A Daughter's Trust

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, making a mental note to call Belle to see how she was doing setting up a dinner with them and the Frasers.

And then she sent up a silent prayer for a softening of Joe’s heart. He didn’t even like his dad. And wasn’t talking much to her, either.

But Sue wasn’t one to be daunted.

WHEN SUE CALLED RICK Friday afternoon, telling him she had a problem at home and needed help, he was out of the office as quickly as he could grab his keys, inordinately pleased that she’d called him.

That he was the one she’d turned to.

He’d had a school board meeting the night before and had been tied up until almost eleven o’clock, but he’d talked to her as he drove home, and for an hour afterward.

She’d been in bed, and he’d spent a good part of the night wishing he’d been there with her.

And wondering if there would ever come a time when they’d share a bed. Permanently.

Rick didn’t want to spend the rest of his life alone. He wanted a wife. A partner.

He wanted a family.

Sue didn’t.

He didn’t know what to do about that.

But some things were working in his favor. Sonia had called to say that she’d arranged visitation between him and Carrie twice a week, Mondays and Wednesdays from four to five, starting right away.

He was finally going to be able to hold his niece.

Sonia told him something else, as well. His mother’s visitation had also been scheduled. Even the idea of it made Rick’s blood pressure rise.

If he could count on Sue to protect Carrie’s future from an addicted liar…

If he could count on her not to fall under his mother’s spell…

If only he could count on her, period.

When she answered the door, Carrie in the pack on her back and an unfamiliar, too skinny baby in her arms, Sue’s hair was falling out of her ponytail, tendrils hanging around her face. There were stains on her blue-and-white-striped, long-sleeved T-shirt. And a blotch on the thigh of her jeans, as well.

He’d have liked to kiss her—long and hard—but there were obviously other matters pressing. “Thank you so much for coming.” She added, “Would you mind taking him?” She carefully handed him the blanket-wrapped, sleeping bundle in her arms before the door was even fully closed.

As he took the unknown boy, Rick caught Carrie staring at him. He grinned. And the baby grinned back.

“His brother just threw up all over the living room floor,” Sue said, leaving Rick to follow her. “I’ve been trying since noon to feed the two of them. They both give it back as soon as I get it down them.”

“Not uncommon for babies born with addictions,” Rick expostulated. “They’re often finicky eaters.”

From her place on the floor beside a baby that looked identical to the one he had in his arms, Sue glanced up at him.

“They have sleeping disorders, too,” he stated. “And tremors.”

She turned back to the job at hand, gently cleaning up the baby with baby wipes from the canister by her side. The blanket she and the infant were on was covered with spat-up formula.

With the sleeping brother in the crook of one arm, and a quick caress to Michael’s cheek where he sat in a swing, Rick found a new blanket, a sleeper that looked as if it would fit the fussy infant, and helped Sue restore order to her family room.

“How do you know so much about babies born with addictions?” she asked when she was finally sitting back on the couch, fussy baby hiccupping, but asleep in her arms.

“I did some reading.”

“Recently?”