Читать книгу Surprise, Doc! You're A Daddy! - Jacqueline Diamond - Страница 12

On the long drive back to Mercy Canyon, Meg battled annoyance and embarrassment as she mentally replayed her meeting with the two doctors. Fortunately, her much-repaired old car rattled along steadily, although the radio was broken and she had to keep the window down to cool the interior.

The brother—Andrew Menton, she remembered from seeing his name on the door—had made her feel sleazy. As for Hugh Menton, he was her Joe right down to his fancy vocabulary and the small scar on his temple. His reserved manner and even temper matched the man she knew, as well.

Meg had instantly recognized the masculine timbre of his voice and the endearing way he ducked his head. When he came close, she’d caught a whiff of the man who’d thrilled her every time he held her. The man she knew with every inch of her body.

Yet he was a complete stranger.

Joe had been an ordinary working guy, blue-collar like her. A man who went bowling with friends and shared the trailer she’d bought with her hard-earned money.

It was doubtful that Dr. Hugh Menton had ever set foot in a trailer. Not unless he’d conked his head and completely lost his marbles, which, when they got the DNA results, was how he would no doubt account for having fathered a child with Meg.

She remembered her first reaction on seeing the newspaper photo, when her brother, Tim, brought it back from L.A. “A doctor?” she’d said. “Look at him in that tuxedo! Come on. My Joe would never rent a tuxedo to go to a dinner.”

Sam, the owner of the Back Door Cafe, had peered over her shoulder at the clipping. “He probably owns the tuxedo.”

“Can you own one?” Tim asked. “I thought you just rented them for special occasions.”

Judy Hartman, Sam’s wife, had poured more coffee for a customer before responding, “I bet you could buy one used, after you rented it.”

“A doctor wouldn’t need to buy a used tuxedo,” Sam said.

They’d debated the topic for a few more minutes before new arrivals at the cafe demanded their attention. Looking back, Meg felt her cheeks get hot.

She could imagine the sneer on Andrew Menton’s face if he had heard their discussion. Having seen that expensive office with its big fish tank, thick carpet and elaborate play area, she didn’t doubt that both doctors owned tuxedoes. Heck, they probably put one on to take out the trash.

She grinned at the image of snobbish Andrew Menton in a tuxedo, carrying a smelly bag of trash. Except that his family must hire servants to do that kind of thing.

She and Hugh lived in different worlds. Unimaginably different.

It was Meg’s friends who’d persuaded her to go to L.A. Tim, Sam and Judy all agreed that the man looked like Joe. So did their bowling buddies Ramon and Rosa Mendez.

“What can it hurt?” Rosa had asked. “You need to take Dana to the doctor anyway. So you make an extra long drive and get a good look at the man. If it’s not him, say ‘hasta la vista, baby,’ and drive away.”

“If it is him, he owes you plenty,” said Ramon. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying you should be greedy. But he’s Dana’s father.”

For her daughter’s sake, Meg had finally decided to go. She’d struggled financially these past two years to support herself and a small child. Friends had helped with baby-sitting, Tim and her father had given her what money they could spare, and she’d muddled through.

It hadn’t been easy, though, and it would get even harder as Dana grew up. Eventually she would realize that other girls didn’t wear homemade clothes or eat macaroni and cheese three nights a week.

With a sigh, Meg remembered Hugh’s offer of free antibiotic samples. She’d been too proud to accept it. Now, as she stopped by the local pharmacy to fill the prescription, she winced at the cost.

She’d been planning to buy Dana a tricycle soon. It would have to wait until Christmas. Later, as she turned into the trailer park, Meg couldn’t help seeing it with critical eyes. The residences were parked close together, with only space for a few flowers in front. Most people kept their units tidy and so did she, but her paint was chipped and the awning had rust streaks.

A wave of longing rushed over her. She and Joe had cherished dreams of buying their own home. Nothing elaborate; a modest three-bedroom fixer-upper.

