He wasn’t sure where all this temper was coming from.
All he knew was that by the end of that sentence, he was shouting so loudly, his throat ached. Worse, he was just winding up. Jabbing a finger in the air, he added, “You know, people like you don’t deserve kids.”
Huge brown eyes slipped shut and he knew he’d gone too far, knew he’d hurt her.
He’d wanted to hurt her and that scared the tar out of him.
Her face—already bloodless—went paler. She nodded and sniffled. “You’re right. You’re completely right. I don’t deserve her. Thank you for saving her.”
With one last kiss to the baby’s head, the woman buckled the protesting baby back into her stroller, bent to retrieve the cell phone, and made a fast exit. When she was out of sight, Reid let out his breath, painfully aware that every eye in the store was pinned to him—as well as quite a few cell phones. He tugged his cap over his face and stalked back to the men’s department, grabbed the first shirt he saw, and headed for the cashier.
Last thing he needed was the chief coming down on him for his poor public relations skills.
“Cash or credit?” The cashier inquired softly.
Reid cleared his throat. “Um. Cash.”
“You were right. She wasn’t watching her baby. You were right to yell at her.”
He stared at the girl. She couldn’t be more than twenty-one years old. What the hell did she know about watching kids, being responsible for them? He took out his wallet, whipped out a twenty and shook his head. “No. I wasn’t. She was in shock. I never should have let her leave here like that.”
She bagged his shirt, handed him some change and a receipt. He didn’t bother to thank her. Just grabbed his bag and ran in the direction Ms. Larsen took when she left the store.
Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God!
Kara walked fast down the street, sobs backing up in her throat. The fear that had run through her. It was like a cold blade straight through her core. One minute Nadia was sipping from her cup and the other, she was simply gone.
Shivering despite the warm weather, Kara walked faster. Her phone buzzed but she knew she’d completely lose it if she had to tell the story about what just happened. She needed to settle down. She needed peace.
She needed her mother.
She pushed Nadia’s stroller to the September 11th Memorial. She’d adjusted the stroller so that the baby faced her instead of the street. She would never take her eyes off her daughter again. Once inside the park, she strolled directly to the fountain and found her mother’s name on the brass plaque. Marie Larsen had been a financial advisor with Burke and Kirkpatrick, a firm whose headquarters had been located in the World Trade Center. The Trade Center was gone now; in its place, a new Freedom Tower and this beautiful memorial.
Her grave.
Kara traced her mother’s name in the brass and felt the hot heavy tears flow. “Mom! Oh, God, Mom, I almost lost her today.”
She bowed her head over the plaque and let the fear and the grief take her for a few minutes. When she raised her head, it was just in time to witness Nadia escape her safety strap and take off across the plaza.
“Nadia! Come back here!”
With a shriek of laughter, the baby ran.
The streets were busy—a New York City lunch hour always was—but there was no sign of Kara Larsen and her blue baby carriage.
Cursing, Reid strode south. He’d completely flipped out on her. Okay, so she should have been watching her kid instead of gabbing on the phone, but he knew better than anybody just how slippery toddlers could be. In fact, he wasn’t sure if she’d noticed that the baby’s seatbelt was still buckled when she’d firmly put the screaming toddler back into the stroller.
He had.
The kid had executed a Houdini. She wasn’t the first to wriggle out of a safety strap. He shuddered at the times he’d had to respond to the end result of such times. Regardless, he was way too hard on her. She’d paid careful attention during his class, even though she’d had a baby with her. And every time she’d looked at that baby, he’d seen her brown eyes soften with love.
He knew love like that. Well, he had known it once.
Now, he was empty. His temper spiked and not for the first time, he wished the chief would let him teach a Preventable Accidents class so he could show these moronic parents just what happens to toddlers while they send out one more email or answer one more call.
He walked for blocks and found himself at the September 11th Memorial. The trees on the Memorial Plaza were blooming, providing welcome patches of shade in the June sun. He was still hot from anger and needed a nice quiet patch of shade. He sat on a bench facing the twin fountains, a spot he’d frequently visited.
