His mind shied away from that thought. Surely a man of his age and experience and sophistication didn’t believe in love at first sight. The heart attack had left him floundering, grasping at things to stay afloat in a suddenly changing world. Phoebe was here. And it was almost Christmas. He wanted her badly. No need to tear the situation apart with questions.
He finished the last of the lights and dragged one final tub over to the edge of the coffee table so he could sit and sift through the contents. Though the tree was large, he wasn’t sure they were going to be able to fit everything on the limbs.
Spying a small, unopened green box, he picked it up and turned it over. Visible through the clear plastic covering was a sterling sliver rocking horse with the words Baby’s First Christmas engraved on the base. And a date. An old date. His stomach clenched.
When he looked up, Phoebe was staring at the item in his hands, her face ashen. Cursing himself for not moving more quickly to tuck it out of sight, he stood, not knowing what to say. A dozen theories rushed through his mind. But only one made sense.
Tears rolled from Phoebe’s huge pain-darkened eyes, though he was fairly certain she didn’t know she was crying. It was as if she had frozen, sensing danger, not sure where to run.
He approached her slowly, his hands outstretched. “Phoebe, sweetheart. Talk to me.”
Her eyes were uncomprehending...even when she wiped one wet cheek with the back of her hand.
“Let me see it,” she whispered, walking toward the tub of ornaments.
He put his body in front of hers, cupping her face in his hands. “No. It doesn’t matter. You’re shaking.” Wrapping his arms around her and holding her as tightly as he could, he tried to still the tremors that tore through her body cruelly.
Phoebe never weakened. She stood erect, not leaning into him, not accepting his comfort. He might as well have been holding a statue. At last, he stepped back, staring into her eyes. “Let me get you a drink.”
“No.” She wiped her nose.
Leo reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and handed it to her. He was torn, unsure if talking about it would make things better or worse. As he stood there, trying to decide how to navigate the chasm that had opened at his feet, the fraught moment was broken by a baby’s cry.
Phoebe whirled around. “Oh, Teddy. We were ignoring you.” She rushed to pick him up, holding him close as new tears wet her lashes. “It’s your bedtime, isn’t it, my sweet? Don’t worry. Aunt Phoebe is here.”
Leo tried to take the boy. “You need to sit down, Phoebe.” He was fairly certain she was in shock. Her hands were icy cold and her lips had a blue tinge.
Phoebe fought him. “No. You don’t like babies. I can do it.”
The belligerence in her wild gaze shocked him, coming as it did out of nowhere. “I never said that.” He spoke softly, as though gentling a spooked animal. “Let me help you.”
Ignoring his plea, she exited the room, Teddy clutched to her chest. He followed the pair of them down the hall and into the baby’s nursery cum storage room. He had never seen this door open. Phoebe always used her own bedroom to access Teddy’s.
She put the child on the changing table and stood there. Leo realized she didn’t know what to do next.
Quietly, not making a fuss, he reached for the little pair of pajamas hanging from a hook on the wall nearby. The diapers were tucked into a cheerful yellow plastic basket at the boy’s feet. Easing Phoebe aside with nothing more than a nudge of his hip, he unfastened what seemed like a hundred snaps, top and bottom, and drew the cloth up over Teddy’s head. Teddy cooed, smiling trustingly as Leo stripped him naked. The baby’s skin was soft, his flailing arms and legs pudgy and strong.
The diaper posed a momentary problem, but only until Leo’s brain clicked into gear and he saw how the assembly worked. Cleaning the little bottom with a baby wipe, he gave thanks that he was only dealing with a wet diaper, not a messy one.
Phoebe hadn’t moved. Her hands were clenched on the decorative edge of the wooden table so hard that her knuckles were white.
Leo closed up the diaper, checked it for structural integrity, and then held up the pajamas. He couldn’t really see much difference between these pj’s and the daytime outfits the kid wore, but apparently there was one. This piece of clothing was even more of a challenge, because the snaps ran from the throat all the way down one leg. It took him three tries to get it right.
Through it all, Phoebe stood unaware. Or at least it seemed that way.
Cradling the child in one arm, Leo used his free hand to steer Phoebe out of the room. “You’ll have to help me with the bottle,” he said softly, hoping she was hearing him.
Her brief nod was a relief.
Leo installed Phoebe in a kitchen chair. Squatting in front of her, he waited until her eyes met his. “Can you hold him?”
She took the small, squirmy bundle and bowed her head, teardrops wetting the front of the sleeper. “I have a bottle ready,” she said, the words almost inaudible. “Put it in a bowl of hot water two or three times until the formula feels warm when you sprinkle it on your wrist.”
He had seen her perform that task several times, so it was easy to follow the instructions. When the bottle was ready, he turned back to Phoebe. Her grip on Teddy was firm. The child was in no danger of being dropped. But Phoebe had ceased interacting with her nephew.
Leo put a hand on her shoulder. “Would you like to feed him, or do you want me to do it? I’m happy to.”
Long seconds ticked by. Phoebe stood abruptly, handing him the baby. “You can. I’m going to my room.”
He grabbed her wrist. “No. You’re not. Come sit with us on the sofa.”
Phoebe didn’t have the emotional energy to fight him. Leo’s gaze was kind but firm. She followed him to the living room and sat down with her legs curled beneath her. Leo sat beside her with Teddy in his arms. Fortunately, Teddy didn’t protest the change in leadership. He took his bottle from Leo as if it were an everyday occurrence.
Despite the roaring fire that Leo had built, which still leaped and danced vigorously, she felt cold all over. Clenching her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering, she wished she had thought to pick up an afghan. But the pile neatly folded on the hearth was too far away. She couldn’t seem to make her legs move.
Trying to distract her thoughts, she studied Leo out of the corner of her eye. The powerful picture of the big man and the small baby affected her at a gut-deep level. Despite Leo’s professed lack of experience, he was doing well. His large hands were careful as he adjusted Teddy’s position now and again or moved the bottle to a better angle.
Beyond Leo’s knee she could see the abandoned ornaments. But not the little green box. He must have shoved it out of sight beneath the table. She remembered vividly the day she’d purchased it. After leaving her doctor’s office, she was on her way back to work. On a whim, she stopped by the mall to grab a bite of lunch and to walk off some of her giddy euphoria.
It was September, but a Christmas shop had already opened its doors in preparation for the holidays. On a table near the front, a display of ornaments caught her eyes. Feeling crazily joyful and foolishly furtive, she picked one out and paid for it.
Until this evening she had suppressed that memory. In fact, she didn’t even realize she had kept the ornament and moved it three years ago.
Leo wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to his side. “Lean on me,” he said.
She