Baby Kisses Page 5

  Myrna left after showing Tooty an intercom near the door that was connected to the kitchen. "Anything you need, you just call me."

  Getting Harris to settle down with his favorite stuffed animal took some doing, but after a few admonishments, he finally cuddled into a ball hugging his bear to his heart and went soundly to sleep. Tooty brushed her fingers across his brow. I love you, Harris. You're the best screw up I ever did. I wouldn't change anything. I wish you had your heart's desire—a daddy.

  After unpacking their clothing, she lay beside Harris, but she was too keyed up to rest. Reaching into her oversized purse, she pulled out the little box protecting Annabelle's diary. Her heartbeat quickened. Was the wounded soldier going to live?

  Monday, March 27, 1865

  Everyday has been a battle to keep the soldier alive. Sometimes, I can't seem to feel his heartbeat and I fear he has gone to heaven, for surely heaven will be his home after suffering so much in this life. We've had to pour liquor on his wounds several times because of the infection. Afterwards, I always run outside and cry my eyes out. He tries not to yell, but the pain is too much and he does. Tears fall from his eyes and he brushes them quickly away. Everyday, I sit beside him stroking his face and hair with a cool cloth. Sometimes he opens his eyes and I'm blessed to see their blueness.

  Wednesday, March 29, 1865

  Today I awoke in the rocking chair by the fire to see Blue Eyes staring at me. His eyes always make me breathless. It's like he can see into my innards. I just stared back until I realized he was lucid and not perspiring with fever. I jumped out of the chair and went to feel his forehead. It was cool. He didn't say anything. Just stared at me and then closed his eyes again, falling back to sleep. The rest of the day he slept peaceful and his stumps looked much better. The redness and swelling is disappearing. One leg is gone just below the knee, the other just above the knee. It takes all my willpower when I'm around him to keep from crying at seeing someone in such dire straights.

  Thursday, March 30, 1865

  Today, I found out the soldier's name. I'd just brought some broth to feed him and he was awake. He'd pushed himself up to almost a sitting position and when I sat on the edge of the bed to spoon feed him, he said, barely above a whisper, "I'll do it." His hands shook terribly when he held the bowl and he handed it back to me. He looked so sad when I fed him that I wanted to cry. I can only imagine how difficult it is to be so helpless. I asked him his name and he whispered, Eli Riles. He thanked me for helping him and then said he wasn't hungry and closed his eyes. I think he's got that depression on him like Pa had after Ma died.

  Tooty felt her mind drifting and put the diary back in its box. Snuggling up to Harris, she fell asleep, dreaming of Annabelle and Eli.

  Little hands grasped her shoulder and pushed it back and forth. "Mommy, wake up. Wake up." She rolled over and pretended to still be sleeping, and just when Harris least expected it, jumped up, grabbed him, and tickled. He laughed his wonderful laugh and she tickled more. "Come on, little man, let's clean up and check things out."

  "Yeah. This place is cool."

  Tooty set him in front of her and knelt. "Harris, I want you to watch the things you say. Things like asking men to be your daddy or telling ladies their lipstick is really red. If you're not sure what you want to say is okay, I want you to tug on my hand so you can whisper it in my ear. I'll let you know. Okay?"

  "Okay, Mommy. I promise."

  Tooty ruffled his hair and went to find a change of clothes for them. Removing her Levis and western blouse with front snaps, she opted for a short sleeve shirt dress with tiny yellow flowers in a swirling pattern. It buttoned down the front with yellow buttons and had a yellow plastic belt at the waist. Since she rarely wore dresses, she sighed when she twirled in front of the floor to ceiling mirror in the attached bathroom. It's kinda cute, I guess. Dressing Harris in a nice pair of slacks and starched white shirt, she washed his face and combed his silky brown hair back with water. It was a little on the longish side, but she hated cutting his curls.

  Finally, washing her own face and combing her hair into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck with a yellow ribbon, and then digging into her makeup bag for an eyebrow pencil that still had some lead, she gave herself some arched brows. Adding blush, a hint of brown eye shadow, and pink lipstick, she tilted her head back and forth, studying her reflection. Then she visualized Monica's flawlessness. Jeez, the woman was older than Tooty and didn't have nary a wrinkle. Tooty scrunched her face until she could see tiny crinkles at the corners of her mouth and eyes. Maybe Monica's an alien from the "perfect face" world. She laughed at her own silliness and grabbed Harris' hand. "Come on, I'm hungry."

