“Well, it’s like this. I know Connie loves kids. He’s always helping out with the kids when they come to tour the fire department. He takes them on hikes and helps some learn to rock climb. But I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to have kids because, well, you know. Because of my dad. He’s mentally ill. I worry about that gene running loose inside me. What if I passed it on?”
“There’s any number of things you can pass on,” Sully said. “Not to mention all the things you might just end up with on account of fate or accident. Speaking of accidents—those happen all the time. You might have a perfect child and then lightning could strike him. But if it worries you, it’s your right to play it safe. Is Connie giving you a hard time about it?”
“Oh, not at all,” she said. “He totally understands. And so he came up with a possible solution—foster kids. But what if I fall in love with one and they have to move away?”
Sully just looked at her. “You been up all night trying to figure out all the bad things that could happen?” he asked her.
“I did toss and turn a lot,” she admitted. “It’s just that there was something I didn’t tell Connie.”
“Aw, now, don’t be telling me secrets between a man and woman...” he whined.
“I didn’t tell him that I’d love to have kids more than anything. I’ve always wanted kids. I love Elizabeth so much sometimes it aches in me. And I don’t think I could have a child and live through something awful happening to him. And I don’t think I can take care of a child, especially a baby, and give it up. But wouldn’t it be selfish and wrong of me to have a child if there’s a chance it could inherit a disease?”
“Lord above, girl. I didn’t know you even knew how to think that much! You must be exhausted!”
“I am a little tired...”
“If I thought that much I’d have to sleep for a month!”
“You must have had some thoughts about children when you were having Maggie!”
“The problem was it never once crossed my mind. One day, real early in my marriage, Phoebe said, ‘Congratulations, genius—you got me pregnant!’ From that moment on is when I thought about it. By the way, no one was a worse parent than I was. Ask Phoebe sometime. And look at Maggie now. I suspect there are special angels assigned to the children of terrible parents.”
“Drunks and children,” Sierra said.
“How’s that?”
“As the saying goes, God takes care of drunks and children. Some would argue they’re practically one and the same.”
“Sierra, you better talk to an expert about this,” Sully said.
“You mean like someone in genetic counseling?” she asked.
“I was thinking more along the lines of someone familiar with your alcohol disease. Because I think this might be a symptom, this thinking till you pass out.”
She sighed. “Of course you’re right,” she said. “It’s one of my character flaws. I tend to create these complex scenarios in which I’m the star. Not usually in a good way.”
“I’d say talk to your sponsor, Moody, but if he ain’t even more impatient than me...” Sully let Beau and Molly out the back door for a little run. “If you like kids, maybe you should try something that puts you in touch with them but you can’t keep ’em even if you want to. Here’s what I think—one week working in a day care should cure you of that notion.”
“There’s a thought.”
“And here’s another thought. You in this with Connie for real?” Sully asked.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “We’re going to get married. We just haven’t planned anything yet. There’s been so much going on with Elizabeth coming and everything.”
“I doubt Elizabeth has been standing in your way, but if you’re in this with Connie for the long haul, for the love of God talk to him! Not some old man with a heart condition!”
She smirked at him. “Your heart is fine,” she said.
“But I am old,” he argued.
“No, Frank is old. You’re just ornery.”
* * *
Sierra knew she could get like this sometimes, get obsessed about something and work it like a hangnail. This thing about kids was doing it to her. Or maybe she was doing it to the thing about kids. Why she felt a desperate need to come to a decision, a conclusion, she couldn’t explain. But Sully was right, it was one of her “issues.”
By nine in the morning, the breakfast rush at the diner was nearly over. Connie stopped by on his way home. He sat at the counter. “Hi, babe. Will you buy me breakfast?”
“I will. What’s it gonna be?”
“I want what you want me to want,” he said.
She just smiled and shook her head. “I am the luckiest woman alive. Today you should have the breakfast burrito. Then you should go home and sleep.”
“Last night wasn’t bad. I got some sleep. I’m going to swing by Rafe’s and see how the little guy is doing. Then I’m going to check on Sully and see if he needs help today. Then a good nap. Can you decide on dinner? If you bring home the groceries for it, I’ll cook.”
