“Yes, of course, but if you put her here, I can feed her when she wakes up.”
“Not unless you get up and make a bottle.”
He felt badly about his abrupt return to reality. She bit her bottom lip. “Maybe I can manage that, too.”
“I apologize, Izzy. What in hell is that short for, anyway?”
“Isabella.”
“Oh. That’s a lovely name. I’ll go put Angel to bed. Then I’ll come back and introduce myself.” That was the least he could do. It looked as if she was finally getting well. He’d talked to Jon several times to make sure he was doing the right thing.
He laid the baby in the carrier and tucked a blanket around her, thinking he’d never seen anything quite as beautiful as Angel sleeping. The phone rang and he hurried to answer it so it wouldn’t wake the baby.
“Hi, son. It’s Mom. Everyone is waiting for our daily report. How’s the baby doing?”
He chuckled. “I’m doing fine, Mom, thank you for asking.”
“Well, I can tell that. Now, how’s the baby?”
“Doing fine, too. She just finished her bottle, had a change of clothes and has gone back to sleep.”
“You’re doing a wonderful job,” Janie said.
“Well, her mother fed her just now. I guess she should get some praise, too.”
“The mother’s awake? How is she doing?”
“I think she’s better. I was just going to fix her something to eat. Why don’t I call you back after she eats?”
“All right. Ask her—”
“I know what to ask her. Talk to you later.”
He’d fed the woman soup ever since they’d been in his apartment, but he didn’t think she’d finished as much as a can. He stepped to the door of the bedroom. “Isabella, I’m going to make an omelette and share it with you. I’ll be back in a minute.”
A faint thank-you drifted after him as he headed for the kitchen. He concentrated on the omelette, able to handle that with no trouble. He wondered about the woman, was not even sure she was a good mother. After all, she and her baby had been alone in a storm.
Of course, the storm had come up suddenly. Even the weatherman hadn’t given them much warning. Nevertheless he’d warn her to check more carefully before she set out again.
He made a vegetable and cheese omelette. Once he made sure she would eat meat, he’d fix her a steak. But he thought this would go down easier for her first real meal. He cut about a fourth of the omelette for her. Then he put the rest on his plate.
He dug out a tray and put both plates on it. Then he added some orange juice and some buttered toast. That should be enough for her first meal.
He entered the bedroom to find her eyes closed. Going to the opposite side of the bed, he set down the tray. Then he leaned over the bed and shook her shoulder. “Isabella? Wake up. I’ve brought you some lunch.”
She blinked several times, staring at him. Again he was reminded of how much Angel’s eyes were like her mother’s. “I…don’t think I can keep anything down.”
“Just try a little bit. You won’t get stronger until you eat something.”
She struggled to sit up against the pillows and he shoved another pillow behind her. Her fingers were trembling and she grabbed them to try to hide her weakness.
“Do I need to feed you?”
“No! No, I’m s-sure I can manage.”
But when she picked up the fork and it shook, he realized he shouldn’t have asked. “This time I’ll feed you. I don’t want you getting my pajama top dirty,” he added with a smile.
Unfortunately that apparently reminded her of a question she wanted to ask. “Why am I wearing your pajamas?”
“I wasn’t sure how to wash silk pajamas.” He scooped up a bite of egg, cheese and veggies and held it in front of her.
“I have nightgowns in my suitcase,” she said, not taking the bite.
“Come on before I drop it.” He was pleased when she opened her mouth. She chewed slowly, but it didn’t come back out. That made him think he’d been successful.
“It’s very good, but—”
“By the way, I apologize. My name is Russ. Russ Randall.”
She stared at him. “Randall? I’ve heard that name before.”
He held up another bite. “Try another bite before it gets cold.”
“But…” she began, but then stopped talking. He assumed she was following directions and carefully shoved the bite into her mouth.
She covered her mouth with her hand. “Did you bring a napkin?” she muttered after a minute.
He handed her the small glass of juice. “Drink some juice and I’ll go get napkins.”
When he returned, he decided her drink of juice must’ve been small. The level hadn’t gone down much. “Take another swallow.”
She lifted the glass to her lips, but didn’t drink much. “I remember where I heard your name.”
“Oh, really? Where? Connected to rodeos?”
She appeared surprised by the question. “No. I don’t know anything about rodeos.”
“Really? That’s a switch. I thought maybe you’d heard of Pete, Toby or Rich.”
“Who are they?”
“Randalls who’ve made a name for themselves.”
He held up another bite and she took it. “This really is good, Russ.”
“Thanks. Want some toast?”
She took the toast and bit off a little.
He fed her more. She started to speak, but he gave her a determined stare, and she took the bite.
“Didn’t you make a name for yourself?” she asked.
“Not as a rodeo cowboy. I’m an accountant. Not exactly headline stuff.” He’d always scored a lot lower than the rest of his family with the ladies. Somehow, adding up numbers wasn’t as exciting as wrestling bulls or riding bucking broncos. Of course, he didn’t suffer broken bones, either. Rich had done that. But it was how he met Samantha, so maybe it was worth it.
“Accountants are very important,” Isabella said solemnly.
He thought she was mocking him, but her look was sincere.
“You’re serious?”
“Of course. Accountants run the world.”
“Well, they certainly keep count of everything.” He scooped up more egg.
“No! I’ll just nibble on my toast and drink more juice. I don’t think I should try too much too soon.”
Russ frowned. “But you only had a few bites.”
“But they were big bites. Besides, your share will get cold if you don’t eat some of it soon.”
“All right. But let me know if you want more.”
She smiled in agreement and picked up her toast.
Russ took a bite of omelette. Lunch was a bit late today and he was hungry.
“How many brothers do you have?”
He