door.
“No,” Neal said softly. He gazed at the baby, who he could see through the doorway, sitting in her baby seat. She seemed to be gazing back at him.
Neal could hear a skillet sizzling and popping on the stove. From the aroma, he knew Annie was making fried chicken, his favorite meal. She knew how to prepare it exactly the way he liked it, crisp but without much grease. At least she could cook halfway well.
“Is the delivery job really that bad?” Annie said.
“Well...no. I guess not. At least I don’t have to be around those Snell bozos very much. I spend ninety percent of my time on the road. But it’s minimum wage, Annie. We can’t live on that.”
“I know,” she said. Neal hoped she might feel guilty, but if she did, her face didn’t show it. She refused to consider the idea of working again herself until Natasha was old enough to go to school. Neal actually admired Annie’s resolve to devote all her time and attention to the baby—he didn’t think that leaving infants in day care centers, with total strangers, was a good idea. But he didn’t think it was smart to raise kids in substandard conditions, either. And what about money for Natasha’s education? Where would that come from? Out of the sky? But Neal had grown tired of that discussion, and he knew Annie had, too. Whenever they got into it, he always ended up feeling like the “selfish prick” insurance salesman who had knocked up his sister.
“I have to find something that pays more,” he said. “And something that’s more mentally stimulating. If I don’t, I’m going to go fu—I mean, I’m going to go stir crazy.”
At that instant, Natasha let out a “gaaaaa-oooooh” that was loud enough to drown out the sizzling and popping of the chicken. Neal and Annie both laughed.
Annie picked Natasha up out of her baby seat and brought her back to the doorway.
“What did you tay, honey?” Annie said, tickling her chin. “Tay tometing for Mommy and Daddy.”
Natasha smiled and worked her mouth, but no sound came out.
Annie looked at Neal sympathetically. “Don’t you think you might have just imagined that she said ‘I love you’? That sounded a lot like it a minute ago.”
“I didn’t
Annie nodded, but Neal could tell she no more believed him than if he had told her that Natasha had played duplicate bridge with him that afternoon.
Neal saw a flicker of light behind Annie, and he smelled something burning. “Annie, I think your chicken’s on fire.”
“Oh!” she said, rushing back into the kitchen.
Neal got up from the couch and followed her. Annie quickly set Natasha down in her baby seat, then reached for the handle of the flaming skillet.
“Don’t!” Neal said. He took a dishtowel off the counter and moved the skillet over to the sink.
While Annie tried to save the chicken, Neal went over to Natasha. The little baby looked up at him and slowly kicked her feet, like she was riding a tiny bicycle. Neal didn’t touch her very much, but now, he had an impulse to grab her bare foot. Which he did. The tiny foot felt strange in his hand, hot and clammy, like the paw of some furry animal.
Natasha’s eyes remained fixed on Neal’s face. He watched her for a long moment, feeling a little uneasy. He relaxed a little and smiled at her.
Her mouth opened.
At first, Neal thought she was going to speak to him again. Instead, some yellowish goo bubbled out and ran down her chin.
Neal backed away. “Annie, Natasha’s—”
Annie turned around, saw what was happening, and scooped Natasha up into her arms. She picked up a dishtowel and cleaned the baby’s face with it.
