Impossible Dreams (18 page)

“Tell me if you see red hair,” she whispered
between pants.

Axell managed a sour grin even as his stomach contracted into
knots. Okay, he could handle red hair. Maybe they could talk each other through
this. He had no difficulty talking to Maya. She didn’t seem to care what
he said. “Have you reached the baby’s father yet?” he asked
as he lifted the quilt with his elbow to keep his hands clean.

“His new girlfriend said he’s recording in
Nashville. She promised to give him word, but I won’t hold my
breath.”

“Nice job of not holding your breath,” he said
dryly a few minutes later as she screamed the plaster into crumbling. But they
were making progress. “I can see his hair!” he called excitedly,
caught up in the astonishment of discovery. “He’s got a full head
of it.”

Maya followed his announcement with a screaming curse Axell
blithely assumed was for the missing father. Given a chance, he’d issue a
few of his own, but his teeth were chattering and he didn’t risk
speaking. He wasn’t a damned doctor. He was a bartender, for chrissake.
“Make this one a martini,” he could handle, not “deliver
red-haired baby.”

He checked the notes he’d jotted, wondered how he
would dial the phone without contaminating his gloves, and nearly threw up as
Maya arched her back, screamed, and soaked the bed pad with a gush of blood and
water.

“My God!” Dropping his notes, the quilt, and any
semblance of calm, Axell gasped as the infant’s head popped out and tiny
shoulders slithered into view. This was happening too damned fast. He
didn’t have time to prepare...

He didn’t need instructions to grab the tiny head and
shoulders as they slid from Maya’s body. Awed, hands shaking, every nerve
on edge as Maya moaned and heaved and cursed again, Axell caught the slippery
infant and eased him into the world.

Her. Eased
her
into the world.

“A girl, Maya,” he whispered in amazement, not
having any idea if she could hear him or not as the tiny creature fell into his
hands. “Does she have a name?”

There were things he was supposed to do. Umbilical cord.
Afterbirth. Cry. No, the baby was supposed to cry, not him. Hot tears burned
his eyes and his hands trembled. Fighting emotions he didn’t know he
possessed, he cleared the infant’s throat, patted her gently to start her
breathing, and heard the first faint gasp of air, followed by a weak cry.

She lived. And breathed. Relief so overwhelmed him, Axell
nearly collapsed on the bed beside Maya. He’d delivered a living baby.
He’d arrived in time to save them. He hadn’t lost them this time.

Not stopping to examine that thought, he rubbed his face
with his shoulder to wipe away the moisture, and mechanically followed the
instructions now clearly imprinted on his brain.

The moments after his son had been pronounced dead haunted
the back of his mind: the doctor’s expression as he’d told him, the
wails from Angela’s mother, the scream of an ambulance siren... He
hadn’t been in time, hadn’t even been able to hold her hand...

Ambulance siren.

“Let me hold her,” Maya whispered, jerking him
back to the moment. “I want to hold her before they take her away from
me.”

Take her away? Over his dead body. The tiny wriggling human
form in Axell’s hands protested with weak cries and flailing fists as he
cautiously wrapped her in a pillowcase. Maybe he should have used one of the
Ace bandages. She was small, but her face screwed up pugnaciously as she
readied herself for another holler, and her wet hair had a decidedly reddish
cast. Axell smiled as he lowered her into Maya’s arms.

“Definitely Aries,” he said facetiously.

The smile she granted him in return was worth every minute
of terror. The knot in his stomach slowly unraveled.

“God, I love you,” she murmured, closing her
eyes and holding the baby.

And she did. Love filled her heart and overflowed to
encompass anyone and everyone: God, her daughter, Axell...

Axell. Holding her daughter tightly, Maya imprinted on her
memory the image of his taut face streaked with tears. Those big, capable hands
had delivered her daughter —
her daughter
— held her as if she were more precious than gold. The stony gray of his eyes had
melted to molten silver for a moment, and she’d seen right through him.
Her icy Nordic god had love frozen inside him somewhere. Someone just needed to
reach in and lay warm hands on his frostbitten heart.

Constance could. Maybe any child could. She owed him one.

“Alexa,” she murmured as the siren screamed
louder.

