Chapter 3 #3
To his surprise, she took the whole bottle.
Then he remembered what they’d shown him, and he put her on his shoulder and began to jiggle her and pat her back.
Sure enough, in just a couple of minutes, she let out a huge burp.
“Good job!” he told her, then took her back into his arms. She squirmed a little, made a few funny faces, and settled down to stare up into his face.
“You should go to sleep now,” he told her and put her in her basket, but when he did, she began to cry, not hard, but a sniffling, whining kind of sound.
“Okay, okay! Sorry!” he told her and took her back out.
“But you have to go to sleep. I’m exhausted.
” Was this how new moms felt? If it was, he felt sorry for them.
He was ready for bed, but she wasn’t, or at least she didn’t seem to be.
He tried to put her back in the basket, with the same result.
What do I do now? he wondered. There wasn’t a rocking chair in the house and, based on commercials he’d seen, most babies liked that.
Exasperation was about to take over when he remembered something: He’d seen people singing to babies.
Maybe that would work. But he was so tired that he couldn’t even think of a song to sing.
After a couple of minutes, he decided he’d just sing his own song, so he looked down into her face and began.
But, on a whim, he substituted you and your for her and she .
If you asked me to,
I’d pull the stars from the sky,
Build a castle treetop high,
Write your name in the sand.
If you asked me to,
I’d give you the moon,
Make every month June,
Stop the river with my bare hands.
And what I’d do for you
Is everything,
Everything,
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do.
And what I’d do for you
Is everything,
Everything,
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do.
As he sang, he watched his tiny daughter gently close her eyes and by the time he’d finished the song, she was sound asleep. Then he sang the last half of the last chorus.
And what I’d do for you
Is everything,
Everything.
We’d never be apart,
I’d give you my heart.
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do
For you.
He was tired and it was time to put her in her basket, but for some reason, he didn’t want to.
Something inside him made him want to hold her.
She felt good in his arms, the perfect shape and weight, and he smiled as he looked down into her little face.
Sitting there in the quiet house, he thought about the last four lines of the chorus: We’d never be apart, / I’d give you my heart.
/ There’s nothing I wouldn’t do / For you , and he began to shake.
He managed to get her into her basket and set it on the floor beside his bed, then climb into the bed, turn off the light, and bury his face in his pillow.
And as he’d done so many times over the years, the child inside Blue Wallace began to cry silently, as though someone would hear him and beat him like they had all those times before.
He cried for the little boy who’d never been loved, for the teenage boy who’d had to take care of himself, for the young man who’d struggled to find a place to be and to make a living, and for the adult Blue who was still lonely and alone.
Then he cried for the baby in the basket, for how she wasn’t wanted and was just left behind.
If he could manage to keep his shit together and do right by her, what would he tell her?
And could he raise her? He wasn’t capable of loving anyone.
He didn’t know how. No one had ever loved him, so he didn’t even know where to begin.
But there were a few things he knew for sure.
That baby in that basket wasn’t going to be alone and unprotected.
She would never go hungry, or be cold in the winter.
No one was going to beat her, or starve her, or abuse her.
She was not going to be abandoned. Not on his watch.
He didn’t know if he could love her, but he could damn sure do better by her than people had done by him.
When his tears had stopped, he rolled to his side and stared down at the basket.
Even in the darkness, he could see her sweet little face, those chubby cheeks and that wispy hair.
A firm resolve set up in his soul. All the years he’d fought and scraped his way by, being toughened by the world, had all been for this one moment.
He realized in that instant that he had arrived at it―the defining moment in which BrentAlan Wallace proved that he wasn’t that terrified little boy.
He was a man, and he was going to behave like one.
He didn’t know how he’d do everything he was going to have to do to take care of that child, but he’d do it or die trying.
Both their lives depended on it.
As soon as Blue and the baby were out the door, Anne fell onto the sofa. God, she was exhausted! At least Indigo was a good baby, not screaming or fussy. That made things a little easier.
She decided she’d start a load of clothes before she dropped into bed, so she headed to the laundry room and loaded the washer.
In minutes, its swish-swishing rhythm filled the back of the house, and Anne wandered to the bedroom.
Her robe got tossed onto the chair before she made her way into the bathroom to brush her teeth.
The reflection that greeted her in the bathroom mirror disappointed her.
Even though she wasn’t all that old, she looked ten years older.
She was barely thirty-five and looked every bit of forty-five, maybe more.
Her straight, almost-black hair curled inward around her face, hanging just below her jawline, and its darkness made her face look harsher than it was.
Maybe I should get some highlights or something , she told herself.
Hell, who’s got money for that? All she could do was roll her eyes and chuckle.
By the time she got to the bed, she was barely awake. To her surprise, as soon as her head hit the pillow, her eyes opened wide and she stared at the ceiling. There was a picture in her mind, a vivid, colorful one, and she couldn’t get rid of it.
It was Blue, tall and muscled up, that shock of dark hair falling over one eye and that caramel-colored skin showing off every ridge in those abs.
But those eyes… They hit her right in her solar plexus and almost doubled her over.
Talk about beautiful. Yeah, his hands were grease-stained and he could use a shave, but otherwise, he was just about the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen, in a coarse, raw way.
Yeah, the hair and the jawline scruff dated him, but he was in a cover band playing eighties tunes, so it sort of fit the persona, and no matter what anyone said, a lot of women still liked long hair on men.
It made him look a combination of sensitive and wild.
That just added to his sexy mystique, if she could call it that.
And she was pretty sure he knew all of that.
Oddly, he didn’t come across that way, though. He seemed so…
Uncertain. So lacking in confidence. So shaky and a little fragile.
Oh, she was pretty sure he was a rounder and that he could deliver an ass-whupping like nobody’s business, but she got the distinct impression that wasn’t really him.
He’d been a foster child, so he’d spent years trying to defend himself against god only knew what.
And that was it―that was when she realized what she saw when she looked into his eyes.
Inside all that machismo was a wounded little boy.
BlueWallace was still that hurting, unloved child, wondering if the next person he saw was going to kiss him or kick him.
He’d seemed surprised that she’d want to do anything to help him, and that made sense.
No one had ever helped him. He’d always had to scratch and scrape by on his own.
No wonder he was so adamant that he’d take care of that baby. He didn’t want her to wind up like him.
For all his gruffness, for all his chaos, and for all his sourness, there was a sweet, kind side to Blue, a nurturing and giving side. She wanted to get to know that side better.
Truth was, as she lay there alone in the dark, she wondered if she’d like to get to know a lot more about him and for the first time in a long time, she touched herself, wondering what it would be like to be with someone like Blue.
No, not someone like Blue―what it would be like to be with Blue.
Stop it, Anne! Have you lost your mind? her brain shrieked, but she knew she hadn’t.
There was something about BlueWallace that tugged at her heartstrings. Could he ever really love anyone?
And most importantly, could he ever love her? She was pretty sure she knew the answer to that one.
Indigo’s fussing woke Blue at about five o’clock, and he managed to stumble to the kitchen and grab a bottle.
After he’d fed her, he changed her diaper.
To his surprise, it was easier that time than it had been before.
Maybe I’m getting the hang of it after all!
he told himself as he looked down at the squirming baby.
But in seconds, she calmed, and once he got her settled back into her basket, he slipped under the covers again.
He woke at a little after nine to a silent house, and his heart seized. Oh my god, is she dead? his brain shrieked and he shot upright, then leaned over to stare into the basket.