The Toddler's Tale. Rebecca Winters
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Название: The Toddler's Tale
Автор: Rebecca Winters
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Эротическая литература
Серия: Mills & Boon M&B
isbn: 9781472088376
isbn:
She put a hand to her throat. “Thank goodness she won’t have to shiver down there much longer. Do you think I could fit inside the pipe since I’m smaller than the men? Maybe I could reach her.”
“No. It’s only a twelve incher. If we can’t make her crawl out, then we’ll have to free the blocked end so we can lift the pipe enough for her to slide out. That means getting a backhoe out here to unearth it. If that fails, we’ll have to cut the pipe.”
Chelsea shuddered. “Will you have to use one of those torches?”
“No. That would make it too hot. We’ll probably stick with the rotary saw.”
She bowed her head. “It’ll be dangerous no matter what you do.”
“Not if we’re careful. But that’s why we’d rather try coaxing her out first. We’ll go down there now. When I give the signal, start singing again. Your voice will comfort her,” he said over his shoulder before walking away.
“I’ll try to keep her responding.”
“If you get too cold or need to use the rest room, I told the officers to let you in the house,” Max murmured. “They’ll have plenty of food and drinks on hand.”
His thoughtfulness warmed her. “Thank you, Max. But I’m hoping she’ll be rescued long before I have to break my promise to Traci about leaving the baby alone.”
“Amen to that.”
He was gone in an instant.
Chelsea knew the man cared about people. She’d witnessed that concern and commitment on other cases. But just now the emotional intensity of his response led her to believe he’d been affected on a much deeper level by this crisis with Betsy.
She’d sensed that the circumstances under which Traci’s baby had come into the world had been as horrifying to him as to Chelsea. The fact that Betsy’s mother had been willing to face being murdered to save herself and her child from a fate worse than death proved what a remarkable parent she really was.
Some mothers didn’t have a clue.
Tears trickled down Chelsea’s cheeks as she remembered the wasteland of her own upbringing. Little Betsy had no idea how lucky she was to have a mother who loved her so much she would put her daughter’s welfare before all else, even her own life.
More than anything in the world, Chelsea wanted Traci to have the opportunity to raise her child in an environment of total love, not fear. Max wanted the same thing for them.
If either he or Chelsea had anything to say about it, Traci would be given that chance. Already Chelsea’s mind was filling with plans she would like to put into action once Max had restored Betsy to her mother.
While she waited for him to give her more directions, she ate the sandwich he’d brought her earlier. A few minutes later she noticed another fire truck roll up. Three more firefighters began unloading lights and heating equipment with their matchless expertise.
No matter what it took, Max would make the miracle happen. On that score Chelsea harbored no doubts. He was a man who lit his own fires. When she really allowed herself to think about it, there was no one to compare with him.
From her perch at the edge of the excavation, she followed Max’s progress to the utility truck. Behind it she spied a couple of television vans. It hadn’t taken them long. It never did, she reflected.
Before long the scene would turn into a media frenzy, but all she cared about was Traci’s little girl, who needed to be kept warm throughout her ordeal.
“Chelsea?” Max’s voice called a few minutes later. He had entered the pit. “Try talking to her, and then sing something.”
She spread the tarp on the ground, then lay down on her stomach so she could extend her head over the edge.
“Hello, little darling. It’s Chelsea. Come on out of there. Come on, sweetheart. Come to me and your mommy. That’s a girl. We’re right here. All you have to do is crawl closer. Show us what a big girl you are.”
Another song, “The Happy Wanderer,” came to mind. It was a tune she and her friends used to sing on their excursions into the Jura mountains above the Swiss vineyards.
“Did you like that, honey?”
“She’s imitating some of the sounds! Sing the song again! Maybe she’ll start crawling toward me!”
Encouraged, Chelsea did Max’s bidding. When she ran out of verses, she started again, then switched to “The Lonely Goatherd” from The Sound of Music.
“Well, well, well.” The familiar male voice came from the other side of the tape. “The boss is fuming because he hasn’t heard from you since you left for the Lord ranch ages ago. Unless this is a better story, you’re going to have some explaining to do.”
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