Chapter 4
Nurse Sarah came up to him after the officers left. “Ready to feed him that bottle?”
Brant nodded.
“You’ll be more comfortable in the surgery waiting room. It’s a lot quieter and a lot more private.”
“Thank you. I don’t suppose there’s anywhere I can grab some coffee?”
“There is.” She threw him an actual smile. “Tough night, huh?”
“Boy, there’s the understatement of the century.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “Your sister’s in good hands. Dr. Willis is one of our best.”
“Again, thank you.” He shifted the baby and tossed the diaper bag over his shoulder.
Sarah gave him directions to the cafeteria and the surgical waiting room. “I’ll let them know where you are so they can find you when she comes out of surgery.”
Guilt at having dubbed her Nurse Ratched gnawed at him. “Wait. If you have a minute—” He held up a hand. “You asked earlier about Magnolia House.”
“I did.” Sarah sighed. “Is the place as wonderful as I hear? My daughter’s thinking about having her wedding there.”
“If you’re looking for a place to get hitched, it’s first-rate.” Brant pulled his phone out from an inside jacket pocket. “Pictures of today’s wedding.”
“Oh.” Sarah took the baby while Brant scrolled through the photos. “Looks like Patti and I will be taking a trip to Misty Bottoms. The house and grounds are exquisite.”
Molly, in her plum passion, popped into Brant’s head. “Everything there is perfection.”
“Well, I’d better get back to my desk before someone sends a search party for me.” She handed the baby back to him. “Good luck, Mr. Wylder.”
“Thank you.”
Eyeing the bottle and noticing the way Jax kept bending his head toward it, mouth open, Brant figured he’d better feed the kid first. His coffee could wait.
Sarah’s directions led him to a quiet, empty waiting room. Exhaling loudly, he plopped down in a chair. “And here we are.”
Jax gurgled his agreement.
Setting the baby on his lap, Brant said, “Your mommy is out of commission for a bit, kid, so it’s just you and me. You good with that?”
“Babamagoo.”
“Exactly my thoughts.”
The two quietly eyed each other, then Jax grinned. Brant smiled back for all of three seconds, the time it took him to register the sudden warmth on his trouser leg. He lifted the baby and grimaced at the wet spot on his tux pants.
“You peed on me, imp.”
Jax’s lower lip trembled.
“That’s okay. No harm, no foul. Well, foul maybe, but the dry cleaner should be able to get it out, right?”
Jax smiled and kicked his tiny feet.
“Why do I sense this wasn’t an accident?”
The babble that followed was either justification or denial. Brant couldn’t decide which. Forget his wet pants. Far scarier, Jax’s sodden diaper had to be changed. But he could handle that, couldn’t he? How hard could it be?
Digging into the bag, he found diapers and a small blanket. He laid the baby on it and unsnapped Jax’s little suit. “You are just wet, aren’t you? You didn’t, like, make a mess?”
More earnest but totally unintelligible jabber.
“I’m going in.” With that, he pulled the tab and nearly wept with relief. Wet. No little surprises. Plucking at his own damp trouser leg, he whispered, “Thank you.”
He destroyed two diapers but got the third one on—loosely. But as long as the kid wore another one-piece thing, it should hold everything in place, right? Getting him into a dry outfit proved to be a major undertaking. It was as if Jax had grown ten arms, but he finally got the job done.
Swiping the sweat from his brow, Brant picked up the kid, scooped up the dirty diaper along with the two he’d ruined, and headed toward the restroom. He dumped them in the trash and rinsed his hands one at a time, while the baby wiggled in the other arm.
“Hey, who’s that?” He pointed at Jax’s reflection in the mirror.
“Babagaga!” Laughing, Jax leaned forward and high-fived the baby staring back at him.
After Brant pulled a few faces and tickled the mirror baby, he headed for a chair. Sitting down, he picked up the bottle. “Want this?”
His feet kicking happily, Jax squealed and reached for it. Though he tried, it took all of thirty seconds for Brant to understand Jax couldn’t quite hold it himself yet.
With Jax tucked into the crook of his arm, Brant popped the nipple into the baby’s mouth and watched as he drank hungrily and noisily.
