Borrowed Baby Read Free

what you make it, Griff."
    "Yes," Griff agreed, leaving. "It is."
    He supposed that he could have gone along with C.W. and Ernie, Griff thought as he drove home. After all, the man didn't mean any harm. He was just trying to be friendly. But being friendly didn't really have a place in Griff's life. He wasn't certain that he even knew how to be friendly anymore. Polite, yes. Civil, definitely, but friendly? Spending an evening exchanging small talk about trivialities that neither person really cared about? That was just a waste of his time, a waste of effort. And he had wasted far too much effort trying to make contact in his lifetime, had tried too hard and wouldn't think about trying again.
    He learned his lessons well.
    It was growing dark earlier and earlier now that Christmas was drawing near. Hardly four o'clock and dusk was quickly approaching. He thought again of the woman he had failed to ticket today. C.W. would probably have tried to make a little time with her, undoubtedly flirting outrageously. C.W. wouldn't be hampered by the fact that the woman was obviously married and the mother of four, no five, Griff corrected himself, remembering the muffled voice that called out from beneath one of the other boys.
    Why would someone so young want to tie herself down with so many kids? he wondered.
    Love, a small voice within him seemed to whisper.
    Griff's thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Where had that come from? He would have thought that he'd grown sufficiently past notions like that. Besides, that many kids didn't mean love—it meant pandemonium.
    He drove into his development and found himself taking the long road toward his block. Curiosity prompted him to drive down Chambers Street. He saw the dusty yellow Honda parked in the driveway. He slowed down then drove on. There was no reason to hurry. There was nothing waiting for him at home. Nothing and no one. No attachments. And that was just the way he wánted it.
    His life was exactly the way he wanted it. He was aware that he stated the fact to himself a bit too emphatically, but dismissed it.
    When he turned onto his block and neared his tidy, three-bedroom house, he was surprised to see that there was someone standing on his front steps, waiting. At first glance, he thought it might be the woman  he had stopped, but he rejected the idea as being absurd. She had no way of knowing where he lived. Besides, there was no reason for her to seek him out. He hadn't given her a ticket.
    He squinted slightly. The fading light made it difficult to distinguish the figure at first. And then...
    The last fifteen feet to his driveway unfolded in slow motion as he suddenly recognized the person standing before his house.
    Sally.
    After all this time. Sally.
    For a moment, he was transported back in time. Once again, it was just Sally and Griff, Griff and Sally. Two against the world. Tough odds, but he had beaten them. He had managed to keep them together, from foster home to foster home.
    As far back as he could remember, he was all that Sally had had. And she was all he had.
    Vaguely, he remembered a limp-looking woman with tired eyes watching as a man beat him. He remembered biting his lip not to cry, not to cry so that Sally wouldn't be afraid. And then a tall, pretty lady who smiled and smelled of soap had come and taken him and Sally away, down a long, dim corridor. The beatings stopped after that. So did the rage and the hurt. And all the feelings. All but one. Protective- ness. He always felt that he had to protect Sally. She was so little. And she cried so easily. But she stopped crying when he sang to her. And she believed him when he said that things would get better. No matter what, Sally always believed.
    Only he didn't.
    Griff pulled up short and was out of the car, walking like a man in a daze. "Sally?"
    The petite brunette nodded, flashing a brave smile. "Surprise." The small mouth trembled and the smile dissolved as tears suddenly formed. "Oh, Griff, I don't