Nichole hesitated and Rocco brought her coat and, before she could make an excuse to linger, ushered her out the door.
When it clicked shut, Sam stiffened. It sounded to him like a jail cell closing.
Beth sat down with Matthew. Looking at her with the baby asleep in her arms did something funny to his heart. For a long moment all Sam seemed capable of doing was staring at her. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her look more beautiful, and that was saying something.
“You don’t need to hold him,” Sam said, forcing himself to look away before his heart turned to mush. “I can put him down in that contraption he sits up in if you want.”
Beth looked up, her eyes smiling at him. “I enjoy holding him.”
Sam sat down next to her. “Thought you said you’ve never done anything like this before.”
“I haven’t. Doesn’t take much skill to hold a sleeping baby, Sam.”
Needing to touch her, he placed his arm around her shoulders. “You look good with a baby in your arms.”
She turned to smile at him again and he couldn’t resist kissing her. Sam doubted he’d ever grow tired of kissing Beth. She angled her head toward him and soon they were making out like no tomorrow. Sam wove his hands into her hair, and their breathing grew heavy as the lengthy exchange continued. When they broke apart, they were both nearly panting.
“You make me forget the baby,” Beth whispered.
“What baby?” he asked, leaning his forehead against hers.
Beth giggled softly. “Your kisses are addictive, you know that, right?”
“That’s what all the girls say,” he teased.
She playfully slapped his upper arm and Sam laughed. Apparently, he was louder than he thought, because Matthew jumped as though startled and let out a wail. With panic-stricken eyes, Beth looked to him. “What should I do now?”
“Gently bounce him,” he suggested, although he was unsure.
She did, but that only seemed to infuriate Matthew.
“Maybe he’s hungry,” Beth said. She reached for the list of instructions Nichole had left. She flipped through the first few pages and announced, “It says here he usually eats dinner around this time. It needs to be heated. Here,” she said, and passed off the wailing baby to him. “I’ll go heat up his baby food.”
Sam took Matthew and gently tucked him against his side. “Hey, little man, what’s the problem?”
Whatever was bothering him, the kid wasn’t giving it up. Not knowing what else to do, Sam followed Beth into the kitchen. She’d located the jar of baby food and had it open and was dishing it up to set inside the microwave.
“Hey, look, dinner,” Sam said, pointing it out to the baby. “Oh yum, peas. Bet you love peas.”
Matthew kicked and cried even louder. “I don’t think he’s overly fond of peas,” he told Beth.
Her eyes filled with concern. “Do you think I should look for something else? This is what Nichole left out.”
“No. Let’s go with the peas.”
Beth reached for the tablet a second time. “Nichole’s note says we need to change his diaper before we feed him. Do you want me to do that?”
Sam weighed the question. Beth was busy getting Matthew’s dinner ready. He should be able to handle changing a simple diaper. That sounded doable.
“You finish up here. I’ll take care of the diaper.” He took the baby into the nursery and set him down on the changer. Thankfully, Nichole had a stack of disposable diapers close at hand.
Once Sam managed to unsnap the kid’s pants, Matthew started squirming, twisting around so that his butt was halfway in the air.
“Hey, buddy, I need a bit of cooperation here.” At least Matthew had stopped screeching.
“How’s it going in there?” Beth called out.
“Not good,” Sam shouted back. “Could you give me a hand?”
“On my way.”
As soon as Beth was in the room, he instructed, “You change him and I’ll hold him down.”
“Okay.” She didn’t sound all that confident, but she didn’t argue.
Sam changed places with her so that he was at the head of the changer. As soon as Matthew’s belly was exposed, Sam bent down and nuzzled him, blowing on his stomach, making a loud noise. Matthew kicked up his legs and laughed.
Beth quickly cleaned his bottom and lifted up his legs in order to get the fresh diaper under him. “Nichole manages to do this all on her own and it’s taking the both of us.”
“He likes to squirm.”