Officer Blackburn had been right. The bottle pushed him over the edge. Jax’s eyes fluttered shut, then flew open, only to close again. Milk dripped from his mouth and ran down his chin, and Brant swiped at it with a tissue.
Silence.
Blessed silence.
Even in sleep, Jax’s perfect little mouth worked as if still eating. Maybe he was dreaming of pizza. Brant’s chest grew tight. Whatever happened, whatever it took, somehow or another, he’d take care of this child.
Right now, though, he was seriously draggin’ butt.
* * *
The institutional-looking clock over the door marked time, and Brant’s stomach rumbled, reminding him he’d last eaten at the wedding reception eons ago.
Time to find something to eat. He glanced at the baby and prayed he’d stay asleep.
Following both Sarah’s directions and his nose, he found the cafeteria. Here, at least, the smell of food blocked the pungent odor of antiseptic cleansers and God only knew what else.
Outside the windows, the night was dark, the only lights the ones scattered through the parking lot. There was not much traffic in the cafeteria this time of night, and Brant suspected the food in the warming trays had been fresh five or six hours ago.
A burger seemed his best bet, so he ordered one, along with black coffee.
The worker placed everything on a tray, and Brant wondered not for the first time how mothers did it. Cradling the baby in one arm and moving at snail speed, he managed to make it to the closest table without spilling a single drop of coffee. It was 1:58 in the morning, and he and Jax had the place to themselves.
It felt eerie.
There were no booths with bench seats, so what was he supposed to do with the kid? Lay him on the table? No, he might roll off, and then there’d be hell to pay.
Propping his sleeping nephew in his lap, the baby’s head drooping against his arm, Brant devoured his burger. He was chewing the last bite when Jax’s hand started flailing.
“Oh no. Go back to sleep, little one. Please.”
In answer, Jax let out a series of quiet little whimpers. When he’d cried before, he was hungry. Should Brant feed him again?
He slid his chair back and sat the baby on his knee, facing him. Jax quieted and blinked those owlish green eyes.
Brant stuck out his tongue, withdrew it, stuck it out again. Sure enough, Jax’s little tongue peeked between his lips. Brant did it again, and so did Jax.
“Good boy! That’s my little man.” Brant high-fived him.
The game lasted a couple of minutes before Jax let out a sighing sob.
An older woman with a tray stopped at their table. She reached out and tickled the baby beneath his chin and received a beatific smile. “Aren’t you the cutie?”
She nodded at her tray. “I have to get this up to my husband. He hasn’t had anything to eat since surgery yesterday, and he woke up hungry as a bear.” Still, she remained, smiling at the baby. “My great-grandson is about his age. What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Jax.”
“Good, strong name. You did well.”
“Not me. He’s my sister’s.”
“How wonderful you’re spending time with him.”
“We’ll see.” But he was talking to her back. She’d shuffled off. The baby began to cry again, and Brant jiggled him. The wails grew louder.
“Shhh. No more crying allowed. You need to man up, son.”
Jax blinked tear-filled eyes, his lower lip trembled, and he let out another howl, showing off his toothless gums.
“How can anything so tiny make so much noise?” Sweat trickled down Brant’s back. No wonder his sister had turned to drink again.
A nurse in pink scrubs and carrying a coffee smiled at Brant. “That baby’s hungry.”
“He just ate.”
“Babies are always hungry.” She nodded toward the diaper bag slung over the chair back. “You have food in there?”
Exhausted, Brant asked, “How about I buy you dinner, a snack, an early breakfast? Whatever you want.”
“A bribe for feeding this baby?”
“Exactly.”
* * *
When they returned from the cafeteria, the room was still empty. Not many surgeries this time of the night, he guessed. Only emergencies, including ones caused by drunk drivers. What had Lainey been thinking to risk her life like that? Obviously, she hadn’t been thinking about her son, her responsibility to him.
Since they’d be here awhile, Brant figured he might as well get comfortable. He laid Jax on the sofa, sitting on the edge to keep him from rolling off.
He undid his bow tie and stuffed it in his coat pocket, then unbuttoned the top couple of shirt buttons. His jacket and cummerbund came off next. With a sigh of relief, he tossed them onto the chair next to him.
