposed to meet with an international team in London in October to clean up Mt. Everest. It's littered with oxygen bottles and other junk."
"Tansy would have my hide if I suggested getting involved in something like that."
Davie stiffened and squeezed. Greg had his hand cupped around the baby's bum. Something soft and smelly bubbled into the kid's diaper. Even through his baby jeans he smelled awful.
Greg stood, put his beer on the table and held Davie at arm's length. "I think he's pooped." His voice quavered. "I've got to change him. I've never done it before."
"Hey, man, let me help. I'm an expert at cleaning babies."
"You're on." Greg led Jack upstairs and opened the bedroom window to freshen the air. "I didn't know babies smelled so bad."
Jack laughed. "Put him on the change table. This is nothing. Wait until he's eating lots of solid food. That's when he'll stink."
"But I won't be minding him then." Greg said.

www.anitabirt.com

Dickens and Me

CHAPTER NINE
(copyright 2009 Anita Birt)
Greg wasn't sure he'd heard right. "What do you mean you might stay longer in Vancouver? That's not the deal."
Laura slid into the seat beside David. "I'll keep him company in case he gets fussy on the drive home."
"Fussy?" Greg closed her door. He had a bad feeling coming on. A Laura feeling. She was up to something. She'd set him up as the fall guy.
Determined to stick to his guns, he got in, started the car and made his way out of the airport. Rush hour traffic flooded the highway network. Too busy driving to plan his offensive strategy he'd wait until they reached home to deal with his sister
The stale smell of baby vomit stung Greg's nose. "David puked on me."
"He's upset. He'll settle once we're at the house."
Away from the airport traffic Greg glanced at the baby in the rear view mirror. David rubbed his eyes and closed them. "Does he usually fall asleep in the car?"
"Sometimes."
A light dawned inside Greg's brain. If the kid was fussy he'd take him driving, that would take a few hours off the forty-eight he'd agreed to mind him.
Laura tapped Greg on the shoulder. "About me leaving on the red-eye flight tonight, it's a temporary glitch. When Colin's okay to fly we'll come straight here."
"Not a chance. I promised to mind David for two days. Two days. That's the deal. Today is Tuesday. I expect you back here early Friday morning. Catch the last flight out of Vancouver on Thursday night with or without Colin."
A strangled sob from Laura alerted Greg to don his armor and raise the drawbridge. "Don't start crying."
"You've never been like this before," she snuffled.
"This is the new me, tough as nails with a bad attitude."
"Maybe I won't leave David with you if you're going to be like that."
"Be my guest." Round One. He'd derailed Laura's plans.
"You know I can't take him. What if Colin has something contagious? Do you want David to get sick?"
Greg gripped the steering wheel. Laura was a past master at turning the tables on him. If he sent David with her, the kid might get sick. If he agreed to keep the kid for an extra day or two, Laura wins.
He remained stonily silent until they reached the house. Laura had boxed him in. Only a cold-hearted brute would endanger a baby.
Greg stretched and got out of the car. "I'll take David." Might as well learn some of the ropes before she took off.
The baby didn't waken as Greg released him from the car seat and lifted him out. Relaxed in sleep, he had the innocent look of an angel.
He tossed the car keys at Laura. "You bring in David's suitcase. I'll take the other bag." She'd wrestled the suitcase around London, let her sweat a bit. He'd rather hold the baby.
Kim barked as Greg unlocked and opened the door leading from the garage. She sniffed and raised her head. "We've got a baby, Kim."
He hunkered down for the dog to breathe in David's scent. "He doesn't smell so good right now but you'll get to like him when he's clean." Greg straightened up. "I'll take David up to his room."
Determined to maintain his bad attitude, he studiously ignored his sister and the monster suitcase.
She dumped it on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. "I'll take out the cans of formula and put them in the kitchen."
Clever Laura, Greg thought, and walked slowly upstairs. The minute Greg put the baby in his cot he wakened, squeezed his face into scowl, opened his mouth and started crying.
Not just a cry, a full-throated angry roar. Greg picked him up. "There, there," he said and jiggled him. "I'm your Uncle Greg and we're going to be pals."
David howled louder, pumped his little legs and held his breath. And held his breath!
