Three Boys and a Baby. Laura Marie Altom

are sooo lying!” Owen said. “Just trying to get me in trouble.”

      “You’re trying to get me in trouble,” Oliver said.

      “I don’t care which of you came up with the bright idea to run off,” Ella said. “I’m equally furious with you both.” Still, she couldn’t resist pulling them into another group hug, planting kisses atop their grungy heads. She loved them so much. An impossible-to-calculate much only a mother could understand.

      But then she looked across the crowded police station to Jackson standing with Dillon in his arms. Looks like dads understood love, too. The boy rested his head on his father’s strong shoulder and was sucking his thumb. Dillon hadn’t done that in at least a year. The fact that he’d reverted to the old habit spoke volumes for how scared he must’ve been out on the run.

      Though the station was a flurry of activity of National Guardsmen packing up equipment, and police slapping each other on their backs for a job well done, Jackson and his son had formed an island of serenity in a frenzied storm.

      In all the years Ella had known the man, never had she seen him look more at peace. Well, obviously aside from when he and Julie had still been a couple. But that was a long time ago. He’d been a different man. Just as back then, still with Todd, she’d been a different woman.

      “Mommy?” Owen tugged on her shirt. “Can we go home?”

      “What about the baby?” Oliver asked. “We can’t just leave her here.”

      “She’s at the hospital with Dr. Shepherd,” Ella explained.

      “But I thought you’re a baby doctor.”

      “I am, sweetie, but Sheriff Hank figured I’d probably want to spend time with my own babies tonight.”

      “I’m not a baby,” Oliver pointed out.

      “I am,” Owen said. “I’m never running—Hey, look! There’s Dillon’s mom. And she’s crying and hugging his dad. They getting married again?”

      The polite thing to do would be to grant them privacy, so how come Ella felt riveted to the sight of Jackson and his ex?

      “WANT ICE CREAM for dinner?” Jackson asked his son. The light at the intersection of King and Pine turned yellow. Easing to a stop, he added, “Banana split. Hot-fudge sundae. You name it.”

      Dillon shook his head.

      “What’s up, bud?” The light turned green, and Jackson accelerated. “You sick?” He reached across the SUV’s front seat to feel his son’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever. Stomach ache?”

      “Nah. I just miss Mom. And the baby. Think she’s okay?”

      “Mom? Or the baby?”

      “The baby. I know Mom’s okay, ’cause she said she’d be home when we get there.”

      Swell.

      “The baby’s fine. Hank said they’re going to keep her at the hospital nursery until someone claims her.”

      “What’s that mean?”

      “Comes to pick her up. Hank’s hoping maybe her mom or dad will have second thoughts about leaving her.”

      “I don’t know…”

      “What?”

      “Well, if her parents left her in a basket on the merry-go-round, do they deserve to get her back?”

      Jackson sighed. “Good question.” Guilt rumbled through him at his own less-than-stellar parenting skills since Julie left.

      “Dad?”

      “Yeah?” Jackson pulled the car into their driveway, glad to be home. Gladder still for his son to be safely home, for this second chance to prove how much he loved him.

      “Do you think maybe we could keep her?”

      “The baby?” He killed the engine.

      “I’d take care of her. You’d hardly even know she was here.”

      Laughing, ruffling his boy’s dirty hair, Jackson said, “If she’s half as noisy as you were when you were a baby, trust me, the whole neighborhood would know she’s here.”

      Dillon made a face.

      Jackson made one right back.

      He’d only been teasing with his son, but the scowl settling around his lips as Julie pulled her silver Mercedes convertible into the single-lane drive was the real deal.

      “I DON’T KNOW, HANK…” On the phone, Ella looked to her boys—finally clean and not bickering, seated at the kitchen table eating salad swimming in ranch dressing. While they’d been playing with their action figures in the tub, she’d cleaned away the remnants of having a house full of concerned neighbors. Claire, from a few houses down, had offered to help with the dishes, but Ella had politely refused. Call her crazy, but it felt good doing something homey and domestic. “I’ve just gotten this place feeling back to normal. What am I going to do with a—”

      The doorbell rang.

      “Just a minute,” she said, “someone’s ringing the bell.”

      Covering the mouthpiece of her cordless phone, she jogged to the living room. Pushing at the front screen door—in muggy weather it tended to stick—she frowned at her first glimpse of the man standing on her porch.

      She pressed the phone’s off button.

      “Don’t tell me,” she said, taking the pink-swaddled baby from Hank’s outstretched arms. “The hospital’s nursery was full?”

      “Damnedest thing,” Hank said, hefting two huge sacks of baby gear inside. “Three gals gave birth this afternoon. The place is swamped. Anyway, I really could use your help, Ella. Odds are, whoever this cutie belongs to, she’s not far away, and we’re quietly checking into things.”

      “What does that have to do with me?” Ella asked, gingerly taking a seat on the couch.

      “I don’t want this beauty ending up in the system, you know.”

      Ella rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Hank. Look at her. She’s gorgeous. Do you have any idea how many couples are out there, begging to adopt newborns? Claire and Jeremy Donaldson have been trying for years to conceive. She’s a second-grade teacher at the twins’ school and her husband’s an amazing carpenter. Lately, they’ve been looking into adoption. Maybe you should take her to them?”

      “Sounds like a good call, but I’m not exactly playing by the book. If I get Child Protective Services involved, everything’s going to get messy. It’d just be overall easier if you’d keep her for a few days until the birth mother is back in her right mind and comes to claim her.”

      “Hank…” Ella warned. “This mother left her newborn infant in a basket on a playground. Does this really sound like the move of a responsible parent?”

      “You’ve got a point. But look how clean the kid was when your boys found her. The polite note. That tells me there’s love involved. What if this girl’s young? Scared? Didn’t anyone ever give you a second chance?”

      “Anyone ever call you a big softy?”

      “DILLON, GUESS WHAT,” Oliver whispered into the phone, checking around the corner to make sure his mom wasn’t spying.

      “What?”

      “We’re keepin’ Rose.”

      “No way! That’s not fair. How’d you get her?”

      “Sheriff Hank just brought her over. Wanna come play? You can eat here. We’ve got tons of food.”

      Dillon was quiet for a little while.

      “Well?”