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That was good, wasn’t it?
The doctor pulled the foot. “See how easily it bends back to normal? You can work with it, helping it to bend correctly while she’s eating or when you’re holding her.”
Mark glanced at the young mother. Even in her exhaustion, there was no denying her beauty, especially now. “The baby is beautiful, Juliet. Just like you.”
“Thank you.” She beamed at him, turning him inside out. “I don’t know what I would have done without you, Mark.”
A warm glow lit his heart, causing his chest to swell as though he’d had a hand in creating a miracle, as though he’d actually done something to bring this precious child into the world.
After the baby had a sponge bath and was bundled up like a little burrito in a flannel blanket, the nurse handed her to Juliet. “Let’s try to get her to nurse.”
Mark might have stayed for the birth, but he thought it would be best if he slipped out for a while now. “I’m going to get a cup of coffee before the cafeteria closes.”
“You may as well get something to eat while you’re there,” Beth Ann said. “We’re having dinner brought up to the new mommy.”
“All right. I’ll be back, Juliet.”
After having the Salisbury steak special and a slice of chocolate cake, he savored a cup of coffee, taking time to reflect on the awesome experience he’d just had.
If Mark were a church-goer, he might whisper a prayer of thanksgiving. But he wasn’t. Still, he couldn’t quell a sense of wonder, of awe.
“Hey,” he whispered, his voice raspy with emotion. “Thanks. For the miracle.”
Then he put his plate, cup and utensils in the plastic receptacle and headed back to maternity to tell Juliet that she’d done a great job. That she’d make a wonderful mother.
When he stepped into the birthing room, the baby was nestled in Juliet’s arms. The doctor had gone, and Beth Ann was preparing a little bassinette near the hospital bed.
Mark plopped down on the chair, although he wasn’t sure why. Moments later, Beth Ann left them alone.
“Are you going to stay?” Juliet asked.
He glanced up. “Here?”
“You don’t have to.”
Did she want him to spend the night? He tried to read her expression.
She bit on her lip, then clicked her tongue. “It’s just that I was thinking about what the orderly said. About that woman trying to steal a newborn. And I know they’ve got security and all.” She glanced at the sleeping baby in her arms. “But I’m not going to rest very well tonight. I’ll keep looking at her, checking to see if she’s breathing. Checking to see if she’s still here.”
He figured it was just a typical case of maternal anxiety. Both mother and child would be safer here than anywhere. But he wasn’t going to tell Juliet she was a worrywart. Not after what she’d been through.
“I’m sure you’ll both be fine. But I’ll stay, if it makes you feel better. And I’ll keep an eye on you both.”
“Thanks.” She offered him an appreciative smile. “It may sound weird, but this is the first time she hasn’t really been a part of me. And it will make me feel better if you stayed.”
He nodded. “You try to get some sleep. If she cries, I’ll wake you.”
Juliet chuckled. “If she cries, I have a feeling I’ll hear her.”
“Maybe so. But just in case, I’ll stick around.”
She stroked the little girl’s cheek, then looked at Mark. “Can you lay her in the bed?”
What?
Hold her?
Well, he supposed it would be tough for Juliet to maneuver. And maybe she wasn’t allowed out of bed. “Okay.”
Juliet handed him the tiny bundle. The sleeping baby, still warm from her mother’s embrace, felt like a bit of nothing in his arms. An empty bundle of flannel.
He tried not to spend too much time fawning over her, marveling over the healthy pink color and the way her mouth made little kissing movements, but it wasn’t easy. He actually had to make himself place her in the bed.
Then, without thinking, he brushed a kiss across Juliet’s brow, an affectionate gesture he hadn’t planned.
It didn’t seem to bother her, which he supposed was good.
“Don’t worry,” he told her.
“I won’t.” She smiled, then nestled her head into the pillow and closed her eyes.
He watched her for a while, saw her grow easy and suspected she’d fallen asleep. He’d promised to watch over her and the little one.
And he would.
