Читать книгу Emergency: Parents Needed - Jessica Matthews, Jessica Matthews - Страница 7

“THERE’S been a change in plans, Maggie.”

Reporting for duty on Monday morning, Maggie Randall stopped in her tracks at Captain Keller’s words. That particular phrase never heralded good news and she braced herself for the latest bombshell. Two weeks ago when the captain had said something similar, she’d gotten a new partner and her life hadn’t been the same since.

Then again, maybe he had finally realized how partnering her with Joseph Donatelli had been a mistake, she thought hopefully. Perhaps he was about to announce that he would shuffle the duty roster and assign her to someone else, someone who understood the concept of compromise.

“Oh?” she asked.

“You’ll work with Kevin Running Bear today,” he said.

Kevin was a firefighter with emergency medical technician training. Normally, he fought fires, but in a pinch he filled in on the ambulance crew. Apparently today was one of those move-people-around-to-cover-the-hole days, which meant that Joe must be playing hookey.

As crazy as it sounded, she was actually relieved. For the next twenty-four hours she could do her job in peace. No battles to fight. No justifying her every move. No opportunities for Joe to find fault with her decisions, complain about what he considered her overly friendly bedside manner or the length of time she spent with their patients.

And definitely there would be no chance of her knees turning weak when he flashed one of his lazy smiles at her. Being attracted to a man who could push her buttons without even trying was extremely irritating, which was probably why she practically bristled like a porcupine whenever they were together.

Needless to say, their little ‘clashes’, as she liked to call them, were making it extremely difficult to develop the rapport they needed to function together as a team. Doing so was important to her for no other reason than she’d never live with herself if a patient ultimately paid the price for their inability to get along.

“What happened to Joe?” she asked, half-surprised that he called in on such short notice. In the four years they’d both been employed by the Barton Hills Fire Department, Joe had received citations for his perfect attendance. Whatever had kept him from his shift must be serious indeed.

“He’s taking a personal day,” Captain Keller said.

A personal day? She may have only worked with Joe for the past two weeks since his temporary transfer to Station One, but the crews scattered among the three fire stations in Barton Hills were a close-knit group. Everyone knew everyone else and Joe’s record for dependability was legendary. The man was the first to arrive—often an hour before his shift began—and the last to leave. Rumor had it that he’d work 24/7 if allowed to because he didn’t have anyone waiting for him at home. Of course, that would cut into the steady stream of women he supposedly dated, but, regardless of his social life, he lived his job to the point that he only scheduled a vacation when he’d maxed out his earned time hours.

“Really?” she asked, incredulous.

He nodded. “Really. But before you break out the champagne…”

Her face warmed under her superior’s chastening gaze. “I wouldn’t,” she protested weakly.

He raised an eyebrow, as if he knew she wasn’t quite telling the truth. “Just remember, this is only for today.”

She held back her sigh of disappointment. “I know.”

He eyed her carefully. “Look, I’m aware that things aren’t running like a well-tuned engine between you two, especially after the Hilda Myers incident.”

Hilda was an elderly lady who suffered from anxiety attacks and called 911 on a regular basis. Maggie had befriended her and usually, after a short visit that was long enough to sample the cookies or cake that Hilda had so precipitously provided, the older woman was fine. Joe had taken exception to a call that he considered to be little more than a social visit and quietly began to dig into Hilda’s history. The next thing Maggie knew, he’d gotten the captain, then the chief involved, and by the end of the week Hilda’s family had moved her to an assisted living home. While Maggie had been working for weeks to convince Hilda to accept her limitations and relocate to a place of her choosing, she hated that the elderly lady hadn’t been given the option to decide her own fate.

In truth, she didn’t fault Joe for the final outcome—Hilda was finally in an environment that suited her needs, even if the older woman had been reluctant to take that step. However, what really rankled Maggie was how Joe had accomplished in a matter of days what she hadn’t been able to accomplish in months. He was the full-steam-ahead sort while she was willing to look for a more circuitous solution.

