The baby woke him up with a weird, barking cough. It sounded like he was having trouble breathing. Grant tried talking to him, singing to him, but nothing helped.Grant looked up the symptoms on the ‘net. It could be croup, though he certainly couldn’t call a doctor and check. The site recommended a steamy room, so feeling a bit stupid, Grant ran his shower until the bathroom was thick with steam. The biggest flaw in his plan materialized when he went to pick up the baby and couldn’t.

He eventually coaxed Mandy into the room, and the baby crawled weakly after her. A few minutes later the baby’s coughs stilled.

In the morning, Grant was stiff from having slept on the bathroom floor.

*** There were no middle of the night feedings. There were no diaper changes. Sometimes the baby wanted music. Sometimes he cooed in front of Sesame Street. On a whim one evening, Grant bought a plush Elmo and was curiously pleased to watch the incorporeal hands try to grasp the toy.The baby was in a permanent sleeper, but sometimes Grant went through his rusty memories and touched the cold not-there toes while counting: “This little puppy went to play.” The baby laughed and laughed.

In his head, Grant called him Stephen.

“This little mousie went to town! This little mousie fell right down!” Grant made tickling motions with his fingers, grinning as Stephen giggled at the not-touches.

*** Jessie worked in another office in his building. A month after he’d moved into his new place, he asked her out and to his delight, she agreed. Dinner, drinks, and a bit tipsy, she slipped her arm into his, asking him to take her back to his place.They kissed on the front step, a little sloppy, a little breathless, and he unlocked the door with one arm still holding her. Donna hadn’t touched him in six months; Jessie seemed to have just been waiting for him to be single.

Stephen crawled on the floor as they hurried inside. Out of habit, Grant tried not to step on him. Jessie didn’t notice, kept kissing Grant, and grinned against his mouth as he steered her away from Stephen. “Let me use your bathroom,” she said. He pointed her to the door.

Stephen looked up at him and then burst into tears.

“Sh!” Grant hoped the noise wouldn’t carry. Jessie seemed as oblivious as Peter, but still. The baby kept crying, and Grant hunkered down beside him. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “Time to be quiet. Go to bed. Whatever.”

The bathroom door opened, and Jessie came back out, wearing considerably less than she had going in there. Grant’s throat closed. She was a fine-looking woman.

Jessie said, “I think we were right … here … ” as she slipped back into his arms. Stephen kept crying.

Grant pulled her towards his bedroom, trying to ignore the noise from the hallway. They sat on his bed kissing as his hands roamed over her bare skin. The wailing continued.

He broke the kisses. “Jessie, I can’t.”

“Sure you can, baby.” She pressed her lips against the pulsepoint in his neck and he groaned.

Mandy began to yowl in tune with the baby’s cries.

“No. I really can’t.” He wanted to, but there was absolutely no way he would be able to perform with the noise. Even if he booted the cat outside, he couldn’t get rid of Stephen without smudging the house again, and even as he considered that, he knew it wasn’t an option.

“Grant,” her voice was firmer, and a touch cold. “Don’t push me away. This is going to be good for both of us.”

“Go home, Jessie.”

She stared at him, her hurt expression just visible in the dim light coming through the blinds from outside. Silently, she stalked back to the bathroom for her clothes, dressed without looking at him, then marched through the hallway, walking right through Stephen as she did.

After the door slammed, Grant glared at the cat and the baby. “I hate you both.” Neither stopped. Grant went back to his bedroom, undressed, and slept with his pillow over his head.

*** “How’s the ghost baby?” The voice on the phone was unfamiliar.”What?”

“It’s Sally. From Earth Age? You wanted to get rid of your ghost?”

“Oh. Yeah. Um. Fine, I guess.” It felt strange talking about Stephen to someone else. He turned to see Stephen and Mandy napping together on his office floor. Grant had been in here writing something new, and they’d followed him in, then played a little before falling asleep.

“I did some research on your ghost,” she said “Your house, 1978, seven-month-old died of crib death. I found it in the microfiche.”

“Why did you look it up?”

“I like ghosts. Want his name?”

“Wait, how do you know where I live?”

“Reverse telephone search. It’s on the internet, hello. Do you want his name?”

“I … guess. No,” he said suddenly. If Grant had the name, he’d want to find the parents, to tell them, and that would probably be enough to get him committed after all.

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “Well, anyway. I’ve got the info. Drop by the shop sometime if you want it.”

“Thanks.” He hung up.

