Calvin's eyes grew. “Heart surgery? As a baby?”
Joe nodded, riveted by the baby. “Yeah. I almost didn't live.” He looked up. “I'm fine now. But it was touch and go twenty-nine years ago.”
“Wow.” Calvin looked deflated. He touched Cathy's shoulder. “Doctor did a check up on both of you, right? You're fine?”
“They had to give me a touch of insulin, and my hoo ha needs some recovery time, but otherwise, we're fine, Calvin. Just fine.” She patted his hand, then frowned. “Other than becoming parents when we didn't expect to.”
In his arms, the baby began to cry, which made Joe stiffen. “Uh, maybe he needs to eat?” he stammered, turning to Cathy and handing the baby off with a gentleness that made me appreciate him a little more.
Joe had a soft side.
Who knew?
As soon as Joe wasn't holding Cal, Jr., Darla went to him and took his hand, face shining. “You held your first baby.”
“I did.”
Marlene cleared her throat. We all looked at her. She looked me in the eye, then Joe, then Darla, painted-on eyebrows arched high.
And then she asked:
“So when are you three popping out a kid?”
Chapter 6
Joe
Exhaustion is the only excuse I have to explain how I reacted to that little baby boy back at the hospital, because I don't know how I could feel so... besotted.
How do you love a twenty-four-hour-old human being that isn't even yours?
I knew I was suffering from something biologically destabilizing, because I was thinking about loving that baby, and there's no way that was possible.
“Oh my God,” Darla said as I typed in the code for the house key, the old-fashioned padlock on the door popping, a key dropping into my hand. “Someone really remodeled this house. Mrs. Humboldt never lived like this.”
“Flippers come into areas and do this all the time,” I mumbled, grateful for the distraction from thinking about holding that baby. How could seven pounds of wiggling flesh make me feel so emotional?
“Not in Peters, Ohio!”
“Huh.” Trevor walked down the hallway, pushing with his fingertips on an open door. “Nice bathroom. Lots of shiplap.”
“I texted the owner right before I got on the flight. He turned on the water. Said there had been some plumbing issues that were just fixed, so we might have some air in the pipes. He knocked ten percent off for the bother, so FYI.”
“Good to know,” Trevor said, turning on the bathroom sink. It sounded like it ran fine.
I snorted, then turned to Darla. “How much are homes like this here? The listing said it's a three bedroom, two bath home with a backyard patio.” I walked to the back door, the kitchen to my right, dining room to the left. The place was small, but not tiny. Peering through the door window, I sized up the yard. No fence between the neighbor's land, and I saw a hen house next door. “Maybe a quarter acre?”
“This? How much is a house like this?” Darla thought for a second. “Maybe sixty grand now?”
“Six hundred?” I clarified.
“Sixty.”
“Sixty thousand?”
“Uh huh.”
“That's a down payment in Massachusetts!”
“We ain't in Mass, Joe. Also, might be worth more. But it wasn't anywhere near this fancy when Mrs. Humboldt lived here. Bet they got it for sixty and put a bunch of money into it to make it nice as a rental.”
“Huh. Maybe we should buy properties and flip them here in Ohio,” I said to Trevor, eyeing the house with new appreciation.
Darla's face fell as we walked around. “It's all so different. Nothing like it was when Josie and I lived with her.”
“How long were you here?”
A slow shake of her head. Rapid blinking. Short, staccato breaths that made me worry I'd overstepped.
“I don't remember. A week or two? Felt like a year. I was only four. It was just so weird. Mrs. Humboldt's own kids were grown and long gone. She had a nice, neat bed for me and Josie to share. We woke up to eggs and pancakes and three pieces of bacon every morning. THREE pieces. I thought I'd died and gone to...” A crinkle between her eyes, right at the bridge of her nose, came with a halt to her words. “... heaven. Like Daddy.”
Trevor closed his eyes, grimaced, and let out a pained sound. “I'm sorry, Darla. I guess that's something you never really get over.”
“Naw. You don't.”
“I can get us a hotel room at that truck stop from years ago,” I said loudly, wanting to claw my own skin off before causing her one more second of pain.
“No. It's fine.”
“It's not fine, Darla. You'll be haunted by ghosts here.”
“Ghosts aren't real, Joe.”
“They are in your heart. This is a house that reminds you of your dad's death. Of course we'll go somewhere else.”
Trevor and Darla gaped at me.
“What?”
“When did you get so... emotional?” Darla asked, face open and tender, like she was looking at a fluffy kitten.
“I'm not,” I snapped, adding gruff and bluster for good measure.
“The baby did it to him. Worked that newborn magic and now Joe's gone soft,” Trevor joked.
“I'm going to the bathroom. You two can mock me in absentia.”
“Where's Absencha? Never been to that town,” I heard Darla say as I slammed the door shut, ignored the toilet, and stared at myself in the mirror.
“Is there a welcome basket in the kitchen? Gift from the hostess?” Trevor muttered through the door, voice fading as he and Darla went into the kitchen.
I leaned against the mirror, lightly banging my head against it. When had my emotions jumped into a Vitamix and single-handedly turned it on high?
“SCORE!” Trevor shouted as I decided to pee, unzipping my pants and doing the deed. After I washed my hands and walked out, I found him elbow-deep in a bag of kettle corn, Darla eating a chocolate-peanut butter date bar.
“Hmph,” Trevor said, jutting his chin in the direction of the counter next to the sink. “Awesome snacks and a bottle of Prosecco.”
“Snacks first. Sleep second. Prosecco tonight.”
“Amen,” Darla said with a yawn.
Thank God there was no disagreement on that.
Two bags of beef jerky, the entire haul of kettle corn, and loads of glasses of water later, we stripped down to underwear and climbed into the king-size bed in the master bedroom, a creaky thing that made the floorboards groan, snuggling up with no hopes of, requests for, or hints about sex.
Which, to my surprise, was a relief.
Normally, when I'm buzzing hardcore from adrenaline rushes like the one that carried me through from the shock of Darla's freaked-out phone call, babbling about an unexpected baby, leading through realizing she wasn't pregnant (thank God) to being stuck helping with my dad's surgery, to being pushed by Mom and Gene to leave, I need sex to calibrate.
Add in the flight. The alcohol. The drive to Peters.
Then the baby.
That damned, beautiful, sweet, innocent little baby.