To ease her mind and ensure the baby was thriving, she would check on Abigail over the weekend.
* * *
Jake sat in his truck Saturday morning rubbing red, scratchy eyes and trying to read the directions for the soft baby carrier he’d bought first thing that morning as he’d learned his way around the baby section of the local discount store. Abigail had spared him and slept in the cart through the whole shopping trip.
Probably because she’d cried late into the night.
After nearly four hours of inconsolable crying, he’d looked up colic on the internet and thought that must be what she had because she didn’t seem sick otherwise. Still, if she had another night like the last, he’d take her to the doctor to be on the safe side.
With the fabric carrier assembled, adjusted to fit and strapped on him, Jake climbed in the backseat and lifted Abigail from her car seat. Then he followed the step-by-step, very complicated directions for slipping her into the fabric that would hold her against his chest, kind of like a reverse backpack.
As he was hooking one of the head supports, her little body slipped sideways, about stopping his heart. He quickly stabilized her head and snapped the buckle into place. Assured she was peacefully snoozing and wouldn’t fall out of the contraption, he climbed out of the truck, hoping he could work awhile.
His flooring subcontractor, Zeb, a trim man in his sixties wearing jeans and an old blue work shirt, stood at the front of the brick ranch home they were building with his arms crossed, waiting.
“Hey, Zeb. Sorry again about the tile delivery. Pete assured me he’d have it here by nine this morning.”
“We can’t finish as promised if he doesn’t. I’ve already lost a day.” Zeb’s eyes narrowed as he spotted a tiny head peeking out of the carrier contraption. “Uh, congratulations?”
“She belongs to Remy. I’m babysitting.”
A big breath of air whooshed out of him. “That’s good. Was afraid I’d missed something big.”
Jake pressed fingers against his burning eyes. “Had a rough night. She cried for hours.”
“Lots of prayer going on in the West household, huh?”
“You know it. More like begging for mercy.” He laughed. “You know anything about colic?”
“Can’t say that I do.” Zeb squinted into the late-morning sun. “Except I remember one of my girls had luck by changing her baby’s formula.”
Jake nodded. Zeb had kids and grandkids, so Jake could trust parenting tips from the man. “Have you been inside? Did my cabinets get delivered?”
“Not yet. The guys are still taping and muddin’ drywall and priming.”
Jake needed to go inside, make sure everyone was on schedule and the work met his expectations. But a work site wasn’t the place for a baby. “If Pete isn’t here in fifteen minutes, I’ll call him.”
“Thanks, Jake. We’ll do a good job for you.”
“You always do.” He only hired top-notch subcontractors, and Zeb and his crew were the best around.
Jake made a phone call, and as soon as he hung up, Abigail began to stir. She’d be hungry when she woke. She’d also need a fresh diaper...or two or twenty.
There was no way he’d be able to work while caring for a baby. He needed to find child care, and quickly.
Turning to go to the truck, he spotted Violet’s shiny, older model luxury convertible pulling in behind his vehicle. She’d either had it for several years or had bought it used. Either way, he had to admit she might have a good head on her shoulders. Well, except for the brand-new, very expensive tires.
“Oh, hello,” she said as she climbed out.
“Hey.” Had she been out for a Saturday drive and just happened to spot him? Or had she come to check up on Abigail?
The latter was the more likely scenario.
Wearing shorts and a flowery pink top, Violet looked like a breath of fresh air. Her mile-long, shapely legs caught the attention of a few of his men watching from the garage area.
Jake put himself between them and Violet, blocking their view. “I was just headed to change Abigail and get a bottle.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
Would Violet hang around? Jake had parked in the shade and planned to change Abigail’s diaper right there in the truck. Violet better not breathe down his neck and complain about his decision. He had to do a decent job with the diaper, though, or else Abigail would be strapped to his chest, a loaded weapon ready to wreak havoc.
By the time he’d laid the baby on a changing pad placed on the vehicle seat, she was fully awake.
Violet peeked around his shoulder. “Looks like that diaper’s on pretty good.”
“Yep.”
“So I guess you don’t need any help with the clean one.”
“Nope.” He successfully changed her despite the tense woman watching. When Abigail fussed, he popped a bottle in her mouth and tucked her in the crook of his arm.
“How did she sleep last night?”
“Not well. I’ll bring her by the office if we continue to have problems.”
“Problems? What type of problems?” Violet asked, going from the diaper police back to pediatrician.
“She cried from eight until nearly midnight. I think she has colic.”
“Well, there are several things you can try, like—”
“Thanks, but I read about it on the internet. Got some ideas.” He nodded toward town. “And I bought your whole list of baby stuff, so we’re good to go.”
The Pete’s Flooring truck arrived with the tile as Abigail slurped down the formula.
“Excuse me a minute.” Jake strode across the lot.
Happy and bright-eyed, Abigail let the nipple slip out of her mouth. He tucked the bottle in his front pants pocket. Abigail watched him as he directed Pete where to drop off the tile. While Pete’s men unloaded the pallets, the truck with the kitchen cabinets arrived.
“Jake, do you want me to hold her?” Violet called as she picked her way across the muddy expanse of the future front lawn.
“Hang on just a minute.”
Needing to direct the second delivery, and hoping to prove to the doc that he could take care of his baby cousin, Jake safely tucked Abigail in the carrier against his chest, talking sweetly to her in a voice that no longer felt strange. A couple of his men snickered.
Ignoring them, he pointed the second group of deliverymen toward the garage. Once they finished unloading, they started backing out, nearing Pete’s truck.
“Whoa!” Jake rushed over, waving his arms to stop the collision.
Startled by his voice and sudden movement, Abigail shrieked, her arms and legs flailing. He quickly soothed her, patting and cooing.
Jake finally sent the cabinet truck on its way, then turned and found Violet standing at the front of the house watching him. Frowning.
She glared at the mess of scraps and tools around them. “This isn’t an appropriate place for a two-week-old baby. You’re going to have to make other arrangements or—” She huffed.
Or what? he wanted to say but didn’t dare challenge her in the situation. He’d already come to the same conclusion himself.
“This isn’t a normal day,”