Hush Little Baby Read Free Page B

awake, it would not lie peacefully in the little bassinet at the motel room. It whined and whimpered and croaked. Some nights not even picking the baby up and rocking and cuddling it would soothe it. Sometimes it just kept on crying.
    It was so annoying to be backed into a corner. Dusty liked a world where all the choices were hers. She was determined to make this work out her way, no matter who got stubborn and difficult.
    The rental car drove smoothly, and she found a nice calm radio station and listened to nice calm music. That was boring, so she found hard rock, and began dancing her arms and shoulders to the music. She had ten pounds to lose! The weight horrified Dusty. Having a baby was not good for your figure. Or your stamina. Or your complexion. Or anything that Dusty could tell.
    She drove past the turn she’d meant to take.
    She noticed it half a mile later.
    Dusty had found that if she looked hard enough, she could always see that things were meant. Now she realized that Kit, who never went to her father’s house when Gavin was in California, had been brought to the house just to help her, Dusty. It was meant for Kit to be standing in the door just when Dusty expected the house to be empty. So it was meant for Kit to take care of the baby.
    And who could be better at such a task?
    Kit had her father’s strong will and decisive manner (and none of her mother’s unfriendly attitude). Kit was terribly reliable.
    Dusty kept driving.
    The sky was so blue and the sun so yellow and the day so warm.
    She thought, I deserve some time to myself. I didn’t ask things to work out like this, and it’s way too hard. I’ve been struggling with this baby and this situation for seventeen days now. I will get my hair done and have a facial, and I’ll charge an outfit that fits, so I don’t feel fat. Something with style, maybe in that new shade of plum, and then I’ll go to the aromatherapist. I need to lavish attention on myself for a change. It just isn’t good for you to give up all your space and energy. You must take time for yourself.
    Dusty felt better. She loved thinking of her Self, which felt like a person zapped inside her, whom she could admire and be glad about. But not when her hair was nasty and her stomach sagged and she had been up all night with a baby who would not improve.
    Once her hair was done, she would face her problems. You could do anything if your hair looked good. Kit was lucky, her hair always looked good.
    Dusty loved when things worked out so well.
    Kit stroked the baby’s wrist, which made its hand curl. She set her index finger in its palm, and three miniature fingers covered her own long polished fingernail.
    Dusty had been frazzled and exhausted, not surprising if she had just had a baby. Even if she had had this baby a couple or three weeks ago. But whether or not you were a mess, did you hand your new baby over to your ex-stepdaughter and drive away?
    Why would you sob and gasp and yank at doors trying to get your sleeping baby out of a car?
    Why would you take this baby to a house you did not live in? A house that technically was closed to you?
    Had Dusty expected Dad to be here? She hadn’t acted that way. If Dusty had found the house empty and used the key that apparently Dad had not gotten around to collecting from her, what had she planned on doing? Was she going to live here for a while? Suppose Kit hadn’t been here. Could Dusty — even Dusty! — have planned to leave the baby alone in the house, while she drove off on this errand she had to do?
    The thought of a tiny baby alone in a large stale hotel of a house made Kit’s skin crawl.
    The image of Dusty driving away, leaving a baby in an empty house, made Kit gag.
    Dusty had not even told Kit the baby’s name. Or whether it was a boy or a girl.
    It didn’t seem like the thing a mother would do with her new baby.
    So … was Dusty the mother?
    Or … was Dusty the baby-sitter? In which case the real mommy had not made