  "Me, too. I hope they have bascetti."

  Tooty smiled at Harris' word for spaghetti.

  Following the hallway to the front of the house, Tooty heard voices and sucked a calming breath before rounding the corner with Harris. When she did, she saw Miles in his wheelchair with Monica standing beside him wearing a fiery red silk dress that wrapped around her petite curvy figure. It matched her lipstick. She had her hand on his shoulder.

  Tooty squared her shoulders in her gauche country dress and pasted a smile on her face. Sitting opposite Miles on a cream colored divan was an older couple. The man wore a gray suit and gray tie and the woman a beautiful suit the same cream color as the couch. Even her hair and earrings were cream colored. The couple looked fit and trim and everyone glanced up when she entered. Inadvertently, she squeezed Harris' hand and he said, "Ouch, Mommy." Loosening her grip, she walked further into the room.

  "Hello, Tooty and Harris. Were you able to rest?" asked Miles.

  "Yes, thank you."

  Harris said, "I like the big windows in the bedroom. The cars are really tiny."

  Miles grinned. "I like the big windows myself." He looked toward the older couple. "Mom, Dad, I'd like you to meet Tooty Townsend and her son, Harris. Tooty is my personal assistant in Colorado and she'll be helping me while we're in New York. Tooty, please meet my parents, Brad and Vivienne Brightman."

  Mr. Brightman stood. "It's a pleasure meeting you, Toot-Tooty."

  Harris giggled when Mr. Brightman stumbled over her name. No doubt he'd tease her about it later. Tooty stepped forward, pulling Harris with her.

  "I'm really happy to meet ya'll. She stuck out her hand. Say hello, Harris."

  Harris grinned and stuck out his hand, imitating his mother. "Me too. I'm happy, too." The couple took turns shaking their hands and Tooty noticed Mrs. Brightman smooth hers surreptitiously over her skirt, like Harris might have dirt on his hands or something. Both of them looked like they were forcing smiles. She had an instant dislike.

  Myrna saved the awkward moment when she stepped into the room to announce dinner.

  "Yeah!" Harris exclaimed. "Is it bascetti?"

  Tooty grinned. "He means spaghetti."

  Myrna smiled. "No, not tonight; maybe tomorrow night." She winked and Tooty liked her even more.

  Miles motioned for everyone to precede him to the dining room and Tooty almost groaned aloud when she saw the elegant room and beautiful place settings. She and Harris were as out of place here as a bull in a dress shop. Miles wheeled his chair to the head of the table and motioned his mother and father to either side of him. Monica sat beside his mother and Tooty sat beside his father with Harris next to her. Tooty pushed Harris' hands into his lap when he started playing with his forks. Myrna and Harvey wheeled food carts into the room and began serving everyone. Tooty looked at the tray of ugly fish eggs and declined. Harris said, "Yuck!" and Tooty kneed him under the table.

  "Ouch, Mommy."

  * * *

  Miles lifted his napkin to hide his grin at the look on Tooty's face when Myrna had asked if she wanted caviar. He had to cough to hide his laugh when Harris gave her up for poking him under the table. He made a mental note to make sure Myrna prepared spaghetti the next night.

  Monica was speaking, "Miles, please put us out of our miser
y and give us some tidbit about your upcoming book."

  Miles wished she hadn't asked. He didn't feel like talking about himself. He simply said, "It's coming along well. I've added more of a romantic aspect, thanks to Tooty's suggestion, and it's actually going to be the final book in the series. I believe it's time to move on to something fresh."

  Monica looked at Tooty, "Hmm. More romance. I think I like that. Although personally, Miles has no problem with that in real life," she said slyly.

  Miles wanted to groan. Sometimes the woman was a pain in the ass. They'd had a light romantic relationship for over two years and her company was beginning to wear thin.

  His father said, "How is the movie aspect coming along? Are you going to do the screenwriting?"