His brother had died out there, one of the first responders who’d run into the burning towers while hundreds had run out. Reid missed him like he’d miss his arm or his leg. Not a day went by when he didn’t look for Kyle, talk to him, confide in him. He supposed it was his imagination. Or his grief. He didn’t really care to explain it away. All he knew was that he took comfort in talking to Kyle. And yes, sometimes, Kyle talked back.
“Kyle,” he whispered to the trees and swore he heard his brother chuckle.
Wow, you really messed up.
Reid sighed. Hard to argue when it was the truth. He slid his sunglasses into the neck of his shirt and scrubbed at his face. This day completely sucked and he still had a full shift to work tonight.
Cut her a break, man. She’s a single mother.
Reid pressed his lips together. He had cut her a break. That’s why he’d backed off, wasn’t it?
Bullshit. You backed off because you’re scared.
He scrubbed a hand over his hair. “Jeez, Kyle. I come here for comfort not torture.”
Yeah, yeah. Look, Reid. You need to stop punishing yourself for what happened to Erin.
Reid’s temper surged and his hands fisted. “Leave it alone, Kyle.”
Can’t do that, bro. You need a second chance. And here it comes again.
“What the hell are you—”
A panicked scream split the peace and quiet of the park. He’d heard that scream before.
“Nadia!”
He whipped around, found Kara Larsen chasing the same little girl he’d rescued barely twenty minutes ago. Christ, did this woman never learn anything? To make things worse, the baby was running straight for him.
With a loud curse, he stooped down and let the toddler run right into his arms, bracing himself for the spike of pain that lanced through his heart when she did.
God, she even smelled like Erin. Adjusting her comfortably to one hip, he stalked toward her insane mother.
“You,” she sneered, snatching her daughter from his arms.
“Twice in thirty minutes,” he taunted with a pointed glance at the large watch he wore on his left wrist. “Must be some kind of record.”
“I’m sorry she bothered you.” She whipped around and strode back to the fountain, where she’d left the baby’s stroller.
Reid blinked at that. She hadn’t bothered him. Not exactly. “Okay, look.” He hurried to catch up to her. “I’m sorry. I may have, ah, over-reacted a little.”
She said nothing, just continued walking back to the stroller.
He noticed the strap was still fastened. He lifted it with one finger. “Look. This strap you’re using is a joke. You need to buy her a safety harness she can’t wriggle out of, understand?”
She spun around, her eyes all but exploding from her face. “Of course I understand! I am a certified financial advisor who holds two graduate degrees. Do not speak to me like I’m one of those three air-heads in your class.” She whirled again and Reid had to admit, a pang of guilt prickled his conscience until her cell phone buzzed and she took it out to answer the call. That’s when his already high blood pressure shot to red line levels.
He grabbed the phone out of her hand. “I don’t think you do.” He stepped up, invading her personal space.
He knew he was being rude and condescending and didn’t much care. This was about preventing tragedy and she was going to damn well listen to him whether she wanted to hear it or not. “In my line of work, I know exactly what happens to kids whose parents spend too goddamn much time with their cell phones and shopping trips and selfies and trust me, lady, it ain’t pretty.”
He slapped the phone back into her hand and shoved his sunglasses back on. “Turn off the friggin’ phone and pay attention to your kid.”
He strode off and got halfway across the plaza before guilt caught up to him.
Kara stared at the obnoxious paramedic’s back as he strode away, dozens of retorts and insults playing on her lips. Nadia squeaked and Kara felt every ounce of temper pour out of her body. She was tired. Oh, God! She was tired.
“Gah,” the baby said, pulling at the phone Reid Bennett had just slapped back into Kara’s hand. Absently, she let the baby have it and lowered her head to the bronze plaque that bordered the fountain, tracing her mother’s name.
