softly.
“It’s hard doing it alone, isn’t it?” he asked before he measured his words, and whatever pain he thought he’d inflicted on her before with his glib talk about dating and games, was nothing compared to the literal flinch he caused this time.
He was floored, absolutely undone by her pained expression, but didn’t know what to do about it. “Well, it isn’t what I planned,” she said in a low voice, then forced the suggestion of a smile. But there was no light in her eyes this time. No reality to the expression.
He knew something about Amy Blake at that moment, even though he’d only known her a day. She’d loved her husband completely, and for her being alone wasn’t a relief, but something to endure, to survive. Just the opposite of what it had been for him with Mike, because he had never known the kind of love that could cause that kind of sorrow. He truly doubted that it came to more than a handful of people in this world, but she’d had it.
“Thanks for finding my wallet.” Mundane words that sounded awkward in his own ears.
“Thanks for checking on Charlie,” she said.
“No problem. That rat and I…well, I think we bonded.” Thank goodness that brought a slight smile that seemed real, as if he had finally done something to ease her tension. “We understand each other.”
“Good, that makes up for me wishing awful things on him last night, I guess.”
A sharp whistling cut through the apartment, and Amy hurried back into the kitchen again. As she disappeared, Quint caught movement out of the corner of his eye, turned and saw the little girl stirring. She stretched a hand over her head, and the next thing he knew, she was twisting around, toward the edge of the couch, and he knew that she was going to fall off. He moved quickly, getting to her right when she started to tumble over the edge. He made a grab for her, literally catching her in midair when she started the fall, then he straightened with her in his arms.
He shifted her until she was upright in his arms, and she was stunned for a moment. She twisted around, with a juice bottle safely in one hand, lookingat him with eyes as dark as her mother’s, and bleary from sleep. Gradually they widened, and he could almost see her realizing that a strange man was holding her. As that thought materialized, she stiffened, and with her free hand, she touched his chest, then straight-armed him, trying to get back as far as she could from him.
Her flushed face puckered up, and the crying began. She was overly warm, miserable from being sick and being scared awake. And the cries built to screams. Quint might have been years away from dealing with a toddler, but the old habits kicked in. He knew better than to try and pull her against him, but instead rubbed his hand up and down on her back, jiggling her slightly and speaking in a low, soft voice that was almost obliterated by her cries.
“Okay, okay, it’s okay. Shhhh, it’s okay. You didn’t go boom. You’re just fine. It’s okay.”
He heard Amy behind him and caught a glimpse of her, almost touching his left arm. “What happened?”
The baby’s cries were faltering, and he could feel her relaxing just a bit. A hiccup shook her little body, then a sniffle and a shudder and she was quiet, but still braced with her hand pressed against his chest.
“She’s just like her mother,” he said, and realized how true it was, from the eyes to the way she had of frowning slightly as she stared at him to ending up in his arms.
“What did she do, throw a rat at you?” Amy asked.
“No, she’s got a problem with falling. She almost rolled off the couch.”
“Nice catch,” Amy murmured. “For hating kids, you’re awfully good with them.”
Quint looked at the tiny human being in his arms. “I don’t hate kids,” he said. “I’m just past that. Way past it.”
“Been there, done that?”
He looked at Amy. “Years ago,” he murmured to remind himself that this scene
“It’s hard doing it alone, isn’t it?” he asked before he measured his words, and whatever pain he thought he’d inflicted on her before with his glib talk about dating and games, was nothing compared to the literal flinch he caused this time.
He was floored, absolutely undone by her pained expression, but didn’t know what to do about it. “Well, it isn’t what I planned,” she said in a low voice, then forced the suggestion of a smile. But there was no light in her eyes this time. No reality to the expression.
He knew something about Amy Blake at that moment, even though he’d only known her a day. She’d loved her husband completely, and for her being alone wasn’t a relief, but something to endure, to survive. Just the opposite of what it had been for him with Mike, because he had never known the kind of love that could cause that kind of sorrow. He truly doubted that it came to more than a handful of people in this world, but she’d had it.
“Thanks for finding my wallet.” Mundane words that sounded awkward in his own ears.
“Thanks for checking on Charlie,” she said.
“No problem. That rat and I…well, I think we bonded.” Thank goodness that brought a slight smile that seemed real, as if he had finally done something to ease her tension. “We understand each other.”
“Good, that makes up for me wishing awful things on him last night, I guess.”
A sharp whistling cut through the apartment, and Amy hurried back into the kitchen again. As she disappeared, Quint caught movement out of the corner of his eye, turned and saw the little girl stirring. She stretched a hand over her head, and the next thing he knew, she was twisting around, toward the edge of the couch, and he knew that she was going to fall off. He moved quickly, getting to her right when she started to tumble over the edge. He made a grab for her, literally catching her in midair when she started the fall, then he straightened with her in his arms.
He shifted her until she was upright in his arms, and she was stunned for a moment. She twisted around, with a juice bottle safely in one hand, lookingat him with eyes as dark as her mother’s, and bleary from sleep. Gradually they widened, and he could almost see her realizing that a strange man was holding her. As that thought materialized, she stiffened, and with her free hand, she touched his chest, then straight-armed him, trying to get back as far as she could from him.
Her flushed face puckered up, and the crying began. She was overly warm, miserable from being sick and being scared awake. And the cries built to screams. Quint might have been years away from dealing with a toddler, but the old habits kicked in. He knew better than to try and pull her against him, but instead rubbed his hand up and down on her back, jiggling her slightly and speaking in a low, soft voice that was almost obliterated by her cries.
“Okay, okay, it’s okay. Shhhh, it’s okay. You didn’t go boom. You’re just fine. It’s okay.”
He heard Amy behind him and caught a glimpse of her, almost touching his left arm. “What happened?”
The baby’s cries were faltering, and he could feel her relaxing just a bit. A hiccup shook her little body, then a sniffle and a shudder and she was quiet, but still braced with her hand pressed against his chest.
“She’s just like her mother,” he said, and realized how true it was, from the eyes to the way she had of frowning slightly as she stared at him to ending up in his arms.
“What did she do, throw a rat at you?” Amy asked.
“No, she’s got a problem with falling. She almost rolled off the couch.”
“Nice catch,” Amy murmured. “For hating kids, you’re awfully good with them.”
Quint looked at the tiny human being in his arms. “I don’t hate kids,” he said. “I’m just past that. Way past it.”
“Been there, done that?”
He looked at Amy. “Years ago,” he murmured to remind himself that this scene
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