"Laura! Get up here. David's stopped breathing." Greg panicked. If anything happened to the kid? Don't think it! He'd call 911. The phone was in his bedroom. He'd do mouth to mouth.
Laura dashed into the room as David sucked in another breath and held it. The kid was going to pass out! His brown skin paled. Laura plucked him from Greg's arms and holding him over her shoulder patted his back. Instantly he stopped crying, and like a pricked balloon, let out the breath he'd been holding.
Relieved to see the kid was still alive Greg sucked in air. "What's the matter with him?"
"He's probably hungry and everything is strange. I'll change his diaper and let you feed him. It'll give you a chance to bond."
"What am I supposed to do if he cries like that after you leave? What if he won't breathe?"
Panic bloomed like a poisonous weed inside Greg's inadequate uncle heart.
"Don't worry. He was just having a tantrum. Pat his back. Sing to him. Walk him around. He'll soon get used to you. Let me show you how to change his diaper then you can give him his bottle."
Change his diaper. Feed him. Pat. Sing. Walk. To Greg's stressed out ears it sounded like an invitation to a marathon fraught with hidden dangers.
"I've got lots of diapers." He smiled bravely. "What size does he wear?"
Laura gazed at the packages stacked on the bureau. "That one." She pointed at one in the middle. "Bring a few to the changing table and watch how I do it."
In the hands of an expert it looked dead easy. Laura put David on his back on the table, kissed him, undid the snap fasteners on his baby jeans and loosened the diaper. Some kind of adhesive stuff kept the diaper together. Neat, Greg thought, better than safety pins, he couldn't have coped with pins.
"Where's a plastic bag to put this in?" She handed the sodden diaper to Greg.
"In the bathroom. I'll get it."
He returned with the diaper safely stowed in the bag. "Now what?"
"You wipe his bum with..." She looked around. "Did you buy baby wipes?"
"You didn't tell me to." Greg felt like a not very bright ten year old. What did he know about cleaning a baby's bum? Nothing.
"I'll use baby oil."
Greg jumped to attention. "I've got some in the bathroom."
"Perfect. Bring in some tissues as well. David will be okay until you can get to a store. After you clean him up, powder him and put on a clean diaper."
Greg retrieved the oil, watched her swipe some around his plump little bum and handed her the tin of powder. He leaned over the baby. "Does he have diaper rash or anything like that?"
Laura slipped a diaper under the baby. "He's fine."
David's little penis suddenly went into action and pee shot straight at Greg.
"What the hell!" He'd taken a direct hit. Grabbing some tissues he mopped up the pee dripping down his chin. "You could've warned me. The kid's a menace."
Laura giggled. "I'm sorry, I should have warned you but not to worry, baby pee is supposed to be good for the skin. We'll have to use another diaper, this one is wet."
Staying safely out of harm's way Greg watched her adjust the clean diaper. Easy, just keep an eye on David's penis.
He carried the baby to the kitchen for Laura to teach him how to prepare David's bottle.
"No more sterilizing bottles," Laura said. Out of her black bag she fished out a small can, a bottle, nipple enclosed and a package of bottle liners. "I bought a couple of cans of special formula for traveling. We'll use that for now but with the other big tins I brought read the instructions. Always used boiled water and sterilize the nipples."
Greg nodded trying to remember the stream of instructions as she opened the can. "You put a liner in the bottle, fill it with the formula, fit on the nipple, and that's it."
She grinned at her dazed brother. "You feed him while I phone the airport and see if my flight is leaving on time. I'll call a cab to pick me up in an hour."
"An hour! You can't do this to me. I can't cope."
David started to cry. Greg's survival skills kicked in. He grabbed the bottle from Laura and sat in the chair by the window overlooking the pool.
Feeling as awkward as a one-armed paperhanger, Greg settled the baby in the crook of his left arm. "How about a drink, kid?"
The kid stared at Greg.
"Here's looking at you." Big uncle smiled and popped the nipple into David's mouth.
His nephew glommed on to it and sucked noisily. Poor little guy was hungry. Greg looked into the little brown face and his heart lurched into a free fall.
It was like. What was it like? Like nothing he'd ever experienced. Sort of like falling in love but different. Like being a father or a true blue uncle. Like protecting the baby with his life if he had to.
