Babies By The Busload. Raye Morgan

there-for-you-whenever-youneed-him father.

      So, despite the attractions living right next door, there would be no lusting after beautiful neighbors. Indulging himself in that sort of thing would bring disaster, and he wasn’t going to do it, not even for a moment.

      But the time for thought evaporated as his day began at its usual frantic pace. Marguerite’s voice was calling him, and so were the voices from the next room.

      “Mister? Mister?” Marguerite shouted from the kitchen. “I got you food ready. It gonna get cold!”

      He hopped on one foot as he wrestled with his slacks. “You’ll have to keep it warm for me, Marguerite,” he called. “The babies are awake.”

      The banging of pans was her only answer, and he winced, but he went in to see his little ones. Three cribs lined one wall, three mobiles hung over them and three little children were each standing up and leaning on the railings, little fingers curled around the edge.

      Three. It always gave him a beat of panic when he saw them like this, their sweet round faces gazing at him eagerly. They wanted so much, needed so much. How could anyone possibly minister to three at once? It was impossible. But somehow, he had to try.

      He got to work quickly, swinging up the first baby and heading for the changing table. Annie arrived, dressed in jeans and a little red shirt, and pitched in as she always did. Jack spoke softly to each baby as he cleaned and changed and dressed him or her. Luckily they were usually good-natured in the morning, cooing and laughing while Annie amused them. Still, it was half an hour later before they were through. He hurried out to the kitchen with one baby under each arm, while Annie lugged the third one.

      All seemed quiet on the cooking front. Marguerite was nowhere to be seen, but two plates of cold pancakes sat at nicely set places at the table, and three dishes of congealed oatmeal sat on the counter. Jack took in the situation at a glance and, knowing his hired help, plunked his two babies down in walkers and motioned for Annie to do the same with hers. He knew the babies were hungry, but they would have to wait. There were times when a man had to do what a man had to do.

      “Sit down, quick,” he whispered to Annie. “We’ll eat and then feed the little ones.”

      The babies had no problem with the order of things. They were gurgling with laughter and careening together in their walkers like little round bumper cars. Meanwhile, Jack poured syrup over his pancakes and said very loudly, “Wow, these are really good. Marguerite sure knows how to fix a good breakfast, doesn’t she, Annie?”

      Annie sat on the edge of her chair and stared down at the plate before her. There were blueberries in the pancakes.

      Jack saw her look and gave her an encouraging smile. “All together now,” he urged under his breath. “We love it!” he said aloud. “Don’t we, Annie?”

      Annie mouthed the words but her heart wasn’t in it and rebellion brewed in her brown eyes. Still she managed to put a bite into her mouth by the time Marguerite reappeared, looking at them suspiciously, her green eyes darting a glance from one plate to another. Her blond hair was a little wild this morning and her thick, shapeless body was rendered even more lumplike by the plain housedress she wore. A woman of middle years, she had seemingly lost all interest in looking attractive.

      “Marguerite, these are the best pancakes you’ve made yet,” Jack lied, raising his voice to be heard over the din of the babies attacking each other with the walkers. “Delicious.”

      Marguerite’s face began to relax. “You really like?” she asked hopefully.

      Jack nodded. “Great stuff,” he said with his mouth full.

      Marguerite smiled. “Okay. I warm up this oatmeal for the babies, okay? Then I help you feed them.”

      Jack felt the tension in his shoulders let go just a little bit. She wasn’t going to quit this morning at any rate.

      “That would be wonderful,” he said with real conviction. He took another huge bite of the cold pancakes and she smiled more happily, dusting her hands against her white apron.

      “Okay,” she said again, bustling about the stove. “Okay.”

      Jack glanced at Annie. She was still chewing on her original bite, her face filled with tragedy. He opened his mouth to say something to her, but before he got the words out, one of the baby walkers crashed into another a little too hard and both babies began to shriek. He jumped up to take care of things, but something inside was beginning to feel the same rebellion he’d seen in Annie’s eyes. There was a part of him that would have jumped at the chance to run off with. say, the nicely proportioned neighbor he’d met the day before in her hot tub. Run off with her to some nice warm beach in the tropics and laze the day away.

      But that wasn’t going to happen. He pulled his baby up into his arms and sighed, cuddling and comforting. No, that wasn’t going to happen for a long time. Maybe for eighteen years or so, the way things were going.

       Two

      J.J. felt like whistling as she walked up the pathway to her condo. Things had gone much better today. The giftwrapped box of special doughnuts she’d brought in for the station manager seemed to have done the trick of turning him from a foe into a fan. And when she’d had a chance to fill in and do a morning update, there had been a flurry of complimentary phone calls from the public. Things were looking up, and she smiled to herself as she fumbled for her keys, shifting from one hand to the other the bag of groceries she’d picked up on her way home.

      A feeling rather than a sound prickled the nerve endings on the back of her neck, and she looked around to find a young girl sitting on the steps to the next condo, gazing at her solemnly.

      “Hi,” J.J. said, surprised. She didn’t often live in housing where children were encouraged. It made for a rather artificial life, but it was quiet that way.

      “Hi,” the girl said back, her dark eyes huge. She wore a pink shirt and a blue corduroy jumper and her feet were in little red tennis shoes. Blond curls bounced around her pretty little face. She had a look you couldn’t help but smile at, and J.J. did.

      “My name’s J.J. What’s yours?”

      “Annie.”

      “Annie. That’s a pretty name.” She didn’t have a lot of experience with children, and ordinarily she hardly noticed them. But something made her want to linger and talk a little more to this one. Was it her appealing face? Or the slight hint of sadness in her eyes?

      “Do you live nearby?” she asked her.

      Annie nodded, but she didn’t leave her step.

      J.J. glanced at the next condo and bit her lip. Could this be one of Jack’s brood? Should she ask? For some strange reason she was hesitating, as though finding out the truth would draw her in somehow. But that was silly. Asking a question didn’t imply a commitment of any kind, did it?

      “Is Jack Remington your daddy?” she asked, steeling herself for the response.

      Annie nodded again, and J.J. smiled again. Yes, she could see his handsome face in the lines of this little girl’s bone structure.

      “Well, isn’t that nice?” she murmured, turning back to her door and inserting the key. Jack’s daughter was awfully cute, but J.J., for one, didn’t want to get to know her. The more distance she could keep between herself and the man, the better.

      She’d turned the key and the door was swinging open, but before she could escape into her house, Annie’s little-girl voice intruded once again.

      “Do you have any babies?” she asked, her piping voice echoing through the walkway.

      J.J. swung back around and stared at her. Annie had risen from her step and come a bit closer, shifting her weight from one red tennis shoe to the other. What