Beginning With Baby. Christie Ridgway

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      Chapter One

      When Phoebe Finley felt compelled to say those all-important words for the first time in her twenty-four years of life, the setting was near perfect.

      It was past midnight on the first of August, and the moon hung in the sky, as fat and ripe as summer fruit. Ready for wishing, the stars glistened as if newly washed. A breeze, warm and scented with night-blooming jasmine, meandered through the open window of her third-story apartment, the air teasing the white lace of her sleeveless, sheer batiste nightgown.

      Crickets provided the musical score, but it was just a rhythm really, the pulse beat of this once-in-a-lifetime moment.

      Phoebe held Rex close in her arms, he was awake, too, and the emotion just came out of nowhere to overwhelm her—kidnapping her, so to speak—filling her heart until she just had to say the words or she might pop.

      “I think I’m in lo—”

      No! Her mouth shut on the dangerous phrase with an audible snap. She had no business even thinking such a thing, let alone saying it.

      Rex looked at her quizzically, then yawned, and she found the gesture so adorable and so fascinating she knew she was one toenail away from deep, dark, trouble.

      “I gotta find your daddy, Rex,” she said aloud to the two-month-old in her arms, her two-month-old baby nephew, her stepbrother’s son. “I gotta find your daddy before I make a big mistake.”

      Keeping the infant against her, she clambered out of bed and crossed the bedroom floor to the living room of the divided-up Victorian house she called home. Phoebe didn’t even bother glancing toward the crib set up in the corner. Like his father before him, Rex was a night owl.

      On the small dining room table was the computer she used in her medical transcribing business, her printer and a telephone. The baby tucked firmly in the curve of one arm, she picked up the receiver and used her thumb to dial her younger stepbrother’s number. “Please, please, please answer,” she whispered, as she listened to the ring. Of course Rex’s daddy hadn’t picked up any of the times she’d called in the last fourteen days, but Phoebe was an optimist by nature, and this was an emergency of the first order.

      Her very heart was at stake.

      It nearly stopped when she heard the telltale click of an answer. “Teddy—”

      A robotic voice broke in. “I’m sorry. You’ve reached a number that is out of service or has been disconnected.”

      “What?” Phoebe squeaked.

      “Please check your number and dial again.”

      “Okay, okay.” Phoebe inhaled a calming breath, pressed the disconnect button and tried once more.

      The second time, the tinny voice hadn’t lost one iota of its patience. “Please check your number and dial again.”

      Phoebe bit off a moan. “Don’t worry, don’t worry, Rex,” she said to her nephew, hanging up the phone.

      But Rex didn’t appear worried in the slightest. As a matter of fact, if anything, a new wrinkle on his forehead said he might even be a little miffed at her.

      “It’s not that I want to get rid of you, sweetheart,” she assured him. “It’s just that…”

      I never want to let you go.

      Phoebe moaned a second time, the unspoken thought spurring her once more to locate Rex’s father. After Teddy had dropped off the baby two weeks ago “Just for the afternoon. A little time to get my head together,” she hadn’t been surprised when dinner came and went and Teddy didn’t show. Teddy’s girlfriend, Rex’s mother, had died of an aneurysm just hours after the baby’s birth. Teddy had been as unprepared for grief as he’d been for single fatherhood.

      But then three days went by, three days during which she’d contacted any friend or acquaintance of Teddy’s she could bring to mind. Nobody had a clue where he might be. Talk about panic…. But then, on one of her rare trips out of the house, Teddy had called and left a message on her answering machine. He was fine, and he was certain Rex was, too. “Just a little more time,” he wanted. “Maybe a month.” And then, then, they’d “figure out what to do with the baby.”

      Phoebe squeezed shut her eyes and drew Rex closer to her heart. Figure out what to do! That had to happen now.

      Upper left, lower right, middle, middle, middle. Her thumb continued the pattern she’d come to memorize that would dial the number of Teddy’s closest friend. Busy. Curses!

      Think, she told herself, think. Her hand trembling a little, she opened her phone book and flipped through the pages. Was there something she’d missed? Someone who might know where Teddy was, someone she might have forgotten the first time?

      And like an omen, there it was, right below Mid-coast College, where she was enrolled to finish her accounting degree come September. Natalie Minton, a friend of Teddy’s since high school. Phoebe remembered she’d been unable to reach the young woman when Teddy went missing two weeks before.

      Steeling herself to ignore the late hour, Phoebe dialed the number, simultaneously jiggling Rex, who’d started to whimper ominously. “Shh, shh,” she said. After several rings, someone answered.

      “’Lo.”

      “Natalie. This is Phoebe Finley. Teddy’s sister.” Though they were technically stepsiblings, Teddy’s father had adopted her after marrying Phoebe’s mother. “I’m sorry to bother you, but have you seen Teddy recently?”

      “Huh?”

      “Teddy,” Phoebe said again, rocking from foot to foot as the baby whimpered louder. “I’m looking for Teddy.”

      “Who’s that crying?”

      Phoebe swallowed. “It’s Rex. You know, Teddy’s baby. Have you seen him?”

      There СКАЧАТЬ