“The problem is, you’re both, shall we say, strong willed,” the captain continued, “but you each have partners on medical leave and pairing you two was the only logical decision Chief Watson could make.”

This time she did sigh. “I suppose so.”

He clapped her shoulder. “Cheer up. It’s only until Bill and Robert get back on their feet. A few months, tops.”

Her regular partner, Robert MacArthur, had missed a step at home and fallen down a flight of stairs, breaking an ankle. He’d undergone two surgeries and developed an infection after the second. Bill Reeves, Joe’s partner at Station Two, had torn a rotator cuff in his shoulder, playing baseball with his teenage son. After surgery, he wasn’t healing as fast as his doctor had hoped. As a result, both Joe and Maggie had been “orphaned” and rather than play musical partners, the chief had matched them on the paramedic duty roster.

In Maggie’s opinion, it wasn’t a match made in heaven.

“A few months,” she echoed with a weak smile. She could handle anything for that length of time. Or so she hoped.

“You’re both off for the next couple of days,” Keller reminded her. “If I were you, I’d use the time to figure out a way to resolve your differences. Otherwise the next couple of months will stretch out mighty long for all of us. I don’t want to referee your little skirmishes for the entire time.”

Once again, the captain was right. Four months, less two weeks, could stretch out interminably, even with their twenty-four-hours-on, forty-eight-hours-off schedule.

“Yes, sir,” she said, hoping he’d given Joe the same pep talk when he’d called in to take his personal day.

Maggie thought about the situation throughout her entire shift. Resolving their differences when they were rooted within completely different philosophies seemed an impossible task, but she had to do something.

The answer came in the late night hours as they often did when she was about to drift off to sleep. If Joe had called in to take an unscheduled personal day, he had to be sick. What man wouldn’t appreciate someone giving him a little sympathy when he was suffering? Yes, she thought with some satisfaction, a bit of TLC was in order…

Joe saw the familiar older-model sedan with its front end folded like an accordion against a light pole. He jumped from his ambulance and ran forward, only to find Dee’s head resting against the steering-wheel. Eyes closed, blood ran down her face from the cut on her forehead.

“Dee?” he urged, feeling a familiar panic as he recognized his victim was a friend. “Hang on and we’ll get you out of there.”

Her pale eyelids fluttered open. “Joe?”

He clasped her hand, noticing how cold her skin felt. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me, too.” He turned to yell at the firefighters swarming over the vehicle. “Hurry up. We need to get her out of there, now.”

“Joe?”

He met her gaze, determined to hide his worry in spite of the fear gripping his chest. “Yeah?”

“I can’t feel my legs or my arms.”

“Don’t panic,” he told her, trying to follow his own advice. “We’ll take care of you. I promise.”

“O…K.” Dee’s eyes closed, then burst open. “The baby. Look after…the baby, Joe.”

Immediately Joe glanced into the backseat. Empty. No infant car seat, no baby paraphernalia. “What baby, Dee?” he asked. “Whose baby?”

“Mine,” Deanna mumbled.

“Where is it?” he urged. “I don’t see a baby.”

“Take care…of…her.” Dee gasped for air and began to act agitated. “Promise.”

Trying to keep her calm and certain she was hallucinating, he said the only thing he could to a friend. “I promise, but where is she?”

Dee cocked her head. “Can’t you hear her, Joe?”

He listened. “I can’t.”

“You have to, Joe. You’re all she has.”

This time, a distant wail of a baby caught his attention and he knew it was imperative that he locate this child. But where should he look? “I hear her, Dee, but where is she?”

“She’s right here.”

He glanced around the scene, afraid to find the broken body of a child thrown from the vehicle. Nothing. “I don’t see her, Dee…”

Joe bolted upright in his easy chair, awakening to the now-familiar sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach before he realized he’d been dreaming again. He wasn’t reliving a modified version of the accident that had taken the life of his old friend, Deanna Delacourt, and he wasn’t frantically searching for a baby. He was at home, dozing in his easy chair, and Dee’s daughter was sleeping in his spare bedroom, although at this particular moment she was wailing loud enough to wake the neighbors.

