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By Linda Goodnight

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With a cocky grin, he turned and hollered down the stairwell. “Come on up, folks. She’s laughing. ” While Cassidy wrestled with the wisdom of letting Notorious Nic into her house, a ribbon of chattering, jostling Caranos, all toting various baby items, trudged up the steps and into her space. Nic stood in the doorway like an affable traffic cop, rattling off introductions as three men and three women passed through. Even with six, Nic declared that some of the family had to work today. “These are only the goof-offs,” he said with affection.

Baby Alex needed her. He was alone. All alone in a violent world that had stolen his mommy and daddy. A mommy and daddy who had loved him fiercely. She felt lost. Alone. Just like Alex. At the door of the room, she paused and sucked in a deep breath, hoping for strength, settling for vague sensory input. Hospital food. The clatter of trays coming off the elevator. Breakfast. It seemed like hours since the sheriff had appeared at her door. But morning had just arrived, the dawn of a new and terrible day.

One of Nic’s dark-haired sisters, Mia, if she remembered correctly, asked, “The baby is awake. ” “No. Please. I—” Cassidy blinked, as confused as a minnow in a whirlpool. Her heart continued to race as load after load of baby paraphernalia, much of which she could not identify, found its way into her apartment. By the time the pickup and two cars were unloaded, the guest room was crammed with baby items. With relentless cheer, the Caranos went to work organizing and setting up. The men clanged away at the crib, arguing over the direction of the springs and screws.

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