A glance at the ugly wall clock told him it was too soon to call his brothers. Considering airport wait time, they’d still be in the air. Hopefully, his mom and dad were asleep. He could only cross his fingers that the hot little bridesmaid he’d run out on was home sleeping, too—alone.
The shrill of his phone startled him. “Hello?”
“Brant? This is Molly Stiles.”
He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it. Was this for real, or had his tired brain conjured it?
“Brant? Are you there? It’s Molly…from the wedding.”
No need for her to identify herself. He’d recognize that voice anywhere.
“Hey, Molly. Everything okay?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you. You seemed upset when you left.”
“I apologize for that. I should have explained.”
“No. You didn’t owe me an explanation, and you still don’t. I probably should have waited till morning to call, if ever. It’s just…” Her voice softened. “Are you okay?”
“I am. Or will be, anyway.” Her voice soothed him, made him feel better and far less alone. “Right now, I’m in a hospital waiting room in Savannah.” He gave her a quick, abridged version of the evening, leaving out any mention of Jax, who was happily eating his own toes. Boy, to be that flexible. “How’d you get my number?”
“From Russell, but don’t be mad at him. I browbeat it out of him.”
Brant laughed. “Are you kidding? I need to thank him.”
They talked for a few more minutes before Molly said, “You’ve got a lot going on, so I won’t keep you. I hope everything works out well for your sister.”
“Thanks, Molly. I appreciate it more than you can imagine. Sleep tight.”
He held the phone a long time after he clicked off. What do you know? Molly Stiles had called him. Maybe the two of them could get together again after all. Then he glanced at Jax and gave it up. There’d be no time to play in his foreseeable future.
Still, she’d called him. He did a little air pump, then watched the clock’s second hand make its slow rotation. The minutes dragged by. How long would Lainey be in surgery?
Tired of being ignored, the baby gave a loud squeal.
Brant scooped him up, settled into the least uncomfortable looking chair, and sipped his second cup of coffee. Jax yawned and popped a thumb in his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut. A late-night infomercial played quietly on TV, and Brant watched a past-her-prime actress tout the virtues of a wrinkle reducer guaranteed to make anybody look ten years younger in mere days.
“Does anybody fall for that stuff?” he wondered out loud.
No answer from the peanut gallery.
Certain Jax was asleep, Brant set down the empty Styrofoam cup, kicked back in the chair, and settled the baby on his chest. He wrapped both arms around his nephew and drifted into an uneasy sleep.
* * *
A hand on his shoulder woke him. Soft morning light filtered through a window, and Brant looked up into a pair of tired blue eyes.
“I’m Dr. Willis. We met in the ER.”
“Yes.” Fully awake now, Brant cleared his throat. “How’s Lainey?”
“She’s doing well. She’ll need some time to heal, but there shouldn’t be any lasting physical effects.” He explained the extent of Lainey’s injuries and what they’d done during surgery.
The baby cradled in one arm, Brant stood and held out his free hand. “Thank you, from me and my entire family, Doctor.”
“You’re quite welcome.” Willis paused, then said, “This isn’t my area of expertise, but driving under the influence…”
Brant ran a hand over his face. “Look, I know you see and hear this all the time, but Lainey’s a good person. She had—apparently still has—a drinking problem. Five years ago, she did a stint in rehab and, as far as any of us knew, hadn’t had a drink since. I don’t know what triggered this relapse, but I will find out, believe me. You’re right. She’s lucky to be alive this morning, and I mean to do everything humanly possible to keep her that way. If she’s willing and we can arrange it, I’d like to transfer her directly to a rehab center when she’s well enough.”
Dr. Willis stuck his hands in his scrub pockets. “Understood.”
“May I see her now?”
“She’s in recovery and still groggy from the general anesthesia. Why don’t you go home? Get some rest.” His gaze shifted to the sleeping baby. “That little guy was tuckered out.”
“Yeah, it’s been quite the night.”
Willis nodded toward Brant’s tux. “Hope the wedding we interrupted wasn’t yours.”
“What? Oh! No, definitely not mine. I stood as groomsman for a fraternity brother at Magnolia House.”