“You’re going to see the baby?” she asked.
“I’m more going to see how Rafe and Lisa are doing. They might be in need of a nap themselves.”
When she put his breakfast burrito in front of him, she said, “Just be sure you rest, Connie. You’re always thinking about everyone else.”
He gave her a flirty grin. “I think about you, that’s for sure. And it doesn’t make me feel like sleeping.”
“I have a feeling you’re going to be like a frisky pup when you’re ninety,” she teased.
“That’s my plan,” he said, grinning.
“Well, it’s my plan, too, so you better take care of yourself. Nap, Connie. And I can make dinner.”
When he’d finished his burrito, he put enough tip on the counter to cover its cost and make her smile. Then he kissed her goodbye and left, smiles all around the diner.
Sierra knew she could have talked this situation over with Cal. In fact, she could have talked it over with Cal and Maggie—if she remembered correctly, Maggie was off today. There was always Lola, who would be working in the diner this afternoon, and Lola was so wise. She could call Moody, her AA sponsor, or just go to a meeting and bare her soul. But she did none of these things. Instead, when she was off work at about two, she went to the Vadas house. She was relieved that Connie’s truck was nowhere in sight. But there was a chance they were resting so she gave the door a couple of light raps.
Rafe opened the door. “Sierra! We weren’t expecting you.”
“I know. Connie told me about the baby and I thought I’d come by and see how you’re doing.” She lifted a take-out bag. “I brought you a cheesecake and some cookies for the kids.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t do that,” Lisa said from behind her husband. She had a chubby baby wearing a onesie against her shoulder. “I’ve been trying to lose the same fifteen pounds for the last five years at least.”
“You always look wonderful,” Sierra said.
“That’s what I tell her,” Rafe said. “But I’m a husband, which means she thinks I’m a liar. Or an idiot.”
“You’re so sweet,” Lisa said. “How thoughtful.”
“I’m neither,” Sierra said. “I’m nosy! I want to meet this little angel.”
Lisa turned him around. He rubbed his little hands in his eyes, then he looked at Sierra and gave her a large toothless grin. “Aww,” Sierra said. Then he promptly threw up on his powder blue onesie.
“Oh, no!” Lisa said. “Well, I guess we filled him up. I’m sorry, I—”
“Here,” Sierra said, taking the baby and turning him so Lisa could mop his face and pajamas. “Oh, now you feel better, don’t you? Elizabeth usually makes sure she gets it on me, but only if I’m wearing something clean and fresh. I think I’ve smelled like cheese since she came into my life.”
“I’ll get a new outfit,” Rafe said, turning away from them.
“He has a little issue. He doesn’t exactly burp,” Lisa said.
“But he’s okay, isn’t he?” Sierra asked.
“He’s amazing,” Lisa said. “We’re watching him very closely, and even though he’s four months, he’s sleeping on a SIDS monitor. In our room. There are no apparent injuries, thank God for that fantastic car seat. He’s going back for another workup tomorrow.”
“What in the world happened?”
“I think she was texting,” Rafe said, coming back into the room with a clean outfit. “Based on what the other involved drivers said.”
Sierra backed up to the couch, put the baby down and began unfastening his pajamas, peeling them off like an old pro. And the baby giggled. There is no sound more invigorating than the helpless giggle of a baby, so Sierra started talking to him—in his language. He giggled all the harder. He laughed all the way through the changing of his clothes, then she picked him up and cuddled him. She looked up at Rafe and Lisa. “Texting?”
“She was awfully young,” Lisa said. “Not that texting while driving is limited to the young. She was barely twenty.”
“Oh my God, just a child herself. Do you know any more about her? Was she married? Is there family?”
“The highway patrol is investigating and they know where this baby is—I’m sure we’ll hear something when there’s something to hear.”
“Is there a chance he’ll be traumatized from the accident? From what he saw and heard?” Sierra asked.
Lisa shook her head. “I don’t think so. He might be startled by loud noises or something, but any child would be.”
“There’s no evidence to suggest he’ll remember or understand,” Rafe said. “He’s just a few months.”