Uncle Sarge. Bonnie Gardner

Surely I’ll have someone by the ceremony tomorrow.

      “In the meantime, I have to run. I have to be at the rehearsal dinner in…” She glanced at her watch. “About an hour and a half.” With that she handed Yoda to him. “This is Carter, and this is Caitlyn,” she said, urging the reluctant little girl toward Rich. “This is your Uncle Rich. He’s going to take care of you until Mrs. Dahlstrom is better.”

      “But, Rebecca…” Rich protested. “They don’t know me.”

      “You’re not a complete stranger to them, Rich. They’ve seen pictures of you that Sherry had.”

      “I don’t know anything about taking care of kids,” Rich insisted. “What if I…?” He didn’t dare think of the rest of that sentence.

      “Carter is an easy baby,” Rebecca told him. “He’ll be fine as long as Caitlyn is here, and she knows what to do. She’ll be a big help to you.” She blew a kiss toward the kids. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks.” She dashed out the door.

      Rich looked at the door closing behind Rebecca. She hadn’t even given him a chance to say no. Then he looked down at Carter. His face was screwed up and turning red, and before Rich had a chance to try to calm him down, he let out an ear-splitting shriek guaranteed to blow a 100-amp stereo speaker at fifty paces.

      “What the hell was that?” Ski asked, coming out of the kitchen, a sandwich of Dagwood proportions in his hands.

      “I think Carter wants something to eat. It is supper time. I guess we should try to feed them. Is there any more sandwich stuff in there or did you use it all?” Rich noticed one of those pacifier things tangled in the baby’s clothes and popped it into his open mouth. Carter continued to cry, and the pacifier dribbled onto the floor.

      “There’s plenty,” Ski answered, his mouth full, as Rich scooped up the pacifier.

      “Okay, Katie, let’s go get some grub.” Rich, gingerly holding Carter, headed toward the kitchen to wash off the pacifier. “Does your brother like ham sandwiches?” When Caitlyn didn’t respond, he turned.

      Caitlyn was still standing where he’d left her, her hands on her hips, her lips pursed, looking like a miniature schoolmarm. “You can’t feed him sammiches. He don’t got no teef.” She rolled her eyes at him as if she were talking to an idiot. “And my name is not Katie. It’s Caitlyn.”

      “Okay. Okay.” Of course, the rugrat had no teeth. He knew that. “Did your Aunt Becky bring anything for me to feed him?”

      Caitlyn rolled her eyes again. “He gots baby food inna diaper bag.”

      “Get it for me.” He tried bouncing Yoda, but all it did was slow the wails down a notch. He ran water over the pacifier and stuck it back in, holding it there until he felt Carter latch on. Relieved, he let go. So did Carter, and the pacifier squirted out of his mouth as the kid let out a wail as shrill as an air-raid siren.

      Caitlyn grimaced, but she did as he asked. “You gots to heat it up inna microwave,” she said as she handed him two jars of revolting looking stuff.

      “Okay. Do it.” He had enough trouble just keeping the baby from squalling any louder.

      “I’m not ’lowed to touch the microwave.”

      Rich sighed and looked at Ski.

      Ski held up his hands, one still holding half a sandwich. “Hey, don’t look at me. They’re your niece and nephew.” He crammed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and chewed. “You got your hands full. I think I’ll just go crash at Murphey’s. He’s still pretty messed up since Allison dumped him. He can use the company, and I sure as hell know more about how to handle that mess than the one you got here.” He wiped his hands on his pants and headed for the door. “I’m outta here.”

      “Coward,” Rich muttered, but he envied the man, too, for having Murphey to go to. Danny Murphey was another guy on the team and had been Ski’s roommate before he’d set up house with Allison Adler, the woman he’d thought he was going to marry. He guessed Ski owed Danny just like he owed Sherry. If he just hadn’t gone and opened his mouth and volunteered to help.

      No, he told himself sternly. He’d passed arctic, desert and jungle survival school, no sweat. He could surely handle two kids until tomorrow.

      Famous last words, Rich couldn’t help thinking when, two hours later, he’d scraped the last of the cereal and strained peaches out of the jars. He’d managed to put together a peanut butter sandwich for Caitlyn with his right hand while he’d attempted to shovel food into Carter’s mouth with his left.

      Rich wasn’t sure how much had gone into Carter. He must have scraped most of it off the kid’s face and the rest was splattered all over the kitchen. He sighed and looked around the filthy room. It looked as though somebody had fought a paint ball war in here. But, Carter was quiet for the time being, and that little piece of silence had to be worth all the mess. Rich slapped a couple of slices of ham between two pieces of bread and shoved them into his mouth. He guessed he’d have to hose down the kitchen, but for now he had to get the kids settled while he could. He didn’t know how long the lull would last, but he wanted to make the most of it.

      He glanced at the clock. It was almost seven. Didn’t little kids go to bed by now? He didn’t suppose Caitlyn could tell time. Maybe, he could fool her into thinking it was bedtime even if it wasn’t. He looked down at Carter. His food-encrusted eyelids were definitely drooping.

      “Okay. Time for bed. Go put on your pajamas.”

      Caitlyn started to say something, but then closed her mouth. She turned as if to do his bidding, then stopped, looking like she was ready to cry herself. “I dunno where I’m s’posta sleep.”

      Rich propped the baby over his shoulder, and felt a surge of an unfamiliar emotion when the kid snuggled up against him. “I guess you can sleep in Ski’s room.” He pointed toward Ski’s closed bedroom door, then he remembered the extensive collection of Babe of the Month posters on the wall. “Oops,” he said, yanking her back. “On the other hand, you can sleep in mine.”

      He pushed open the door and ushered her in, pointing to his queen-size bed. “See, it’s big enough for both of you.” He started to put the baby down, but Caitlyn shook her head. “You hafta get his portacwib. He’ll fall off da bed.”

      Portacrib? He’d seen Rebecca with a couple of suitcases, but he didn’t remember anything that looked like a crib. He looked back out into the living room to the pile of stuff Ski had dragged in before he left. There were more supplies there than he’d need for a two-week hike. He looked at the bewildering pile of kid paraphernalia and blew out a tired breath.

      Caitlyn marched over to a flattened contraption of wood and mesh. “Tha’s it. You gots to unfode it.”

      “Okay,” he said slowly, wondering how he could accomplish that and hold on to Carter, too. This project was going to take both hands.

      “Can you hold your brother for me?” he asked, already knowing it wasn’t going to work.

      Caitlyn shook her head. “Mommy says I might dwop him.”

      Rich was beginning to run out of options here. If he put Carter on the bed, he might roll off. If he tried to hold Carter and assemble the bed, he’d surely drop the kid flat on the floor. That’s it. The floor.

      He laid Carter down in the middle of the rug and held his breath to see if he repeated the siren routine. So far, so good.

      The mechanism wasn’t too complicated, and Rich had the bed set up in short order. Just a few minutes and he’d have the kids squared away. Then he could clean up and catch some Z’s of his own. He reached for Carter to put him in the crib, but the prim expression on Caitlyn’s face stopped him. “Now what?” he asked irritably.

      “You gots to put a sheet on,” she said as if he were the dumbest man in the world.

      “You