her that her time was up. Ignoring the cell phone, she headed for the bedroom.
“It will get better,” Sandy called out. “I promise.”
Jill didn’t believe her. Sandy was just trying to comfort her. If Ryan would just let her sleep for thirty minutes straight, she was certain she could do this.
Just thirty minutes and everything would be fine.
Three hours later, after eating an egg and multi-tasking with a brisk walk around the park while returning phone calls, Jill felt mildly better. At least her hair was clean and she’d managed to brush and floss before Ryan started to cry again. Her baby had a set of lungs that no doubt came from his father’s side of the family.
Growing up had been a quiet experience because nobody in Jill’s family talked or interacted. On most days you could hear a pin drop. She and her sister were taught to keep their voices and emotions in check at all times. Children were meant to be seen, not heard. If she and her sister were caught being overly rambunctious, or laughing too loud, an uncommon occurrence, they were given ten minutes on the wooden chair.
Jill hovered over the crib for a moment and watched Ryan cry. What had her parents done when she cried as a baby? She had read many books on becoming a new mother. It scared her that she didn’t feel the instant bond the nurses at the hospital told her most mothers shared with their newborn babies. She didn’t feel a connection, but she wanted to—more than anything. For most of her life, she’d wanted a baby, but now, right this moment, she couldn’t remember why.
Her baby didn’t even look like her. Maybe she’d brought home the wrong baby. Her heart beat faster. She checked his tiny wristband, comparing the name and numbers to hers. They were a match. “What is it, Ryan? What’s wrong?”
She picked him up, kissed his tiny forehead, and breathed in baby powder along with his own baby scent. Then she headed into the family room where Sandy’s daughter, Lexi, sat on the floor drawing in a coloring book.
A few feet away, Sandy sat in an overstuffed chair with her legs curled beneath her. She was helping Jill write her monthly column.
Jill hoped someday she and Ryan would look so relaxed, so peaceful.
Sandy placed her laptop to the side and came to her feet. “I’ll get his bottle. How’s it going?”
“Ryan’s doctor said as long as he’s been fed and changed, I don’t need to worry about his crying too much.”
The sound of someone talking outside caught their attention. Sandy went to the window and peeked through the blinds. “Oh, my God! I can’t believe it. It’s him.”
“Who?” Jill asked.
“Hollywood.”
“Who?”
“Derrick Baylor. He’s talking on his cell,” Sandy said. “Oh crap. Here he comes.” She squeezed the blinds shut. “Your parents would die if they knew the father of your baby might possibly be a football player.”
Sandy’s words caused a weird reaction inside her body. Until that very second Jill had no intention of answering the door, but Sandy’s words prompted her to change her mind.
Sandy backed away from the window and hid in the kitchen. “Come on. Let’s hide and maybe he’ll go away.”
Lexi rushed into the kitchen, climbed under the table and giggled.
Jill went to the kitchen and handed Sandy the baby. “Take Ryan for me and I’ll take care of Derrick.”
Sandy held Ryan close to her chest. “Derrick Baylor wants to take your son,” Sandy warned in a hushed voice. “You just saw him and his lawyer on the news walking into the courtroom.”
Jill looked to the front door. It was true. Jill had been surprised to see Derrick on TV. Before she could blink, he’d run to court. But what Sandy just said about her parents not liking football players had gotten Jill’s juices flowing. For the first time in days, everything seemed suddenly clear.
Jill had a plan.
Just this morning, Jill’s mom had called to tell her she and Dad would be visiting sooner
Catelynn Lowell, Tyler Baltierra