Читать книгу What The Doctor Ordered - Cheryl Wolverton - Страница 13

“Good evening.”

Morgan stared at her, with Lindsay sitting on her, and couldn’t hide his smile. Rachel was beautiful. Flushed, her hair a mess, love glowing in her eyes for her daughter. Morgan didn’t think he’d ever seen a more perfect picture of motherhood.

“Uh…”

And she was embarrassed, he realized.

Sitting up, she lifted Lindsay with her. “Wash. Dinner,” she said to her daughter, and Morgan was surprised to see how easily she used American Sign Language right along with her words. In all his years of practice, he’d had a few deaf children. Few mothers bothered to learn how to communicate with their deaf children, other than to point.

Lindsay cast another glance at Morgan and sprinted toward the bathroom.

Rachel stood and smoothed her charcoal trousers. The thin blue sweater she wore had just a hint of gray to bring out the blue in her eyes. He didn’t feel overdressed in his gray pants and sweater. He’d debated long and hard what to wear and had finally given up and pulled this outfit out of the closet. Morgan couldn’t remember a time he’d been worried about how he looked for a woman.

Rachel was different.

“Hello again.”

She glanced around him curiously, and he wondered what she was looking for. “Where’s your child?”

The question hit him in the gut. How could she know…

“Jeremy?”

“Oh.” Morgan relaxed. Offering a generous smile, he said, “Jeremy wasn’t mine.”

She quirked her brow in query, but Lindsay chose that moment to come running into the room. “Unre, maauu.”

“Time for dinner,” she said and lifted her daughter into her arms.

“I had no idea Betty was your mother when I met you today.” He quirked his lips apologetically.

Rachel returned the smile with a halfhearted nod. “Well, she is. And we’re living with her for a while.”

She tilted her head toward her daughter, and her hair fell, covering her face. Long delicate fingers came up and absently pushed it behind her ear. “Aren’t we, Lindsay?” she singsonged softly as she started to the table. “Please, come in and have a seat. Make yourself at home. Mom tells me you’re over here quite a bit.”

Morgan followed her into the dining room and watched as she strapped her daughter into a child’s seat before grabbing a sipper cup and setting it in front of her daughter. “Yes, your mom has adopted me.”

Betty, who was coming in with the chicken, nodded. “I sure did. He’s my local son, since both of you kids never come visit your mama.”

Morgan went over and took the platter from her. “Let me get that, Betty.”

“Thanks, Morgan.” She turned to go into the kitchen, talking over her shoulder. “Sit down, get aquainted. I’ll be right back.”

Morgan hesitated then nodded. Looking at Rachel, he said, “Very self-reliant, isn’t she?”

Rachel chuckled. “Understatement.” She got up, got the napkins and silverware and finished setting the table.

“You know sign language well.”

Rachel glanced at him in surprise. “My daughter is hearing impaired,” she replied simply.

“How much does she understand?” he queried.

Rachel frowned. “Enough.”

He heard it in her voice. Back off. So he did, turning his attention to Lindsay instead.

She was sipping, staring at him over the rim as she drank her juice.

Morgan grinned at her and signed, “Hi. I’m Morgan. You like juice?”

The little girl stared at him suspiciously over the cup before she tossed it at him and signed, “Share!”

Morgan caught it in midair. It was pure luck. He hadn’t expected her to throw her cup at him.

“Lindsay!” Rachel said and hurried toward her daughter.

Morgan looked at Lindsay.

She giggled.

He tried to cover a smile. “Thank you,” he signed, and acted as if he were taking a drink before handing it back to her.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan—”

“Just Morgan.”

“Okay, just Morgan,” Rachel said, exasperated. “Will you stop grinning at her? She’s going to think it’s okay to throw her cup at you all the time.”

“She was only sharing,” he said innocently.

Rachel, who’d had her back turned during the entire incident, paused and looked from one to the other. “She normally doesn’t talk to strangers.”

“She knows me,” he said, signing with his words.

Rachel’s jaw dropped. “You know sign language?”

“Yes, Rachel, I do. We were talking while you were digging for the coasters. I asked her if she liked her juice, and she shared it with me. I take that to mean either she likes me and decided to be my friend or she hates her juice.”

Rachel studied him again before her gaze went to her daughter, who was sipping her juice. Then she laughed. “I guess she decided you’re a friend.”