He just hoped to God that he’d been right when he told her not to worry. That nothing would go wrong.
Especially on his watch.
Chapter Seven
Juliet sat up in the hospital bed, a tray of breakfast before her. Mark, bless his heart, had gone to the cafeteria. But he’d stayed with her the entire night.
He had to be exhausted, because each time she’d wakened for a feeding, he’d handed the baby to her.
She couldn’t believe how helpful he’d been, how supportive. Nor could she believe how much she’d grown to appreciate having him near. Or how his smile could make her feel as though she didn’t have a worry in the world when that wasn’t the case. Her finances were still shaky, especially since she would need to hire a sitter after her disability ran out.
The baby whimpered, and Juliet turned to see her daughter scrunch her sweet face. Throughout the night, Mark had called her Sweet Pea, referring to the crawling infant in a Popeye cartoon. But the little girl needed a real name.
Over the past few months, Juliet had tossed around some ideas. At one time, while contemplating girls’ names, she’d thought about calling the baby Manuela, after her brother. Or maybe Maria Elena, after her abuelita. But before making a final decision, she’d decided to wait until her daughter arrived.
It seemed logical to make sure the baby looked like a Manuela or a Maria before dubbing her with a name that would stick for the rest of her life. And now that Juliet had seen the baby and fallen in love with her, neither seemed to fit.
But around two o’clock in the morning, she’d gotten another idea. Something that felt more appropriate and more fitting.
The door swung open, as Mark entered the room. He carried a newspaper and a disposable cup she assumed was coffee.
“Looks like Sweet Pea is giving you a chance to eat breakfast in peace,” he said.
Juliet smiled and glanced at the precious little one lying in the bassinette. “So far so good, but I think she’s starting to wake up now.”
He made his way to the baby’s bedside and studied her while she squirmed. “What are you going to call her?”
Juliet didn’t respond until his gaze caught hers. “I’d like to name her after you, Mark. What do you think of Marissa?”
His eyes widened, and his lips parted. “You’re going to name her after me?”
He seemed genuinely touched, and she was glad. “I’m not sure how I would have managed without you this past week.”
Before he could respond further, a blond candy striper popped her head in the door. “Are you finished with breakfast?”
“Yes,” Juliet said, taking one last sip of milk.
The bright-eyed teen crossed the room with a spring in her step and picked up Juliet’s tray. “Did you hear the news?”
Mark, who’d managed to doff the sentiment from his expression the minute the candy striper entered the room, slipped into reporter mode. “What news?”
“A couple of guys hunting for gold near Turner Grade found several large nuggets. They showed the E.R. staff, and everyone said they were the biggest ones yet.” The teenager smiled, revealing a set of rainbow-colored braces. “My grandpa left us a piece of property that used to be a gold mine in the olden days. And my dad is going to get a second mortgage on our house so he can buy the equipment and hire a crew to start working it again.”
Juliet glanced at Mark, knowing what he was thinking—that the poor candy striper’s father was wasting his time, as well as risking the family’s financial security.
Mark didn’t comment, didn’t deflate the young woman’s hope, which was good. And Juliet, who always tried to keep a positive outlook, was glad he’d held his tongue. But she had to admit even she found the man’s enthusiasm a bit scary. After all, Mark had been right about something. Most of the gold hunters would end up empty-handed.
“What were the prospectors doing in the E.R.?” Mark asked.
“Apparently, they’d been celebrating their find at The Hitching Post last night. On the way to the parking lot, one of them tripped and cut his hand on a bottle of beer he’d been holding. So he came in for stitches.”
“Crazy fools.” Mark glanced at Juliet, with a see-what-I-mean look in his eye, which silently pointed out the downside of the gold rush.
It was amazing. Juliet and Mark had actually communicated in a look, a glance. Just like married couples seemed to do.
For a moment, she wondered what had happened between them in the past week. What had changed? Had they forged some kind of a bond? And if so, what direction would their friendship take?
But rather than get carried away, she shrugged off her question, deciding to take one day at a time.
