Chapter 4

The Morning Run

Anna's feet hit the pavement in a rhythmic slap slap. The steady beat matched the music blaring from her ear-buds and when the song changed she picked up the pace, turning at the corner and making her third pass at the Lincoln Monument. Glancing up, she took in the statue of the famous man. In the seven years she'd lived here, it never ceased to take her breath away. She refocused, concentrating on her breathing, letting the music carry her along even though her legs were begging her to stop. The reflecting pool on her left, she ran back toward the spire of the Washington Monument, still shrouded in scaffolding from earthquake damage.

Passing the monument, she checked her watch and slowed gradually to a walk. She tugged the ear-buds out and swiped a hand across her forehead, wiping the sweat off on her shirt. Leaning against a post, she stretched briefly, then walked quickly up Constitution Avenue to C. Street. She pulled a twenty from the zippered pocket of her shorts and paid for two large coffees at the corner shop.

Letting herself into the apartment she headed straight to the bedroom, setting one of the coffees on the glass and chrome nightstand and nudging the lump under the covers with a foot.

"Up and at 'em," she said.

No response.

She toed off her running shoes and nudged the lump again. This time a hand snaked out from under the covers, grabbing her foot and tugging her down onto the bed.

"Rowwrrrr," her attacker growled, flipping her over and grinning down from above. "I love it when you're all hot and sweaty."

She laughed. "Come on, Adam, let me up. I gotta get to work."

His lips trailed down her neck. "I can be quick," he murmured.

"Since when is that an asset?"

Bright blue-green eyes twinkled down at her under a mop of sandy blonde hair. "Since you gotta get to work," he said, tugging at her shorts and covering her mouth with his.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

A half-hour later, showered and, dressed for work in gray slacks and a bright magenta blouse that set off her mocha skin, Anna wandered out into the kitchen. Her dark curly hair was pulled back in a neat twist and as she walked she slipped simple pearl studs in each ear. Adam sat at the kitchen bar in gym shorts, the morning's Post and a bagel in front of him. She kissed his stubbly cheek and stole half the bagel, taking a bite and talking around it. "What's on your agenda today?"

"I work lunch. Then, we got rehearsal tonight. You?"

She made a face. "I gotta write up that report for Finchbaugh."

"Sorry."

"Yeah, well, I put it off as long as I could." She sighed and reached into the fridge for the glass pitcher of orange juice. Pouring herself a glass, she drank half and handed him the rest. "I gotta go."

"Okay," he stood, wrapping his arms around her and planting a quick kiss on her forehead. "I'll see ya' when I see ya'."

On her way out she glanced at her phone. "Hmm. My mother called last night. I wonder what she wanted?"

"Tell her I said 'hey'," Adam grinned.

Anna rolled her eyes in response. "Yeah, sure. That'd go over well."

She listened to her mother's voicemail in the elevator. Twice. After the usual motherly questions the message got interesting. "If you're still looking to find your birth family I think I may have some information for you. Call me on my cell. I have a break at ten."

She slid her card through the gate at the Metro ad boarded the red line for the short ride to work, thinking about her mother's words. Anna had always known she was adopted. Her parents never hid it. They made it sound special. She was wanted. She was chosen. It wasn't until she was a teenager that she realized in order for them to choose her, someone else had to reject her first. Why? Why didn't her birth-mother want her? That was the question she'd brooded and agonized about during middle and high school.

Her searches on and off since then had turned up nothing. She'd always thought her father knew more than he would tell her. Mama understood why she needed to know, but Daddy always took it as a personal affront. Maybe now she would finally have the answers she wanted.

She got to the office a little after eight and started right in on the report. Glancing at her notes, she wrote up the observations she'd made over the last few weeks, added some research and analysis, and finalized it with her opinion. She saved the document and flagged it, encrypted it, and attached it to an e-mail for her boss, H. Talbot Finchbaugh, the head of the department.

Eying the clock, she headed for the break room, punching up her contacts and clicking on her mother's number. She poured the coffee while she waited for her to answer.

"Hello, dear," her mother said.

"Hi, Mom. Hang on a minute." Clutching her coffee and her phone, she slipped out the door and took the stairs two at a time to the door leading out onto the roof. Sinking into one of the deck chairs they'd dragged up here for the fresh air, she stole a sip of coffee. "You still there?"

"I'm here."

"What's going on?"

"A man stopped by the house the other day..." Anna listened as her mother told her about the visitor – a man named Raylan Givens – a U.S. Marshal – who thought he could be her half-brother.

"And anyway, I think he might be right. There are a lot of physical similarities, and, well, he reminds me of you in other ways, too," she finished. When Anna didn't respond her mother went on. "Do you want his number?"

