Page 8 of Not the Bodyguard's Baby
5
Adam retrievedhis phone and keys while a caregiver changed the baby’s diaper. Dr. Brooks waited for him near security. “That went well. Rayne had bonded with her baby prior to coming to our facility. Sometimes with PPD moms, bonding doesn’t happen in the first few weeks. After talking to Rayne, though, I thought she might have. Not all PPD mothers want to keep their children with them or have managed to bond. A positive bonding can improve the response to PPD treatment and recovery. I will contact you tomorrow afternoon and ask you to bring Harmony up for several hours. You will not need to stay; in fact, we prefer if you don’t stay beyond the transfer conversation.”
“Transfer conversation?”
“I encourage the mothers to ask about their children and what happened in their time apart, even if the report is only hours slept and bottles consumed. I find it is helpful if the other parent can give a few more details—not that I expect babies at this age to laugh or speak or anything. When you pick Harmony up, we encourage the same conversation. Only this time with you asking the questions.”
“I thought you didn’t want me asking questions.”
“I don’t want you asking questions with no answers. Even doctors don’t understand why some women get PPD and others don’t. Asking Rayne questions about herself she isn’t prepared to answer will not be helpful. I understand the two of you are not married, but I would like you to give serious thought to what happens after Rayne’s release. We normally ask the mothers and their partners to take a parenting class and attend family counseling sessions. Having a father figure is very important to the development of your daughter. I hope you take this into consideration.”
Adam nodded. There wasn’t a good answer for what she was asking or assuming. The nurse returned with the baby already fastened in the car carrier. “Thank you for changing her. I still am working on that skill. And, Doctor, thank you for your thoughts.” He double-checked the car seat harness before leaving.
“Mr. Adam—I mean Hastings...”
“Mr. Adam is fine.”
“I have one more concern about you and Harmony. Not once today in our phone conversation or here at the unit have I heard you say your daughter’s name. If you are going to bond with her, you need to start calling her Harmony. Not ‘her’ or ‘the baby.’ Even nicknames are powerful.”
He nodded again and exited the building before he received any more advice. Taking care of September’s baby was one thing. Playing the father... well, he wasn’t quite ready for that.
He drove away from the hospital, pesky what-if questions filling his mind. He turned down one street, then another, not eager to arrive at any particular destination. At some point he realized the baby had fallen asleep, so he kept driving one suburb after another. He’d never noticed Chicago had so many toy stores and establishments dedicated to infants and children. He should get a base for the car seat, but he didn’t want to wake the baby up to go into the store. Maybe he would run out and get one later. The doctor was right. He wasn’t thinking of September’s baby as Harmony. Why should he? Bonding with the child wasn’t on his to-do list. The officer had been wrong in her assessment that he would be a good father because he’d worried about the baby first. The baby was a client. Getting too close to a client was never a good idea. If he had stayed aloof with September, he never would have kissed her. He would still be working for her, and she would be out on tour someplace instead of in a hospital and hiding a newborn from the world. Her pregnancy was not his doing. Maybe he could have handled things better. His growing attraction had turned into a distraction, and he’d nearly missed the stalker fan wielding the small knife. If his partner hadn’t shouted the warning, he would not have gotten to September in time and the small scar on his arm could have been a much larger scar on September’s face—or worse. He’d left her for her own safety. The kiss had proven the depth of his feelings, and the only way he could control those feelings was to not be around her.
Eventually, he reached his parents’ neighborhood. A black SUV he didn’t recognize sat in their driveway. He parked next to it, and his sister opened the front door of the house. He pointed to the black SUV. “New vehicle?”
“No, new driver. Hurry up. I have things to show you.” Abbie closed the storm door and waited inside, protected from the cold February air.
Adam grabbed the baby in the car seat and the diaper bag and hurried into the house. He set them both on the floor before pulling his sister into a hug. “What are you doing here, and where is your driver?”
“He is in the kitchen, and before you ask, he carried the boxes in, not me. And you can report to Mom that I am not carrying any weapons today.” She gestured to the four large moving boxes at the center of the living room.
“What? No gun? Did your husband promise to buy you an island?” Adam removed the blanket draped over the infant carrier, relieved to find the baby still sleeping.
“No, Preston isn’t buying me an island. Although he did bribe me with a week in Hawaii at the end of the month if the doctor lets me go. It was you who convinced me to stop carrying, at least for a while.”
“Me?” Adam held up his hand. “I’ve been staying out of this little argument.”Littlewasn’t the right word. Preston Harmon’s head of security, Simon Dermot, had appealed to Jethro Hastings for help. The first couple of months of her marriage, his sister had not made things easy for her bodyguards. Understandable since she’d spent years guarding rather than being guarded, but as the wife of the heir to the Harmon Media universe, she’d become a target of desperate and jealous people. Her husband’s concern had grown as her pregnancy progressed. When Preston learned he had fathered triplets, he’d begged Abbie to stop trying to be her own bodyguard.
“Mom and I had a heart-to-heart before Grandma fell and broke her hip. She told me a very interesting story. When you were about nine months old, Mom was still wearing a concealed knife. One afternoon she fell asleep while feeding you. Somehow you found the knife and worked it free of its sheath. Mom woke up to you screaming. The blade had nicked your leg, and you were bleeding. She didn’t carry any weapons again until Andrew started school. Although I still have twenty weeks before this trio makes their appearance, I’ve been trying to get used to not having my gun on me.” Abbie placed her hand on her rounding belly.
“I have the scar. I asked Mom about it when I was about five, and she got all weepy. Dad told me the story and asked me not to talk about my scar ever again. I’ve probably helped you avoid a potential disaster.”
“Probably. From what I have been reading about triplets, it is almost impossible to childproof things. One woman’s triplets helped each other escape their cribs and room when they were about eighteen months old. They made it to the kitchen where they proceeded to make a mess. One of them picked up the landline and accidentally dialed 911. The police showed up at three in the morning. The poor mother was worried the incident would be reported to child services.”
The baby stirred, and Abbie leaned down and pulled her out of her car seat. “What I am worried about is all those times Mom said, ‘I hope you get one just like you.’ Since the rest of you don’t seem inclined to matrimony, I am afraid the triplets might be a way of paying you guys back using nephews.” She stood back up, cradling the baby in her arms, her voice rising half an octave as she spoke toward the baby. “But now you have this little angel, which isn’t fair because I was the angel of the family.”
Adam laughed. “More like the mini manipulator. You had us all doing your bidding. Most of the inventive ideas we executed originated with you—like tying the wagon between two bikes. And Mom still believes I was behind the build-a-raft-and-cross-to-Canada-it-will-be-fun day.”
“How old was I? Four? I had no clue Canada was far away. At least you could read.” Abbie held her middle and laughed.
Startled by their laughter, the baby scrunched her face and let out a wail.
“Oh, did the big man scare you with his lies?” Abbie rocked the baby, then scrunched her own nose. “I think it is time for the big man to change your diaper. He needs more practice.”
“Again? She got changed before we got in the car.” Adam dug through the diaper bag for another diaper. Only two left. “After I change her, do you mind watching her while I run to the store? I seem to need more diapers.”
“I would love to hang out with Harmony. We can look inside the boxes of stuff Auntie Mandy sent.” Abbie handed the baby over to Adam.
“Mandy sent all of this?” The wife of one of Hasting Security’s longest-term clients had once been Abbie’s to protect. They had become friends long before Abbie married.
