Bundle of Joy by Barbara Bretton Read Free Book Online Page A

Charlie took the phone from his boss who was racing for the door. "They're taking Sam to the labor room now."
    "Your old man's going to break every speed limit between here and the hospital," said Charlie. "Better pray the cops aren't out in force tonight."
    "Watch the place for him, would you? Sam says this won't take long, but I..." His voice trailed off. Charlie waited for him to finish the sentence but apparently Murphy was beyond coherent speech.
    "Tell your old man not to worry, Murph. I've got everything under control."
    At a few minutes past midnight on Independence Day, Samantha Dean O'Rourke gave birth to a strapping baby boy. The gang at the bar went nuts. Charlie's culinary shortcomings were forgotten and he was allowed to wallow in saccharine daydreams while everyone else went berserk over the news.
    And all this for a baby. There wasn't a regular at that bar who Charlie'd figure would give two hoots for babies or children, but they were a surprising bunch. Most of them were grandfathers many times over; the rest of them were putting their kids through college or shelling out money for a daughter's wedding. Not one of them had reached Charlie's advanced age of thirty-five without at least one wife and child firmly in tow.
    For a man who saw life in black and white, this full-color explosion of joy over the baby's birth was a mystery. Wouldn't you think they would have hinted at this suppressed paternal instinct at least once in the last two years?
    Little James Andrew O'Rourke's arrival into the world was greeted with the same enthusiasm that the bar crowd reserved for the winning touchdown with one minute left on the clock. Charlie was happy for Murphy and Sam, but he wasn't envious. Truth was, Charlie hadn't given a hell of a lot of thought to children. He'd been too busy first with the navy, then bumming around, then settling down there in Rocky Hill. There'd been women, sure, but never one woman who made him think of white picket fences and bundles of joy. He wasn't looking for one, either, because as far as Charlie was concerned, you couldn't miss what you'd never had. Besides, he liked his life the way it was.
    Why rock the boat?
     
    #
     
    To everyone's surprise, Caroline became a fixture in the maternity ward at the Princeton Medical Center. She was one of the first to see the new baby and had begged Sam to let her hold him for a few moments. She popped up at Sam's bedside morning, afternoon, and night and never seemed to get enough of the sight and smell of that tiny little person bundled in blue.
    "I don't know what on earth is the matter with me," Caroline said, dabbing at her eyes with a pastel blue tissue. "I've never been the sentimental type."
    "Babies bring out the best in everyone," said Sam as she put her son to her breast.
    "You know I've never been one to get all misty over infants," Caroline continued, still sniffling with emotion. "Why, Patty was the only child I ever understood." Sam's daughter Patty was a bona fide genius whose infectious sense of humor had delighted Caroline from her very first word.
    "Maybe you're growing up," Sam said with a wink. "It happens to all of us sooner or later."
    Of course they both knew that Caroline had done her growing up a long time ago. She'd never had any choice in the matter.
    "It could be the ticking of your biological clock," Sam offered up.
    "I doubt that," said Caroline, laughing. "I pressed the snooze alarm awhile back and haven't heard anything from it since." She blew her nose then checked her makeup in a hand mirror. "I've been working too hard, that's all. Too many trips into Manhattan for new dresses. All that commuting takes its toll."
    "I've been meaning to tell you that you look like hell." Caroline opened her mouth to protest but Sam wouldn't give her the chance. "Of course, that means you still look ten times better than the average woman, but you do look a little green around the gills, kiddo. Anything wrong?"
    "Nothing twelve hours