Authors: Theresa Ragan
“They seem like great people,” Jill agreed. “It’s just that they’re—” She looked heavenward as she grasped for the right words to explain what she wanted to convey. “They’re really,
really
, into family. You know what I mean? The Baylor family is crazy over-the-top, ridiculously loving and caring. I swear they would probably all jump off a bridge at once if it meant saving one of their own—” Jill stopped in mid-sentence when she realized she wasn’t helping her position any. She waved a hand through the air. “Never mind—it’s hard to explain.”
“Jill doesn’t want any help raising her son,” Sandy said. “She’s tired of people telling her what to do and how to do it. She wants to take control of her life.”
Hearing it like that made Jill realize how silly it all sounded.
“Everything seemed to be going along so smoothly, though,” Chelsey said. “What happened? Are you refusing to let him see his son because you’re afraid that down the road Ryan will love his father more than you? I don’t get it.”
Jill was thankful when Sandy stepped in once again to answer the question for her.
“Here’s the problem,” Sandy explained. “Derrick Baylor was paid money to be a sperm donor. He wasn’t paid to be a father. Donors sign papers and documents stating their agreement to remain anonymous. Women who use donors to have babies don’t even have to put a face to the donor unless they want to.”
Lexi was watching her favorite show on the television in her bedroom, but Jill lowered her voice when she added, “If Lexi’s father walked through that door right now, would you want to give him half custody?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because giving him half custody would give him half a say on every decision I make when it comes to Lexi’s well-being.”
“Exactly,” Jill said with a smile.
Case closed
.
~~~
Once the three of them had come to a decision on the next month’s issue of
Food for All
, everyone left and the apartment was quiet again. After feeding Ryan, Jill placed him on her shoulder and began pacing the length of the room. She patted his back until he awarded her with a good-sized burp. “You’re a good boy.”
Chelsey, she noticed, had forgotten to take the flowers home with her and the scent of daylilies filled the apartment. Jill reached for the card poking out from the vase.
Give Ryan a kiss for me, Derrick
Jill kissed the top of Ryan’s head and breathed in his baby smell. She glanced out the window above her sink. Derrick’s kitchen light was on and she could see him moving around.
Her heart sank. She hadn’t seen him in seventy-two hours and she already missed him—a man who wanted to take away the right to raise her son in a manner she saw fit—a man who had become a donor solely for selfish reasons, only to barge into her life with no thought for anyone but himself—a man who had managed to get under her skin by opening up to her and being a great listener. He’d taught her to do-si-do and charmed her with his crooked smiles and playful winks…and flowers.
Damn him
.
~~~
The column for next month’s issue kept Jill busy for the next few days. When the doorbell rang, she jumped. Once again she’d forgotten to tape the “don’t ring the bell” sign over the doorbell. Maybe she’d call an electrician this afternoon and have it disconnected so people wouldn’t ring the bell and wake the baby.
She opened the door, expecting to see the delivery boy with another flower arrangement. She was only half right. It wasn’t the flower boy delivering a large bouquet of two dozen long-stemmed red roses. This time it was Derrick in the flesh.
“You need to stop with the flowers,” she said.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I miss spending time with you and Ryan.”
“I understand that you want to spend time with your son, but we need to get things sorted out legally before I can let you inside my apartment again.”
He gestured a hand between the two of them. “I miss our time together,” he said.
She tried not to notice the strain of his shirt around his biceps or his damp hair and newly shaved jaw. “Did you go to the doctor for a blood test?”
He nodded. “I’ll let you know when the results are in.”
“No need. Nate will let me know.”
“Don’t do this,” Derrick said. “Don’t shut me out.”
“Frankly, Derrick, the truth is I don’t know you that well and I don’t trust you.”
He took her hand in his before she could stop him. “We were having fun together, weren’t we?”
She took her hand back. “That’s not the point.”
“You don’t like flowers, is that it?”
“They’re very nice, but please stop.”