She took another sip, swallowing the bitter brew. "Um, yeah. I guess." Now that what she had wished for was so close she felt odd, uncertain. She fished in her pocket for a pen. No paper, so she turned her arm and wrote the numbers her mother read off on the inside of her wrist.

"Your father doesn't know I'm calling you." Marguerite clued in her daughter.

Anna sighed. "And are we surprised? No, not really." After a beat, she added an understanding, "Don't worry. He'll never find out. Hey, thanks for the heads up, Mom."

"Of course." Another beat and then, "Are you going to call him, Marshal Givens?"

"Yeah, sure. I probably will." But she was going to make one more phone call first.

"Hey, Ben," Anna said when her friend answered. "Could you look up someone for me? It's up your alley. He's a Marshal – Raylan Givens? I think he's assigned to Lexington, Kentucky."

"I can do that. You want it on e-mail?"

"Yeah, but send it to my personal address, not work. You still have that?"

"Yep, it's right here, next to the pieces of my broken heart," he joked. "Did you say Givens?"

"Yeah, Raylan Givens."

"Name's familiar. I think I heard the Assistant Director mention him the other day. She wasn't happy," he said. "But then, she rarely is."

"I don't want to get you in trouble," Anna said.

"I'm a big boy."

"I remember."

"Then, you remember what you're missing." There was a pause. "You still seeing that musician? What's his name again?"

"Adam – and yes, I'm still seeing him."

"Well, shit. Guess I'll have to renew my membership to after all," he chuckled. "I'll try to get this to you by this afternoon."

"Thanks, Ben, I appreciate it."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Willa awoke at her usual time of 7 a.m., none the worse for her lack of sleep. The same could not be said for Raylan and Winona, who were startled awake by the baby's laughter.

"She's happy?" Raylan groaned. He looked at the clock. "Three hours sleep and she's happy? I'm not happy."

"Me, either," Winona agreed, yawning. "Maybe if we stay really quiet she'll go back to sleep."

"Worth a try," Raylan said. He spooned her from behind, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. They both drifted off.

"Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma!" Willa screeched from her new digs, demanding attention.

"Thank God she wants you." Raylan put the pillow over his head, holding it there to drown out the noise.

"No. She only wants my boob," Winona joined him, hiding under his pillow, making sure he could hear her. "Sometimes I feel like a cow. Which is why I started pumping. So that someone other than me can feed her."

Eyes still closed, he asked, "Is someone other than me supposed to be me?"

"It's the least you can do after leaving me alone with her . . . all those months." She was mumbling with her eyes shut, too.

"Ouch," he said in a flat, low voice. "I can't believe you'd actually play the guilt card."

"All's fair in a new mom's chronic sleep deprivation," she expanded. "You've barely gotten a taste of days and nights with no sleep."

They fell silent again, as Willa continued to incessantly babble in the background.

Finally, Raylan said, "Well, shit," again under his breath. "I surrender."

As he slid out of bed, Winona turned her head the other way, remaining hidden under the pillow. Barefoot and wearing his underwear, he first stumbled into the bathroom to relieve himself, grab a t-shirt and pull it over his head before making his way to his baby.

"Good mornin', Sunshine," he greeted a still smiling Willa as he bent down to the port-a-crib to pick her up, his eyes still heavy. Upon picking her up, he could immediately tell her diaper was heavy. "Let's get ya' changed and fed."

He grabbed the diaper bag, placing his cell in one of the pockets and the monkey in another, and whisked Willa to the other room, closing the bedroom door behind him. As he changed her out of a wet morning diaper, he talked to the smiling baby. "Didn't anyone ever tell ya' that ya' need more than a couple of hours of sleep at night? Or that your Mama and Daddy need more than a couple of hours of sleep?"

"Gah!" she waived her arms and legs now that they were free.

"You're sure feelin' better than you did. That's a good thing."

Each time he spoke to her, she gave him a big grin. Once she was all changed, Raylan snapped her back into her new, larger sleeper. He grabbed her in one arm and the wet diaper in his other hand, and headed for the kitchen. Skillfully, he tossed the wet diaper in the trash and retrieved some breast milk from the freezer, heating it up in a saucepan.

While waiting for the milk to lose its chill, he asked Willa, "How is it that you don't wake up cranky after a night of bourbon? Take me for instance. I got a slight hangover this mornin', compounded by no sleep. And your Mama is down for the count. Yet, here you are, fresh as a daisy."

"Ma-ma-ma," she squealed with glee.

"Yeah, well, Mama's sleepin'," he said, placing her carrier on the counter and strapping her in. "You and me will have to make due this mornin', okay?"

Once the milk was at the right temperature, he quickly washed his hands and prepared a small bottle. As he brought the bottle to Willa, the baby grabbed it, wanting to hold it herself.