With some difficulty, Beth managed to get the diaper on him and re-snap his pants. Tugging gently on his arms, Sam got Matthew to a standing position and lifted him into his arms. “Okay, little man, it’s dinnertime.”
They returned to the kitchen, and while Sam got the baby strapped into the high chair, Beth washed her hands and then brought out the peas and the peaches.
“You lucky boy. Look here,” Sam said, pointing to the peaches.
Matthew gleefully slapped his hands against the tray.
“You feed him,” Beth suggested.
“Me?”
“You do the peas and I’ll do the peaches.”
“I’ll do the peaches. He hates peas.”
Matthew continued to slap the tray. “All right, all right,” he agreed. “I’ll do the peas.”
Sam sat down in front of the high chair and dipped the coated spoon into the peas. “Open up,” he instructed the baby. Instead, Matthew grabbed hold of the spoon, spilling the peas all down his front.
“I forgot the bib,” Beth cried, and raced to get it. She brought a washcloth back with her, but by then Matthew had managed to get peas all over the front of Sam’s shirt.
Beth gasped. “How’d he manage that?”
“He flung a spoonful of peas at me.”
“Try the peaches,” she suggested.
It didn’t matter what Sam fed the kid, Matthew wanted to feed himself. The spoon made it into his mouth about one out of five attempts. By the time the dish was empty there were peas and peaches in a two-foot radius around the high chair and a good majority of it was on Sam as well.
Beth planted her hands over her mouth. “Oh Sam.”
Peas and peaches were smeared all over Matthew’s tray, and the kid looked like he wore half of his dinner on his face and hair. The baby couldn’t be happier, though. It was as if his sole mission had been to see how much food he could get on Sam and himself.
Beth returned with a clean washrag and handed it to Sam. “I can’t believe what a good sport you are about this.”
“Doesn’t look like I had much choice,” he said, wiping the wet cloth over his face and beard. “I have to say I had no idea dinnertime would be quite this adventurous.”
“Me, neither,” Beth agreed as she wiped Matthew’s hands and face. “Do you think we should give him a bath?”
“Don’t think we have much choice. I’ll run the bath water while you keep him entertained.”
Matthew was in high spirits and ran his hands over his tray, smearing the food that remained there as if he was an artist creating a masterpiece.
Sam went into the bathroom, ran the bathwater, and returned in time to see that Beth had managed to clean off the high chair and Matthew. The kid’s hair stuck straight up with a mixture of green peas and peaches. When he saw Sam, he lifted his arms, ready to be set free of the contraption that held him in place.
“I’ll be right in to help,” Beth told him. “Nichole says as soon as he’s eaten dinner we need to change him into his pajamas and feed him his bottle, then put him down for the night.”
“Sounds good.” Sam carried the baby back into his bedroom and again needed Beth’s help getting him undressed. Who knew a kid this little would have moves Houdini couldn’t manage?
Bathtime was fun, although Sam ended up getting as much water on him as he had Matthew’s dinner. The kid loved being in the water and took delight slapping his hands and splashing water in every which directi
on. More than once Sam had to reach for a towel to dry his eyes.
While he washed the baby, Beth got out Matthew’s pajamas. It took both of them to dry and dress him. Sam bounced him against his hip while Beth heated his bottle. She was about to take him from Sam when he smelled something bad.
“Do you smell what I smell?” he asked Beth.
She sniffed near Matthew’s butt and then raised her eyes to his and nodded. “Poop.”
Holding Matthew away from him, Sam handed her the kid. “He’s all yours.”
“Sam!”
“I draw the line at poopy diapers, Beth. Said so earlier.”
“Okay, okay, but I’m going to need help.”
Together they managed it, but it wasn’t pretty. Sam kept his head twisted away while Beth cleaned the baby. “Rocco should have supplied a gas mask for this,” he complained.
Beth laughed. “Oh come on, it isn’t that bad.”