For the first time since she’d gotten there, Kara noticed the dozens of other visitors and mourners milling around the Memorial and felt her face burn. How many had seen that exchange with the paramedic? How many had seen Nadia escape her stroller and shaken their heads at what a terrible mother she was? She’d just needed to buy a present. One present!
“Mom. Oh, God, Mom, I miss you so much. I brought her here because it’s your birthday and—and—”
She shut her eyes as the horrifying moment of shock at seeing that empty stroller replayed in her mind. Nausea. Crippling fear. Guilt so profound, it amazed her she was still vertical. All had converged in that one moment of time and she’d fallen to her knees.
Nadia sneezed and Kara found a tissue to wipe her tiny nose. She tossed the tissue in a trash bin. It hit her then. A sudden vicious kick to the forehead. She’d never have more babies. This was it. A family of two.
And she couldn’t even handle that much.
She shook her head, tucked the phone in her bag, and turned Nadia’s stroller for home. She never noticed Reid Bennett standing nearby, hands shoved in his pockets, watching.
Chapter Four
Reid watched Kara Larsen leave the Memorial, baby Nadia safely facing her mother in her navy blue stroller. He hadn’t heard what she’d said to the name engraved on the north pool. But he’d seen her body language. And that confirmed he was the biggest kind of ass there was.
He watched her back until she disappeared and then he slowly walked to the edge.
Marie Elise Larsen
Her mother.
How did he know that? He had no damn idea. He just did.
A muscle twitched in his jaw and only then did he realize he’d been clenching it. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong! That single word echoed inside his head. This was all so wrong, so freakin’ ironic, he could hear Alanis Morissette singing it.
His daughter. His brother. He was barely thirty-three years old and already had lost so many, it frequently surprised him when he remembered there were countless others who had suffered tragic losses of their own. He wondered what Marie Larsen had been like. He imagined her—blond hair like Kara’s, reading bedtime stories to the baby. Nadia would have called her Nana, like Erin had called his mother. She’d have bought frilly dresses and hair ribbons and enough stuffed animals to fill an entire apartment.
Help her.
His brother’s command sent a chill skating down his back and he went still. A picture formed in his mind, a picture so clear, it almost took him to his knees. A woman he didn’t know and had never seen, holding Erin on her lap, reading The Velveteen Rabbit, her favorite story.
“Jesus, Kyle, what are you doing to me?” Tears burned the back of his eyes but he wouldn’t cry. He couldn’t. He never had. It was like he just...switched off or something since the day he’d lost Erin. He’d never visited her grave. He’d never looked at her picture. He couldn’t bear it.
Showing you.
“Well, stop. I can’t.”
You won’t.
The image faded and took with it his brother’s comforting presence. His lips trembled but he put his sunglasses on and left the park.
Late that night, Kara prowled her apartment, cell phone pressed to her face. “Laney, it was like losing Mom all over again...only worse. Impossibly worse. I’m supposed to protect her and I—”
“Stop, honey. Nadia’s fine and worrying about all the what-ifs will make you crazy.”
“I can’t!” Kara stood in the hall where the wall was scarred from the toy Nadia had thrown, and peeked in on her sleeping daughter for what had to have been the hundredth time, staring at the steady rise and fall of her tiny chest. Her breathing was noisy and Kara’s stomach dropped. As if today hadn’t been eventful enough.
“Kara, you’re a wonderful mother—”
“I’m not, Laney!” Kara flopped on the living room sofa. “I never saw her leave that stroller...God!” A sob cracked her voice. “And now she’s coming down with something.”
With a bone-deep yearning, Kara wished her mother were there. Mom had been so accurate it was scary. Kara had been nineteen years old, away at college, when her mom had called her the day after she’d lost her virginity. Kara would have blamed Elena for squealing to their mother except she’d never told her sister. Mom had just known.
“How is she now?”
Kara wiped away tears. “Asleep but her breathing is loud. She’s almost snoring.”
“I’m coming over.”
Through the phone, Kara heard Lucas, her sister’s husband, murmur something. “No, no, Laney, we’re fine. Stay with Luke.”