They’d talked about decorating a nursery, and putting a workshop for Joe in the garage. “I want an extra freezer so I can stock up on meat and pizza when they’re on sale,” Meg had said, relishing the prospect after battling to stuff food into a tiny, overcrowded freezer compartment.

She wanted her Joe back, the man who had shared those dreams. A man who would never have imagined owning a tuxedo or even renting one. He’d worn a plain suit for their wedding, looking heart-stoppingly handsome in the dark fabric.

Meg parked alongside her trailer and lifted Dana from her seat. By the porch, a stray cat who’d been hanging around regarded them with mingled hope and fear. Its fur had a pandalike pattern of black and white.

“Pat kitty!” cried Dana.

“Not right now.” Even in September, this far inland the temperatures soared, and Meg was eager to turn on a fan and make iced tea. “Let’s go inside.”

“Feed kitty?” her daughter asked.

“We shouldn’t encourage him,” Meg said. “We can’t afford a pet.”

Inside, the trailer was stifling. She opened the windows and fixed cold drinks.

After the spaciousness of Hugh’s office, her home felt cramped. Meg tried not to notice the odds and ends of furniture bought at garage sales.

It wasn’t the lack of frills that bothered her. It was the absence of the man she loved. And something else.

As she sank onto the couch, watching Dana play with her favorite dolls, Meg realized what was troubling her.

For two years, she’d refused to give up hope. Even when she saw the doubt in some people’s eyes, she’d persisted in believing that Joe loved her and that, when she found him, they would resume their life together.

Now, perhaps, she had found him, but if Hugh Menton was Joe, he wasn’t her Joe. He might as well live on Jupiter.

Maybe, as Andrew had said, she was in love with someone who didn’t exist. For the first time, Meg had to face the possibility that she might never get her husband back.

NO LETTER came for Hugh on Thursday or Friday. He put in a call to Dr. Vanessa Archikova, director of the Whole Child Project at Pacific West Coast University, and had to leave a message.

It was not a good sign.

Less than a month remained before the research program started. If they wanted him, surely they’d have notified him by now. There was nothing wrong with the job he had, Hugh reflected as he paused between patients to update his notes. Counseling anxious parents, healing injured or ailing children and referring the rare serious cases to the best specialists were valuable services.

Yet a chasm lurked inside him. If his application were rejected, he needed to find some other way to give meaning to his life.

The Whole Child Project, funded by a private research grant, had been designed by a panel of experts headed by Dr. Archikova. It proposed to use medical personnel, in conjunction with parents and schools, to coordinate the care of a group of poor children in hopes of making a large impact on their futures.

Many of the kids came from homeless families. Others lived in foster homes. Most had borderline nutritional and behavioral disorders.

Government-run attempts to help them had bogged down in paperwork and politics. The Whole Child Project was their last chance.

It would be thrilling to make a difference for those kids, Hugh thought. He’d always loved children. Maybe that was why he couldn’t stop thinking about one particular little girl with flaming red hair and elfin features.

Was she really his daughter? It seemed a slim possibility, but one he couldn’t ignore, any more than he could disregard the possibility that he, or some alter ego of his, had a wife. Into his mind swept the image that had haunted his dreams for the past two nights. An image of Meg Avery.

She had the same determined chin as her daughter, along with a tilted nose and full mouth. The eyes were filled with turbulent emotion.

Her blouse had shown the outlines of rounded breasts, while her jeans highlighted a slim waist and a very feminine derriere. If she’d been his wife, they must have spent many nights together. Luscious nights tangling between the sheets, steaming up the bedroom.

Had they really lain together, both of them naked and aroused? Could he have made love to such a woman and not remember it?

“You’re a million miles away.” Helen Nguyen smiled as she passed Hugh in the inner corridor between examining rooms. It was midafternoon, and the after-school crowd of patients would soon stream in. “Daydreaming about the weekend?”

“Trying to plan my future,” he said. “It’s hard to move forward when you don’t understand the past.”

“Do you mean that woman who was here Wednesday?” Helen asked. “Andrew told me she claims to be your wife.”