Muscles protesting as he unfolded his body to stand, he rubbed his gritty eyes before checking the time. 9:00 a.m. He’d gotten exactly three hours of uninterrupted sleep all night, which wasn’t remarkable by itself. Working long stretches without a break wasn’t uncommon when he was on duty because emergencies didn’t occur on a schedule. He simply went home at the end of his shift, fell into his bed and caught up the hours he’d missed.

Unfortunately, his life wasn’t as accommodating since little Breanna Delacourt had moved into his house. She was his to care for 24/7 whether he was exhausted or not, which meant his days of solitude had come to a swift end. Hell, at this rate, he’d have to go to work just so he could get some shut-eye.

Breanna’s wails pierced his eardrums. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said aloud to the empty room as he walked down the short hallway, rolling his shoulders to ease the ache and rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes.

“Good morning, little Bee,” he told the eleven-month-old, who was sitting on her makeshift bed of blankets and a sleeping bag in the middle of the bedroom floor. “What’s wrong?”

Breanna’s mouth quivered as tears glistened on her eyelashes. From the way she eyed him, she’d obviously felt as if she were living her worst nightmare, too. And she probably was. Wanting her mother and getting him instead had to be as stressful for her as the situation was for him. He, at least, had the advantage of understanding what had happened but Breanna did not. She only knew that she wanted her old life with her mother, not this new one with a man she’d never met.

What were you thinking, Dee? he silently railed. You knew I wasn’t cut out to be the sort of father figure a kid needed.

But whatever plane in the universe where Dee had gone didn’t allow for two-way communication. He was on his own, left to devise a plan for a situation he hadn’t anticipated in his wildest dreams. And at the moment the first thing to do was to sort out what Breanna wanted…

Uncomfortable in his new role as father, Joe had learned enough in his crash ‘daddy’ course to change her diaper and he did so with clumsy hands. He’d never felt as helpless as he did now—as he had for the past thirty-six hours. Nothing he did made the little girl happy and he’d already exhausted his small store of parenting ideas. He needed help…and fast. But who could he call?

Honestly, Dee, what made you think I was the best candidate to take care of your daughter?

His little voice corrected him. Dee said you were all she had, remember?

“She was wrong,” he said aloud, ignoring the idea that denying Dee’s claim didn’t make it so.

The doorbell pealed and he frowned at the interruption. Dressing Breanna for the day would have to wait.

He freed her snuggle bunny from being buried in the blankets and tucked it next to her, hoping he could deal with his early morning guest before Breanna realized he’d left the room and raised the roof again.

A minute later, to Joe’s amazement, he saw his fellow paramedic, Maggie Randall, fidgeting on his porch. She’d obviously come directly on her way home from the fire station because she still wore her blue uniform. Her long, tawny hair was restrained in her customary braid and her expression reflected the wariness he was coming to expect when she spoke to him.

He wasn’t so physically and emotionally exhausted not to realize that he was responsible for the caution in her chocolate-brown eyes, but what could he expect? They’d butted heads from the very beginning and all because it was the only way he could counteract the electrical jolt a single, innocent and accidental touch had given his system. Right now, though, she was a familiar face and a welcome sight.

“Am I glad to see you,” he said fervently.

She blinked, clearly taken aback by his declaration. “You are? Oh. Well, good morning to you, too.” Her gaze swept over him, making him conscious of his babyfood-stained T-shirt, tousled hair and bare feet. “Sorry to show up unannounced, but you missed a shift so I thought I’d check on you and make sure everything was OK.”

The concept of anyone questioning his absence and worrying about him was foreign and completely disconcerting, especially when Maggie was the one worrying. She was an attractive woman with a vivacious, caring personality that he found very appealing. For the hundredth time, he wished Maggie had chosen another field because she stirred him in ways he shouldn’t be stirred if he wanted to keep their relationship on a professional footing.

