A Daddy For Christmas. Alison Roberts

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       Two

      The infant’s wail echoed in the hotel suite. Shock resounded just as loudly inside of Mari as she stared at the screaming baby in a plastic carrier wedged inside the room-service trolley. No wonder the cart had felt heavier than normal. If only she’d investigated she might have found the baby right away. Her brain had been tapping her with the logic that something was off, and she’d been too caught up in her own selfish fears about a few photos to notice.

      To think that poor little one had been under there all this time. So tiny. So defenseless. The child, maybe two or three months old, wore a diaper and a plain white T-shirt, a green blanket tangled around its tiny, kicking feet.

      Mari swallowed hard, her brain not making connections as she was too dumbstruck to think. “Oh, my God, is that a baby?”

      “It’s not a puppy.” Rowan washed his hands at the wet-bar sink then knelt beside the lower rack holding the infant seat. He visibly went into doctor mode as he checked the squalling tyke over, sliding his hands under and scooping the child up in his large, confident hands. Chubby little mocha-brown arms and legs flailed before the baby settled against Rowan’s chest with a hiccupping sigh.

      “What in the world is it doing under there?” She stepped away, clearing a path for him to walk over to the sofa.

      “I’m not the one who brought the room service in,” he countered offhandedly, sliding a finger into the baby’s tiny bow mouth. Checking for a cleft palate perhaps?

      “Well, I didn’t put the baby there.”

      A boy or girl? She couldn’t tell. The wriggling bundle wore no distinguishing pink or blue. There wasn’t even a hair bow in the cap of black curls.

      Rowan elbowed aside an animal-print throw pillow and sat on the leather couch, resting the baby on his knees while he continued assessing.

      She tucked her hands behind her back. “Is it okay? He or she?”

      “Her,” he said, closing the cloth diaper. “She’s a girl, approximately three months old, but that’s just a guess.”

      “We should call the authorities. What if whoever abandoned her is still in the building?” Unlikely given how long she’d hung out in here flirting with Rowan. “There was a woman walking away from the cart earlier. I assumed she was just taking a cell phone call, but maybe that was the baby’s mother?”

      “Definitely something to investigate. Hopefully there will be security footage of her. You need to think through what you’re going to tell the authorities, review every detail in your mind while it’s fresh.” He sounded more like a detective than a doctor. “Did you see anyone else around the cart before you took it?”

      “Are you blaming this on me?”

      “Of course not.”

      Still, she couldn’t help but feel guilty. “What if this is my fault for taking that cart? Maybe the baby wasn’t abandoned at all. What if some mother was just trying to bring her child to work? She must be frantic looking for her daughter.”

      “Or frantic she’s going to be in trouble,” he replied dryly.

      “Or he. The parent could be a father.” She reached for the phone on the marble bar. “I really need to ring the front desk now.”

      “Before you call, could you pass over her seat? It may hold some clues to her family. Or at least some supplies to take care of her while we settle this.”

      “Sure, hold on.”

      She eased the battered plastic seat from under the cart, winging a quick prayer of thankfulness that the child hadn’t come to some harm out there alone in the hall. The thought that someone would so recklessly care for a precious life made her grind her teeth in frustration. She set the gray carrier beside Rowan on the sofa, the green blanket trailing off the side.

      Finally, she could call for help. Without taking her eyes off Rowan and the baby, she dialed the front desk.

      The phone rang four times before someone picked up. “Could you hold, please? Thank you,” a harried-sounding hotel operator said without giving Mari a chance to shout “No!” The line went straight to Christmas carols, “O Holy Night” lulling in her ear.

      Sighing, she sagged a hip against the garland-draped wet bar. “They put me on hold.”

      Rowan glanced up, his pure blue eyes darkened with an answering frustration. “Whoever decided to schedule a conference at this time of year needs to have his head examined. The hotel was already jam-packed with holiday tourists, now conventioneers, too. Insane.”

      “For once, you and I agree on something one hundred percent.” The music on the phone transitioned to “The Little Drummer Boy” as she watched Rowan cradle the infant in a way that made him even more handsome. Unwilling to get distracted by traveling down that mental path again, she shifted to look out the window at the scenic view. Multicolored lights blinked from the sailboats and ferries.

      The Christmas spirit was definitely in full swing on the resort island. Back on the mainland, her father’s country included more of a blend of religions than many realized. Christmas wasn’t as elaborate as in the States, but still celebrated. Cape Verde had an especially deep-rooted Christmas tradition, having been originally settled by the Portuguese.

      Since moving out on her own, she’d been more than happy to downplay the holiday mayhem personally, but she couldn’t ignore the importance, the message of hope that should come this time of year. That a parent could abandon a child at the holidays seemed somehow especially СКАЧАТЬ