Dr. Willis smiled. “Jenni Beth Beaumont. She did our wedding at Chateau Rouge not long before she left Savannah. Incredible planner and a wonderful person.”
“She is both.”
“My guess is your vehicle’s not equipped with a baby seat.”
“No, it’s not. Lainey hadn’t expected her friend to need Jax’s, so she left it in the car. It was destroyed in the accident.” And didn’t it turn his stomach imagining Jax in it. “To be perfectly honest, I hadn’t even thought about how I’d get him home. Don’t suppose I can just seat-belt him in?”
Dr. Willis laughed. “No, don’t suppose you can.”
“What do I do? I can’t even take him to the store to buy a seat. Talk about a catch-22.”
“We keep a few around here for new parents who can’t afford one. Why don’t you stay put, and I’ll have an aide round one up for you.”
“I’d appreciate that. Again, thanks—for everything.”
The doctor laid a hand on Brant’s shoulder. “We’ll take good care of your sister while she’s here. Once she leaves, it’ll be up to you.”
“Yes, sir. Understood.”
When he walked out the door, Brant dropped back into the chair. Two green eyes flew open, and Brant held his breath. Jax sent him a toothless grin, and Brant’s heart melted.
“Good morning, champ. Been one heck of a night, hasn’t it?”
A soft coo was his answer.
They sat in the pale light of early morning, two guys thrown together by family ties and fate. Just when Brant decided the whole thing might not be so bad, the baby’s chin quivered, and his forehead puckered. “No, no, no,” Brant moaned. “We agreed. No more tears. I’ll put a thousand dollars in a savings account for you if you don’t cry.” Like a madman, he rooted in the diaper bag until he found a pacifier.
He plugged the piece of silicone in Jax’s mouth and made a quick call to his parents, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder and jiggling Jax on his knee. He filled them in on what little he knew, ending with a promise to keep them up-to-date.
Hanging up, he carried Jax to the window. “Look at all the cars out there. Over in the far corner? That’s a classic Mustang like Uncle Tuck drives. This one’s pretty beat up, but with a little work it could be a beaut.”
Jax pounded on the window in agreement.
Brant lifted him into the air and flew him around the room while Jax made excited sounds and flapped his arms. Drool dripped onto Brant’s face, and he swiped it away. “We have one more call to make, so let’s land the plane.”
Settling back in the chair, he dialed his brother.
“This better be good, Bro,” Tucker warned. “Take-off was delayed, so by the time we touched down on Texas soil, rounded up our luggage, and made it to the hotel, we’ve barely been in bed an hour.”
“Then you’ve done better than me. I haven’t seen my bed tonight.”
“What’s wrong? Mom?”
“No.” He took a deep breath. Best to do it quickly. “Lainey was in a car accident tonight outside of Savannah. Last night, now, I guess.”
“Son of a—Savannah? I thought she was in Florida.”
“Me too.”
Gaven spoke up. “Tuck put us on speaker. Are Sis and the baby okay?”
“Jax wasn’t with her. He’s fine.”
Hearing his name, Jax grabbed for the phone, and Brant shifted it to the other ear. “Lainey left him with a friend. Right now, he’s sprawled in my lap, contemplating the best way to steal my phone. Thieving little bugger.”
Gaven grunted. “How’s Lainey?”
“She spent the night in surgery. I spoke with her doctor a few minutes ago. She’s gonna be okay, but it’ll take a while.” He passed on the information Willis had shared with him. “We’ve got another problem. Lainey was DUI.”
“No way.” Tucker’s voice was hard as steel. “She hasn’t touched a drop in years.”
“Five,” Gaven added.
“I know.” Brant rubbed his forehead. “But she did last night. Fortunately, no one else was involved, but the cops were here when I arrived. Once I can talk to Lainey, I’ll know more, but we need to consider another round of rehab. If nothing else, it might stop a downhill slide. Maybe a good lawyer can get them to swap rehab for jail time.”
A chirpy-looking twentysomething woman in scrubs sailed into the room, a car seat and a bag of goodies in her hands.
“Hey, I’ve got to go, guys. An angel’s bringing me a car seat.”
“For your Camaro?”