Betty chose that moment to come in with bread and vegetables. “Rachel, honey, will you get the salad and pitcher for me?”

“I can do that, Betty,” Morgan said, but Rachel shook her head.

“I’ll get it. I have to get her bib anyway.”

She left and Morgan took the dishes from Betty and set them on the table.

“There we go, my baby. I made corn for you tonight. And carrots. Your favorite,” Betty said to her granddaughter.

Lindsay smiled beatifically at her grandmother and then yelled loudly. He had to give Betty credit. For not being around the child much, she did well not to flinch when Lindsay shouted her pleasure.

Rachel returned and set the salad and pitcher on the table before slipping the bib on. When she sat down, Betty turned to Morgan. “Will you say the prayer, dear?”

Morgan didn’t miss the uncomfortable shift Rachel made. He bowed his head. “Heavenly Father, thank You for the food You’ve blessed us with and thank You for the company and the special precious gift You gave us in Lindsay. Bless this food, in Jesus’s name, amen.”

When he opened his eyes, Rachel was staring at him blankly. He returned the stare with one of warmth. Her gaze wobbled with tenderness and surprise before she glanced away. “Lindsay is certainly my precious gift,” she said, then proceeded to dish up a plate of food for her child.

After handing Lindsay her silverware, Rachel cut her daughter’s chicken and broke up the bread, then started filling her own plate.

Morgan filled his quietly. “I found a new fishing hole, Betty.”

“Oh? Where this time?”

Morgan passed Betty the platter of meat as he said, “Outside of town. The mile road. You go down it and it’s off west about a mile.”

“The old Henderson place. They had a creek running back there.”

“I’m planning to go soon. Joe Pierceson told me about it.”

“He’d know. That man loves to fish.”

“Have you ever fished, Rachel?” Morgan asked politely before taking a bite of chicken.

Startled, she glanced from her daughter, her mouth filled with food. She swallowed, took a sip of tea then replied, “I haven’t been in four, maybe five years.” Her gaze unfocused briefly. “I used to go with Dad all the time before I went off….”

She glowed with good memories. Morgan was enchanted as he watched her.

“I remember some of the things you brought home, young lady, and it wasn’t just fish. Turtles, frogs, tadpoles and even a snake. Land sakes, I’m glad that thing wasn’t poisonous,” Betty said.

Rachel grinned at her mother. “Daddy was, too.”

Both burst out laughing, and Betty turned to Morgan to explain. “She was upset because she hadn’t caught anything and her brother had. So she was walking back to the car and found this snake. A king snake, mind you, and she stuffed it into her plastic wading pants, planning to sneak it into the room and put it in her brother’s bed.”

“And? Did you do it?” He grinned at Rachel, whose cheeks turned pink in response.

“Go on, tell him what happened, Rachel.”

“Mother.” Rachel drawled the word in exasperation. “The snake got out of the trousers. Just as Daddy was pulling into the driveway, he felt something inching up the leg of his pants and panicked.”

“Oh, no.” Morgan couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. “Did the poor man have a heart attack?”

“Almost,” Betty said. “He went right through the garage door trying to shake the thing off of his leg.”

“And I got grounded for a week.”

“That’s pretty mild,” Morgan replied, still laughing.

“Yeah. Well, I think Dad and Mom were so happy that the snake wasn’t poisonous that I got off lightly.”

Betty shook her head and took another bite.

Rachel grinned at her mother. “Well, Mom? You gonna tell me the truth why?”

“I have no idea why you got off so easily, dear. You’re probably right. It was simply shock and relief.”

Rachel chuckled again before turning to her meal. That set the tone for supper. Silly stories about her childhood. Dinner ended much too soon, as far as Morgan was concerned, but Betty wasn’t about to let him leave yet. “You two go into the living room with Lindsay. I’ll clear this and then bring in hot tea.”

Rachel, who was cleaning Lindsay, glanced at him, then at her mom. “Okay.”

Morgan nevertheless gathered his and Rachel’s plates and carried them into the kitchen. When he returned, Lindsay was clean and getting out of her chair.

“So, Rachel, where do you work?” he asked, heading into the living room.

“Temporarily at City Hall. I’m reworking their records. And—watch out!”

Thump. Two little arms were wrapped around his legs. Morgan struggled to keep from landing face first on the floor. “Aha! I’ve been attacked,” he said, peeling her arms away and lifting her. “Was it you?”