Matthew was in good spirits. As soon as Beth settled down in the rocker with his bottle, the baby reached for it with both hands. She gently rocked him as he eagerly drank his milk.
Sitting across from her, Sam took in the sight and smiled. She might have been nervous about this, but she was a natural with the baby. He’d enjoyed holding Matthew, but it was always when either Nichole or Rocco was around. This was the first time he’d been responsible for the tyke, and he was grateful Beth was there to back him up.
Matthew closed his eyes and was soon asleep. He finished the bottle and Beth gently removed it from his mouth, placed him over her shoulder, and burped him. “I’m afraid to move,” she whispered, “for fear of waking him.”
Sam reached for the pad Nichole had left them and flipped through the pages until he found instructions for getting the baby to bed. “It says here seven-thirty is his regular bedtime.” Sam twisted his wrist in order to look at his watch. “Seven-twenty-five. We’re right on schedule.”
“Okay, I’ll hold him another five minutes and then we can put him into bed.”
Their plan worked. Sam gently lifted Matthew out of her arms and noiselessly walked into the baby’s room and placed him in the crib. They stood looking down on him for several minutes, wanting to be sure he was fast asleep. Tiptoeing out of the room, they gently closed the door and then collapsed onto the sofa.
“I’m exhausted,” Beth said, leaning against Sam.
“Me, too.”
“Who knew taking care of a baby could be so demanding?”
Sam shook his head. “To think Rocco and Nichole do this every day, and from what I hear, Nichole is hoping to get pregnant again soon.”
“Are they nuts?” Beth asked.
“Apparently.” He tucked his arm around Beth, who snuggled up close to him.
“You were wonderful, Sam,” she said, yawning. “You’re going to be a great dad one day.”
Sam kissed the top of her head. She didn’t know what she was saying, didn’t know that he would have given anything to be a father to his daughter. He wouldn’t remind her, but he couldn’t help thinking it.
Beth fell asleep leaning against him, but Sam remained wide awake with thoughts of his daughter in the forefront of his mind. He put an end to all the might-have-beens before they overpowered him. Instead, he focused on Beth. Right away tension tightened his belly.
Beth. Sweet Beth. Who did he think he was kidding? This thing with her, whatever it was, had gotten well ahead of him. Everything was happening too fast. Watching her with Matthew and all of a sudden he was looking into the future, thinking about babies and everything that went along with being a family man. That wasn’t him.
Sam wasn’t looking to change his life. His enjoyed his freedom. One thing was for sure: He didn’t want his future tangled up with responsibilities. He liked the way things were pre-Beth.
Years ago, after Trish, he’d made the decision not to get involved in another relationship, and here he was with his arm around Beth and his heart and head tangled up in knots. He’d known the first night they’d met it wasn’t meant to be. They were completely wrong for each other. Beth’s mother knew it, too. One look at him had told Ellie Prudhomme what Sam already knew. He and Beth were all wrong together.
Yet here he was.
Something had to change and quick before he got in too deep, if he wasn’t there already.
CHAPTER 22
Beth
“How are things going with Sam?” Sunshine asked, as Beth and her aunt strolled the wide aisle of an indoor antiques market. Her aunt loved looking at things from the past, and Beth enjoyed accompanying her. Sunshine was a study in contrast. Her art was cutting edge and modern, and at the same time she savored reclaiming, restoring, and making new what was once discarded and old.
“Sam’s great.” Beth watched as her aunt walked over to a display of buttons. He had quickly become her everything. It frightened Beth sometimes when she thought about him. Their relationship seemed perfect, and instinct told her that perfection wouldn’t last. Soon they would hit a curve, and at the speed in which their relationship was progressing, they would either crash and burn out or find they could adjust and accommodate.
“First loves are special,” Sunshine commented, picking up a button and examining it. “They are the ones that mark us.”
Her aunt gave no further indication about her own first love, so Beth posed the question. “We never forget our first love, do we?”