“Yep.”
“You’re gonna let a baby ride in your car? What if he urps?”
Brant sighed. “What choice do I have, Gaven? It’s that or tie him to the roof.”
Halfway across the room, the young woman gasped.
“I’m not even considering that.” He held up the phone. “My brothers.”
She nodded.
Jax spit out the pacifier and, whimpering, held out his arms toward the stranger.
Brant’s jaw dropped. “You little Benedict Arnold.” He clicked off and slipped the phone into his shirt pocket.
The perky aide smiled at the baby. “Somebody’s hungry. I’ll bet your diaper needs changing, too, doesn’t it?”
Another diaper change? So soon?
“Ma’am, I have absolutely no right to ask this, but could you keep an eye on him while I run into the men’s room? It’s right there.” He pointed across the small waiting room.
“Sure. Take your time and freshen up.” She reached for the baby, who stopped crying and shot her a sloppy grin. “Daddy will be right back, honey.”
“I’m not—” He gave it up. No sense even going there.
Half-ashamed of himself, he took the offered break. Hands planted on the vanity, he closed his eyes and fought to clear his mind. Instead, all of Lainey’s problems—physical, emotional, and legal—barreled through his mind.
Add a baby into the mix, and it became a quagmire of the first order.
Brant opened his eyes and splashed water on his face. He looked like red-eyed roadkill. Nothing to do about it; he needed to get back to Jax. By now, the aide had probably deserted her station and run away.
He listened. No crying. No sound at all.
Fear speared through him. What if Jax had been kidnapped? He’d left him with a stranger.
He cracked the door and peeked around it. There sat the cheerful aide, Jax snuggled against her. She talked quietly to him while he drank his formula, one fist waving in the air, the other clutched around the bottle.
“Hey, he’s quiet.”
“I fed him part of the jar of veggies and changed him. He was soaking wet and had made quite a mess, so I slipped him into a clean outfit, too. This bottle should finish him off. There’re more diapers and formula in that bag.” She tilted her head toward the canvas tote she’d brought.
“You are a miracle worker.”
She laughed. “I’ve got two little ones of my own. Babies are a real blessing, aren’t they?”
“Um, yeah, they sure are.” With two fingers, he picked up the offending dirty diaper and carried it into the men’s room. “Nasty.”
“You’ve probably smelled worse, Daddy.”
“Uh, Jax is my nephew. My sister—”
“Last night’s car accident.”
“Yeah.”
“I heard she’s doing well.”
“According to Dr. Willis, we got very lucky.” He nodded at Jax. “For now, I’m pinch-hitting.”
“You’ll get used to it really fast. And this baby?” She rubbed a finger under Jax’s chin and got a milky smile as her reward. “You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?”
Jax gurgled.
“You could use a bath, though, couldn’t you? Yes, you could.”
She walked her fingers up the baby’s round little tummy.
“A bath?” A supersized headache exploded behind Brant’s eyes. How in the heck did he give a kid who could barely sit up by himself a bath?
Oh yeah. All this could easily have driven Lainey to drink.
Then the baby laughed, and Brant did, too.
But it was short-lived as reality rushed back. He had to take this tiny creature home with him. Alone.
“Babies should come with instruction manuals. Okay, so diaper changes, a bath, and food at regular intervals.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “I’m a mechanic and restoration specialist. I ought to be able to figure it out, right?”
“Absolutely. Good luck.”
Brant shot her a quick look but decided her comment hadn’t been sarcastic.
She strapped Jax into his seat and planted a quick smooch on his cheek. A Wylder through and through, the baby ate it up. The kid had a way with the ladies already.
Brant thanked Little Miss Sunshine, then set off down the hall, two diaper bags slung over one shoulder and a baby dangling in a seat from his other hand.
A few minutes later, as he stared at all the belts and buckles, he cursed the inventor of the contraption Jax slouched in. Sliding his sunglasses to the top of his head, he leaned in for another go at it. And Jax? He was getting a kick out of the whole thing, bopping Brant on the head with his rattle every time he leaned close.
How had his life taken such a huge detour? And with no warning.
If Lainey did go into rehab…
Oh boy. He was in for it.