Babies By The Busload. Raye Morgan

have three.” She held up her fingers to demonstrate the number, her expression not so much proud as matter-offact. “One, two, three.”

      “Very good,” J.J. said, smiling at her. “I guess you all are lucky.” Now that was a pretty disingenuous thing for her to say. Three babies sounded like a prescription for chaos to her. A netherworld filled with hellions.

      She glanced at the sweet little girl standing before her and realized that hellions was possibly too strong a word. Monsters? No, you couldn’t call children monsters. It wasn’t right. Uncaring little beasts? From her experience, that pretty much hit the nail on the head.

      But Annie nodded, her little face completely serious. She obviously agreed that babies were a good thing to have. To her it seemed perfectly normal to have a few hanging around.

      “When are you going to get your baby?” she asked, her face completely solemn.

      “You sound like my mother,” J.J. said, laughing. “Does everyone have to have one?”

      Annie frowned, not sure of the answer to that one. “We have three,” she said again stoutly.

      “Maybe more than your share,” J.J. murmured, but not loud enough for the little girl to hear.

      The bag was getting heavy and she went into the entryway and on into the kitchen, setting the bag on the counter. Turning, she found the little girl had followed and was standing in the doorway.

      “I guess you need your husband first, huh?” Annie said, continuing the conversation, merely setting things straight.

      J.J. would just as soon have changed the subject. Babies and husbands were not things she’d wanted in recent years. And to tell the truth, she hadn’t missed them. Suddenly everyone from her own mother to her old roommate to the little girl next door was bringing up this motherhood stuff. And though she laughed it off, as she always had, something was beginning to stick, to tickle, to bother her about it.

      She began taking groceries out of the bag, putting them on the counter, and suddenly the single cans and single TV dinners seemed to be mute symbols of her lonely life. She frowned. She had to fight against such thoughts.

      “You’re awfully young to be thinking so much about babies,” she murmured a bit defensively.

      Annie took a step, bringing her farther into the kitchen.

      “I have to think about babies,” she said brightly. “I have to take care of them.”

      J.J. put the quart of milk into the refrigerator and smiled at Annie. Despite her own reservations, this seemed to be a subject that consumed the little girl. What could she do? She might as well go with it.

      “You’re a help at home, aren’t you? Three babies.” She shook her head. What a nightmare world that sounded like. “What are their names?” she asked.

      “Kristi and Kathy and Baby Mack.”

      “Baby Mack?” She raised a questioning eyebrow.

      Annie was obviously beginning to feel at home. She came all the way into the kitchen and looked around at the cabinets and the clock shaped like a large orange cat.

      “We call him Baby Mack because he’s soooo small,” she said in her chirpy voice. “But Daddy says he has a punch like a Mack truck.” Her forehead scrunched and her nose wrinkled. “What’s a Mack truck?” she asked J.J. curiously.

      J.J. grinned. “A big one.”

      “Oh.” Annie turned and looked into the living room.

      “How come you’re living in Bambi’s house?” she said out of the blue.

      J.J. swung around and looked at her curiously, childhood memories of Disney films swirling. This area was awfully close to the edge of civilization, but she hardly thought wildlife came down and camped out in the houses. But then again, what did she know?

      “Bambi? You mean the deer?” she asked.

      Annie shook her blond curls. “No, Bambi.” She said it louder, as though that might get the meaning across a little better. “She’s Daddy’s friend. She’s pretty and she wears big high heels.”

      “Oh.” Aha—that sort of Bambi. She suppressed a catty smile. Daddy’s friend, was she? Jack had enjoyed quite a reputation as a ladies’ man in the old days, but that was before marriage and kids. Surely he didn’t play those games any longer.

      “Well, Bambi doesn’t live here anymore. I’m going to be staying here for a while.”

      Annie looked puzzled by that. “Where did she go?”

      “I’m afraid I don’t know.”

      “Maybe Daddy knows.” She settled her chin into her palms. “She likes my Daddy.”

      J.J.’s head went back and something twisted in her soul. Surely good old Jack wasn’t flirting around with the neighbor right under his daughter’s nose?

      “I’ll bet a lot of women like your daddy,” she murmured, looking at the girl speculatively.

      Annie shrugged. “Not Marguerite. Daddy says Marguerite hates him sometimes.”

      J.J. knew she ought to smile pleasantly and leave this conversation lie. She tried. She really did. But in the end, curiosity got the better of integrity.

      “Who…who is Marguerite?” she asked, hating herself but unable to resist.

      Annie looked at her blankly. “She has orange hair. She lives with us. Her room is next to mine. She takes care of Daddy.”

      “Oh, she does, does she?” First Bambi, now Marguerite. She’d always pegged Jack Remington as a playboy, but this was going a bit far. For some reason, she was seething. The lousy womanizer. The profligate. The lewd and lascivious lecher. How dare he flaunt his lovers in front of this sweet little girl of his?

      And what about this girl’s other parent? Didn’t she count in his self-centered world?

      “Just.ah.where exactly is your mother?” she asked, trying to hide her real emotions.

      Annie looked up and faced her with clear eyes. “My mama is in heaven,” she lisped. “Daddy says God needed her.”

      J.J. felt as though she’d just been punched in the stomach, very hard, and her emotions made another wide swing. She felt all color drain from her face and her mouth was full of cotton. Her first impulse was to take the little girl into her arms, but that was impossible, and after the first move toward doing exactly that, she pulled back. She couldn’t do it. She hardly knew her. And though the youngster was very friendly, something told her she didn’t want to be hugged.

      “I. I’m sure your daddy is right,” she said instead.

      Jack a widower—that was something she hadn’t expected. It put a whole new light on things, but it was going to take her a few minutes to sort out just how. Poor man. Poor Annie. She ached inside for both of them. Hesitating, she was about to try to say something comforting, but before she got the words out, her telephone began to ring, and she swung around as though there’d been a reprieve.

      “Bye,” Annie said, starting toward the doorway.

      “Goodbye, Annie,” J.J. said on her way to the telephone. But something made her pause. The child had just told her something so horrible, she hated to see her skip off this way. “Listen,” she added, hesitating. She felt as though she needed to do something for her, but she had no idea what that might be.

      “I live right next door. You come on over if you need anything, okay? I’ll be glad to help in any way I can.”

      Annie waved and disappeared out the door, and J.J. hurried back into the kitchen, reaching for the phone.

      “Hello?”

      The deep voice of the handsome sportscaster at the station answered.