A/N: I know, I know - poor Steve can't catch a break. Bad me. Wish I could tell you it gets better for him.
Not sure why the site refuses to let me put a hyphen in "Twenty-four", but, alas, it does. Avert your eyes. I know I do.
3. A Friend In Need
Steve gave a contented sigh. This was more like it.
He was stretched out in a lounge chair with the sun on his face and the softest of ocean breezes kissing his hair, wearing an unstained and un-torn t-shirt, a tall glass of sparkling water at his elbow. He had actually had his heart set on a beer, but the smell as he'd popped the top off of the bottle had sent his traitorous stomach sliding into his throat again, and he had hastily switched to something more neutral. He took a sip. Not so bad. At least he'd finally made it to the second page of his article. And he still had the whole afternoon and evening stretching out before him. He had every intention of taking full advantage of them.
The breeze lifted his bangs as he turned the page. Maybe a little later he'd take the bike out. His stomach should have settled down by then and - the telephone rang.
Steve froze. NO. Just - no.
It rang again, and he closed his eyes. All right - it couldn't be anything important for his father or they'd have found him at the hospital. It couldn't be the station, because they'd have used his cell. So it couldn't be anything urgent at all. He'd just let the machine pick up.
It rang again, and he hunkered a shoulder stubbornly away from it. No reason to jump every time the phone rang. It was his day off. It was probably a telemarketer anyway.
The phone rang again and the machine kicked in. He heard his father's cheerful recorded greeting with half an ear while admiring a photo of a new performance dirt bike. That'd be a nice ride. A little out of his budget range, of course, but -
"Hello, Mark?" Amanda's voice came over the machine, broken by a little telltale quaver.
Steve winced.
"It's Amanda." A pathetic sniff.
Steve writhed with frustration, but he was already on his feet.
"Are you home? I know you have today off - "
"Hello?" Steve hoped he didn't sound as beaten as he felt. "Hi, Amanda. It's Steve. What's up?"
"Oh, Steve," tears definitely clouded her voice this time. "Is Mark there?"
"Uh - no. He was called in to the hospital. I expect him back in about an hour, though."
"Oh." The quaver grew more pronounced.
Steve took a deep, resigned breath. "Something I can help with?"
"Oh, I don't know - " The tears were coming full force now. "It's just that - well - Ron and I had a fight - a horrible fight - and now he wants to meet with me to talk before he has to fly back to Virginia, but my Mom isn't around to watch CJ and of course we can't have a discussion like that with him around - " Her voice caught on a sob and Steve scratched nervously at his forehead with his thumb.
"I was hoping Mark could watch him for a while, but an hour from now will be too late and…" Sniff. "I guess it just wasn't meant to be. But…I don't suppose you…?" There was a meek little hopeful note in her voice now, and Steve groaned silently.
"You know I'm no good with babies, Amanda. I'm okay once they get a little bigger, but - "
"He's really very good." Now that the idea had taken hold, Amanda's characteristic optimism seemed to be rebounding. "And if Mark is going to be home soon - "
Steve dropped his head. "Amanda, I'm just afraid I'm not the right person to be responsible - "
"I know, I know!" Amanda began to cry in earnest. "I'm sorry. I was just hoping - but you know how hard it is to meet somebody, Steve, and I'm just afraid I'd always wonder - "
Steve closed his eyes. He knew she wasn't being intentionally manipulative, but surely she knew that when she was crying like that, all he could say was…? "Just for an hour?" he choked reluctantly.
"Oh, Steve!" The burst of tears in Amanda's voice - happy tears, this time - almost made it worth it. "You won't regret it! He's very good and I'll bring everything you need and Mark will be there soon - I can never thank you enough - "
"Yeah, well - " It was hard to feel too badly in the face of Amanda's happiness. "Just write everything down for me, okay? And tell Wagner that he owes me. Big time."
