Blessed Baby by Lois Richer

Author:Lois Richer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2001-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

“I’d rather be arriving than leaving Banff.” Briony glanced over her shoulder at the receding mountains and sighed. “It’s going to be hard to leave, to go back to the city.”

Ty checked on Cristine in his rearview mirror, then gave Bri a mocking smile. “Ah, but you’ll be in your lab, Dr. Green. Oblivious to the world.”

She thought about that for a moment. It sounded deathly dull compared to her time with Cristine. “I suppose” was all she said.

“Where do you think we should start?” he asked, passing several RVs as they rolled down the highway through the foothills. “At the bank?”

Bri shook her head. “No, actually I thought it might be better to stop at Bio-Tek first. They’re on the far side of the city. We’ll work our way back from there.” She tugged out her city map and a pencil. “What’s your sister’s address again?”

Ty told her. She eventually found it on the map and noted it with a bright red marker.

“Yes, you see if we work our way across the city we can end up near her house and not have to backtrack.” She smiled at the simplicity of it.

“I might have known you’d say that. Always organized.” He glanced at the briefcase. “What else do you have in there?”

Her cheeks betrayed her, burning bright with embarrassment. “Just a list of a few questions I thought we might ask. Also, perhaps we could check the hospital where Cristine was born, see if they remember anything.”

“That’s a long shot.”

“I know. But long shots are all we seem to have.” She wished it weren’t so. If only Bridget had told her something, confided in her before she died. “I read some more of the diary last night.”

“Oh.” His eyes narrowed. “Anything?”

“Well, nothing specific, perhaps. But I feel the tone of her writing changes at one point. She’s talking about work, about the baby. She seems excited. It sounds as if she intends to raise Cristine herself. It’s hard to read dates—to know if she means day, month, year or month, day, year—but apparently a week passes.”

“And?” Impatient as usual, Ty’s fingers gripped the wheel. “What does she say then?”

“She talks mostly about making sure ‘the baby’ has a good home.”

“‘The baby’?” He frowned. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Because up to then it was ‘my baby.”’

Ty’s words brimmed with kindness. “This is hard for you, isn’t it?” He rolled his eyes. “Now, that was a stupid question.”

“Yes,” Bri agreed after a moment’s thought, “it is hard sometimes. My parents would have loved Cristine.”

“Would have?” He frowned.

“They died several weeks after Bridget. A car accident.”

His hand covered hers, squeezed, then continued to hold it on the leather seat separating them.

“I’m very sorry, Briony. You’ve had a really tough time.”

“Thanks.” She sat and absorbed the comfort he offered, content to accept it without feeling guilty.

Though at first she’d thought Ty unemotional and harsh with everything except his daughter, she’d come to appreciate that this man possessed a wonderful ability to empathize.

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