Gone With the Witch (27 page)

His dragon would have given her a heart attack. But she
was kind and generous.
Talented.
Fun.
She liked to dance. He wasn't any more worthy of her than of Storm, and both of them damned well deserved better than him.

Claudette should have cut him out of the picture and thrown his half away. He sure didn't deserve a spot in the old lady's home, he thought as he handed her the picture.

From the porch, he saw Storm, barefoot, ambling along the sandy beach with a bounce in her step and a toddler in her arms, a small head of dark curls on her shoulder. Beneath Storm's rebellious
goth
demeanor hid a nurturer in disguise, determined to rescue every crying baby in her head.

Claudette's mother tugged on his shirt, and Aiden
turned his attention her way. He lowered himself to her
level again and for a moment covered her hand, her skin
paper-thin and cool to the touch. Claudette had been lucky
to have a mother who cared so much she was raising her granddaughter, or so he assumed. Glancing back toward Storm and the baby, he caught Mrs. Langley's movement and gave her his full attention. She had taken the picture from its frame and was trying to hand it to him. "Read the back," she said.

On it, Claudette had written the date, her name,
and ..
.
"
four
months pregnant" ... then his name and ... "the
father of my child."

Gut-punched by an invisible hand, Aiden rose and read it again.

He looked across the sand at Storm holding ... his
daughter ... and his pathetic life passed before his eyes.
"I ... didn't know."

Mrs. Langley nodded. "Claudette told me you didn't."

He'd thought Claudette had left because their life goals
differed too greatly. She was a homebody who wanted
roots and,
eventually—or
so she'd said that last day—a family. But he was a wanderer; happy driving his motor coach wherever his work took him.

She'd wanted him to stop roaming and put down roots.
Too frank and too loud, he'd told her in no uncertain terms that he didn't want to be tied down.

When he got back, she was gone.

Now their parting would haunt him forever.

She'd left because she'd carried the means to tie him down, and she'd refused to use it.

Chapter Thirty-Six

MRS.
Langley nodded as if she could read his every regretful thought. "Claudette's friends brought me that picture after they cleaned out her shop."

"I'm sorry about Claudette," Aiden said, his voice
cracking.

Her mother teared up. "So are we, though Becky never met her, and Claudette never saw her baby."

Aiden pulled a rattan chair to the wheelchair and sat down. "I didn't know about Becky. I would have come sooner if I had."

"Why did you come now, then?" she asked.

"My friend."
He looked toward Storm, heading their
way, kissing the baby's crown of dark curls. "She's psychic
and has a pretty outstanding gift for finding lost children."

"Storm," Mrs. Langley said. "We introduced ourselves when you went for the picture. And please call me Ginny,
both of you. Thank you, Storm, for leading Aiden to us,
and not a day too soon."

"I welcomed the opportunity to use my psychic gifts for

such
a good cause."
Storm gave him a look, not quite an I-told-you-so, but close
.

Aiden regarded the baby's small fingers in Storm's hair.

She must have read him, so she put the baby in his arms.
"Here you go"—she glanced down at the picture and saw the inscription—"Dad."

"Da Da," the toddler said, patting his cheeks then clapping her hands.
"Da Da!"

Despite being poleaxed, a wash of protectiveness made Aiden pull his daughter close. He looked at Claudette's mother for an explanation. "Da Da?" he asked.

"We practice with your picture," Ginny explained. "Becky's been able to identify you for a while now."

"For a minute, I thought she was psychic like Storm," Aiden said, "but she can't be more than, what, a year old? She's smart for her age, isn't she?"

"Spoken like a true father," Storm said, and Ginny
looked pleased.

"What did you mean about it not being a day too soon?"
Storm asked her.

"Social Se
rv
ices
doesn't
consider me fit to raise Becky, because I'm confined to the chair, of course, but losing her will hurt so much. They're coming to take her tomorrow and put her in foster
care."

"No!"
Storm and Aiden shouted.

Aiden checked his watch. "A little after noon," he said. "Good." He handed his daughter—his daughter, shock of shocks—back to Storm and took out his cell.
"I'm calling
the foundation lawyers to get them started on putting a monkey wrench in the plan. When you feed the poor and shelter the homeless, you work with Social Se
rv
ices. If anybody knows how the system operates, the foundation
lawyers will." He walked away to make the call but turned to Ginny during the conversation. "Is my name on Becky's
birth certificate?"

"No, Claudette was in a coma when they took Becky by
C-section. I hadn't seen that picture yet, and I didn't know.

I was tempted to put you down. But I didn't want to make a
mistake that couldn't be rectified."

Aiden shook off her apology. "Can you give me the
names of the social workers involved, telephone num
bers?" he
asked,
his hand over the mouthpiece.

Ginny sent Storm for her records.

The older woman sorted through the papers and handed
Aiden what he needed. He read the info to his lawyer at the
other end of the line. "Get a cease and desist or some
thing," Aiden said and hung up.