"I will." Amanda sniffed again and he couldn't suppress a slight smile at the image of her dashing the backs of her hands at her eyes. "I'll be right there. Thank you so much, Steve. I really appreciate this. You won't regret it - "
The connection broke and Steve stood staring at the receiver. With the absence of Amanda's happy voice, reality was creeping back in and he shuddered. "What are the odds?" he muttered, returning slowly to his lounge chair. He stretched out, frowning. What had he gotten himself into? Babies were so small. And they needed so many things. He had never been able to keep track of all the essentials. Besides, they just didn't seem to like him. Maybe they could tell he was nervous or something…
He stared at his magazine, but all thoughts of dirt bikes had flown. Of course, it was only for an hour…then his dad would be back and he could take over. It was after lunch, so maybe it would be CJ's nap time…He gave one more wistful glance at his article and put the magazine aside. He should probably be baby-proofing things. Well, maybe he'd get lucky and CJ would have a taste for dirt bikes.
0000
Steve had found himself in any number of standoffs throughout the years. He had locked eyes with a Viet Cong over the arc of a submachine gun. Stared down many a murderer over the breach of his nine millimeter. He'd even gone eyeball to eyeball with a rabid German Shepherd once and managed toget off a shot before the dog could spring. He couldn't imagine why none of those had been half as scary as the pair of wide brown eyes he was confronting now. And CJ didn't even have a gun.
CJ had been unceremoniously dumped in his soft net playpen by his mother, who had opened it one-handed with a deft snap of foot and knee and covered his woolly head with good-bye kisses. She had divested herself of a car seat, collapsible stroller, bouncy seat, bag of extra books, bag of extra clothes, and a diaper bag so voluminous that it looked as though she was trying to smuggle an RV in it.
Steve had watched the proceedings with growing alarm. "Just how long are you planning on being gone?" he had blurted at last, as the tower of kiddy paraphernalia swelled to staggering proportions.
Amanda waved a hand airily. "A lot of this is 'just in case'. I've found that you can never be too prepared with a child. If you decide to take a walk or a drive, you'll be all set. Now, I think he's cutting a tooth, so he's drooling a lot and he may be just a tiny bit cranky. Right, sweetie?" This with an adoring glance at CJ. "But it shouldn't be much of a problem. He loves to chew on this ring, and if he seems really uncomfortable, just put it in the freezer for a few minutes. He usually takes a nap around three, but I should be back by then. Tell Mark not to spoil him too much." She stood on tip-toe and kissed Steve's cheek. "I can't thank you enough for pinch-hitting, Steve. I just know he'll be an angel for you." With that, and with an admonishment to be a good boy for Uncle Steve and Uncle Mark, she had jumped into her SUV, wheeled it, and torn out of the driveway with a skill and speed that Mario Andretti might have envied; leaving both Steve and CJ staring after her wistfully. Then they stared at each other for a long moment, taking each other's measure.
Steve swallowed. He wished he shared Amanda's confidence. So, what was he supposed to do now? Amanda said CJ'd already had lunch, so…was he supposed to talk to him? Play with him? Or could he just let him entertain himself and go back to his magazine?
CJ settled the question by pulling himself up by the netted sides of his playpen and offering plaintively, "Mama?"
Steve tried a semblance of an avuncular smile. "Mama's gone away for a little while, CJ," he said soothingly, "But she'll be back soon. Real soon." I hope.
A tiny frown furrowed CJ's brow and his head swiveled on his little neck. "Mama?" he repeated more insistently.
"She's - just stepped out for a bit, CJ," Steve repeated patiently. "She'll be back before you know it." He didn't need his diaper changed, did he? What would he do if he needed his diaper changed?
CJ's chin wobbled ominously. "MAMA!"
This time it ended on a wail that had Steve automatically clapping his hands over his ears. The wail rose to a roar and Steve stared, paralyzed. What was he supposed to do now? "Don't cry, CJ…" he begged helplessly. "Your Mom's only gone for a minute - she'll be back before you know it."
Either CJ didn't understand, or he was not reassured. He tilted his head back and howled.
Steve ran a hand through his hair. Oh, great. Not five minutes as a baby-sitter and he had already broken the kid. "Come on, CJ, there's nothing to cry about…" To be honest, Uncle Steve felt a little like joining him. He couldn't be hungry…please God, he wasn't wet…was he too old to walk the floor with…? He'd pull him out of that playpen at least. Reminded him too much of incarceration for comfort anyway.
Wary, he approached the playpen, his hands held stiffly in front of him. "All right…" he soothed nervously. "Everything's going to be all right…" He slid his hands under the miniature arms and lifted cautiously.
