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baby.”
    Zeke ate slowly, tapping his foot against the floor in time to the music. When he was halfway through the burger, the baby started to scream in earnest, pushing away the bottle his mother tried to give him.
    “He sure is tired,” Sue said slowly.
    With narrowed eyes, he glared at her. “Don’t even start, woman.”
    “But you’re so good with babies, and that mother is so tired she can’t see straight. Come on—you know you want to.”
    The baby shrieked and settled into the steady, low crying of pure, miserable exhaustion. Zeke sighed and tossed his napkin down. He stood, ignoring Sue’s smile.
    With reluctance, he let his feet carry him across the room. “That’s one tired young ’un,” he said to the exhausted couple.
    “I’m sorry,” the mother said. “Is he bothering you? I just can’t calm him down—I think he knows I’m worn-out, too.”
    She was near tears.
    He cleared his throat. “I got five sisters back in Mississippi—why don’t you let me take him for you for a minute so you can eat and wash your face?”
    Doubt crossed her weary features, and warred with the hope of relief.
    “I work here—ask the bartender. I won’t go anywhere with him,” he said. “I’ll just stand right over there and we’ll dance a little. Y’all can keep an eye on us.” He held out his arms.
    The mother looked at the father. He gave her a quick nod. “It can’t hurt, honey. Go wash your face and order a hamburger.” He touched her hand. “Have a beer, too.”
    “If you’re sure,” she said, looking at Zeke.
    He grinned and winked. “Give him here.”
    The baby had quieted a little at the sound of Zeke’s voice. When he took the hefty, soft weight from his mother’s arms, the baby was surprised into silence for an instant. He stared up at the stranger holding him with wide blue eyes, swollen and red from crying. “Hey, sweet pea,” Zeke said quietly. “Let’s go dance a little while. I’ll make you feel better.”
    He wandered a little closer to the jukebox. Another soft bluesy Allman Brothers piece was playing and Zeke started to dance gently, cradling the baby close to his chest. He sang along, quietly, and the baby stared at him in amazement. Zeke grinned. “You’re so tired, sweet pea. Come on and go to sleep. Your mama’s tired, too.”
    The baby found his fingers and started to suck. A shuddering breath passed through the round little body as he settled into the crook of Zeke’s arm. “Yeah, that’s it,” he crooned. “Go on to sleep now. I’ll just dance awhile with you.”
    He started to sing again, quietly. From the corner of his eye, he saw the mother slip into the ladies’ room. Her husband called the waitress over. From behind the bar, Sue grinned at Zeke, shaking her head.
    He looked back at the small face. Through half-open eyes, the baby looked back. For just a minute, Zeke felt lost in time. How many times had he rocked his sisters this way, helping his mother? Or held a cousin while an uncle danced with some girl?
    Give the baby to Zeke. He’ll take care of it.
    And he always did. He had a weakness for babies.
    All of them—their sweet round faces and tiny hands and feet, the smell of baby powder and the incredible softness of their cheeks. Only thing as soft as a baby’s skin was a woman’s breast. He liked the way they went together sometimes, too.
    The baby drifted off, but Zeke kept dancing and singing quietly. No hurry. The mother emerged from the bathroom, a little calmer, and she smiled in gratitude. He nodded.
    With a sigh, he looked back into the baby’s face. “I got you, sweet pea,” he murmured, and touched the downy head.
    His only regret in life was the lack of babies to cuddle. But he’d vowed a long time ago there would be none. Ever. Babies had to grow up and suffer and he just couldn’t stand it. He’d fled Mississippi after watching too many suffer at the hands of those who supposedly loved them the most.
    But that didn’t mean