Page 1

CHAPTER 1

Little creature, form’d of Joy and Mirth

—William Blake, “The Notebook of William Blake”

WHITNEY WHITAKER FLYNN

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Has a clock ever moved so slow? I didn’t think so. It felt like time had slowed to a crawl in the hospital’s maternity ward waiting room.

The entire family was gathered there—other than Buck and Colette, of course. They were in the delivery room. But my aunt Nancy and uncle Roger grasped each other’s hands, anxiously awaiting the arrival of their newest grandbaby. Colette’s parents paced. My mother sat by my side, flipping through the most recent issue of Southern Living, though she was too full of nervous energy to pay the pages any real attention.

My father, who ran an otolaryngology practice nearby, had popped over to the hospital as often as he could, during his lunch break and whenever he had a gap in his appointment schedule. “Is the baby here yet?” he’d ask each time. “Not yet,” we’d say. He’d snap his fingers or swing an arm in an aw-shucks gesture. “Maybe she’ll have arrived by the time I get back.” Off he’d go again.

My husband, Collin, a homicide detective for the Metro Nashville Police Department, had stayed with us at the hospital as long as he could, but he’d had to leave an hour ago to interview a witness. Important jobs like his didn’t come with predictable, convenient hours.

Dad had finished his shift and returned to the waiting room when—finally!—we heard an unmistakable sound. Footsteps coming up the hall. But not just any footsteps. Ones produced by large feet in cowboy boots.

We stood in unison when my cousin Buck strode up. Buck and I bore such a strong resemblance that people often mistook us for siblings rather than cousins. We were both tall with blond hair and blue eyes. Buck was bulky, and sported a full beard. I could pull off a girly look when I needed to, but most days I left my face bare and pulled my hair back into a ponytail or messy bun to keep it out of the way. No sense getting myself all fixed up to do carpentry work when I’d be sweaty and covered in dust by the end of the day.

Buck’s wife, Colette, who also happened to be my best friend, had been in labor for over sixteen hours with their first child. She’d been admitted to the hospital just before midnight the preceding day, and it was after four o’clock in the afternoon now. Buck’s thick hair was a wild mess, no doubt from him running anxious fingers through it. His beard, which he normally kept neatly trimmed, appeared bushier today, and there was stubble on his neck. His Western shirt was rumpled, and his face drooped with exhaustion. Nevertheless, his blue eyes sparkled with pure joy. “Y’all want to come meet Marigny?”

Did we ever! Of course, a limited number of visitors were allowed at one time, and grandparents were entitled to priority viewing. Though I knew my uncle Roger and aunt Nancy were dying to see their new grandchild, they deferred to Colette’s parents. Aunt Nancy extended her arm in invitation. “Colette did the heavy lifting. Why don’t you two go first?”

Colette’s mother was already on her way. “Thanks, Nancy!” she called back over her shoulder as her husband scrambled to keep up.

While Colette’s parents went to meet their new granddaughter, Buck stepped over to me, his parents, and my parents. Buck held up his phone so we could see his screen, and proceeded to scroll through photos and videos he’d taken of his brand-new baby. There were dozens. I couldn’t help but smile, both at the adorable, chubby baby with dark curls and the fact that Buck seemed to have memorialized every second of her existence so far. We women oohed, aahed, and dabbed at the happy tears in our eyes, while the men commented on Marigny’s extraordinary vigor as she belted out her best cry like a baby banshee.

“She’s certainly got some lungs on her!” Uncle Roger proclaimed with a grin.

Aunt Nancy put her hands on her hips and came to her granddaughter’s defense. “You’d be screaming, too, if everything you knew changed in an instant.”

True. Marigny had gone from a dark, warm, relatively quiet place to the bright lights and cool air of a hospital room, full of unfamiliar sights and sounds. In the video clip, Colette cuddled the swaddled baby to her chest and spoke in soft, soothing tones, doing her best to assure her little girl that this new world she found herself in was a wondrous, loving place. She did a good job of it. In just a few seconds, the baby’s cries had settled into little more than adorable hiccups.

After Buck showed us all the pics and footage, he excused himself to go back to his wife’s bedside. Fifteen minutes later, Colette’s parents returned, and my aunt and uncle rushed down the hall to meet their granddaughter. I fidgeted in my seat, eager to meet the baby.

Finally, Uncle Roger and Aunt Nancy came back, and it was my turn. My parents trailed me as I hurried down to the room, a huge bouquet of assorted pink flowers in my hands. Dad opened the door for me. Colette lay in bed, her daughter held tight in the crook of one arm while she gently stroked her cheek with the back of her other hand. Buck was perched on the bed beside them, one arm around his wife’s shoulders, the other curved around the baby. A nurse in blue scrubs stood to the other side of the bed with her back to the door, making adjustments to the monitors and other myriad equipment that had been used during the birthing process.

“Congratulations!” I called in a stage whisper, wanting to show my excitement but not startle the baby.

Colette’s smile was broad and bright. “The flowers are beautiful, Whitney! Thank you.”

I set the vase on a side table, and got my first good gander at Marigny. She was named after a neighborhood in Colette’s childhood hometown of New Orleans. Buck and Colette had already decided they’d call her Mari for short. With Mari wrapped tightly in a lightweight blanket and a knit beanie on her head, only her face was visible. She was such a pretty little thing! “She looks like you, Colette.”

“Thank goodness!” Buck said, causing the rest of us to chuckle.

“Hey, little Mari.” I reached out and ran a hand lightly down her blanket-covered arm. “I’m so glad to meet you.”

She replied with a mew-like sound very similar to the noises my cat Sawdust had made when he was a kitten.

Colette beamed down at her daughter. “Isn’t she the most precious thing you’ve ever seen?”

“For sure,” I agreed. “She’s perfect.”

My mother concurred. “Absolutely adorable.”

Being a medical doctor, my dad was more concerned with her health than her cuteness. “Her color looks good. How’s her muscle tone?”

“She can bench press two-twenty,” Buck teased.

Colette loosened the blanket and waved my father closer. “See for yourself.”

Her arms free now, Mari threw slow baby punches against an invisible foe. My father reached down, and Mari grabbed his index finger with her left hand, wrapping all five of her teeny-tiny digits around it. “Wow!” he said. “That’s quite a grip.”

“The better to hold a hammer with,” Buck said.

Colette, who was a professional chef, wagged a finger. “Nuh-uh-uh. A mixing spoon.”

Time would tell which parent the beautiful baby would take after, or maybe she’d go her own way and blaze her own trail. It would be fun to find out.

Mari made another mewling sound before her little eyes blinked several times and drifted closed in peaceful security.

“You’re a natural, Colette.” I cast a glance at Buck. “How does it feel to be a daddy?”

“Terrifying,” he admitted with a grin. “But terrific, too.”

My father gave Buck a pat on the back. “That’s exactly what fatherhood is. Terrifying but terrific.”

My mother glanced my way. Though she said nothing, her thoughts were written on her face. I want a grandbaby, too! As an only child, I bore full responsibility for ensuring the family line continued. No pressure, right?

We admired the baby some more, her pert little nose, her rounded cheeks, the tiny bow of her lips. When a doctor and a second nurse entered the room a few minutes later, my parents and I took that as our cue to leave. We bade Colette and Buck goodbye with a round of hugs.

I stopped in the doorway and glanced back at the new bundle of joy. Mari was going to be so spoiled and loved. What a lucky little girl.