His Bundle of Love. Patricia Davids

five now, but he’s blind and deaf. She feeds him through a tube in his stomach, and he takes round-the-clock care.”

      “That’s awful.”

      “It’s awful to see my cousin tied her whole life to a child who’s so damaged that he can’t even smile at her. At five, he’s hard to move and lift to change his diapers. Think what it’s going to be like when he’s twenty-five.”

      My baby’s not damaged. She’s perfect. Caitlin wanted to shout at them. She wanted to cover her ears with her hands, but her arms were deadweights.

      From the moment she suspected she was pregnant, she had wanted a little girl. Her daughter was going to grow up to run and laugh and give her mother a dozen hugs a day. They would have each other forever. Caitlin would never leave her baby hungry, or hurting, or scared and alone in the dark the way she had been treated as a child.

      Without warning, Caitlin was rolled to her other side. Her joints and muscles cried out in protest and nausea churned in her stomach. She moaned, but no sound escaped her. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes.

      “It’s time for her to stay on her left side. Can you help me change the sheets on that patient in room eight?”

      The sound of their voices faded away, and Caitlin was alone again, but she was glad they were gone. She didn’t want to hear about a child who was deaf and blind. She had to find her own baby.

      She concentrated on opening her eyes. Bit by bit, her eyelids lifted and a room came into focus. There was dark blue tiled floor and wallpaper with lines of deep blue flowers running up a pale blue background. It was a room she’d never seen before. She tried, but she simply couldn’t keep her eyes open and the room faded away.

      Lloyd Winston’s office turned out to be on the same floor as the NICU, and the office was as untidy as the man himself. His desk and file cabinets were piled high with books, forms and folders. Empty foam cups overflowed from the trash can. He cleared off a portion of the desk by moving its contents to a stack on the floor, then sat down. Mick took a seat and waited for him to speak.

      Flipping open his briefcase, Winston pulled out a file. “I understand you haven’t signed the paternity papers for your daughter. Do you realize that until you do, you’re not legally the baby’s parent?”

      “I understand that,” Mick answered. “The situation with Caitlin and myself is a bit—well—unusual.” Mick watched the man’s confusion grow as he explained how he and Caitlin had met. When he finished, Winston leaned back and pressed his fingertips together over his ample paunch.

      “You’d like me to believe that after meeting you for the first time, out of the blue, a woman, who may or may not think she’s dying, names you as her baby’s father?” His tone held more than a hint of disbelief.

      “That’s what happened.”

      Winston leaned forward and stared at Mick intently. “I know that taking on the responsibility of caring for a critically ill infant can be very daunting. It’s understandable that you’re reluctant to admit to being the child’s father.”

      Mick leveled his gaze at the overstuffed social worker. “I’m a firefighter. Walking into a burning building is daunting. Trust me. Beth is not my biological child.”

      The man’s eyes widened at Mick’s tone. “I see. This certainly complicates things. Dr. Wright tells me the child needs surgery. I’ll have to get a court order to make her a ward of the state right away.”

      Mick frowned. “She has a mother. She doesn’t need to be made a ward of the state.”

      “Ms. Williams’s condition prevents her from giving consent for any procedure, and I understand her recovery is doubtful. Since she’s incapacitated and you are not any relation to the child, the state must assume care.”

      “For how long?”

      “I beg your pardon?”

      “How long will Beth be a ward of the state?”

      “Until we can locate a relative. Which we might have done by now if you had come forward with the truth sooner.”

      “What if you can’t locate anyone?”

      “If we don’t, she’ll remain a ward of the state and go into foster care when she leaves here.”

      A knock sounded at the door, and a nurse from the NICU looked in. “Mr. O’Callaghan, you’re wanted in the unit.”

      Mick shoved out of his chair. “Is something wrong with Beth?” Fear sent his heart hammering wildly.

      “I’m afraid so,” she said. “Please come with me.”