“I’ve been doing that, man.” And it wasn’t working. He’d thought his brother would be more helpful than that.
Around midnight, Mandy started fussing, even when he was holding her, even when he tried singing one of the songs on her lullaby CD.
Nothing he said, or did, seemed to soothe her. He tried warming another bottle. She wanted nothing to do with it. Her fussing turned into sobbing.
Finally, when it was almost one in the morning, Nick decided to try the one thing that hadn’t let him down so far. He bundled his daughter into her snowsuit, strapped her into the stroller, swaddled a bunch of blankets around her, then wheeled her outside.
Mandy instantly grew quiet.
The winter night was magical. Snow fell softly, the crystals glittering like suspended diamonds under the streetlamps. His boots and the tires of the stroller crunched as he moved forward. Street traffic was minimal and in the silence he could hear the steady inhale, exhale of his breath.
Nick pushed the stroller up and down the block. Thankfully he didn’t see anyone he knew. They’d think he was nuts.
He thought he was nuts.
Yawning again, he retraced his route, waiting for Mandy to fall asleep. It didn’t take long to happen. The next time he checked, her cherry lips were parted ever so slightly and her eyes were closed.
He went up and down the block two more times to be certain, then rolled the stroller back inside his town house. Quietly he removed his jacket and boots, then looked down at his sleeping daughter.
She looked so peaceful. He felt a bone-deep sense of satisfaction until he realized he had a problem.
How the hell was he supposed to move her from the stroller to her crib? He just knew that as soon as he tried, she’d wake up and start crying again.
After a moment’s consideration, he wheeled the stroller into his bedroom. Staring down at her, he wondered if she was going to get too warm with all those blankets, plus the snowsuit. He removed a few blankets, unzipped her snowsuit and removed her mittens.
What else should he do?
Frankly, he had no idea.
He collapsed on his bed and fell asleep himself.
USUALLY NICK AWOKE to the six-o’clock news on the local radio station. Not this morning though.
An obnoxious sound had him cramming his pillow around his head and over his ears. Why the hell didn’t those people do something about their kid?
And then it hit him.
The crying was from his kid.
His eyes opened and he jerked upright. Blankets were rustling in the stroller. Once he’d flipped on the bedside lamp, he could see Mandy’s face, red and angry. She flailed her little fists at the sight of him, as if to say, Don’t just stand there. Do something, Daddy!
He picked her up and she was quiet. With her bundled next to his chest, he went to the living room where he’d left Jessica’s notebook. For about the tenth time that night, he checked her instructions.
Eight o’clock, put Mandy to bed. She should sleep through until six or seven the next morning. He checked the time—it was only three!
Why hadn’t Jessica written any instructions about what to do if Mandy woke up this early?
Should he feed her breakfast? Offer her another bottle? Try to lull her back to sleep?
He was sorely tempted to call Bridget and ask what she thought. Though she had no children of her own, she seemed to instinctively know how to deal with babies. But to call her at three in the morning…he might be pushing his luck just a little if he did that.
He lifted Mandy until her face was right next to his. “It’s early, sweetheart. You’re supposed to be sleeping right now.” They were both supposed to be sleeping right now.
He put on the lullaby CD, but again, it was useless. Mandy seemed fine as long as he was holding her. A few times her eyes drooped shut…but as soon as he tried to lay her in the crib she started crying.
After forty-five minutes, he finally gave in to the inevitable and strapped her back into the stroller.
Outside, another inch of snow had fallen. He felt the thick flakes brush against his face as he headed to the far end of the block, then back. He did this four times. A man exited a town house on the opposite side of the street. He gave Nick a long look but said nothing, then continued to his car.
Remembering his own years of shift work, Nick felt a moment’s sympathy for the guy. Then he shook his head. Was he crazy? He was the one who deserved the sympathy tonight.
It was past four when Nick’s head finally hit his pillow for the second time that night. He could have sworn only five minutes had passed when suddenly his favorite news lady was talking about political developments in the Middle East.
Forget that. He pounded on the snooze button to shut her up. But he was too late.
Mandy started to cry.
AT HER FIRST SIGHT of him the next morning, Bridget could tell Nick had had an uneasy night with Mandy. He looked terrible. Eyes red, face badly shaven, his hair as rumpled as the shirt beneath his unzipped jacket. She opened the door wide to make room for the stroller. Nick was also carrying the pink diaper bag and another black vinyl bag.
“It’s a portable crib,” he explained, as she took it out of his hands with raised eyebrows. “So Mandy has a place to take her naps. Assuming she’ll sleep for you, that is.”
He slipped out of his boots and pushed the stroller into the living room. Glancing around, he asked, “Where are the dogs?”
“Out back, romping in the new snow.” She deposited the bag with the crib near the doorway to the spare room. “How did things go last night?”
“Terrible.”
“What happened?”
“Mandy didn’t go to sleep until one in the morning. Then she was awake from three to four.” He picked up his daughter, then extricated her from the snowsuit with the expertise of one who had done the same task many, many times before.
Mandy smiled winningly, then held out her arms to Bridget. “Hey, sweetie.” Bridget scooped her up. She smelled clean and looked happy.
“I just changed her diaper,” Nick confirmed. “And she’s had her breakfast…unlike me.”
The last two words were spoken so quietly Bridget didn’t think she’d been meant to hear them. “I baked muffins this morning. Would you like a couple?”
His face brightened. “That’s what smells so good in here.”
Hoisting Mandy to a hip, she headed for the kitchen.
Nick followed. “How do single parents cope? I doubt I had five hours of sleep last night. And this morning I had to rush through my shower and didn’t even have time to shave properly.” He rubbed the side of his face and shook his head.
Bridget watched him, fighting an urge to touch the other side of his face with her free hand. He did look rough this morning, she had to agree.
But on Nick Gray, rough wasn’t bad. Not bad at all.
She put two muffins into a plastic bag, then added an apple. “You can eat on the way to work. And don’t worry about Mandy. I’ll take good care of her.”
“I know you will. Thanks, Bridge.”
Bridge? Normally she hated it when people shortened her name that way. But coming from Nick, it sounded good. Friendly…almost intimate.
“You okay?” Nick’s voice held a touch of concern. “You