“Actually, things aren’t OK,” he began.

Sympathy shone from her eyes. “I can see that. You look a little rough around the edges. The stomach bug going around right now is vicious.” She thrust a container at him. “My mother swears there isn’t anything that chicken-noodle soup can’t cure, so I got up early and threw it together just for you.”

The dish was still warm. Once again, it was humbling to realize Maggie had gone to the trouble when she didn’t have to bother. It was even more humbling to think she’d made the effort when he hadn’t exactly endeared himself to her. “How did you manage? You couldn’t have had time to go shopping…”

“I didn’t,” she admitted. “I raided the cupboards at the station so I’ll replace what I took the next time I’m on duty. It’s no big deal.”

Her effort may not be a big deal to her, but to him it was. “Thanks, but I’m—”

“Don’t worry, I left out the arsenic.”

Unable to help himself, he chuckled. “I wasn’t worried. If anything happens to me, you’ll be the first suspect.”

Her smile lit up her face. “Exactly. However, if I were you,” she continued as if she were in a hurry to leave now that she’d done her good deed, “I’d go back to bed and get some rest. Do you have the usual home remedies? Acetaminophen, decongestant, cough medicine, soda and crackers? If not, I’ll be happy to run to the store or do whatever…”

“I’m not sick.”

She hesitated. “You aren’t?”

“Something came up,” he began as an idea popped into his head and instantly took root. “Something personal.”

“Oh.” She took a step backward. From the way her face turned a beautiful shade of pink as she eyed the bowl in his hand, she clearly regretted her kind action. “Then I’m sorry to bother you,” she said stiffly.

“You aren’t bothering me at all,” he assured her. “In fact, you’re the very person I need, Maggie.”

Before she could do more than stare at him with a dumbfounded expression on her face, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside.

Maggie didn’t know what threw her off center the most—the tingles his touch sent up her arm or the claim from the most independent, do-it-himself man she’d ever met that he needed her. Although her heart warmed at hearing the words, she also knew that being needed was her weak point. She hadn’t fully recovered from the last time a man had taken advantage of her good nature with those words.

“Excuse me?” she asked politely as she found herself in his foyer, where she heard a baby wailing.

“I don’t know who else to turn to,” he admitted. “When you showed up on my doorstep…trust me when I say you’re a gift from heaven.”

She eyed him with suspicion, purposely staring at his face to avoid the sight of his wide chest, the well-defined muscles under his snug-fitting gray T-shirt, and the runner’s legs revealed by his athletic shorts. “A gift? Come on, Donatelli. This is me you’re talking to, not one of your weekend bimbos. Are you sure you haven’t been nipping the cough syrup?”

“I haven’t taken a drop,” he insisted. “I just need a few pointers…”

The wailing grew louder until she saw the source of the noise crawling toward them in a pink sleeper. The little girl with tousled light brown curls and a scowl on her pixie face dragged a lopeared bunny in a tight-fisted hand.

“You’re babysitting?” she asked inanely.

A pained expression crossed his face. “No. Well, I am, but not in the true sense of the word. She’s…” His voice faded and he rubbed his face.

“She’s what, Joe?”

He hesitated. “She’s…mine.”

Joe? A father? It simply didn’t compute. He’d never given any indication, never even hinted that he had a child, but he was a handsome man who didn’t seem to lack female companionship. Nothing said he couldn’t have an ex-wife in the picture, even if he hadn’t shared that so-called picture with anyone.

His ‘something personal’ was definitely personal, but his new status struck her the most. She did not want to be attracted to another single father. Once had been enough.

“I thought you said you didn’t have any family,” she accused.

“I don’t.” He jerked a hand through his hair, leaving several strands askew. “Breanna is…It’s a long story.”