“The E.R. gets a lot of gold-rush related injuries,” Mark said.
“They sure do.” The candy striper grinned. “Just this morning, someone came in with a gunshot wound.”
“That’s a lot more serious than a cut or broken bone,” Mark said. “Was it another prospector?”
“Uh-huh. My friend is a nurse’s aide, and she told me it was a property dispute or something like that.” The teenager lifted Juliet’s tray. “Well, I’d better get back to work.” Then she left the room and went on her way.
Juliet glanced at Mark, saw his furrowed brow.
Was he contemplating the value of the candy striper’s gossip? Or the importance of the land dispute?
“It looks like your story is taking off without you,” Juliet said. “Marissa and I are doing okay. Why don’t you take some time to yourself?”
“Maybe I will.” He glanced at the baby, watched her squirm and fuss. “Mind if I pick her up? I think she’s hungry.”
Juliet could just as easily take care of the baby herself, but she had a feeling Mark liked being helpful. “Please do.”
He held the child against his chest for a bit longer than necessary, which Juliet thought was sweet. That fish-out-of-water expression hadn’t completely disappeared, but he’d grown more confident.
“Have a nice breakfast, Sweet Pea.” He ran a knuckle along the baby’s cheek, then handed her to Juliet. “I’ll be back later this afternoon.”
“That’s fine. Dr. Hart was just here. She wants to keep us at least another night, just to make sure Marissa is nursing well and doesn’t develop any problems related to her premature birth.”
“Ma-ris-sa,” he said, enunciating each sound. His eyes lit up, as he smiled. “I’m not sure if I told you, but I like that. It’s a pretty name for a pretty little girl.”
Then he grabbed his coffee, rolled up the newspaper and headed for the door. Off to work. Just like a typical new father.
Stop that, Juliet told herself. Soy la tonta del barrio, the biggest fool in town.
Mark had been a good friend—that’s all. And she couldn’t let those kinds of silly thoughts take root.
Lord knew she didn’t need to set herself up for any more disappointments in her life.
The newspaper office was located along South Main, just a few blocks from Town Square. It wasn’t a big building, but then again, the Thunder Canyon Nugget was only a weekly.
Mark had come by twice before, not long after he’d arrived in town. But the publisher and editor, Roy Canfield, had an Out To Lunch sign on the door. And the sign had remained there all afternoon.
But today Mark was in luck—no sign and the door of the white-stucco building was unlocked.
He entered the small front office and caught the heady scent of newsprint and ink.
A heavyset, salt-and-pepper-haired man in a tweed sports jacket sat at a desk near a door leading to the back. His leather desk chair squeaked as he turned from his work. “Can I help you?”
“My name’s Mark Anderson. I’m with Golden Eagle News Service. Are you Mr. Canfield?”
“Yes, siree.” The sixty-something man stood and reached out a hand in greeting. “But call me Roy.”
They shook hands, and Mark cut to the chase. “I read your latest editorial. In fact, I was a bit surprised that it was so well-written and thought-provoking.”
“Because you agree with me? Or because the Nugget is just a weekly?” Roy crossed his arms above an ample belly, but his smile indicated he hadn’t found the comment offensive.
Mark returned his smile. “Actually, I disagreed with you. And I plan to write a letter in rebuttal.”
“Good!” Roy stood as tall as his five-and-a-half foot frame would allow, putting quite a strain on his red suspenders. “I’m always up for a heated debate.”
Mark smiled. “I must admit the issue I read was better than I expected.”
“I bought the Nugget two years ago, after I retired from a big-city press. And I’ve tried to make it a quality newspaper while maintaining the small-town appeal.”
“You’ve done a good job. I expected to see something about a two-headed cow or a fifty-pound rutabaga.”
“That’s what I’ve tried to get away from ever since I bought this rag.” Roy’s blue eyes glistened. “It’s not always easy to find real news in a small town. Do you know what the last editor ran on the front page the day before I took the helm?”