“What?”

She felt Axell leaning over her, and she opened her eyes to
smile at him. He really was the handsomest man she’d ever known, even
though that square jaw of his scared her half to death. With his hair soaked
and the linen shirt plastered to his chest, he looked more like a vengeful sea
god than Thor. He definitely looked dangerous — and protective. She wanted to pat
his cheek in reassurance, but she had her hands full of beautiful infant.
“Alexa,” she breathed. “Like Axell, I guess. Close,
anyway.”

No matter what the future might bring, she would always love
this stern-faced man, and as far as she was concerned, this child was his.
He’d saved their lives. She dropped into a doze of exhaustion.

Axell stared down at mother and child in confusion.

Alexa.

She was naming the baby Alexa. He heard the paramedics
racing through the house with a stretcher, but Axell observed their arrival
from a distant plateau. There for a moment, he’d been part of
Maya’s world, warm and touching and grounded. Now, suddenly, he was on
the outside again, with that chilly distance between them.

She’d said she loved him. She must have been
hysterical.

Uncertainly, he reached out and brushed Maya’s hand
where it lay on the stretcher. Sleepily, she wrapped her fingers around his. A
warm thrill shot through him. She didn’t push him away.

Axell had to let her go as they wheeled her out of the room.
One of the female paramedics had appropriated the baby, and he didn’t
feel qualified to object. But there for one brief second, he’d been part
of a spectacular moment in life. He didn’t think he’d ever be the
same.

For another brief moment, he wondered how he could share
that warmth again, how he could be someone other than who he was.

Alexa. Her name was Alexa.

Stupid name. Grumbling, Axell climbed into the
paramedic’s utility vehicle beside the stretcher, and propped his head in
his hands. He was out of his damned mind.

If Barbie is so popular, why do you have to buy her friends?

“Just where do you think you’re going?” a
formidable nurse asked as Axell glanced around the hospital corridor, searching
for the right room. At the nurse’s tone, the flowers in his hand almost
wilted.

“To Room 301,” he answered cautiously, wondering
about the interrogation. Hospitals made him nervous.

“Are you the father?” she demanded.

The temptation was to say yes, but he didn’t lie
without reason, and he saw no reason here. “Just a friend.” He
didn’t call many people friend.

“Then you can’t go in until visiting hours. Come
back at eleven.”

Stunned, Axell watched her walk off. He’d damned well
delivered that kid, and he wasn’t going to be put off by any tin general
now. Constance and Matty had been bouncing up and down with excitement since
he’d come home last night. He’d promised to deliver their artwork
to Maya along with the flowers they’d picked from the garden. He’d
barely persuaded them to go to school this morning. He deserved some reward for
his patience.

Waiting until the nurse had her back turned, Axell strode
briskly down the corridor, vowing to tell the next person who asked that he was
the father.

With assurance, he located the door and knocked quietly. He
didn’t want to wake Maya if she was sleeping. Maybe he could just slip in
and leave the flowers in a glass of water with the artwork beside it, then go
down to the nursery and peek at the infant.

“Come in,” Maya’s musical voice chimed
merrily.

After the ordeal she’d just been through, she still
managed to sound like a damned gypsy queen. Steeling himself, Axell pushed open
the door, and nearly slammed it closed again. Picturing himself making a Forest
Gump knock-kneed retreat down the hospital corridor, Axell set his jaw and
walked in as if he belonged here. If she didn’t mind, he wouldn’t
either.

She was sitting up in bed, trying to nurse the infant.
“Trying” being the operative word. Little Alexa sucked and gulped,
then screamed in rage and beat her little fists until Maya winced. She glanced
up at him apologetically.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were the nurse.
We’re having a little trouble here, and I was hoping for some
advice.”

He ought to look away, but he felt as if he’d been
poleaxed. He couldn’t tear his gaze from the sight of the infant sucking
frantically at her mother’s breast.

Maya was wearing a delicate lace-trimmed nightshirt that
Selene must have brought over with her suitcase last night. The first few
buttons were unfastened, and Axell could see tiny fingers digging into an ivory
curve. The sight nearly unmanned him, but fascination gripped him stronger.
He’d delivered that child. He’d seen far more than the curve of a
breast. That didn’t lessen his fascination.