Whatever it was, Greg knew no harm would come to David while he cared for him. He was a rank amateur at the job and hoped the baby wouldn't give him a hard time. It'd be good practice for when he married and had kids of his own.
Laura hurried into the kitchen. "You two look good together." She stood over them. "I'll bring down the highchair from his room. You'll need it here to feed him."
She paused at the kitchen door. "I have to leave sooner than I thought. The taxi's on its way. My flight time has changed."
For all his heartfelt good intentions towards his nephew a yawning chasm of ignorance opened in front of Greg. "But you haven't shown me how to put him to bed. Or what kind of food he likes to eat. Or what to do when he wakes up in the morning. Or if he naps in the day." Whining like a lost soul, the world trembled under Greg's feet. The chasm beckoned.
"You can't do this to me. It isn't fair. You're leaving David in the hands of an untested, untrained, baby-minder. Don't you care what happens to your child?"
"Of course, I care. That's why I trust you to look after him." She leaned on the side of the door. "If you have any trouble or are worried about David, take him to a doctor. You must know someone who can help."
"I've met a doctor but I don't know her very well."
"Then David will help you get to know her better. Is she attractive? It's about time you settled down and started a family. There used to be lot of good looking girls in Markbridge." Laura frowned slightly. "I saw a woman at the airport who looked familiar but I couldn't place her, she probably went to school with us."
"I doubt it. Anyway I can't run to the doctor and ask for advice about feeding him." A helpless male wouldn't win him any brownie points with Caroline.
"Not to worry. It's great that you know someone in case you have any questions. I'll get the highchair and my book of instructions from David's suitcase."
"Not to worry. Book of instructions," Greg muttered. David had drained his bottle. "Your mother is leaving you in the hands of an incompetent uncle." Greg kissed the top of the baby's head. "We'll muddle through. Somehow."
He heard Laura thumping down the stairs and along the hall to the kitchen with the high chair.
"Whew, that's awkward to carry." She put it beside Greg. "Make sure you fasten him in or he'll wriggle out and fall. I've left his Teddy bear in his cot. He sleeps with it."
She picked up the baby. "Have you burped him?"
"Burped?"
"Like this." She rested David on her shoulder and patted his back for a few seconds. A hearty belch that would've done a beer drinker proud erupted form the kid. "That's better isn't it, my sweetie?" Laura kissed him.
"You can't call a boy, sweetie."
"Sure I can. Now let's get him strapped into the chair. He likes to bang a spoon or a saucepan lid on the tray when you feed him. I had to leave his toys back home. Maybe you can buy some."
"Spoon. Pot lid. Burp. Anything else? What does he eat and when?"
"Just a sec. I'll get the book I made up for you. I've put his sleepers out on the change table and a diaper. If he poops, you'll have to bathe him to make sure he's clean."
"Poop?" Greg flinched. David was going to be a barrel of laughs.
"Honestly, what planet do you live one? David is just like you and me. He eats and drinks and pees and poops."
"Okay, forget the bad stuff. What do I feed him?"
"I've written it all down in my notebook." Laura opened the cupboard door and examined Greg's purchases. She reached for a jar of peaches. "He likes fruit. Try him with some green vegetables tomorrow and a couple of small scoops of the pureed meat. You can mix the baby cereal with some of his formula for breakfast."
She poked jars aside. "You haven't got any carrots. David likes carrots. You'd better buy some tomorrow and get rusks or arrowroot biscuits for him to chew on. He's teething. His two bottom teeth are nearly through." She handed Greg the peaches. "I'll be right back."
His head reeling from information overload, Greg opened the jar. He chose a tablespoon for David to bang on the tray and a teaspoon to feed him.
Laura returned with the notebook. "Everything you have to know is in there and as soon as I get to Colin's hotel I'll phone and see how you're doing. David is used to having my friends look after him. He's a sociable baby."
The doorbell chimed. Kim raced out of the kitchen barking. David started to cry. He threw his spoon across the room. Mew and Stew shot straight into the air and scuttled behind the African violet planter.
"That'll be my taxi," Laura said in a calm voice. She hugged David. "You be good for Uncle Greg."
She smiled at him. "Take good care of my boy." Then she was gone.
"Laura!" Greg called after her. "You be here early Friday morning."
The front door slammed.

