Megan’s eyebrows lowered. Shit. Why couldn’t I shut up? Elaboration did not help a lie. Less was more when it came to bullshit.
“We should get downstairs.” Quinn stepped forward. “I promised I’d take care of the drinks. People are going to be thirsty in this heat.”
Megan opened her mouth to argue, and I tensed. If she kept at me very long, I’d spill everything. I wouldn’t be able to help myself. But just as Quinn reached the top of the steps, the toe of his shoe caught in the carpet, and he lurched forward.
Both Luther and I leaped, but Megan was closer and she managed to snatch him back from the edge before he took a swan dive.
“Wow.” He leaned on her a little. He appeared to be shaking. “Thanks.”
Interesting how different Quinn behaved in Megan’s presence. His language became more modern, his diction less formal, and his accent, as well as his grace, nonexistent.
“Sheesh, Fitzpatrick.” Megan smacked him between the shoulder blades. “Spit out that gum so you can walk.”
“Yeah.” He laughed faintly. “Good idea.”
Together they started down the steps. Megan seemed to have forgotten all about her suspicions, whatever they might have been.
They reached the foot, and Megan disappeared around the corner toward the kitchen. Quinn glanced back at me and winked.
By any nine-year-old girl’s standards, the party was a success. Lots of pink loot. Madness-inducing music that pumped from two speakers shoved into the back windows. Pizza until someone puked. Lemonade to take the pizza taste away, followed by enough pink-frosted cake to give everyone a bellyache.
Faith remained asleep despite the noise. I shoveled in as much food as I could and not burst. Who knew when I’d get the chance to eat again.
Around one, murmurs drifted from the monitor, which I’d kept pressed to one ear most of the time. I caught Luther’s eye. He had so much frosting on his upper lip, he looked like part of the “Got Milk” campaign.
Times like these brought home how young Luther really was—not that I knew for sure, but he wasn’t a man no matter how much he might want to be. Certainly he was more mature than most boys his age—living in foster care or on your own tended to do that—but he was still an infant in the ways of my world.
It bothered me to send a child out to fight. It bothered me that I’d no doubt have to send a lot more of them out to do the same thing. That kids were usually the ones who bore the brunt of every war did not make me feel any better. More wrongs never made one thing right.
I waggled the monitor then tilted my head toward the house. Luther nodded. I’d told him we would leave as soon as Faith woke.
We slipped away. No one seemed to notice. The children were playing games, led by Quinn who was amazingly good with them, while Megan cleaned up in between serving second and third helpings of cake.
As we hurried upstairs, Faith’s murmurs headed toward a wail. The instant she saw us she stopped. Her solemn gray gaze rested on my face. For a moment I could have sworn Sawyer was staring out of them, and I shivered.
“She’s soaked,” Luther said.
I shook off the remnants of the spooky feeling. “How?” I reached over and touched her arm, her belly. Faith giggled and kicked. Was she trying to be cute? Just the sound of her joy made me happy, too.
“The diaper, Liz.” Luther handed me a fresh one from the pack on the bed.
I pushed it back in his direction. “Go nuts.”
“Not happening.” He tossed the thing into the air, and I had the choice of catching it or fishing it off the floor. I caught it.
“I’m not sure how—”
“It isn’t rocket science.”
It wasn’t. Off with old, on with the new. Bigger half to the rear, sticky tabs locked in place. Wham, bam, clean dry baby.
“I didn’t think you had it in you.” Megan spoke from the doorway.
“It isn’t rocket science,” I said, and Luther snorted.
“Ha-ha-ha!” Faith’s face began to turn red. I picked her up in a great big hurry. She plucked at the gauzy yellow camisole I’d donned for the special occasion.
“Here.” Megan held out a bottle of formula. “She’s not going to find anything where she’s looking.”
I glanced down. Sure enough, the kid was doing her best to yank my breast out of my shirt. Like father like daughter in more ways than one. “How does she know that?”
“You’d be surprised what they know.”
“But wouldn’t she have had to have nursed at one time?”
“With a human child I’d say yes, with her . . .” Megan lifted one shoulder then lowered it. Faith caught sight of the bottle and dived for it. I nearly fumbled her again.
Luther took Faith and the bottle. Curling the baby into his arm and popping the nipple into her mouth, he sat on the Green Bay Packers bedspread that covered the nearest twin bed. Faith seemed so tiny in his big hands.
“Were you going to sneak out without saying goodbye?” Megan asked.
The idea had crossed my mind. Goodbyes gave me hives. However—