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"I don't know. I get the feeling babies are pretty unpredictable."
Brian crouched down beside her. "We have to be very careful with him,
Emma. He's so helpless, you see."
"I won't let anything happen to him, not ever." She put her hand on her
father's shoulder and watched the baby sleep.
EMMA WASN'T SURE she liked Miss Wallingsford. The young nurse had
pretty red hair and nice gray eyes, but she rarely allowed Emma to touch
baby Darren. Bev had interviewed dozens of applicants, and was well
satisfied with Alice Wallingsford. She was twenty-five, of good family,
and had excellent references and a pleasing manner.
In the first months after Darren's birth, Bev was so tired and moody
Alice's services became invaluable. More, she was another woman to talk
with about things like teething, breastfeeding, and diets. Bev was as
determined to gain back her willowy figure as she was to be a good
mother. With Brian closed up writing songs with Johnno, or in meetings
with Pete about the next recording, she struggled to make the home she
wanted so badly for them.
She listened when he spoke of things like war in Asia, race riots in
America, but her world centered on whether the sun would s.h.i.+ne
warm enough to take Darren for a stroll. She taught herself how to bake
bread and tried her hand at knitting, while Brian wrote songs, and spoke
out against war and bigotry.
As her body returned to normal, her mind eased. For Bev, this was the
sweetest time of her life. Her son was chubbily healthy, and her
husband treated her like a princess in bed.
With Darren at her breast and Emma at her feet, she rocked in the chair
by the nursery window. There had been rain that morning, but the sun
was out now, and bright. She thought that by afternoon she could take
the baby and Emma for a walk in the park.
"I'm going to put him down now, Emma." Bev s.h.i.+fted her blouse to cover
her breast. "He's fast asleep."
"Can I hold him when he wakes up?"
"Yes, but only when I'm with you."
"Miss Wallingsford never lets me hold him."
"She's just being cautious." Bev smoothed the blanket over Darren before
she stepped back. He was nearly five months old now, she thought.
Already she couldn't imagine her life without him. "Let's go down and
see about baking a nice cake. Your Dad loves chocolate cake."
Knowing she had to be satisfied with that, Emma followed her out.
Alice paused in the hallway, holding fresh linens for the nursery.
"He should sleep awhile, Alice," Bev told her. "His tummy's full."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Emma and I will be in the kitchen."
An hour later, when they'd taken the cake out to cool, the front door
slammed. "Your Dad must be home early." Bev automatically fluffed her
hair before she hurried out of the kitchen to greet him. "Bri, I didn't
expect you until ... what's wrong?"
He was dead pale, his eyes red-rimmed and bleary. He shook his head as
if to clear it as Bev held out her hands to him. "They've shot him."
"What?" Her fingers clamped down hard on his. "Who? Shot who?"