After two hours of playing with his daughter and hold
ing her while she napped in his arms, Aiden discovered
that he'd fallen head over heels in less than a day. And he hadn't thought he knew how to love. Hah.

With Becky asleep on his shoulder, he looked up, surprised, when warmth spread across his chest and down his lap. "Storm, Ginny, 'I think my lap is wet."

"Oh," Ginny said. "I should have changed her before
she fell asleep, but you both looked so content."

"No," Storm said. "Stay where you are, Ginny. I think
it's time Aiden learned how to change his daughter's dia
per. Let's go, Papa Bear," Storm said.

Aiden got up carefully so as not to wake Becky, and fol
lowed Storm into the nurse
ry
.

"Becky's room is really lovely," Storm said.

"Becky's daddy is really wet," Aiden said, "though I
hate to wake her, but ... oh, hello there, Sweet Stuff." Becky
pulled away to look at him. "Did 'I jostle you awake?"
Aiden asked her.

But she looked like she was going to c
ry
,
as if she didn't
know who he was, which about broke him. He jiggled her and said, "Da Da!" with a big grin, and watched her features change to recognition, until she smiled shyly. Oh, brother was he hooked.

"This is the dressing table," Storm said. “And here are the wipes and powder."

"So?"

"So lay her on her back on the dressing table, and stay in front of her, so she doesn't roll off."

"Done.
Next?"

"Take off her dirty diaper."

"How dirty?"

"That's part of the surprise. You won't know until you take it off, though there is a distinct odor."

Aiden gave her a double take. "You're getting your jollies out of this."

"Who me?
Miss 'You-have-a-child' enjoying some overdue payback for `you're-nuts'?"

"Point taken.
How do I get her out of this to find the diaper?"

"You know," Storm said, "I watched you take an antique
chandelier apart and put it back together again. This is a pink ruffled playsuit."

"On a moving target."

Storm bit her lip. Every time Aiden got Becky on her back again, she squirmed around and was up on all fours. "Talk to her," Storm said. "Tell her a story to keep her attention on your face and voice."

"Once upon a time, my darling Becky, there was a
turtle—" Aiden started to unbutton her shoulder straps, but
Storm pointed to the snap crotch. He rolled his eyes and pulled the snaps apart while Becky tried to get up again.
Gently, he got her on her back again. "That silly turtle
didn't think he had room enough in his shell, or his heart, for a family—"

"Good grief, don't pull the diaper down, pull the side
tabs off. Better containment that way"

"But one day that silly turtle fell in love with a beautiful
little fairy princess—holy crap—who stank to high
heaven!
Stinky, stinky, stinky!"

Becky giggled and raised her legs
as
if waiting for him to clean her off.

"Figures," Storm said. "You get a daughter who cooper
ates when it's important."

Aiden grabbed a huge handful of wipes, and Storm
nearly laughed, but he did get Becky cleaned up, and
hardly gagged at all.

"If I didn't need you to tell me how to put another dia
per on her," Aiden said, "I'd throw you out of the room
right now. My weak gag reflex stays between us,
Cartwright."

Storm crossed her heart and handed him a new disposable diaper.

"It's flat," he said. "And she's not."

"Open it like an accordion. Pictures go in the front.
When they fade, she needs to be changed again."

"How do you know so much?" Aiden asked. "There are
no babies in your family yet."

"Vickie's friend Melody Seabright has two kids. I've changed her daughter's diaper more than a few times."

"Melody Seabright of cooking show fame, the one who runs the Keep Me Foundation?"
Aiden asked. "I've done
business with her
. '
I knew she came from
Salem, but I never
made the connection."

"How do you two do business?"

"The McCloud Foundation donates heavily to the Keep Me Foundation's causes."

"And here you are, about to keep a baby of your own.”

“This playsuit is too wet to put back on her," he said.
"Oh goody, I get to go through her outfits."

"
It's
fashion all the way with you, isn't it?"

"Since I became part owner of the Immortal Classic, it is. Before that, you don't wanna know."

"Maybe the McCloud Foundation should invest in some
kind of child find organization, possibly in conjunction
with Melody's Keep Me Foundation." He cupped his
daughter's face and bent to kiss her brow, her nose, and
then the fingers she placed against his mouth.

The way Storm looked at him made his heart turn over. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said. "I like
this
outfit."

When his cell phone rang, Aiden could see that it was the foundation. Becky clapped, and he and Storm changed

places
at the dressing table so she could dress Becky while
he took the call.

His hands were shaking when he answered and more so
as he listened. "T
ry
!" he said, hanging up a minute later.

Ginny had wheeled her chair to the doorway of Becky's room when she heard his phone. She was waiting for a ver
dict. Aiden wished he had a better one. "Everything is a mess," he said, "but they're working on clearing it up. We have every reason to hope for the right outcome."