Taryn shrugged. “Do what? I did not tell one lie or say that Zoe belonged to meoryou. Both of those women drew their own conclusions—but now you know what kind of mothers they will make if you decide that you want a family sometime in the future. One wants a sitter for a family reunion, which would cause the children to think they weren’t wanted. The other one would hire a nanny and send the kid off to boarding school as soon as he or she was potty-trained.”
“If I was interested—which I’m not—I’d be more curious to see what kind of wife each of them would make at first,” Clinton said. “Would one of them be willing to live in a little one-bedroom apartment above a flower shop? Would they be content to let me spend hours working with vets? And maybe even helping out with someone else’s child once in a while?”
“No, no, and no,” Taryn answered, “and that’s judging from what I’ve seen this week.”
Anna Rose burst out laughing. “It’s not blood or broken bones, but it sure was hilarious. I was tempted to call Nana Irene. I’m proud of you, girl.”
“So am I,” Clinton said.
“We had a terrible time keeping quiet back there,” Jorja chimed in with a giggle. “That was ingenious—but what happens when Zoe disappears after six weeks?”
“We won’t be here in six weeks, so it won’t matter,” Anna Rose said.
“We could always say that we gave her up for adoption,” Taryn said. “Until then, Diana and Elaine can heat up the Shamrock gossip vine.”
“Set it on fire, is more like it,” Anna Rose said. “But we’ve got more than a dozen tickets in the basket, so the fun stops now and the work begins.”
“We’ll probably get swamped today and tomorrow, and then it will be time to start getting ready for the first wedding of the summer,” Jorja added as she followed her cousin. She picked up a ticket and went to work on a red, white, and blue wreath.
Clinton laid Zoe in her carrier and disappeared into one of the storage rooms. After a minute, he came out with a folded playpen in his hands. He popped it open, adjusted the mobile with bright-colored butterflies that hung above, and pressed a button to make it go around. Then he moved Zoe over into it. She cooed and kicked her chubby little legs.
“The mobile will play for thirty minutes,” he said as he started placing flowers in a half-finished saddle piece for a tombstone. “Then she’ll be ready for her midmorning bottle. She’s a good baby.”
“You said you had plans for Saturday, right?” Taryn said as she started on a centerpiece done all in red.
“Zoe and I are going to Irene’s on Saturday for dinner after we close the shop. Then, on Sunday, I’m planning to take her to the park; maybe there will be a squirrel that will entertain us for a while. Monday is free, but if one of the contest women comes in with an invitation, we may go back to the park,” he said.
“Does Rebecca get to see the baby while she’s in rehab?” Taryn couldn’t fathom spending that much time away from her baby, if she ever had one.
Clinton’s shoulder raised in a half shrug. “I’m not sure she wants to see Zoe—maybe not ever again. Every time she looks at the baby, she remembers losing Larry. I’m hoping that the trauma-treatment center helps with that.”
“Doesn’t she have family that would help with the baby and be a support for her?” Anna Rose asked.
“Both she and Larry were foster kids,” Clinton answered.
“Do they have specialists that are trained to work with PTSD?” Jorja asked.
“Yes, they do, and I’m hoping that in six weeks, she’s got a grip on life and is ready to move on with her daughter past Larry’s death,” Clinton answered.
Taryn glanced over at Zoe and fought back tears. She and her parents didn’t see each other often, but at Christmas, Nana Irene’s three children and granddaughters all tried their best to come home for the holidays. Sometimes it was just for a day, but when they could, they would stick around until New Year’s Day. But even at that, she couldn’t imagine a time when they wouldn’t come from the far ends of the earth to help her if she needed them. To not have the support of a family was sad, and she felt so sorry for Rebecca. At the same time, she admired Clinton for taking on such a responsibility and for trying to help their fellow vets.
“What happens if she doesn’t think she can raise Zoe?” Taryn’s voice sounded hollow in her own ears.
“We’ll cross that bridge when it comes time. Until then, I’m her legal guardian,” Clinton answered.
“Won’t you get attached to her?” Taryn asked.
“I already am,” Clinton whispered. “I just hope she sleeps better than she did last night. Rebecca dropped her off with the legal papers she’d signed and left as fast as she came. We just couldn’t let her go into the system.”
“Maybe a few weeks away from her will help,” Taryn said.
“I’m worried she’ll need more than six weeks to get her legs under her. The VA rehab center she’s checking into will be a good starting point, but it may not be a cure. She’s got to want to get better for it to happen. I just hope that she figures that out,” Clinton said.
The day went by without any more excitement, and when evening came, Clinton had vanished up the stairs with the baby carrier when Taryn called out to him, “Hey, why don’t you let me take the baby and that diaper bag? You’re supposed to bring one of those casseroles you’ve got stashed away down for our supper, remember?”
He didn’t argue with her when she climbed up the stairs and took the diaper bag from his shoulder and slung it over hers.
“What are you bringing tonight?” she asked.
