Dance Away with Me - Susan Elizabeth Phillips Page 0,24
she’d asked him to order, but he hadn’t done it. She only had the starter kit of the supplies the hospital had sent her off with, along with a handmade dark green baby sling that her favorite of the NICU nurses had given her as a gift. She was furious with him for not following through. Wren, in the meantime, had ratcheted up her crying.
Tess set her down long enough to take off her jacket, unbutton her blouse, and slip into the preemie sling. She repositioned the baby against her bare skin, Wren’s cheek to her breast, and draped them both in the shawl she retrieved from the back of the couch. It wasn’t yet time for another bottle, so she walked the perimeters of the cabin until the motion lulled the baby back to sleep. All the time, she fumed about North’s absence. Only after Wren quieted did she go into the closet behind the kitchen to investigate the furnace.
It wasn’t working, and she couldn’t exactly crawl around on the floor to investigate with a baby on her body. The lack of heat in the cabin worried her. How could she keep Wren warm? Where was North? Caring for Wren was supposed to be a two-way street, but all the traffic was running in one direction. Was it possible he’d intended all along to dump the baby on her and take off?
Wren awakened and began to fuss. Tess dug out one of the preemie bottles. As she poured in an ounce of formula, she thought of her own breasts. “Sorry,” she whispered. “You’ll have to make do with this.”
Feeding was hard work for Wren, who tended to fall back to sleep after a few tugs. Tess gave her the time she needed, burping her gently and keeping her elevated. When it was finally over, they were both exhausted. Tess propped herself up and settled on the couch, tucking the shawl more tightly around them.
She felt Wren’s heartbeat against her skin. Saw the quiver in her tiny, seashell eyelids. Heard her soft, sweet breaths. Maybe North had a flat tire. More likely, he’d fled back to Manhattan. She drifted off to sleep
The blood tugged at her calves, rose to her waist. Bianca screamed.
Tess had to get to her. Had to save her. But the blood wouldn’t let her move. She struggled against its force. Her legs were gone. Her arms. Bianca slipped into the red pool.
She awakened with a gasp. She rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the ugly nightmare, and heard a car pull up outside. She looked at her phone. Two hours had passed.
But instead of North, Phish came through the cabin door. He wore an ancient boho hippie pullover and carried a white pastry bag, his scraggly gray ponytail hanging down his back. “Hey, Tess.” He wiped his sneakers on the rug inside the door and gestured toward the baby. “This sure is screwin’ up the work schedule. Michelle is all over me to hire her sister.”
“I told Ian North I’d look after the baby for another week or so. I think you’d better hire her.”
“No way in hell. You’ve never met her.” He set down the pastry bag and came over to look at the baby. “Dude, she’s little.”
He sounded critical, and Tess took umbrage. “She’s a lot stronger than she looks.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“She is.”
He threw up his hands. “Chill, all right?”
“I need coffee.” She eased her legs over the edge of the couch so she didn’t wake Wren. “Are those doughnuts?”
“Your favorite.”
“You’re a saint. Have you seen Ian North in town?”
“Nope.” He headed for the kitchen to make coffee.
“Bastard.” She eased the kinks from her legs. “Would you check the furnace? There’s no heat.”
He shrugged and went to look. Moments later, he reappeared. “It’s not working.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
He was immune to her sarcasm. “Maybe you ran out of propane.”
“I just had a delivery.”
Tires crunched on the gravel outside. Cradling the cocooned infant, she went to the window and saw the battered Land Cruiser pull up. She backed away to keep from exposing the baby to a draft as North ducked through the doorway. Yelling would scare Wren, so she had to be satisfied with a fierce whisper. “Where have you been?”
“I had some things to do.” He filled up the space with his body—making the ceiling too low, the walls too close.
“Yeah, well, so do I. You were supposed to be here hours ago.” She reached under the shawl to