The Only Solution(8)

She was supposed to work tomorrow; it was scheduled to be her last day  on the job. But she'd find a way to get around that, if he would only  agree. If she could have one last long, full day with Rory...

He stared at her for a long time, as if trying to read her intentions, and finally nodded.

Had he seen the haunted, begging look in her eyes and adjusted his plans  for her sake? Or had he decided to take a chance because it was easier  than arranging a couple of days of child care while he finished his  business?

She told herself not to be cynical, but it didn't help much.

"Thank you." Her voice cracked a little. "It will take a while just to get her things packed up."

"Don't bother with anything that isn't portable," he said quickly. "It's  easier to buy new than to pack everything up and move it."

That seemed to be the Burgess attitude about lots of things, Wendy  thought, remembering the way the attorney had so lightly disposed of all  Marissa's personal belongings. Not that Mack wasn't right, of course,  at least where the furniture was concerned. It would probably cost more  to crate and ship Rory's crib than it was worth  –  especially since Wendy  hadn't been able to afford the kind she would have liked to buy.

"In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Marissa's own crib is still around  somewhere," he mused. "I wonder if Mother's thought of that."

"I'm sure it's much nicer than this one." Wendy tried not to let bitterness creep into her voice, but she knew she failed.

He put a hand out as if in sympathy, and then drew it back without  touching her. Slowly, he said, "This is going to be hard on Rory, you  know. Leaving everything that's familiar, all at once."

Tears stung Wendy's eyes. "You think I don't already know that? She  relies on me. I've been the center of her world since she was six weeks  old." She broke off, her voice choked with tears.

"My parents have invited you to come for Christmas, to help her make the adjustment."

"How gracious of them. I suppose it's something like taking along her security blanket."

His mouth tightened. "As a matter of fact, I think it was gracious.  You've kept their granddaughter away from them for months. They've got  no reason to feel fond of you."

Wendy felt as if she'd been slapped. "No, thank you." She jumped up from the floor.

He was on his feet instantly. "Wendy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so clumsy. I know you're sensitive about losing her."                       
       
           



       

"You haven't any idea what I'm feeling, Mack Burgess! I doubt you're  even capable of understanding what it means to love somebody so much  that you'd die for her!" She clenched her fists till her nails cut her  skin.

"Then surely, for Rory's sake, you'll come."

Was she so selfish that she wasn't willing to extend her own pain if it  would make things easier for Rory? She had no illusions about the  reception she was likely to get; the Burgesses might maintain the polite  fiction that she was a guest, but her visit was apt to be stiff and  unpleasant.

But what did that matter? Even if she had to suffer a few days of scorn,  a few thinly-veiled insults, surely she could stand it if in the long  run Rory would be better off. What other options did she have?

Would going to Chicago really do any good, though, or would her presence  just increase the tension and make the baby unhappier still? She sat  down on the edge of a chair and shook her head a little in confusion.

Mack took it as a refusal. "Is there somewhere else you need to be at Christmas? With your family, maybe?"

"No." There wasn't any family left, but he wouldn't be interested in that fact.

"A boyfriend, then?" His voice was crisp, as if he was about to accuse her of immoral conduct around the baby.

Wendy managed a half-smile. The mere thought of a romantic interest had  its humorous side; since Rory came into her life, she'd almost forgotten  what it was like to date. She hadn't even had time to notice men in  general, much less get interested in any one of them. Mack was the first  man she'd spent any time with, in all the months since Rory had become  the center of her life. Maybe that explained why she'd felt such an  overwhelming sensation a few minutes ago when she opened the door and  saw him.

"Obviously," she said, "you don't understand how fast men vanish when  there's a baby taking priority. No, it was just going to be Rory and  me."

"Then why not come? For her sake." He dropped to one knee beside her  chair. "You'd have a few more days with her. Maybe you'd even come to  see that my parents aren't quite the ogres Marissa described."

She lifted her eyebrows doubtfully.

"Or is that what you're afraid of? Would you rather nurse your  resentments instead of trying to overcome them?" His tone was cool.  "Perhaps you're more like Marissa than I thought."

She glared at him. "If that's a challenge, I accept it."

"Good." He stood up. "I'll stop by tomorrow to see the baby, and I'll let you know then what time our flight will be."



*****



Like all babies, Rory could feel stress in the air no matter how much  Wendy tried to hide it, and she reacted badly. On Wednesday, as Wendy  was rushing around trying to pack her own clothes, Rory started to  scream. Nothing comforted her  –  not a bottle, not a pacifier, not a  lullaby  –  and she kept up the noise till she was hot and red-faced and  trembling.

When Mack appeared at the door Wendy was actually glad to see him. The  sensation took her by surprise for an instant; why should she be happy,  when the man was wrenching her life apart?

She dismissed the feeling and thrust the baby at him. "Here," she said. "You deal with this. I'm busy."

The abrupt change of caretaker didn't make Rory any happier. Mack  followed Wendy down the hall, the baby in his arms. "What's wrong with  her?" he asked over the din.

"She seems to have antennae specially tuned to pick up stress."

"Oh. Well, in a minute we can all relax. The taxi's waiting."

"Maybe you can relax," Wendy muttered. She looked from him to the  hopeless tangle of clothing on her bed, next to the suitcase. Her nerves  were so frazzled she couldn't even begin to think about what she might  need in Chicago. She'd put in sweaters and slacks and her new  rust-colored suit, of course, but what else should she take?

She shot a look at Mack. He was more casually dressed than she'd seen  him before, in chinos and a soft sweater over an open-necked shirt. The  shoulder of his sweater was already spotted by Rory's tears, but Mack  hadn't noticed yet, so she didn't point it out.                       
       
           



       

Wendy slammed the suitcase closed. What she had already packed would  just have to do. It wasn't likely she'd be traveling in high society,  anyway. Even if the Burgesses did, they weren't apt to want to show her  off to their friends.

She took a lightweight trench coat out of her closet.

"You'll want something heavier than that," Mack warned. "It's winter in the Midwest."

"I've always lived in Arizona, Mack. I don't own anything heavier."

"I suppose that goes for Rory, too?"

"I looked yesterday," Wendy said briefly. "I didn't find a thing. Stores in Phoenix don't sell a lot of snowsuits, you know."

"Well, we'll just wrap her in a blanket, I guess. Do you have one in the carry-on?"

Wendy nodded. The baby had quieted in the security of Mack's arms, but  she was still giving a hiccup-like sob once in a while, as if to remind  everyone how very unhappy she was. But she started to cry in earnest  once more when Wendy began to put her hooded sweater and mittens on.

Mack leaned over the changing table to tickle Rory's chin. "If you don't  like your sweater, just wait till you get to Chicago, sprout," he  warned. "You'll find out what 'bundled up' really means."

"She normally isn't like this," Wendy muttered. "She's a very good baby, really. She likes adventures and walks..."

"You amaze me, Wendy."

"Why?"

"I'd have thought you'd be telling me what a terrible child this is, so I'd have second thoughts about the trip."

"Would it make any difference?"

"Of course not."

"Then why waste my breath?" She settled the baby securely into her  safety seat and took one last look around the room. It was obviously no  longer a nursery; it looked forlorn, with all of Rory's toys and clothes  and equipment packed up and ready to go. Despite what Mack had said,  Wendy couldn't bring herself to leave Rory's belongings behind. Familiar  toys and her own mobile hanging from a new crib might make a  difference. Wendy hadn't even kept a stuffed animal as a memento, for  anything which held memories for her was precious to Rory, too, and she  couldn't bear to take something from the child.