  "Actually, no. There are many competent screenwriters. Like I said, I want to concentrate on writing in a fresh genre."

  "That sounds intriguing, son. Do you want to reveal the genre?"

  "I was thinking of writing a comedy, but now I'm debating about writing a romance. I like the books by Nicolas Sparks."

  Mr. Brightman coughed. "Are you kidding?"

  "No, sir. It would be a challenge and I could fall flat on my ass."

  His mother interrupted. "Why take that chance when what you write now sells so well?"

  "At this point in my life, it's all about the challenge, and writing a comedy or a romance would certainly challenge me." He watched Harris pushing his food around on his plate and giving Tooty a look that clearly showed his distaste for it. Miles rang the bell beside his glass and Myrna rushed into the room.

  "Yes, sir. Are you ready for the next course?" He motioned her forward and crooked his finger so he could whisper in her ear. She smiled. "I understand."

  He returned his attention to his mother. "It's too bad Cecelia couldn't make it."

  "I know. She's excited that you're back and intends to drop by this week, but you know your sister, always on the go and busy with some charity project. I think she's doing something with the Big Bro and Big Sis Organization."

  Polite conversation continued and Miles watched Harris grow antsier while Tooty tried to get him to eat something. Finally, Myrna returned carrying another plate. Lifting the offending plate from in front of Harris, she replaced it with the one in her hand boasting a big hotdog. His eyes rounded and he said, "Oh, yeah." He started to pick it up, but looked at his mom. "You want half, Mommy. You don't have to eat this weird food. I'll share."

  Miles' mother gasped and Monica gave the child a stern look. Miles laughed. "Tomorrow, we're having spaghetti." When Tooty gave him a grateful look and smile, he felt like he'd committed an act of valor. Maybe his harebrained idea of inviting her and Harris to New York wasn't so harebrained after all. They lightened what would have otherwise been a stodgy dinner party.

  Chapter 10: Midnight Snack

  Tooty's stomach growled loudly. She'd wanted to accept Harris' offer of half his hot dog, but that would have been just too rude. Her stomach growled again. She glanced at the clock—one. Surely, no one would be up now and she could grab a slice of bread or something. She slipped out of bed and reached for her old housecoat to throw over her even older flannel pajamas.

  Tiptoeing toward the kitchen, she passed the other bedrooms. She wondered if Monica was in Miles' bedroom. The thought made her queasy. After dinner Monica had accompanied Miles while he'd taken Tooty and Harris on a tour of his home. She'd still been there when Tooty had clasped Harris' hand and bid everyone goodnight.

  She reached the kitchen, but instead of busting in, she decided to peek around the corner just in case someone was being a night owl like her.

  OMG! She ducked her head back. Miles was there with Monica! And the woman was still wearing red. Only this time it was a silk clinger that reached mid thigh and hung open to the belted waist. There was also a wine bottle on the island and wine glasses. Oh, golly. Miles' shirt was unbuttoned and Monica was bending over kissing him while stroking his naked chest. God help her, she wanted to peek again.

  Slinking back to her room she walked to the windows to stare out over the city. She sniffed. So what if they were doing the dirty. What did she care? She'd kinda wondered if he was capable in that department. Now she knew. He'd sure looked sexy. He's got a great body. Stop it!

  Opening the box with the diary, Tooty crawled back into bed, tucked the covers around Harris, and read the next entry.

  Friday, March 31, 1865

  Eli slept real good last night. He woke once and told me to go to bed. He said I needed to sleep in a real bed and not the chair. He seemed agitated when I said I didn't want to, so I went to bed to please him. I didn't wake until after it was light. Pa was taking the chamber pot out the door to dump when I got up. Eli was just staring at the ceiling and he didn’t say anything when I said hello, or even when I changed his bandages. It made me sad. All day he remained quiet. After supper I decided to read to him. I pulled out my favorite book, Pride and Prejudice.

  Tooty read a few more entries. The last one really piqued her interest.