“I’m sure,” she muttered under her breath. Certain she should steer clear of this situation because it was nothing more than an emotional minefield, she edged toward the door. “I should go and leave you two to…” She watched the baby maneuver herself into a sitting position at Joe’s feet, where she continued to whimper. “To bond.”

He reached out and held the door closed with one large hand. “Don’t go. Please.”

“You’re busy, Joe, and I only stopped by to drop off the soup, which obviously wasn’t necessary.”

“I need you. Breanna needs you.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said briskly, determined to stick to her non-involvement policy. “I just met her. What can I do?”

“Help me figure out why she won’t stop crying. She’s been like this since I got her.”

Breanna stared up at Maggie with water-filled eyes and hiccuped her sobs. Maggie steeled herself against the tears, but when the little girl dropped to all fours and crawled forward until she grabbed Maggie’s pant leg and pulled herself upright, Maggie knew she couldn’t walk away.

She cast a disparaging glance at Joe before crouching down to the little girl’s level. “Hi sweetie,” she crooned. “What’s wrong?”

Immediately, Breanna raised her arms and sniffled.

Maggie’s heart hadn’t hardened enough to deny this precious and clearly unhappy baby a hug. Giving in to the inevitable, she lifted the youngster off the floor and tucked her expertly on one hip as she swiped Breanna’s tear-streaked face. “What’s wrong with your world, little one?”

Breanna laid her head on Maggie’s shoulder and quieted.

Joe mumbled something under his breath—something that sounded like ‘what wasn’t wrong?’

“What did you say?” she asked.

He rubbed his face at the same time his shoulders seemed to slump as if in relief. “Nothing.” Then, “She likes you.”

Maggie would have been perfectly satisfied if the little girl had ignored her and crawled in the opposite direction. “She just recognizes a soft touch.”

“Soft touch or not, do you mind staying for a while? Until she settles down for longer than thirty seconds and my ears stop ringing?”

She wanted to refuse, but his hopeful expression, coupled with her own goal to begin building some sort of rapport with him, convinced her to agree. “OK, but only for a few minutes.”

“Great. Have a seat while I fix her breakfast.”

Maggie followed him into a small kitchen where the sink was overflowing with dirty dishes. From the way he paused to frown, then sigh at the sight, she suspected he was normally as meticulous in his house as he was on the job. Clearly, his daughter had upset his entire routine and style of living.

She sat at a table covered with pizza boxes and take-out containers as the little girl clung to her like a sandburr; nothing short of something drastic would convince her to let go, so Maggie simply let her hang on.

“To be honest, I expected to find you with your head in the toilet, not taking care of a baby,” she commented, politely ignoring the mess.

“After the past two days, I wish you had,” he said dourly.

Maggie chuckled, somewhat amused that she was finally seeing a different side to the organized, everything-in-its-place Joseph Donatelli. “It can’t have been that bad.”

“It was worse,” he said glumly, rubbing the two days’ worth of dark whiskers on his face before he began preparing baby formula with actions testifying to an obvious lack of experience. “I haven’t slept for more than a few hours at a time and neither has she. I honestly don’t know how she has the energy to keep going.”

Strangely enough, his less-than-immaculate appearance only made him seem more human, more vulnerable, and far more appealing than he already was. He looked like a man in desperate need of a woman’s touch and she had to stop herself from wanting to be the one to give it to him. As much as she hated to think that he’d denied his own child, she couldn’t ignore the way he had to read directions for such a simple task. OK, so he didn’t talk about his daughter, but maybe he had a good excuse…Maybe her mother lived in another state; maybe he didn’t have access to his child until now, maybe it was too painful to discuss a baby who wasn’t a part of his life. But whatever the reason, as her partner, he deserved the benefit of the doubt.

“You haven’t done this very often, have you?” she asked softly, noticing how he spilled the formula as he poured it into a bottle and struggled to attach the nipple.

“Clearly, my incompetence shows,” he said wryly.

“I wouldn’t call it incompetence,” she said, trying to minimize his obvious failing. “Awkwardness, perhaps, but if you do anything often enough, it will become second nature. Before long, you’ll be able to fix her formula in your sleep.”

