Free HER BABY'S SECRET FATHER by Lynne Marshall Page B

Jaynie’s chest, smack between her breasts. She wrapped the blanket around Jaynie’s middle, swaddling child to mother.
    “This is called Kangaroo-care. Two doctors from South America discovered in the 1980s the amazing results of keeping preemies close to their mothers’ skin.” She winked and nodded at Jaynie. “See—it’s like a pouch.”
    The feel of her own flesh and blood flush to her chest brought an incredible sense of peace. Her breasts tingled as if her milk was about to let down, and she was grateful that she’d just used the pump. The nurse placed a second bath towel over Jaynie’s shoulders like a shawl, and she settled in to rocking and humming to her daughter.
    Within seconds Tara relaxed, and drifted off to sleep, allowing Jaynie to study her close up, press her to her bosom for warmth and kiss the top of her perfect little head.
    “This will help your baby conserve her energy for growing, both physically and emotionally,” the nurse said with a kind, knowing smile, “while maintaining good body temperature.”
    The peace of finally holding Tara the way she had dreamed, feeling her fine skin and warmth, acted like a drug. Before long, with her arms wrapped securely around her tightly swaddled child, Jaynie drifted off to sleep, too.
    * * *
    Terrance couldn’t stay away any longer. It had been days since he’d gone to see Tara and he couldn’t stand the separation. The same blood in her veins ran in his, and her precious preemie soul called out to him. Since returning from his rock-climbing trip he’d made a point to only come around when Jaynie wasn’t there—which was hard, because she always seemed to be there.
    Today wasn’t even his day to cover the baby ward. He’d only been passing by, but he wanted to check on his daughter. Plus, he had a zebra-patterned soft toy to deliver. One of the NICU nurses had explained that newborns responded to that pattern and it was good for infant eye development. And so he couldn’t resist a visit.
    With impeccable timing, Terrance rounded the corner and observed the most riveting sight of his life. There before him sat Jaynie Winchester, bare-shouldered and wrapped in a sarong made out of a thin hospital bath blanket. Tara’s tiny head was wedged between her full breasts. The most incredible look of contentment graced Jaynie’s face as she looked down at the baby tucked snugly to her chest. At first he thought she was nursing, and he panicked, tried to retreat, but couldn’t bring his feet to move.
    Seeing Jaynie and Tara before him, a modern-day portrait of Madonna and Child, he stood dead in his tracks. He couldn’t manage to turn himself in the other direction and race out of the room, like any gentleman would.
    Jaynie’s head of soft, full curls outlined her face and fell across her shoulders. Her eyes were serenely closed. Running the risk of being a shameless voyeur if he didn’t do something besides stand there and ogle a half-dressed woman—who happened to be the mother of his child—Terrance cleared his throat and prepared to speak. But then thought better of it.
    Overwhelmed with emotion, coupled with days of insomnia and soul-searching over life and his priorities, and people he cared about, he felt his eyes go blurry. He sniffed and swallowed, and fought the surge of feelings.
    Astounding.
    Wanting simultaneously to curse Jaynie for messing up his plans, and rush to her side to tell her he was Tara’s father, Terrance withstood the urge, knowing it would only complicate things further. Jaynie had never meant to become anything more than a family of two. Butting into her dreams and plans with his sperm donor news would only mix her up. And Lord only knew he was mixed up enough for both of them. She deserved more than that, and she needed all of her energy to deal with being a mother for Tara. No, it wasn’t fair to drop a bomb like that and run.
    And, besides, he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to be a real father. As long as he