Sally had said ghosts generally wanted something, and Grant’s explorations on the ‘net had told him the same thing: resolve what needed resolving, and the ghost would pass on or just fade away. The baby could want anything, a favorite blanket or a toy. If he did find the parents, assuming they were still alive, they might not even know.

He watched the tiny movements of the child’s breaths. What did Stephen want? Why had he stayed?

*** Jessie gave him another chance. Grant took her out to a nicer place than last time and then drove her back to her apartment. He sat on her couch for over an hour, enjoying the feel of her head resting against his shoulder. Then he gave her a soft kiss good night and left despite her protests. He wanted to stay, he intended, eventually, to stay. But he didn’t want to leave Stephen alone all night. He might get scared or lonely.He wondered how hard it would be to convince Sally to come over to babysit. *** Grant looked at the proof in his hands. On a whim, he’d written down the stupid little rhymes he made up for Stephen, and Sally had drawn him a couple of simple pictures, and now “This Little Mousie” was about to hit children’s bookstores. Sally had dedicated her part to her girlfriend Heather. Grant had just written: “For S.”Stephen grinned at the pictures as Grant turned the pages and read to him. Stephen liked a lot of children’s books. Peter had commented on Grant’s collection of primary-colored tomes when he’d come over last month. Grant had told him it was market research, and had sighed only a little as Stephen had chosen that moment to crawl right through Peter’s legs in search of something on the floor.

Sally and Heather could see Stephen, though not very well. Heather had an easier time picking out where he was, while Sally had to keep asking. They’d brought a set-up toy as a present, with black and white things to look at on one side and a mirror on the other. Stephen kept crawling around it to see where the baby in the mirror went.

The adults split a bottle of champagne to celebrate the book’s publication, and then the girls went home. They’d only laughed at him a little for asking them to watch Stephen next Friday, and he was pretty sure that made them his best friends just now.

*** The bookstore at the mall had said they’d buy Grant lunch if he’d sit for two hours and sign copies on a Saturday. That sounded like a perfect arrangement to him.”Hey,” said Donna. Grant looked up, shocked.

“Hey.”

She picked up the book beside him. “I … Diane was telling me she’d seen your book.”

He rubbed his hand through his hair. “It was just something I did. You know.”

“I know. Grant?”

“Donna, I … I mean, it’s …. ” He didn’t know what he meant.

“I just wanted to tell you, I’m glad you’re doing okay.” The look on her face was one he knew well, part gorgeous smile with just a touch of frown creasing her forehead.

“Thanks,” he said.

“So, who’s ‘S’?”

He shrugged. “Little boy I know.”

*** Grant was typing at his computer at work when his right arm went numb. His right eye went blurry, and he fell back in his chair.”You okay?” asked Jorge, who shared the cube with him.

“No,” he managed to say. He fell forward on his desk, dizzy.

A few moments later, everything passed. No more numbness, no more blindness, no more dizziness.

“I’m okay,” he told Jorge and the three people who’d come in to check on him at Jorge’s shout. Grant went to the bathroom and ran water over his face, and then decided to take the rest of the day off. Sarah offered to drive him., but Grant declined. He was just a little tired, was all.

A block from his house, the dizziness came back, but he was almost home and he could go lie down.

As he reached the front door, he found that he couldn’t swallow. His right eye dimmed, went dark. Grant’s right leg collapsed beneath him and he fell to the floor, thinking he had to call 911, thinking he should have gone to the ER, thinking he could smell oranges.

He heard the baby cry.

*** There were people in his house, people he didn’t know. Grant got to his feet slowly. The weird dizziness was gone. EMTs. The people were EMTs. Peter was there. He must have called them.”Hey, I’m okay,” said Grant to Peter, but Peter, looking very pale, ignored him. Everyone was standing around.

Stephen was crying in the corner at all the noise and bustle in the house. Grant rolled his eyes at Peter, and went to check on the baby. “Sorry, kid,” he whispered, reaching to pat the insubstantial head.

His hair was soft like wisps of down, and Stephen looked up at him, grinning toothlessly at the touch.

Grant went still, and then he picked up Stephen, or whatever his real name had been. He was small and soft and warm, and Grant knew without having to ask that he’d just wanted someone to hold him and love him best of all.

*** Sally lied to Grant’s friend so he’d let her and Heather in the house, saying she’d lent a book to Grant But even though they looked high and low, all they found was the cat, mewling and alone.