He cast a baleful glance in her direction. “Mixing formula is one thing. Understanding what to do to keep her from crying all day long is another.”

“Given enough time, you’ll learn that, too,” she predicted. “Didn’t you spend any time with her while her mom was around so she’d learn you weren’t a stranger?”

“No.”

“Then maybe you should call her and explain the problems you’re having,” she suggested. “She may—”

“No.” He shook his head for emphasis. “I can’t.”

How typical of the Joe Donatelli she knew. He could never admit failure, never admit he might be wrong or couldn’t handle a situation. She wanted to think his Italian heritage came into play, but she had enough males in her family to suspect his stubbornness was just a guy thing.

“Of course you can,” she said impatiently. “Admitting you’re out of your depth isn’t the end of the world.”

“Her mother’s dead,” he said flatly. “I’m on my own.”

Dead? He had a far bigger problem than she’d realized…“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

He raked his hair with one hand. “That makes two of us.”

“I assume it was recent,” she said slowly, testing his reaction.

Silently, he brought a small bowl of baby cereal and a jar of strained peaches to the table, then mixed some of the formula into the cereal. His jaw was clenched, and Maggie waited for his answer.

Finally, he nodded. “A week ago. Car accident on the other side of town. She apparently hydroplaned and struck a telephone pole.”

Maggie thought for a moment. “Oh, yes. I remember reading about the accident in the newspaper. That was Breanna’s mother?”

“Yeah,” he admitted gruffly. “That was Dee.”

“If I remember right, the guys from Station Two responded.”

“We did.”

Suddenly, it all became clear. He’d been more taciturn than usual on that particular Friday when they’d worked together. She’d assumed his grumpiness had been because he’d pulled an extra shift at Station Two on his regular day off to cover their staff shortage, but obviously she’d been wrong.

“And you were on the scene,” she guessed.

Again he nodded, his eyes bleak. “Yes.”

Maggie leaned back in her chair and stared at him as he began feeding Breanna, hardly able to reconcile everything she’d learned with her own perceptions. It was always difficult to lose a victim, but to know that individual on a personal level made it even more so. “I’m so sorry,” she said again. “You should have told us.”

“It wouldn’t have changed the final outcome.”

“No, but we could have supported you in your loss.” Then she added, “Do the guys at Station Two know?”

“I told them Dee and I were friends. Which we were.”

“Friends who had a baby.” Her mind raced with scenarios and possibilities of why Joe hadn’t told anyone about his daughter. Either he didn’t trust anyone with the information or he was as shallow in his relationships as Arthur had been. Neither option sat well.

“I know what you’re thinking, but you’d be wrong.” His voice was hard.

She raised an eyebrow. “Just what am I thinking, Donatelli?”

“That I walked out on her, leaving her to face her pregnancy alone, but I didn’t. I wouldn’t.”

Pain appeared in his dark eyes for an instant before it disappeared. “The last time I saw Dee, she didn’t have a steady boyfriend and she certainly didn’t look or say she was expecting. Naturally, when she talked about her daughter while we were working on her…” He paused, then cleared his throat before he continued, “I thought she was confused and imagining things because she’d always wanted a houseful of kids.”

Dee may not have been confused, but Maggie definitely was. Breanna was Joe’s daughter, yet when he’d known her mother, Dee hadn’t been seeing anyone and she supposedly hadn’t been pregnant.

“I didn’t know Breanna existed,” he went on, “until Dee’s attorney contacted me the other day. I was apparently named in her will as Breanna’s guardian if anything happened to her.”

Now the scenario made sense. Joe wasn’t the deadbeat dad she’d feared, denying the existence of his own child. He was a man who’d been granted custody of a friend’s baby. “I assume her father isn’t in the picture?”

He visibly winced and for a long moment didn’t answer. When he finally spoke, he sounded weary. “According to Breanna’s birth certificate, you’re looking at him.”