"Would ya' look at that," Raylan smiled. "Independent like your Mama." Keeping a close eye on her, he proceeded to make some coffee in the coffee maker and mash up a banana for Willa.

She was just about finished with her bottle. He picked her up and patted her back until a good burp came up. "It's time for your second course," he explained, strapping her back into her seat. He scooped up some bananas with a spoon as the coffee finally finished its cycle.

"Just a minute now, you let Daddy get himself a cup of java, then we'll get right back to these bananas."

"Na-na-na!" Willa screeched.

"Ahhhhhhhwwwww," Raylan let out a long, sustained yawn, pouring himself a cup and adding a lot of sugar, something he didn't ordinarily do. He was looking for energy anywhere he could find it. He could easily go back to bed for several more hours.

Taking a long sip of coffee, he spooned up more bananas. Willa opened her mouth wide gumming the fruit, then she stuck out her tongue and made a perfect raspberry, splattering bananas all over her daddy's face.

"Gee!" She laughed as he mopped at his face with a paper towel. Distracted, Raylan didn't notice when her hand went into the bowl, coming up with a fistful of mashed banana, which she promptly smeared into her hair.

Raylan looked at her and couldn't help laughing. "You silly thing."

She returned his smile, waving her hands in the air. "Gah! Na-na-na!"

"Okay, we might as well finish these," he said. "Then, someone needs a bath."

After breakfast, Raylan ran warm water in the sink and stripped off Willa's soiled sleeper. He plopped her in, supporting her back with one hand while he gently washed the bananas out of her hair, careful not to get soap in her eyes or water in her ears. He dried and diapered her, dressing her in the outfit Winona had laid out the night before. Spreading out the play-mat, he set Willa on her tummy for some Tummy Time, plopping the monkey and some other toys just out of reach.

Willa scooted up on her elbows, struggling again to get a knee underneath her. She grunted and fell back down. She reached out for the monkey. "Gah!" She pouted.

Raylan scooped her up, moving her closer to the toy and she grabbed it, gnawing on the animal's ear.

Winona emerged from the bedroom, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "What time is it?"

"Almost nine," Raylan said. "Did ya' get some good sleep?"

"I did," Winona said. "Thank you." She yawned and stretched, then padded across the room to give him a quick kiss.

"You're welcome."

"I can take over now, if you want a nap."

"I'm awake now," he said. "But I'll grab a quick shower if you don't mind watchin' her."

Winona bent over and picked up her baby. "Good morning, Punkin'," she said. Willa patted her mother's face with a chubby hand.

"Ma-ma-ma-ma!" she cooed.

After his shower, Raylan ordered a late breakfast from room service and opened the door to pick up the paper just outside. Winona patty-caked with Willa while he read the complimentary copy of USA Today. When breakfast arrived, they moved the baby to the carrier and ate together in front of the window. The sun was out, and it looked to be a pretty day.

They were just finishing breakfast when his cell phone rang. It was Marguerite Dumois.

"Margie?" he answered.

"Hello, Raylan," she said. "I hope I'm not disturbing you. I just wanted to leave you a message before my break is over."

"Oh, no, you aren't disturbin' me at all. I've been up with the sun, takin' care of little Willa here."

"I spoke to Anna," Margie got right to the point. "She was, of course, surprised to hear someone from her birth family was looking for her, but she said she would probably give you a call. Just give her some time. She's a busy gal, with her work and all. I take it as a positive sign."

"Well, at least she wasn't vehemently opposed to the idea of speakin' with me," he said, laying the paper down. "Margie, I want to thank you for callin' and lettin' me know."

"You're welcome," she said. "You know, I wish you all the best of luck. Have a nice day."

"And you, too," and with that, Raylan disconnected the call.

He looked across at Winona. "Did ya' catch all that?"

"More waiting?" she surmised. "Only this time, for Anna to call you?"

"Yeah."

She knew he wasn't good at waiting. "I tell you what. Let me grab a quick shower, and we could all go to the store. I could prepare a nice chopped salad, some garlic bread, and a pasta Bolognese for an early dinner. You know, the dinner I promised you."

"Mmmm. That does sound good," he agreed. "And don't forget about the Spirits. And ice cream." After a beat, he had a thought. "Do ya' need to call your mama again?" he asked. "I mean, I can't see us leavin' here for at least another day or so."

"I pretty much eluded to that when I talked to her yesterday," Winona explained. "Mom gets it. We're fine."

"Good," he said. "While you take your shower, I'll extend our stay. Ya know," he joked, "We coulda put a down payment on a nice place in Kentucky with all the money we're spendin' on motel rooms."

(To be continued . . .)