CJ swung from his grip like a clapper in a bell. Steve propped him tentatively on his shoulder, wincing at the rush of volume in that ear, and bounced gently. CJ wrapped his hands in Steve's t-shirt and howled louder. Steve felt a telltale pool of wetness and sighed. Oh, yeah. He was drooling all right.
Steve paced from one end of the patio to the other and back, with CJ howling inconsolably in his ear. He glanced nervously at the neighboring houses. Maybe they'd be better off inside. At least that would muffle the noise for the neighbors. Or maybe he could just aim CJ right at the Hewlett house. If what his father had said about last night was true, it would serve them right. Maybe CJ would even do him a favor and take a bite out of Mrs. Hewlett.
That's petty, he reprimanded himself sternly, trying not to dwell on the image with too much pleasure. Besides, CJ hasn't got enough teeth to make it worthwhile.
He gave CJ another hopeful, desperate bounce as he seemed to be losing steam for a moment. Nope, looked like he was just re-gathering his strength for a more strident yell…
He tried lowering him into his bouncy seat, but CJ kicked his feet and howled, though it hardly seem possible, more loudly still. Steve returned him to his increasingly damp shoulder, looking from the bag of toys to the bag of clothes, hoping for inspiration. His eyes alit on a tape poking out of the top of the toy bag.
Television? Maybe he'd like to watch some television. That usually kept Jesse quiet. He grabbed onto the tape like a drowning man grabbing for a rope.
"See, CJ?" He gestured anxiously to the photo of a smiling purple dinosaur that decorated the video box. "Wouldn't you like to watch the nice dinosaur?"
He hustled through the French doors and into the living room, starting up the TV/VCR combo and struggling to get the tape out of the sleeve without having to put down CJ, who was clinging tenaciously to his t-shirt and kicking his feet against his abdomen. The tape shot free and onto the carpet, and Steve maneuvered himself carefully downward, reaching for it, making useless soothing noises, fumbling blindly until his hand found the tape and curled around it. He pushed it into the VCR slot and watched the picture spring to life. The purple dinosaur clacked his big white teeth together and CJ stopped crying as abruptly as if someone had thrown an "off' switch. Steve let out a gasp of relief, his left ear ringing dully. Thank God.
CJ sniffed. The children on the screen jumped up and down and began to sing. CJ watched, his face working, then he whimpered. Then shrieked. Then ROARED.
Steve let his head drop. Oh, well. Couldn't really blame the kid. That was enough to make anybody scream. He gave CJ another, futile bounce, switching arms to give him a chance at his other ear.
"All right, fella," he said wearily. "Here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna take a nice walk on the beach. Shouldn't be too crowded at this time of day, and if nothing else, the ocean should drown you out a little." He felt another drool shower on his shoulder, spreading down his back, and sighed. How did something that small hold so much liquid?
He hooked the diaper bag with his free arm on his way across the patio, praying that he wouldn't have occasion to need it, and started across the dunes with CJ gripping him like a pint-sized vice. The thunder of the surf as they approached had something inside Steve starting to uncoil and he let out a breath. Well, this would make one of them feel better, anyway.
He brought them right to the surf's edge and stood looking out, enjoying the vast, rolling expanse of water. He never tired of the sight of it, never ceased to wonder at its many faces and moods. He was so caught up in watching a handful of pelicans hovering low over the waves that it was a moment or two before he realized that CJ had stopped crying. He took a surreptitious peek at him. CJ was staring out at the ocean too, his fingers in his mouth and his face wet with tears.
"Like it?" Steve asked.
CJ pulled his fingers out of his mouth and pointed at the water. "Gah!" he observed.
Steve nodded wisely. "Yeah, I think so too. Wanna sit for a little while?"
CJ returned his fingers to his mouth and sucked thoughtfully.
Steve backed up and lowered them onto the sand, dropping the diaper bag next to them. CJ never took his eyes off of the water, sitting comfortably perched on Steve's thigh, but after a second he flapped his hands and pointed imperiously downward.
"Gah!" he demanded. "Down!"