“Let me cook dinner for you tonight. Once you’ve tried my lasagna you’ll be hard pressed not to put it on the cover of your magazine.”
She dropped her gaze to the ground and shook her head.
“I’ll do anything to change things between us. Anything at all.”
He had no idea how difficult he was making this for her. He also had no idea that she was falling for him. Letting him into her apartment was one thing, but letting him into her heart was something else altogether. Apologizing for the kiss they had shared had been her first clue that he wasn’t emotionally available. The way he’d looked at Maggie on two separate occasions was her second clue. She couldn’t let Derrick come inside even if she wanted to—he was trouble with a capital T. The last thing she could handle right now was a broken heart.
She looked into his eyes. “We need to see this court thing through to the end before we talk about being friends. I want to go to sleep at night knowing Ryan belongs to me, and that nobody, not even his own father, can take him from me. I can’t afford to be your friend and risk everything.”
“So that’s it?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I miss you both,” he said. “I’ll go, but I’m not going to give up easily.”
She nodded and shut the door. And then she melted to the floor and cried.
~~~
That night Derrick found himself talking to his mom again, which told him he really did need to make some changes in his life. Holding his cell phone to his ear, he leaned his head back against the couch and used his free hand to hold a bag of ice to his knee.
“When will your father and I get to see Ryan again?” Mom asked.
“I have no idea. I already told you, I think you scared her off with those ham rolls. How many times do we all need to tell you that the ham roll recipe needs to be burned?”
“Grandma Dora gave me that recipe.”
“Well, as soon as she kicks the bucket you need to throw that recipe in the grave with her.”
A gasp sounded and then laughter. “She’s going to get even with you when she hears about this.”
Derrick smiled because he knew Mom was right. Grandma Dora would get even. He and Grandma teased one another about things most people didn’t kid about, let alone talk about. But that’s what made Grandma Dora special. She wasn’t like any other grandma in the world.
Mom’s long, ponderous sigh came through the receiver. “I could have sworn Jill enjoyed herself when she was here.”
“She had a great time, Mom. But that’s not the problem. Maggie never should have given me the letter or brought up anything to do with the custody case. It wasn’t the time or the place.”
“Maggie feels horrible about that. She was excited to give you the news. She’s only trying to help you and she’s doing it against Aaron’s wishes.”
Derrick stopped the bag of ice from slipping off of his sore knee. “What’s wrong with Aaron anyhow? He’s making a big deal about nothing.” Derrick knew that wasn’t really a fair assessment of Aaron’s recent moodiness, but his mother didn’t know the whole story and he wasn’t ready to fill her in on the details.
“He’s sensitive,” she said. “He’s always felt there was a competition between you and him. You should call him and tell him he has nothing to worry about. Tell him you’re not in love with Maggie and that you would never try to come between them. That’s all he needs to hear.”
Derrick wasn’t sure if he could ever do that. “Did he say that?”
“I’m a mother. I know these things.”
A burnt smell and a haze of smoke reminded him he had put a frozen dinner in the oven. “I’ve gotta go, Mom. Dinner is calling.”
She barely had time to say goodbye before he jumped to his feet, letting the bag of ice drop to the floor as he tossed his cell phone to the cushion. He grabbed a potholder, pulled the burnt TV dinner from the bottom rack, and tossed it into the sink.
Smoke curled upward and threatened to fill the room.
He hobbled to the front door and opened it. Then he rubbed his eyes and blinked a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Jill stood right outside his door, her face pale and her eyes big and round, filled with worry.
“Jill? What’s going on?”
She reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward her apartment. “It’s Ryan. He’s had a fever for the past few hours and he’s not crying like he usually does and Nate hasn’t called back and I don’t know what to do.”
Leaving his door open, Derrick followed her into her apartment and to Ryan’s room. Ryan’s eyes were wide open. He kicked his feet and the corners of his mouth turned upward. “Look at that,” Derrick said, “he smiled at me.”
She reached her hand over the side of the crib and touched Ryan’s forehead. “He’s not smiling at you. He has gas.”
