Starting Now (Blossom Street #9)(32)

“Well,” Sharon continued at the end of a sigh, “I better get busy. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” Her voice sounded strange, Libby realized, and she was grateful when Sharon didn’t comment.

Libby picked up a seven-pound baby girl with the surname Knight. She had a small pink bow clipped to a tiny patch of hair. Kissing the infant’s brow, Libby settled into the rocker. As if the infant was aware of everything taking place around her, Baby Knight stared up at Libby. She sang a medley of Barry Manilow hits until the baby yawned and her eyelids drooped closed. After several minutes Libby replaced her in the tiny bed.

The baby directly across from Baby Knight let out a lusty cry, as if demanding her attention. Libby turned and looked at him, and smiled when she saw that his surname was Wilson.

She picked him up and gently cradled him in her arms as she returned to the rocking chair. He wasn’t easily comforted, and he arched his back, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“My, my, aren’t you a hotheaded one,” she whispered. Placing him over her shoulder, she rubbed his back and sure enough he burped. Libby laughed softly and continued to rock him.

Holding these babies in her arms, her head and heart flooded with regrets. She wished she’d worked harder at saving her marriage. In the end, Libby had been convinced she and Joe would never be happy together; each of them wanted the other person to be something they were not. At the time it had just seemed best to walk away. Now, holding these babies in her arms, Libby was left to wonder what might have happened if they’d stayed together, gone to counseling, worked out their differences. If she had, perhaps the infant in her arms would be her own. Their baby. That would never happen now, and sadness filled her heart. If she could turn back time, Libby realized, she might have made different choices. The divorce seemed like an easy way out for what had become a strained and difficult relationship.

With these thoughts circling in her mind Libby glanced up and froze. Her heart shot to her throat and remained lodged there as she locked eyes with the man on the other side of the nursery window.

Joe. Joe Wilson, her ex-husband.

How was this possible? Had her imagination conjured him up? He looked real. In fact, he looked as shocked as she did.

Standing, she replaced the little boy in his crib and walked out of the nursery. Joe stood by the door when she opened it.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, frowning. “That’s my son.”

“I … I volunteer here at the hospital. I had no idea he was your baby.”

He paced the area in front of the window. “You volunteer at the hospital?” he asked, as if he found that unbelievable.

“Two or three days a week.”

“What happened with Burkhart, Smith & Crandall?”

“They laid me off.” It hurt to admit it, but Joe deserved the truth.

“Laid you off?” His voice registered shock. “You’ve got to be kidding me. No one worked the hours you did.”

She didn’t say anything.

“You didn’t make partner?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I even came close.”

He frowned, as if to say he found that unbelievable and then shook his head. Libby knew what he was thinking … because she’d had the same thought herself just moments before. It went without saying that she’d given up a whole lot for very little return. All she needed to do was look inside the nursery at the baby she’d held so briefly in her arms to realize the sacrifices she’d made.

She felt numb and her head was buzzing. A tight constriction gripped her throat, but she managed to squeak out, “Congratulations on your son.”

He nodded. “Maureen and I feel very blessed.”

She swallowed against the knot in her throat. “I’m happy for you … I really mean that.”

“I know you do.” Joe’s eyes held hers and he offered her a gentle smile, and then reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

“I … I better get back,” she said in a rush, for fear she was about to break down in front of him.

“Yeah … I … ah.” Obviously he was as much at a loss as she was.

“It was good to see you, Joe,” she said, opening the door. Her hand shook so badly she had a difficult time getting her identification badge into the slot so the door would open.

“You too,” he said.

Once inside, Libby leaned against the wall. She hung her head and drew in a couple of deep, stabilizing breaths in order to get ahold of herself. This was so unlike her. Both levelheaded and patient, she was known for her ability to deal with a crisis without allowing her personal feelings to get the best of her. Well, they had the best of her now. Or the worst, she wasn’t sure which. To her acute embarrassment, she realized that if something didn’t happen quickly she was going to dissolve into tears.

Libby was not a crier. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d wept in public. High school? She planted her hand over her mouth and walked blindly into the nursery, pausing at Sharon’s desk. Thankfully the other woman was out of the room. Libby grabbed hold of the edge, struggling, gritting her teeth, not breathing, determined to get a grip.

The nursery door opened and she stiffened. Just her luck, Sharon was back. She wasn’t about to let anyone see her like this and she looked toward the ceiling.