“Never,” Sunshine agreed. She replaced one button and reached for a cloth-covered one, holding it in the palm of her hand. “I once read that during the Civil War women of the south would soak these cloth buttons in perfume and then sew them into the collars of their men’s shirts. That way the scent was a constant reminder of their loved ones waiting for them at home.”
“That’s so romantic.” Her mind automatically went to Sam and how dreadful she’d feel sending him off to fight with an uncertain future. Sewing one of her perfume-soaked buttons in his collar would mean as much to her as it would to him.
“Who was your first love?” Beth asked, venturing closer to the subject on her mind. She hadn’t given up the idea of finding Peter Hamlin, although she hadn’t pursued it as of yet. Sam’s words of caution had stayed with her.
Her aunt paused and a dreamy look came over her before she gently shook her head and then laughed, brushing off the question with a lighthearted response. “I had several.”
“Sunshine! Certainly there was one who stuck out in your mind more than anyone else.”
Her aunt increased her pace. “Of course there was,” she agreed, and then marched off, leaving Beth no choice but to pick up the pace in order to follow her.
Not once during the entire afternoon was she able to get Sunshine to bring up Peter’s name, but Beth knew it was him. It seemed that even now after all these years the subject of this man she’d once loved was too painful to discuss. Beth didn’t know what role her mother had played in what had happened between her aunt and Peter Hamlin, but she suspected it was major. Something had caused the rift between them, a subject neither one seemed willing to discuss.
“What about the man you mentioned that night we had dinner?”
“What night?”
She ignored the question. “His name was Peter.”
Her aunt grew suspiciously quiet.
“Did my mother have anything to do with what happened between you two?” she asked.
Her aunt’s eyes grew sad. “Listen, Beth, some subjects are best left alone. This is one of them.”
In that moment, Beth was convinced that her mother did have something to do with whatever had happened with Peter. Now more than ever she was curious to find out what she could.
—
Beth had found several Peter Hamlins on the Internet but deduced that the one living in Chicago was the man she sought. He was an attorney and worked in a prestigious law firm in the heart of the city. Of all the Peter Hamlins she’d found, this one matched up age-wise, as well. No guarantees, though. The only
way to be certain was to contact him and ask. Facebook was no help, as his site was strictly professional.
Sam cautioned her when she told him what she’d discovered. “You could be stirring up a hornet’s nest.”
“Maybe, but I feel that at least I have to try.” Sunshine had done so much for her that if Beth had even a small chance of bringing her beautiful, loving aunt happiness it would be wrong to let it drop.
—
It took Beth several days to build up her resolve to make the phone call to his Chicago office. She had to do it on her lunch break. Not wanting other staff members to overhear the conversation, she sat in her car. Her finger shook as she punched out the number.
“Hamlin, Wilkens, and Bower,” the receptionist answered.
“I’d like to speak to Peter Hamlin,” Beth returned in her most professional voice.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No.” She was afraid her voice might have trembled as she answered.
“Would you like one?” the receptionist returned.
“No, this is a personal matter. I’m calling from Oregon.”
“From Oregon,” she repeated, “and you say this is a personal matter?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Hamlin is in court this afternoon.”
“Oh…I hadn’t considered that,” Beth said, thinking out loud.
“Would you like to leave me your number for Mr. Hamlin to return your call?”
Beth considered that and realized that wouldn’t work. “I’ll be in the classroom the rest of the day.”
“Can I tell him what this is in regard to?” the woman pressed.
Again an internal debate waged inside her. “No,” she decided quickly. “I’m not sure this is the same Peter Hamlin I need to speak with.”
The woman grew hesitant. “Perhaps I can help you. My name is Sondra Reacher and I’ve been with the firm for nearly forty years. Technically, I’m retired, but I can’t seem to stay away, so I come in two days a week.”
Beth was tempted, but she didn’t know enough about Peter Hamlin to ask the right questions. “This might sound silly, but does he enjoy fish tacos?”