And his nephew lost his pacifier again.
Laura Dalton winced as she watched the black Cherokee ram into the Camry. Right after that, a pickup truck smashed into the back of the Cherokee. The crunch of the collisions skittered through her system, shooting adrenaline through her veins. Heart thudding, she pulled onto a side street and climbed from her Honda on shaky legs to see if she could help.
Please don’t let anyone be hurt. She could handle all the baby barf and dirty diapers that her job at the day care center doled out, but the sight of blood sent her into a panic.
She scowled, realizing none of the other drivers who’d witnessed the accident had stopped to assist or give their statements to the cops.
But Laura knew too well what it was like to need someone yet have no one to turn to. She couldn’t easily turn her back when she saw a chance to help.
The driver of the Camry climbed out and scowled at his crumpled fender, but he seemed unharmed. One down. As she approached the scene, the driver of the Cherokee, a tall, good-looking man with jet black hair, got out and stepped to his back door. While he leaned in the backseat of his car, Laura made her way to the pickup where the driver had yet to emerge.
She knocked on the truck’s window, and the blond teenage girl at the wheel rolled down the window.
“Are you all right?” Laura asked, searching the teen’s pale face.
“I…yeah. Oh, God…my dad’s gonna kill me!” The girl buried her face in her hands and groaned.
“But you’re okay physically? You’re not hurt?”
“No. I’m fine…thanks.” The girl flashed her a weak smile.
Laura returned a relieved grin. “Just remind your dad what’s important. You’re safe. That’s what matters. I have a cell phone in my car if you need to call your parents.”
“Okay. Thanks.” The girl gave her another timid grin, flashing a set of braces.
The familiar howl of a baby in distress called Laura’s attention away from the teenager in the truck.
The Cherokee’s driver pulled an infant, still strapped in a baby carrier, out of his backseat and set the carrier on the ground beside the car. Images of an injured child flashed through Laura’s mind, chilling her blood. “Oh, no.”
She hurried over to the raven-haired man who hunkered over the car seat, fumbling to unfasten the baby from the straps.
“Is she hurt?” Laura asked.
“It’s a boy. And he’s okay. I think.” The man added an obscenity as he struggled with trembling hands to free the infant from the straps.
“Here. Let me.” She nudged the man aside and mashed the release button that freed the baby of the seat straps. The infant’s cries wrenched her heart. He was tiny, like a newborn, and his face had turned beet red from bawling.
The man raked a hand through his black hair, leaving the thick waves rumpled. Taking his son from her, he awkwardly put the infant on his shoulder and rubbed the baby’s back. “Thanks.”
“Glad to help.”
Deep worry lines etched the man’s face as he surveyed his crumpled bumper and scanned the gathering crowd. Obviously shaken by the accident, he patted the baby’s back harder and began pacing. “Easy, fella. You’ll be all right. Shh.”
The baby’s howls didn’t abate, and the louder the baby cried, the more agitated the father grew.
Laura couldn’t blame him. The infant’s shrieks had her edgy too. She hated hearing a child in distress. At the day care center, she was always the first worker rushing to soothe an upset child.
She remembered too well what it felt like to be young, scared and all alone. No one to comfort you, no one to dry your tears, no one who even noticed you were there.
She fell in step with the dark-haired father as he strode anxiously back and forth beside his wrecked Cherokee, muttering.
“If you’d like, I’ll hold your son while you talk to the police.”
The man came to an abrupt halt, and his head snapped up. He pinned her with a dark brown stare. “What?”
“I work with children, and I’m good at calming them down, if you want me to—”
“The cops. Damn!” He squeezed his eyes closed, scrunching his face in frustration.
Laura tipped her head and studied the father, who seemed even more disconcerted now. A thin sheen of perspiration dampened his forehead, and a palpable tension vibrated from his square jaw. His concern seemed ridiculously out of proportion to the circumstances.
“Is there a problem, sir? I’d be happy to help if—”
He spun to her with an abrupt jerk. “Where’s your car?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your car. I need it.” He tore his dark gaze away and glanced nervously around the accident scene.
“My car? Wh-why?”
The man’s odd behavior set her on edge. She backed away from him a step, only to have him grab her arm. His touch sent a strange jolt through her. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had touched her. The sensation of his strong, hot hand on her arm was overwhelming. He balanced the baby with one hand while his long fingers tightened around her upper arm. The first inkling of panic fluttered to life in her chest.
“I’ve gotta get out of here before—” He clamped his mouth shut and sighed. “Where’s your car?”
The baby now screamed so hard Laura feared he’d hurt himself. Her stomach bunched with worry for the infant’s well-being. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to hold your baby just for a minute? I really think I could calm him down.”
The father gave her a wary look then glanced down at the hollering infant. Finally he released her arm and thrust the tiny boy at her. “I’m sure not having any luck. Go ahead.”
Laura cradled the wiggling infant against her chest and rocked him gently. “How old is he? He’s so small.”
“Huh?” The man pulled out his wallet as he surveyed the area. “Oh, he’s…uh, just a couple days old. Listen, I need your help.” He seized her arm again and guided her farther away from the bustle of people examining the damage to the vehicles.
She shrugged out of his grip, glowering at him. “Would you stop grabbing me like that? What is your deal?”
The man wiped a palm on the leg of his jeans and took a deep breath. Then, raising a hand and lowering his voice, he explained over the baby’s continued howling, “My truck is trapped and probably not driveable. I need wheels. Fast.”
She narrowed her gaze on him, eyeing him with suspicion. “Why? What’s the hurry?”
He opened his mouth as if to answer but then closed it again. With another sigh, he fished his driver’s license and some small cards from his wallet. “It’s…the baby. I have to get him home. Quickly.” He stepped closer, and his expression reeked of desperation. But desperation over what? His own situation or the baby’s?
“Go on,” she prodded reluctantly.
“He’s…sick.” The man’s black eyebrows knitted in a frown. He glanced away, huffed then pinned her again with a pleading look. “He needs his medicine. That’s why he’s crying.”
Laura’s breath caught. “Medicine? Oh, my God…what—”
“Will you help us?”
“I…of course. But what about your car? The police haven’t written up the accident yet and—”
“I