The Only Solution(6)

She didn't answer. She looked down at the baby, who smiled sleepily and  reached up to pat her cheek. "I'm good to her," Wendy said. Her voice  had a rough edge.

"I understand that, and I'm not belittling it. But she has a family. You  said yourself that they shouldn't be closed out of her life."

Wendy couldn't look at him.

He sighed. "Would you mind if I got a glass of water?"

"In the kitchen. There's soda in the refrigerator if you'd rather have that."

"Water's fine." She heard the cabinet doors open and close till he found  a tumbler, and she thought he stayed so long in the kitchen to give her  a chance to pull herself together. It was thoughtful of him, if that  was what he'd intended  –  though it didn't make a lot of difference to  Wendy. A few minutes couldn't soothe the ache she felt.

When he came back to the living room, he wasn't carrying a glass.  "There's a piece of dried-out toast covered with peanut butter on the  counter next to the infant seat," he said.

"Don't worry. I wasn't feeding peanut butter to Rory."

"It never occurred to me that you might try. Was that your dinner?"

Rory's bottle was empty, and she was almost asleep. "There wasn't time for anything else," Wendy admitted.

He didn't comment. He sat down again, reached for the telephone book,  and riffled through the pages till he found the section listing  restaurants which delivered. "Is Chinese all right?" he said. "Or would  you prefer pizza?"

Wendy would prefer dry toast with peanut butter, if he'd just take  himself away so she could eat it in peace. But of course that meant Rory  would go, too. "Chinese," she said.

She waited till the order was placed before she set Rory's bottle aside  and slid carefully to the edge of her chair. "I'm going to put her to  bed." The words were commonplace, but the tone was almost defiant  –  as  if she'd announced that he would not take the baby tonight, at least not  without a struggle.

"She might as well be comfortable while we're waiting," Mack said  genially. He didn't add anything about what would happen afterward, but  it was perfectly clear to Wendy what he meant.

Rory murmured sleepily and rooted around till she got into her favorite  position, with her head firmly lodged against the padded corner of her  crib and her fist curled next to her cheek. Wendy thought the baby liked  to keep her thumb handy just in case she needed something to suck.

She stayed beside the crib for a moment  –  any longer and she'd burst  into tears. Then she gathered up a basket full of sleepers and shirts  and tiny socks. She could at least keep her hands busy for a while  –   though it would serve Mack Burgess right if she packed everything up and  sent it with him just as it was. Let him cope with laundry on top of  everything else... though of course he'd just turn it over to the hotel  staff.

Or maybe he was experienced. He'd said he was a connoisseur of babies,  and the way he'd used that simple toy to bamboozle Rory into making  friends had definitely not been amateur. For all Wendy knew, he could  have half a dozen kids of his own. Rory would fit right in  –  or be lost  in the crowd.

He didn't wear a wedding ring. Wendy hadn't realized till then that she'd noticed.

He was sitting on the edge of his chair, his elbows braced on his knees,  his fingertips stroking his temples as if his head hurt.

Wendy paused in the doorway, the basket propped on her hip, and looked at him. He looked tired, too, and drained...                       
       
           



       

Damn it, she didn't want to feel sympathetic for the man who was going  to destroy her life. "I'm going down to the laundry room," she said  crisply. "If she wakes..."

He only nodded.

By the time she'd treated all the stains  –  how did a baby who couldn't  yet move herself from one end of a room to the other manage to get so  dirty, anyway?  –  and started the machine, the restaurant delivery man  was at her door. She helped Mack unload the bags on the coffee table and  went to get plates and napkins.

Mack speared his first bite of Peking duck. "You're not at all what I expected, you know."

Wendy shot a look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I expected any friend of Marissa's would be just like her. Heedless, short-sighted, and with no visible means of support."

The cynical note in his voice bothered her. If that was what he thought  of Marissa... And he'd said something else unflattering about her, too,  just a few minutes ago.

But if she took the description at face value, Wendy wasn't so sure that  she was different from what he'd expected. As far as being heedless and  short-sighted  –  if she'd thought things all the way through she'd never  have made that phone call. And with her job gone...

"Marissa didn't seem to have trouble making ends meet," she said mildly. "At least, she never borrowed money from me."

"Did she work?"

"Well, no."

"That's what I mean. She no doubt complained about Mother and Dad being  leeches on society, and at the same time she was cheerfully spending the  income from her trust fund. At least, there didn't seem to be much of  it left when the attorney closed out her bank account."

Wendy shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "There was the baby to take  care of," she pointed out. But there wasn't any value in pursuing that  line of argument; Marissa was gone, and how she had spent her money  hardly mattered now.

Mack didn't seem to want to talk about it anymore either, and they  lapsed into silence. The food was good; it had been so long since Wendy  had had a really hot dinner that she had almost forgotten what a  pleasure it could be. But each bite was also spiced with sadness, for  every morsel brought her closer to the moment when he would stand up and  say that he was ready to go... and take Rory with him.

He scooped the last bite of duck onto his plate and pushed the cardboard container away. "I'm going back to Chicago tomorrow."

No amount of time to prepare herself would have diminished the black  despair which surged over Wendy now that the moment was at hand.

He looked at her very directly. There was compassion in his eyes, and  for a moment she almost hated him for it. If he felt so sorry for her,  why was he doing this?

"I don't want to take the baby with me this time."

For a moment, Wendy thought she was hallucinating.

"You're right about the shock this is going to be to my parents," Mack  said. "They're not young, and even good news can be traumatic. I think  it will be better to break it to them first, and not just hand them an  infant. In the meantime..." His voice trailed off as if he didn't know  what he wanted to say.

Wendy swallowed hard. "Do you mean you might trust me to keep her for a while longer?"

He nodded.

She knew she shouldn't ask, but she couldn't keep silent. "Why? After I lied to you, and  – "

"I guess because I didn't have any trouble finding you."

Wendy frowned. "I don't understand."

"I came out here prepared to hunt you down, no matter what it took or  where the trail led. But all I had to do was look up Marissa's old  address in the city directory, and here you were." He smiled a little.  "If you'd been planning to hide Rory, you'd at least have moved."

She shook her head, not quite understanding. "But you didn't even know my name. How did you know who you were looking for?"

"I didn't catch your whole name when you called, no. But the attorney  who took care of winding up Marissa's affairs knew that she had a  roommate named Miller."                       
       
           



       

"I'm amazed he remembered," Wendy said. "The only thing he was  interested in was getting her name off the lease. He didn't even care  what happened to her clothes  –  I packed everything up for the  charities."

"He didn't even come out here?"

"Of course not. I never saw the man."

"No wonder he didn't know about the baby," Mack said. "I'll have a few  things to tell him about that." He stood up. "Just one thing, Wendy.  Don't make any mistakes now. When I get back, Rory had better be right  here."



*****



Wendy knew better than to let herself hope, but she couldn't help it.  All weekend, as she tended the baby and took her for walks in the park  and played with her, there was a little bubble of hope growing larger  within her. As the hours went by and there was no telephone call, no  knock on the door, the little voice grew stronger. It whispered that  perhaps he wasn't coming at all. Perhaps the family wasn't interested in  Marissa's baby. Maybe they just wanted to let the whole episode die.