His Bundle of Love. Patricia Davids

this way. That was why he’d called them together, to get the protests over with all at once. Then maybe he could get some sleep.

      Beth’s lung was healing, but an EEG confirmed she was having seizures. The doctors had started her on a drug called phenobarbital to control them. Soon after that, she had gone to surgery to close her patent ductus arteriosus, and Mick had spent agonizing hours in the surgical waiting room with Pastor Frank and Lloyd Winston at his side for support.

      The surgery had gone well, and Beth’s condition had finally stabilized enough for Mick to feel that he could spend some time at home. Thank goodness his mother was better and didn’t require his constant care. The last few days had seemed longer than a month. He was bone tired, but he needed to get this meeting over with.

      “What about this child’s real father? Don’t you think he has something to say about this?” Mary demanded, crossing her arms over her ample bosom and rattling the lid of a dainty teapot that sat in the center of the table.

      Mary was the oldest, and he expected the most opposition from her. He’d often joked that he’d been born with three mothers instead of one. Alice, the sister closest to him in age, was his senior by twelve years. His mother sat at the table with them but she remained quiet.

      Mick said, “According to Caitlin the baby’s father is dead. She told me when we first met that there isn’t anyone.”

      Mary’s frown deepened. “Even so, I can’t see why you think you need to be the child’s parent. Did you even consider the financial obligation you’re taking on? You’ll have to support this child until she’s eighteen even if her mother recovers.”

      “I know that.”

      Mary’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And if her mother doesn’t recover? Do you think you can raise a child alone?”

      “Yes, I do,” he answered with more confidence than he felt. He’d asked himself these questions and more over the past several days. He might not be the best parent in the world, but he intended to give it his best shot.

      He looked at each of his sisters in turn. “She’s a tiny, helpless baby—so tiny I could hold her in one hand, and she doesn’t have a soul in the world to care for her. No one should have to go through the things she is going through alone.”

      “Will she…will she be right?” Alice asked.

      “What do you mean?” he asked.

      “Children like this—aren’t they—sometimes mentally challenged?”

      Mary looked at him with pity. “Oh, Mick, what have you gotten yourself into?”

      He wanted to ignore their questions. He knew the possibilities, but it didn’t change the way he felt. Beth was his, for better or for worse.

      “It’s too soon to tell if she will have disabilities,” he said. “Tests show she had a small bleed in her brain. A Grade Two, they called it. Some babies do have problems after that, but some do fine. We can only hope and pray she’ll be healthy, but it doesn’t matter.”

      “Of course it matters!” Mary’s tone was incredulous. “Did her mother use drugs? Is she addicted? Has she been tested for AIDS?”

      Mick tried to curb his annoyance. Couldn’t they accept that Beth was simply a baby in need of love and affection?

      His mother held up her hand. “Hush, girls, and leave him alone. You two don’t know how lucky you are to have had healthy babies. No child comes with a guarantee. Only God knows what we will have to face. I’ve been willing to trust Him all my life and so does Mickey. It’s something both of you would do well to try.”

      He took a deep breath. “If I can’t do anything else for her—even if she doesn’t make it—I can see that she’s not alone in this life.”

      Mary’s gaze fell before his. “But signing paternity papers seems so extreme.”

      “It was the only way,” he said.

      Alice lightly clapped her hands. “Great speech. Just the right touch of a plea for maternal understanding. How long did you practice?”

      “I think what Mickey is doing is wonderful.” His mother rose to his defense. “It’s not like he’s totally clueless around children. Why, he babysits your kids often enough.”

      Mary gave a huff. “Watching the kids for an hour or two is not like raising them. And what about your job? You can’t simply take off for the next few months.”

      “I can use the vacation time I’ve got coming, and I can afford to take off a few more weeks if I have to.”

      “And when this baby comes home from the hospital? Who’s going to watch her when you go to work? You can’t expect Mom to take on the job at her age.”

      “I’m not expecting any of you to take care of Beth. I’ll arrange for day care like the rest of the world does.”

      “You don’t always have to be the hero, Mick,” Alice said quietly.

      “I’m not trying to be a hero here.”

      “Are you sure?” Mary asked. “First you follow in Dad’s footsteps in the same job that got him killed. And no offense, Mom, but then, Mick insists on moving you in with him after the accident. As great as that is, Mick, I think you’re putting your own life on hold. You were only eight when Dad died, but you were determined to be the man of the family.”

      Mick rose from the table with the pretext of refilling his coffee cup. He’d become the man of the family because, with his dying breath, his father told him he had to.

      “My life isn’t on hold, and Mom is welcome to stay here as long as she wants.”

      “Because you promised Dad you’d always look after her,” Mary stated.

      He whirled around, barely noticing the hot coffee that sloshed over his hand. “Leave Dad out of this!”

      “Please, children, don’t fight,” Elizabeth pleaded.

      Mick stuck his stinging knuckles under the tap and turned on the cold water. “Mom is here because we all decided it was the best solution. As for my work—I like being a firefighter. It’s my life, Mary. Just because I didn’t choose a nine-to-five job like your boring businessman husband doesn’t mean it’s a waste. Money isn’t everything.”

      “As usual, I see you don’t intend to listen to anything I have to say. If you wanted my advice, you would have asked for it instead of telling me after the fact. Mother, I hope you can talk some sense into him.”

      Biting back his retort, Mick turned around. “I’m sorry, Mary. I don’t want to argue. I do want your support in this.”

      “And I can’t give it. A child needs a mother and a father. You’ve got no business trying to raise one by yourself.” She rose and headed out the back door, letting it slam behind her.

      “You shouldn’t have said that about Rodger,” Elizabeth chided.

      “Oh, pooh.” Alice waved her mother’s objection aside. “He is boring and Mary was the first one to notice.”

      “No, Mom is right.” Mick dried his hands. “I let Mary get under my skin, and then I say something that makes her mad.”

      “Mary was born mad,” Elizabeth added quietly.

      Mick and Alice turned to stare at her in astonishment.

      After glancing from one to the other, she straightened. “Well, it’s true. It’s the red hair.”

      Mick laughed. “My hair’s red. Do you say that about me?”

      Alice snorted. “Mom has never said an unkind word about you from the day you were born. Frankly, it irked me. Nobody’s that perfect.”

      “Mom doesn’t know the half of it,”