Petite and dark-haired, the nurse twinkled up at him. She’d been a big help in making Hugh feel at home when he came back to work, and she’d become a good friend.

Last February, he’d joined her and her husband in celebrating Tet, the Vietnamese New Year, at a festival in Orange County. It was an adventure that the old, stuffy Hugh might have passed up. “I’m not sure what to believe,” he admitted. “What did you think of her?”

Helen paused to reflect. “She was a little nervous. Now I understand why. You know, I liked her. And the child, well, those eyes do look like yours and Andrew’s.”

“I need to know where I was all that time,” Hugh said. “With such a gap in my self-knowledge, any decision I make about the future might be flawed.”

“What? A great and mighty doctor, admit to weakness?” teased Helen. “While I recover from my shock, please excuse me to see to a patient.”

“By all means.” Amused, Hugh picked up a chart and went to examine a little boy who’d twisted his ankle.

Musings about the past dogged him for the rest of the day. He needed to find out for sure where he’d been while he was missing.

And he wanted to see Meg Avery again.

His common sense told him to wait until the DNA results came back. That she might be a trickster, or a nutcase.

Still, he had no plans for the weekend. The palatial Hollywood Hills home he shared with his mother and with Andrew’s family would be empty tomorrow.

Andrew and his wife, Cindi, were taking their children to their vacation cottage in Redondo Beach. Grace Menton, who headed a charitable committee that was sponsoring a dinner and evening at the opera, planned to work hard behind the scenes at that event.

Hugh would be alone. What harm could it do to drive by Mercy Canyon and see where Meg and Dana Avery lived?

Hugh could almost hear his brother warning of possible legal entanglements. There was no need to announce his presence or get involved in any way, however.

As he finished his notes for the evening, he knew he was going to make the trip. If nothing else, it might help him get this woman out of his system.

“NO, I’M NOT SURE it’s him. I mean, I was sure at first, but every day I wonder if I wasn’t imagining the resemblance,” Meg admitted as she awaited her turn at the bowling alley on Saturday.

“It sure looked like Joe in the picture,” said Rosa Mendez, blowing the steam off her cup of coffee. In her early forties, she maintained a trim figure in shorts and a sleeveless blouse.

“Well, I’ve got an old picture of me that looks like Dolly Parton,” said Judy Hartman. Away from work, she wore her long blond hair full and curly, with the help of regular visits to Rosa’s beauty salon. “That doesn’t mean I can sing.”

“That doctor isn’t Joe,” Ramon said from his seat at the scoring table. “Come on. Some big-shot pediatrician worked at the cafe for a year and a half? I don’t believe it.”

“Anybody notice I just got a spare?” asked Sam Hartman, rejoining them.

“Way to go!” cheered Ramon.

As on most Saturdays, the group of friends had met at 11:00 a.m. at Mercy Lanes, next to the Back Door Cafe. The Hartmans were the best players, but everyone enjoyed the fun and the companionship.

The youngsters with them—the Hartmans’ sixteen-year-old son and the Mendezes’ three kids, who ranged from seventeen to twenty-one—formed their own group a few lanes away. Otherwise, the alley was empty except for a cluster of people around the videogames in back.

“If you’re not sure it’s him, what are you going to do?” Judy asked Meg.

“She’s going to play. It’s her turn.” Sam reached for his soft drink.

Glad to escape Judy’s question, Meg hurried to retrieve her ball. She didn’t know what she was going to do about Hugh Menton. She almost hoped the DNA test came back negative so she wouldn’t have to decide.

Life without Joe had settled into a comfortable if sometimes lonely pattern. She enjoyed times like today, when she could chitchat and bowl while Dana played at their next-door neighbor’s trailer.

If Hugh did turn out to be Joe, he might disrupt her entire existence. While he wasn’t likely to claim Meg as his wife, he might insist on spending time with Dana. Maybe even want her to live with him.

Grimly, she stared at the lane in front of her. No way would she give up her daughter! Angrily, Meg rolled the ball.

