Dance Away with Me(19)

Tess would have to hire a lawyer. She wasn’t certified to practice midwifery in Tennessee, and Ian North would almost certainly sue her. Maybe the state’s Good Samaritan laws would protect her. Maybe not. Either way, the legal fees would ruin her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

One day passed into another. Phish called. He was making Savannah and Michelle fill in for her, which was certain to make them dislike her even more. She spoke to the nurses when she needed to and exchanged a few necessary words with the couple who ran the B and B she only visited to shower and change clothes. Otherwise, she held the baby and thought about Bianca.

A week after they’d arrived, the doctor informed her that the baby would be released the next morning. Tess felt only dread. She still hadn’t seen North. Would he even show up? And what would happen to this helpless baby bird if he didn’t?

*

All the doilies, peacock feathers, and china cupids in the Victorian B and B suffocated him. Ian liked big, clear spaces: high cement walls, vast canvases, empty horizons.

He reached into his pocket for a tissue. The head cold he was just getting over hadn’t bothered him much. A head cold had boundaries. Sooner or later it went away, unlike other disasters.

He’d spent the last few days in Manhattan. Bianca had no family left, but she had business acquaintances. He’d fended off their questions about the baby and arranged a memorial service.

The front door opened.

Tess stopped inside the archway that led to the parlor. She wore jeans and a bulky white sweater, her dark hair curling in a free-for-all around her face. No makeup. She was tired and drawn. But alive. Functional. Despite the shadows under her eyes, she was solid and practical. Everything Bianca hadn’t been. Tess Hartsong was a creature of the earth instead of the sky. Ready to strip down to her underwear and dance her furious dirge. He wanted to make her dance for him, dance all the emotions he couldn’t voice. Her dark eyes—the color of manganese violet paint—took him in. Seeing right through him. Judging. And why shouldn’t she?

A single, awkward move in this overstuffed room could unleash a domino chain of Victorian clutter. He had to get on with it. Get out of here.

He gazed at her forehead instead of into those eyes. He had to absolve her. It was only fair. “About what I said at the hospital . . .” Don’t fuck this up, too.

But if he absolved her, he’d lose his advantage.

Was he really going to try using her guilt against her? The doctor had confirmed what Tess had told him about the cause of Bianca’s death, but there had to be an autopsy. That meant cutting into Bianca’s perfect body. And Ian was responsible. Not Tess. Ian himself. But he needed something from her. And guilt was a powerful tool.

He gazed at the fireplace with its glass cloches and enameled urns, its gilded mirror and marble clock. His eyes fastened on a badly executed seascape of roiling water and misshapen headlands.

He couldn’t do it.

He cleared his throat. “What I said at the hospital . . . It was unfair. I know you couldn’t have done more.”

“Do you?”

He couldn’t deal with her guilt. He had enough of his own. He should never have given in to Bianca’s pleas to come to Tempest with him. He should have stayed with her in the city, but she’d been so adamant.

He bumbled on. “About this baby . . .”

“Your daughter.”

“There are some complications.”

*

Complications? Tess tried to calm herself, but there he stood. Hard and distant. No longer haggard the way she was. He looked almost respectable in dark pants and a blue dress shirt. Clean-shaven. Hair still long, but trimmed.

She beat back the panic that kicked in her chest. “Yes, there are complications. Preemies are fragile, and they need special care.”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about.” He came closer. “I want to hire you to take care of her.”

“Hire me?” He had to be crazy.

“Until I get everything sorted out. A couple of days. A week at the most.”

“That’s impossible.” She hadn’t been sleeping or eating. She was living on adrenaline, and she had to get away from them both. “There are nannies specifically trained to care for preemies.”

“I don’t want a stranger. I’ll pay whatever you ask.”

“This isn’t about money.” She’d stayed with the baby at the hospital. She couldn’t put herself in any more emotional jeopardy. This man. This baby. They were living reminders of her own failure. “I’ll get some recommendations from the nurses and make a few phone calls.”

“I don’t want anyone else. You’re smart. You’re competent. And you’re no bullshit.”

“I appreciate your trust in light of what happened, but I don’t want to do it.”

He regarded her with steady eyes and struck his lowest blow. “I guess you’ve forgotten.”

“Forgotten?”

“The promise you made to Bianca. Right before she died.”

*

The hospital made certain his immunizations were up-to-date and gave him instructions on infant CPR that caused him to break out in a cold sweat. They told him about car seats and something called kangaroo care, which he hoped Tess knew all about because he sure as hell wasn’t going to provide it. He tried to focus on the birth certificate worksheet they’d given him. His handwriting was barely legible.