  Monday, April 10, 1865

  Eli has been eating good for several days now and he has no more infection. His stumps are almost completely healed. He pushes himself into a sitting position most of the day. He even sits at the side of the bed sometimes. Although he doesn't talk much, I think I see some kind of enjoyment in his eyes when I read to him every night. When I was in town today with Pa, I asked Mr. Maddox at the general store about those fancy chairs for people who can't walk. He let me tear a picture out of one of the catalogues. I took it to Jed, the blacksmith, to see if he could build one. He said he could and that he'd only charge me for the materials. I asked him how much and he gave a price that was more than what I have saved up, but I told him to build it anyway. I'll just take in more mending and washing. I hope I have enough money by the time he's done. If not, I'll ask him to let me pay it over time.

  The next morning, Tooty couldn't bring herself to look directly into Miles' eyes. Whenever she tried, she felt her face turn all shades of pink.

  He motioned for her to follow him to his office. "Go ahead and sit behind the desk. I've got the computer ready to go. You can check emails first and then proofread after that."

  Tooty sat in the expensive leather chair and tapped on the keyboard.

  Miles started to wheel his chair around, but paused. "Tooty, are you okay? You seem kind of subdued."

  "Oh, I'm fine," she lied. "Just getting used to being away from home."

  "You're not worried about Harris, are you? Myrna will take good care of him."

  "Of course not. I know he's having a blast helping her bake cookies."

  Miles studied her face and she still refused to meet his eyes. Finally, he said he had meetings the rest of the day and that evening. He said he'd see her tomorrow and they'd go sightseeing. She wondered if Monica was included in his evening's activity or if she was going to join them tomorrow. Tooty sure hoped not.

  Chapter 11: Sightseeing

  Harris was up almost at the crack of dawn. "Mister Brightperson said he's gonna take us to some fun places today."

  "Brightman, Harris."

  In his pajamas, Harris jumped up and down on the bed. "Is it time to go yet, Mommy?"

  "Not yet, sweetie. I don't think anyone's up." Tooty stretched and grinned at her sweet little son. "Come give Mommy a hug." She held her arms open and Harris plopped into them.

  "I love you, Mommy. You're the bestest!"

  "Harris, you're the bestest, too!"

  "I sure hope those other people don't go with us. They're not fun."

  Silently, Tooty agreed. "Hey, why don't you grab your storybook and I'll read to you for awhile. Then we'll get dressed."

  "Okay." Harris jumped off the bed and darted to his backpack. Before Tooty had finished reading, he'd fallen back to sleep. Snuggling with him, she drifted, too.

  Tooty glanced at the clock; seven. At least they'd gotten some more rest. She slipped from the bed to decide w
hat she and Harris should wear for their special day. The dress she'd worn the night of the dinner with Monica and Miles' parents had been a disaster compared to their refined duds. She looked at her selection and laughed. She was a country girl through and through, no doubt about it. Chuckling, she grabbed a pair of Levis and peasant blouse with a draw string closure and headed into the bathroom for a shower. Harris walked in as she was tucking her blouse into her waistband.

  "You look pretty, Mommy."

  She slipped her belt with its buckle of polished stones into the loops of her jeans. "Thanks, honey. I laid some clothes out for you on the chair. Run get dressed and then come back and brush your teeth. We have a big day ahead of us."

  Harris happily obeyed and Tooty gave herself one last glance in the mirror. I am who I am and I don't apologize. Instead of opting for boots, she slipped on tennis shoes—not quite a fashion statement. By the time she'd applied a little blusher, brows and lipstick, Harris was back and talking a mile a minute. Tooty pulled a wet comb through his unruly curls.

  Shortly before eight, she held Harris' hand and they followed the hallway to the living room and then passed through the dining room and into the kitchen. Myrna was bustling around opening cupboards and pulling out dishes. "Good morning," she said cheerily. I'll have breakfast ready in a jiffy. Mr. Brightman said I was to make pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream for Harris."

  Harris grinned, "Oh, boy!"

  "Would you like the same, Tooty? I can make you an omelette if you prefer?"

  "I'd love the pancakes and strawberries."

  "Can I pour you a cup of coffee?"

  "Yes, please."

  "Harris, would you like some orange juice or apple juice?" Myrna asked, and walked to the fridge after she handed Tooty her coffee.