With a whump, it hit the gutter. Whistles and catcalls erupted behind her.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, girl!” called Rosa.

Darn. The man was messing with her bowling game. When the ball came back, Meg focused, started forward and rolled again.

Clean and sure, the ball flew down the lane and smashed into the pins. With a clatter, they shot in all directions. Of the few that remained, several wobbled and dropped at the last minute, leaving two standing.

“Too bad you didn’t get your act together the first time,” Ramon said as she returned. “You could have hit a spare.”

“They’re too far apart,” Meg said. “I’d never have made it.”

“That’s your problem, Meg,” advised Sam as his wife went to bowl. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“Don’t mention credit.” She shuddered. No matter how hard she tried to pay down her charge card, the balance always hovered near her limit. The mobile home park fee, food and baby-sitting ate most of her income.

“I’ll tell you what,” Rosa said. “I’ll give you a freebie. Come by the salon this afternoon and I’ll cut your hair. It’ll look cute.”

Rosa had been itching to get her hands on Meg’s mane for years. Without her bushy hair, though, Meg wouldn’t feel like herself. “No, thanks. I’m taking Dana swimming.”

The local community center pool cost a dollar per person, with kids under five free. It was one of the few treats they could afford.

Judy hit a strike, and whooped with delight at besting her husband this round. After that, the players concentrated on their games, and Meg finished with a respectable score.

She felt better by the time she left. Life in Mercy Canyon was safe and solid.

Even if he turned out to be Joe, Hugh Menton might never appreciate this town as he once had. Heck, he’d probably never bother to visit here.

Meg didn’t care. She knew where she belonged, and nothing could change that.

TO REACH Mercy Canyon, Hugh drove his luxury sedan on narrow, winding back roads. He hadn’t believed two-lane highways existed anymore in the age of carpool lanes and ever-wider freeways.

For a long stretch after he left the tightly packed developments of the coastal zone, he saw only a few isolated shacks and passed a mere handful of cars. Urban sprawl hadn’t reached this part of San Diego County.

In September, the height of the dry season, a scattering of dusty trees drooped in a rocky canyon filled with dry grasses and flowers. The area didn’t look familiar. Had he truly lived here for a year and a half?

As he descended from a slope, a sign alerted Hugh that he was entering the town of Mercy Canyon. He didn’t see anything until he rounded a rock outcropping and suddenly, below him, spread the community where he might have spent his lost months. Wanting time to collect his impressions, he stopped the car on the shoulder.

From this rise, he made out clusters of stores, an elementary school, a church, a couple of modest-size light-industrial buildings and numerous houses. There was a trailer park at the far end of town.

Hoping the scents would jog his memory, Hugh rolled down the window. Hot air blasted into his airconditioned cocoon.

As he’d expected, it carried the smells of eucalyptus and desert plants. For a split second, he remembered coming out of a cool building into the same heated air.

He was emerging from a church with a woman at his side. People lined the walkway, blowing soap bubbles. Could it be his own wedding?

Although Hugh had come here in search of the past, this possibility disturbed him. It was alarming to think that he might really have been a different person and lived a different life for so many months.

He knew of course that he’d been somewhere during his absence. Yet couldn’t the time have passed, as his family wanted to believe, in a succession of meaningless days of panhandling and sleeping in shelters?

On the other hand, before he was released from the hospital, Hugh’s doctor had remarked on what good shape he was in, aside from the head injury. He hadn’t been starving on the streets.

Maybe Meg’s story was true. He might be a husband and father. Hugh’s breath caught in his throat. So much for the rationalization that he could drive by Mercy Canyon and leave without seeing the Averys.

He’d brought Meg’s address. He could see the park distantly from here, neat rows of mobile homes glinting in the sunlight.

At the prospect of visiting what might be his old home, a twinge of fear ran through Hugh. What was he afraid of, that he would stumble into an unpleasant trap of his own making? Or that he would discover he’d once lived in paradise and couldn’t go back again?

There was no sense in delaying the inevitable. After rolling up the window, he turned on the ignition and started forward.