Lindsay patted his cheek and bounced in his arm. “Paaee,” she said, her hand on his cheek.

“Paaee?”

“That means play. Here, I’ll take her. I’m really sorry—”

“We’re fine,” he said to Rachel and moved to the sofa to sit down. He didn’t miss how Rachel nervously followed him.

“What do you like to play, little one?” he asked.

Lindsay grinned and moved her hand to his lips.

He repeated the question.

She giggled and then stroked his cheek again.

Poor Rachel was turning all shades of red. He ignored her and continued to concentrate on Lindsay, thinking it best if he didn’t pay attention to her embarrassment over her daughter. The only way Rachel would see Lindsay wasn’t irritating him was to watch them together.

He reached up and put Lindsay’s hand close to his mouth. “Morgan. Morgan,” he said. Lifting his hand from hers, he signed, “My name. Morgan.”

“Oh gan.”

Morgan grinned. “Yes. Now what do you like to play? Oh, I bet I know….”

And Morgan proceeded to drop onto the floor next to the blocks and build an entire city with her for the next fifteen minutes.

Betty came in and grinned. “You’re so good with kids. Lindsay has taken a liking to you. Now, Rachel, why don’t you pour the tea.”

“Okay, Mom.” Rachel poured three cups, silently frustrated with her mother that she insisted on keeping this man around. She didn’t know him, and he was playing with her daughter.

“I think little one here is getting tired,” Morgan whispered.

Rachel glanced over and flushed anew. Lindsay had crawled onto him and was sprawled out, her eyes closed. “I’m sorry,” Rachel began.

“Don’t be.” Morgan’s eyes met hers. The deep tones of his voice went right through her. “I can’t tell you when I’ve had this much fun. It’s been a long time.”

Rachel shifted, trying not to notice how good he looked holding her daughter. She stood and went over to him. “I should get her to bed.”

Gently, she slipped her hands under her daughter and lifted the girl to her shoulder. Lindsay mumbled something and zonked right back out.

Morgan stood. “As much as I’d like tea, Betty, I really have to be up early. I should be going, too.”

“Of course, Morgan. Let me take her, Rachel, and you walk our guest to the door.”

Sharply, Rachel looked at her mother. Matchmaking?

She had to wonder. This man was attractive. Her mother didn’t like it that she was alone with a child to raise. Rachel would have to talk to her about this later. “Very well.” Handing her child to her mother, Rachel turned and offered Morgan a smile.

He wasn’t bad. She just wasn’t used to sharing her child with anyone. Not after everything that had happened. She was scared. Things happened. She didn’t want to lose Lindsay or hear any more false reports, on her, or true reports for that matter. She didn’t want her daughter exposed to any more pain or lies, or to get her hopes up only to have them dashed. She wanted to protect her daughter from the world. And this man was part of that world.

Still, he had been wonderful with Lindsay. If only Lindsay’s father had been like that. “It was nice meeting you, Morgan.”

Morgan headed toward the door, his long-legged stride taking him gracefully across the room. “I really enjoyed tonight.” He pulled open the door and paused, then turned and pierced her with his gaze. “I enjoyed it a lot, Rachel.”

Rachel’s mouth went dry. “I…yes,” she stuttered, and nodded.

“Maybe we’ll see each other in church.”

The mood was shattered that easily. “I’m not sure. It takes time to get Lindsay ready, and we like to sleep in on Sunday…”

“Oh. I had thought you’d want to take her simply for the interaction with the other children.”

“She gets interaction,” Rachel argued.

“Ah,” Morgan said softly, a smile touching his lips. “But does she get to learn the series of songs the teacher is teaching the children? All of them in sign language?”

“Really?” Rachel asked, excitement burgeoning to life.

Morgan shrugged. “She majored in languages and ministers to the deaf on Saturdays. I thought Lindsay would probably love that.”

“She probably would.”

Rachel suddenly realized she’d been tricked. Scowling at Morgan, she said, “I only want what’s best for my daughter. So if you do see me there, it’s because of her.”

Morgan’s smile turned tender. “I understand, Rachel.” He reached out and took her hand, but instead of shaking it, to her utter disbelief, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it lightly. His gaze lifted to hers. “I really do.” She stared, watching him walk down the stairs and to his car. And for some reason, she really believed that he did understand. She wasn’t sure why, but it was in his eyes. The truth. He really did know what she was going through.

Gripping the door, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, God really did take a personal interest, after all.