Steve tilted his head at him, impressed. "Hey, that's pretty good." He lowered him onto a little hill of sand and CJ patted happily at it with his hands. Steve smiled, then winced as CJ stuffed a grainy handful into his mouth.
Oh, well. It probably wouldn't kill him. He tried no to think about what Amanda might have to say about it.
Sand clung to the tear tracks on CJ's face and Steve laughed at the comical effect.
CJ screwed up his face at him, then broke into a broad, two-toothed grin.
"Think we're going to have to hose you down after this, big guy. Let me see if Mom packed anything that we could use to make a sand castle."
He rummaged through the diaper bag until he found two sippy cups - one filled with juice and the other, spare one, empty. He scooped the spare full of sand and up-ended it, giving it a pat before removing it to show a neat tower of sand. "Whatdya think?"
CJ eyed it with interest, patted it lightly, then slammed it with his hand so that it collapsed into powder.
Steve grinned. "More the demolition type, huh? Try this one…"
Steve created a quick row of towers and CJ pounded them into dunes almost as quickly.
He was so focused on trying to get his structures up before CJ could destroy them that he didn't even notice the shadow hovering over them until a voice said, "He's adorable."
He glanced up quickly, looking up a long expanse of tanned leg to a wisp of lavender bikini to a toned abdomen, tried not to linger on the exposed swell of flesh above it, and came to a stop on a brilliant white smile.
"Is he yours?"
"Uh - no. A friend's. I'm just - babysitting."
"Oh." The smile grew broader. "Handsome and thoughtful, too."
Steve blinked, felt his ears redden. "Well, I don't know about that - "
"Gah!" CJ patted indignantly at his arm with one crusty hand, letting him know that he was falling behind in his part of the game.
"Sorry." Steve shook another tower free and CJ cheerfully battered it to nothingness.
Their visitor crouched next to him to watch. "What's his name?"
"Uh - CJ. For Colin Jesse."
"Nice." She watched CJ slam through a clutch of sand edifices like Godzilla taking on Tokyo. "And what about you? You must have a name."
"Steve." Steve filled the cup with sand and patted it down, then brushed self-consciously at a spot where sand had attached itself to a drool pool on his t-shirt. "I live along here. What about you? I don't think I've ever seen you around before."
The brilliant smile grew broader still. "My name is Sandy. I'm visiting with friends." She patted CJ on the head, but he didn't seem to notice. "He's so cute. Can I pick him up?"
"Uh - sure." Steve mentally flipped rapidly through Amanda's list of instructions and couldn't come up with one that conflicted. "I'm not sure how he is with strangers - "
Sandy didn't wait to hear him out. Making cooing noises, she reached over and hefted CJ onto her shoulder. CJ gave a squawk of protest at being pulled away from his important sand castle destruction work and squirmed impatiently.
Steve rumpled his brows. "Um, maybe you'd better not. When he gets nervous, sometimes he - "
His warning came a little late. Sandy gave a shriek, holding CJ away from her at an arm's length, then plunking him unceremoniously back in the sand. Steve watched the little pool of dampness grow in the sand around CJ with resignation.
Sandy leapt to her feet, blotting frantically at the pool of gooey dampness on her shoulder and the puddle of sticky wetness on her front as if she didn't know which to take care of first.
Steve was apologetic. "He's teething, and you made him a little nervous. Look, let me help you clean up - "
"Don't touch me!" Sandy was still brushing uselessly at the spots where CJ had anointed her. "Filthy little thing!"
"Hey!" Steve frowned. "He's just a kid, what do you want? You shouldn't have scared him." He put a protective hand on CJ's back.
Sandy was backing away, twisting this way and that. "Just - stay away from me!" She turned on her heel and raced into the ocean to wash off.
Steve stared after her, not totally oblivious to the fine rear view she presented. He dropped the sandy sippy cup in the diaper bag and lifted CJ onto his shoulder, rubbing between the tiny shoulder blades and not quite swallowing a heavy sigh. He made a face at the twin pools of wetness he felt spreading, one on his shoulder and one on his chest.
"Never mind, CJ," he said resignedly. "We didn't need her anyway, if she can't understand that sometimes a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do. Let's get you cleaned up."
He grimaced and picked the damp cotton away from his chest. "And I think Uncle Steve could use a fresh t-shirt."
TBC