Angela hadn’t nursed Constance, so Axell knew less
than nothing about breast-feeding. He should have known Maya would attempt it.
She was the type to nurse even if she could afford the infant formula and
bottles — which she couldn’t. Clearing his throat, Axell filled a water glass
with the wilting flowers and lay the artwork down beside it.

“These things take time, don’t they?” he
asked cautiously.

Maya sighed and removed the wailing infant from her breast,
fastening her buttons with one hand as she bounced the baby gently. “I suppose,
but the nurse said I may not have what it takes. I think that means I’m
underfed.”

She efficiently popped the top of a bottled formula on the
night stand. “Don’t hover. Have a seat. An audience will prevent me
from having a temper tantrum.”

Put that way, he didn’t have much choice, but Axell
raised his eyebrows at the idea of Maya having a temper tantrum.
“You’re both doing well?” He sounded cold even to himself.

“Thanks to you, healthy as pigs, except for this small
problem.” Now that she had the baby sucking happily on the bottle, she
lifted the pink bundle in his direction. “Want to hold her? You’ve
earned the right.”

Startled, Axell almost pulled back, but his hands had a mind
of their own. Carefully, terrified, he took the infant and bottle in both
hands. She was no bigger than his outspread fingers, softer and more limp than
a kitten. He could feel her heart beating.

“They don’t break. Just hold her head up with
your arm. Surely you’ve had experience at this,” Maya instructed
briskly.

Axell threw her a suspicious glance but did as she said.
Alexa scarcely noticed the transfer. “My wife always fed Constance.
Whenever I picked her up, Constance would cry.” Amazed, he stared at the
tiny fingers now wrapped around his big ones as the baby tugged hungrily at the
bottle. She hadn’t cried at all.

“She probably wasn’t used to having you around.
Babies bond with the sound of the parents’ voices while they’re
still in the womb. If you’d kept talking to her, she would have
eventually recognized yours.”

Maya had pinned her unruly hair in a barrette, her face was
scrubbed clean of any hint of cosmetic, but her rosy smile and kaleidoscope
eyes added all the color required. She was watching the baby and not him, but
he could deal with that. He adjusted the infant more comfortably so she could
see Alexa better.

“So while I’m sitting here talking to you, Alexa
is absorbing my voice, and she won’t scream the next time I pick her
up?”

Maya shrugged. “I can’t promise that. Babies
scream for lots of reasons. They’re still screaming when they’re
teenagers.” She rolled her eyes. “I did some student teaching in
high school once. I’m not looking forward to adolescence.”

Adolescence. My God, in a few years, Constance would be
entering puberty. What the devil would he do with her then? Send her to
girls’ school somewhere?

“Then the theory isn’t much different: give them
what they want, and they’re happy,” Axell said.

Maya beamed in approval. “But what they want
isn’t always what’s good for them. So screaming is just part of the
territory. Get used to it.”

He didn’t have to be afraid if the child cried.
Another revelation. Angela had jerked Constance out of his hands the instant
she whimpered, as if he’d been doing something wrong. He’d always
felt inadequate and useless. It had been far easier to go to the bar every day
and earn money to keep them happy than to stay home and try to figure out what
made them tick. But he was older now and had more endurance.

“How’s Matty? Did Selene find a baby-sitter for
him?”

“I had her pick him up and take him over to the house.
Dorothy was already over there looking after Constance, so it just made sense.
They play well together.”

Maya didn’t comment on the fact that he’d
ignored her instructions. “I think she’s asleep. Put that pad over
your shoulder before you lift her. She spit up earlier.”

Little fists lay in complete relaxation even though the
rosebud mouth still worked dreamily. The tiny mite may as well have reached
through his chest and plucked his heartstrings. He was playing with fire here.
Reluctantly, Axell lifted Baby Alexa to his shoulder and cautiously rubbed her
skinny back.

Perhaps now was the time to get back to business. He could
control financial affairs a lot easier than he could control squalling infants
and suspicious women. “You want to tell me why the devil you sent the
cleaning crew home and decided to move into the school? That’s what you
were doing, weren’t you? You took your teacups.”