“You sure? I can be there in twenty minutes or so.”
“Yes. I’m sure. It’s almost midnight. I don’t want you riding the PATH train at this hour.”
“Okay. Call if you need us.”
Kara tossed her cell phone to the coffee table in front of her sofa and sighed. She’d thought she could do this. She’d really believed she could be a good mother, just like her own mother had been. When Steve bailed after she’d told him she was pregnant, she’d naively thought she could love their baby enough for both of them. But nobody told her that babies came pre-installed with their own little personalities. Even Bree, whose own daughter was now twelve years old, never mentioned how mind-blowing, stomach-churning hard motherhood could be.
Mom had made it look so easy. She’d worked outside the house, had four children, kept the house and filled their lives with all sorts of enrichment opportunities. Kara had fond memories of dance classes and music lessons, museum trips and scouts. Mom had never lost Elena or one of the boys in a busy department store.
God, she missed her mother. She stared at her phone and on a whim, tapped the contact still stored but of course, Mom’s number had long since been disconnected or reassigned or retired or whatever the wireless companies did with dead numbers.
Dead. The word almost choked her. She was about to toss the phone down, when the list of alerts caught her attention. She scrolled through the reminders and cursed out loud.
She’d forgotten all about Ronald T. Saxon. He’d called earlier.
Twice.
“Oh, Mom,” she said on a sob. Kara covered her face and let the tears fall.
She must have dozed. She jolted back to awareness, found herself curled on one end of the sofa, heart pounding and head full. Something had awakened her. She listened, heard only the hum of the building. She shifted, deciding her bed was more comfortable than the sofa. She took one more peek at her daughter and heard it. A bark. Her baby was gasping for air, every breath whistling in the quiet night.
Kara grabbed her from the crib, strode to the bathroom, and ran the shower hot. Steam was good. That was what all the books had taught her. Nadia stirred, tried to breathe, but launched into a coughing fit that jerked her entire body, every cough sounding like the bark of a baby seal.
“Oh, God,” Kara gasped when she saw the baby’s hands.
They were blue.
She ran for the cell, still on the sofa where she’d tossed it, and dialed 911.
Minutes ticked by, longer than hours. Finally, the buzzer sounded and Kara left Nadia in the middle of the living room floor, flung open the door, waited anxiously for the elevator to arrive on the fourth floor. She left the door open, went back to Nadia. Her feet and her hands were blue and her breath rattled in her tiny chest. Kara sat on the floor beside her, stroking the curls away from her face. She didn’t understand this. Nadia wasn’t sick until a few hours ago! She’d had a runny nose—that was all. She had a little cough and a runny nose. What happened? What the hell happened?
“Paramedics! Hello?”
“In here!”
Two men carrying canvas bags hurried in. Kara looked up, right into the scowling face of Reid Bennett.
“You,” he snarled.
It was him, the same paramedic who’d taught the CPR class. The same paramedic who’d rescued Nadia in the store. Kara could only shake her head. She didn’t care how much he hated her, how much she annoyed him. He had to help her little girl. He just had to.
“Mr. Bennett. Her hands. They’re blue. Please. Help her.”
He frowned, bent to the floor and did his job. “Patient is lethargic.” He whipped out a stethoscope and inserted it in his ears. He lifted the baby’s shirt, listened to her heart and lungs. “No signs of rash. No fever. Inspiratory and expiratory stridor.” He tilted the baby’s head back, flashed his pen light into her mouth. “Airway’s clear but tissues are swollen.”
“Heart rate’s high,” his partner, Jacob Stewart, muttered. “How much does she weigh, ma’am?”
“Um. Twenty-two pounds.”
“And how old is she?”
“She’ll be eighteen months old on the twenty-first.”
“Has she been sick?”
Kara spread her hands. “No! She was fine all day, until dinner. Then she started coughing and had a runny nose and acted strange. I gave her some cold medicine before bed.”
“Strange, how?”