Derrick didn’t believe it for a moment, but he wasn’t going to argue. He angled his head for a better look at his son. The little guy looked pretty much like he always did. He reached into the crib and touched Ryan’s forehead just as Jill had done. “You’re right. He does feel warm. How long has he felt that way?”
“He felt warm this morning. I didn’t think much of it, though, until he slept through his late afternoon feeding. That’s when I decided to take his temperature. At four o’clock it was one hundred and a little while ago I took it again and it was a tiny bit over one hundred. That’s when I decided to call Nate.”
“Did you read anything about temperatures in that baby book of yours?”
She nodded. “It said to make sure the baby is not dressed too warm—not too many blankets or too many layers of clothing.”
“Is your computer still on?”
She nodded again.
“Mind if I use it to look up a few things?”
“It’s on the coffee table in the other room.”
Derrick headed that way and it wasn’t long before Jill walked into the room holding Ryan. “Any luck?”
“It says here that you get the best reading by taking the temperature rectally.”
“I used an ear thermometer.”
“They recommend waiting twenty minutes if the baby has had a bath.”
“Really? It says that?”
“Why, did you give him a bath?”
“Yes, and I don’t have a rectal thermometer.”
“I have one at my place.”
“You did think of everything, didn’t you?”
“The people at the store were really helpful.” He went to the door, telling her he would be right back, which he was in record time. He slid the thermometer from its plastic casing and held it upward in the air. “Have you done this before?”
“No,” Jill said. “The ear thermometer seemed like a better option at the time.”
“I can see your point, but we might as well cover all bases before we panic.” He gestured back toward Ryan’s room. “Shall we?”
She followed him into the baby’s room and placed Ryan on the changing table.
“We have to take off his diaper and then be careful to not insert the thermometer too far in.”
“You go ahead and do it,” Jill said. “I’ll keep him distracted.” Jill proceeded to kiss Ryan’s face and talk to him about all the wonderful things they were going to do together someday.
Derrick didn’t like the thought of not being a part of all that fun. He unfastened the diaper and examined the situation for a minute before he made any attempt to do anything with the thermometer.
“Are you finished?”
“I haven’t even started. Give me a minute.”
“Don’t be surprised if he—”
“Too late. Nasty.”
He ignored the smile on Jill’s face. The thermometer beeped and he quickly removed it. “It’s 99 degrees Fahrenheit, which is okay.”
“Isn’t it supposed to be 98.6?” She handed him a baby wipe.
“If the rectal temperature is 100.4 degrees or higher we have cause to worry. Why don’t we wait and see what the doctor has to say.”
The minutes ticked by as they sat quietly in the main room and waited for the phone to ring. Holding Ryan in his arms, he watched the little guy suck on a bottle of formula. Jill sat in the chair across from his. Her face was pale.
“Try not to worry,” he told her. “There’s nothing we can do until we know what’s wrong, if anything. I have an idea. Why don’t we do what my family does when we try not to get overly worked up about something?”
“What does your family do?”
“We talk about other things.” He watched her twiddle her thumbs in her lap and bite her bottom lip. “Tell me what it was like growing up in New York City.”
“I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“What were you like as a child?”
“I guess you could say I was a people pleaser.”
He arched a questioning brow.
“I would do anything and everything to try and make my parents proud. Not an easy thing to do. It was easier to get their attention by doing something wrong, like leaving fingerprints on the glass table.”
Derrick had wanted to get her mind off of Ryan, but he could see that she was agitated by the memories. His heart went out to her.
“Tell me more about your sister,” he said.
“My father used to call Laura his Mona Lisa, perfect in every way. She always managed to do everything right, which pleased my father to no end. The Laura you met last week was not the same sister I grew up with. She told me she’s joining a band and that she’s the singer.”
“Is she any good?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never heard my sister sing in my life. But I’ve never seen her look so happy either.” She looked thoughtful for a moment before she said, “Those parents of mine, though. The people you met were definitely the real deal.” She curled her feet beneath her.