www.anitabirt.com

Dickens and Me

CHAPTER EIGHT
(copyright 2009 Anita Birt)
With time on her hands and not scheduled to return to work until tomorrow, Caroline volunteered to meet Dr. Moreland off the London flight.
She'd caught sight of Greg on the far side of the crowd in the arrivals area and started towards him to apologize for her temper tantrum yesterday at his home but stopped dead in her tracks as shock rippled through her.
A beautiful blonde woman carrying a baby hugged and kissed Greg before handing him the child. He cuddled the infant and edged out of the crowd while his wife followed behind dragging a monster suitcase, a heavy bag slung over her shoulder.
Caroline felt violated. He'd been coming on to her while his wife was in Britain and she had almost lowered her guard. His good-humored charm was hard to resist.
Angry with Greg and angry with herself for almost liking him, Caroline waved to her colleague and waited for him to make his way through the thinning crowd.
Greg had been too busy with his wife and baby to notice her. If he had recognized her he was cool enough to introduce her to his wife as his doctor and not the woman he'd been flirting with.
Dr. Moreland shook her hand. "Good of you to come, my dear. Airports can be a trial but seeing you has cheered me immensely." He wiped a white handkerchief across his forehead.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. My suitcase was the last one to appear. I had almost given up hope."
"I don't mind," Caroline said. "I had the day off and offered to meet you." His heart condition worried the clinic staff. The less stress he had to endure, the better. Mrs. Moreland had poor vision and seldom ventured on to busy highways.
Caroline tried to concentrate on what Dr. Moreland was saying. "Priority ticketing means nothing. My suitcase must have been buried in the hold." He tucked the handkerchief into his pocket. "Airport technology is still in the dark ages..."
Still shaken by seeing Greg, his wife and baby, Caroline nodded in what she hoped were the right places as he continued speaking.
"Now we can leave this wretched den of iniquity," he remarked.
Caroline hurried him to the exit and over to the parking garage. "I have an appointment late this afternoon so we'd better go." She decided not to mention the accident. She was due at the repair shop to discuss the cost of fixing her bike.
"Has the clinic been busy during my absence?"
Caroline nodded. "Very. How was the conference?"
"Excellent." As he talked she concentrated on negotiating through rush hour traffic converging on the northbound freeway.
Eventually he dropped off to sleep and Caroline's thoughts turned to Greg, his wife and baby.
Her hands clenched on the wheel. She should have been straight with him the minute he walked into the clinic.
Why hadn't she?
Because she didn't want him to remember.
Didn't want to hear his apologies.
It was too late for that. Way too late.
He hadn't been there when she needed him.
She stifled a sob. Their baby ... She missed her.
Get over it, Caroline. Don't go there.
"Don't go there," she muttered quietly.
"What's that? I didn't catch what you said." Dr. Moreland straightened up in his seat.
"I was talking to myself. I hope I didn't wake you."
"Not at all. My wife talks to herself. I find it very distracting. I never know whether she's speaking to me or the wall."
"It's something women do. My mother often talked to herself. She said it reminded her of things she had to do."
"Does she live nearby?"
Caroline cleared her throat. "My mother died the year I graduated from high school." She blinked away the tears misting her eyes.
"And your father?"
"He was killed in a car accident when I was sixteen." She wished he'd stop asking questions. When she applied to work at the clinic no one had probed into her family background.
"Do you have any brothers and sisters?"
"I'm an only child."
"I'm sorry I've had little time to have you over to the house. The past few months have been difficult for me to adjust to a healthier lifestyle. No more eighteen hour days. More exercise. You know the drill. Having you on staff has made a big difference."
"Thank you." How could she consider canceling her contract and leave the clinic short-staffed?
Dr. Moreland patted her arm. "You're a fine doctor. I'll tell my wife you are without kith or kin. We have six children, grown up now, but two live in Markbridge. I'll have Marjorie invite you to dinner to meet them. I'm sure you'll enjoy our daughter, Sarah. She married Peter Somerville after we moved to Markbridge."
Caroline's stomach knotted. She forced a smile. "That would be nice." What else could she say?
Pete Somerville had been one year behind her in high school. He'd never remember Kate Southern. Boys never gave her a second glance. Until she'd gone to Ottawa with Greg he'd never acknowledged her existence. To him she was invisible. Like wallpaper. Part of the school environment.
"Our son, Mark, isn't married."
"Really." She tried to sound interested.
"He's a communications specialist and works out of his home. Something to do with the internet, web sites and other mysterious marvels like viruses that attack computers."
"Sounds intriguing." She breathed a sigh of relief as they reached Park Lane Circle and stopped at the doctor's home.
"Thank you for meeting me, my dear. If you'll pop the trunk I'll get my bag." He opened the door then turned to her. "My wife will give you a call. I'm sure you'll enjoy meeting our family."
"Thank you." She waited until he retrieved his suitcase and closed the trunk. Her heart wasn't into meeting his family.
An old memory surfaced like a faded picture in a scrapbook.
Pete Somerville and Greg's sister, Laura, had gone steady for two years before breaking up.
She'd heard the gossip. Something about Laura cheating on him.
Caroline's decision not to level with Greg had returned to haunt her. Pete Somerville was in town. Greg was in town. Who else might turn up?
Caught in a web of her own making she tried to make light of the situation as she drove to the bike shop.
She hadn't committed a crime. She had kept her ex-husband's name, had her hair styled differently, wore contacts most of the time instead of her glasses and could afford good clothes.
She smiled. Her clothes closet wasn't filled with different outfits and shoes to match but what she had were excellent.
So what's the problem?
No problem.
Greg hadn't remembered her.
She'd chosen not to remind him.
Why?
Caroline parked at the shop. Before going in she puzzled again over her reluctance to level with him. It was like going around in circles.
Opening old wounds?
Is that what she was afraid of?
She disliked confrontations. Disliked arguments. Raised voices. Recriminations.
So what was to argue?
Nothing.
He was guilty of abandoning her.
End of story.
She got out of the car.

www.anitabirt.com