Temporary Dad. Laura Marie Altom

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СКАЧАТЬ dead. My charger is back home two thousand miles away. My ankle’s swollen to the size of a football, making it kind of excruciating for me to get around. Please let me use this phone.”

      The nurse cast Patricia a sticky-sweet smile. “Perhaps a family member of one of our other patients has a cell they’d allow you to use in the special cellular phone area on the sixth floor?”

      JED SLAMMED his cordless phone on the kitchen counter.

      What was the matter with those guys down at the police station? They were supposed to be his friends.

      Hell, Jed had been the one who’d thrown Ferris his police academy graduation party. And now the guy was claiming there wasn’t a thing more he could do to find Patti?

      He glanced at his niece and nephews, thankfully all still sleeping.

      What would he have done without the help of his new neighbor? What was he going to do when all three babies woke at the same time, demanding bottles and burping and diaper changing?

      Jed had earned many medals for bravery as a fireman. Yet those snoozing pink and blue bundles made him feel like a coward.

      The phone rang and he lunged for it before the next ring. “Patti?”

      “She’s still not back?” said Craig, one of his firehouse buddies.

      “Nope.”

      “What’re you gonna do? We need you down here, man. There’s a brushfire on a field by the country club, and we just got back from a house-fire call over on Hinton.”

      “Anyone hurt?”

      “Nah, but their kitchen’s toast.”

      “Bummer.” Jed had been on hundreds of scenes like this. Witnessed lots of why me’s and crying. Crying. Occupational hazard.

      Annie said the same about her job. How she hated hearing babies cry. Jed hated hearing anyone cry. It was great that he saved lives, but the emotional toll taken by fires was every bit as horrible as the physical destruction.

      Fire didn’t just ruin lives and houses, it also stole memories.

      Snapshots of Florida vacations.

      Golf and baseball trophies.

      Those goofy little clay ashtrays kids make in kindergarten.

      Little brothers.

      He sighed into the phone.

      “Jed, the chief’s real sorry about your sister, but we need you down here. Want me to call Marcie and ask her to watch the triplets for you?”

      Marcie was Craig’s wife.

      And yeah, she could come sit with the babies, but that would be about the extent of it. Those two didn’t even own a dog or a guppy. What did she know about taking care of three newborns?

      But Annie…

      She’d know what to do.

      The way she’d calmed his niece and nephews earlier that day—it’d been a bonafied miracle.

      “Jed? Want me to tell Chief when you’ll be in?”

      “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

      “Will do,” Craig said. “Catch you later.”

      Jed pressed the phone’s off button.

      He hated asking for help.

      After his parents had died, he’d looked after not only himself but his sister, who’d been ten. He was nineteen then, and he’d done a good job. Their folks’ life insurance hadn’t lasted long, and when it’d run dry, he’d finished college at the University of Tulsa, taking night classes. Worked his tail off during the day making sure Patti had everything a kid could want.

      The bank took the house they’d lived in with their parents since after the fire, but he’d found them an apartment over the old town theater. The whole building had long since been condemned, but back then, they’d played dollar movies there on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights.

      When Patti was still a sweet kid, he’d taken her to most of the shows. No R-rated ones, though—his mom wouldn’t have approved.

      He’d come close a few times to having to sell the cabin in Colorado that’d been in their family for generations. Money had been crazy tight, but somehow, he’d made things work. That cabin was the only tangible reminder of their parents. A part of Jed felt that he owed it not just to Patti, but to his own future children to keep it in the family. No matter what the personal cost.

      He’d single-handedly raised his sister. He’d gone over her homework, helped her study for tests. Gone looking for her when he suspected she was hanging with the wrong crowd. Grounded her when, sure enough, he’d caught her guzzling beer down by the river.

      He’d even been there to rub her back when she’d thrown up those beers a few hours later in the apartment’s rust-stained toilet.

      He’d covered college applications and tuition. Book and dorm costs.

      Through all of that, he’d never asked for any help himself.

      Never wanted it.

      But now…

      Somehow this was different.

      Helping Patti study for a test? That he could do. Dragging her home from a party? Paying her student loans? He could do that, too. But figure out how to care for three babies while launching a full-fledged investigation into Patti’s whereabouts?

      He groaned.

      If this afternoon was any indication of the fun still ahead, his sister’s latest stunt just might do him in.

      Jed sighed, resting his elbows on the kitchen counter. “Patti, where are you?”

      Ten minutes later, propping his front door open with a bag of rock salt he’d found in the coat closet, Jed did the unthinkable—knocked on Annie Harnesberry’s door to ask for help.

      “JED. HI.” Annie ran her fingers through the mess on her head. Ever since leaving her neighbor’s, she’d been hard at work on her guest bath, scraping the shoddily applied popcorn ceiling, making way for something grander. A nice, restful Scrabble game would’ve been more fun, but difficult with only one player. Hmm…Someday she’d have to see if her new neighbor liked to play.

      “Looks like you’ve been busy.” He brushed a large chunk of ceiling from her hair.

      Not sure whether to feel flustered or flattered by his unexpected touch, Annie fidgeted with the brass door-knob. “One of the reasons I chose this condo was its great bone structure. Redecorating is a hobby of mine.”

      “Great. Maybe you could tackle my place when you’re finished. We could talk tile over pizza.”

      “Maybe.” Though his tone had been teasing, something СКАЧАТЬ