Читать книгу Patchwork Family - Judy Christenberry - Страница 9

All Molly could think about was Sara. She murmured soothing words to her daughter as Quinn Spencer drove them to the hospital. Sara had never been sick, other than occasional sniffles, in her four years of life. It unnerved Molly to see her baby in such straits.

“She’s so hot,” she muttered, scarcely aware she had spoken out loud.

“I’m sure Brady will be able to help her,” Quinn assured her. He pulled into the emergency parking area and came to a stop.

Molly was out of the vehicle, Sara still clutched to her chest, before he could come around and assist her. “Will your brother meet us here, in the emergency room?”

“Yes. He should be waiting.”

Molly scanned the medical personnel as they entered the hospital. It didn’t take her long to identify Brady Spencer. His hair might be darker than his brother’s, but they had the same eyes. Besides, he was hurrying toward them.

“Is this my patient?” he asked, voice filled with gentle reassurance. “What’s her name?”

“Sara,” Molly told him, but she was reluctant to release her child, even to the doctor.

“Hello, Sara,” Dr. Spencer said, pulling back the cover to see her daughter’s face. “How about we see if we can make you well again? Want to come with me? I may even have a lollipop for you.”

Sara nodded. The doctor scooped her from Molly’s arms. Molly reached out as he moved away, afraid to lose sight of her daughter.

Strong arms came around her. “She’ll be all right, Molly,” Quinn whispered in her ear. “You can trust Brady.”

With a strangled sob, she instinctively turned into those strong arms and buried her face in his chest. All she could think about was her precious child.

It had been so long since she’d had anyone to lean on, to share her burdens. The comfort the attorney offered was too tempting. She remained there, absorbing his strength, until other feelings invaded her concern.

She jerked herself from his embrace, embarrassed. How could she think about a man, any man, when Sara was ill? She certainly wasn’t a lonely widow looking for some man to rescue her. No! She and Sara were a team. They didn’t need anyone.

But, for a minute, she admitted, having someone to lean on had felt good.

“I’m sorry. I don’t usually fall apart, but Sara’s never been really sick and—and—”

“It’s all right. I guess I’d feel the same way if my child—” He broke off and looked away from her.

She already knew he had no children and never intended to be a father. One night at Marge’s, the local diner, she’d overheard a conversation not intended for her ears. Quinn had been explaining to his companions how he felt about children.

“Children only complicate your life and take up time. I’m always on the go. I’ll leave raising the little rug rats to other people,” he’d said with a laugh.

Which made his assistance today impressive.

“I appreciate your help. High fever always frightens me.” He must think her a real fraidy cat. After all, yesterday she’d been just as frantic. “You must think I’m always— I mean, yesterday—”

He took her arm and drew her over to a row of chairs. “Special circumstances, Molly. Don’t worry about it.”

She sat down because she didn’t know what else to do. She’d wanted to follow the doctor into the examining room, but that hadn’t appeared to be an option, which worried her even more. A nurse had hovered at the doctor’s side, ready to assist him, and Sara hadn’t put up any resistance. Now, Molly clutched her hands tightly together, tensely waiting for the doctor’s —and Sara’s—reappearance.

A large hand reached out and covered her two. Its warmth helped ward off the chill that was racing through her. “It’ll be all right,” Quinn whispered.

“I appreciate your talking your brother into seeing us right away. I don’t know what could’ve caused such high fever. It could be meningitis, or even—” she gasped at the thought “—even leukemia.”

“It’s probably nothing more than the flu, which I’ve heard is going around.”

“You don’t know that!” she snapped, refusing to be consoled.

He squeezed her hands and said, “No, I don’t, but we don’t want to borrow trouble if it’s not necessary.”

She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “No, of course not. I’m sorry.”

He seemed to take her apology in stride. “Do you have any family, other than Sara?”

She shook her head.

“Your parents?”

She stared at him. Did the man think she could carry on a normal conversation when her baby was desperately ill? “They’re both dead. My mother died when I was twelve, my father three years ago.” Before he could ask, she added, “I was an only child.”

As Sara was and would be. Molly had no intention of ever considering matrimony again, of giving Sara a stepfather who might fail her as miserably as her own father had done. No, it would be just the two of them.

“No aunts, uncles, cousins?”

“Are you asking who to notify in case of an accident? Or—or a death?” she demanded, her voice rising.

“No! I was just making conversation,” he assured her, squeezing her hands again.

She snatched her hands away from the warmth that had begun to seep into her tense body. Denying herself that comfort made her feel closer to her daughter.

“Molly, I wasn’t—” Quinn began, but he halted as Brady appeared, holding Sara in his arms.

Molly exploded from the chair and raced to meet her daughter. “What is it?” she asked the doctor. “Is she okay? What caused the fever?”

“She’s going to be fine,” Dr. Spencer assured her.

Molly’s knees suddenly went weak. She would’ve sagged to the floor if Quinn hadn’t been behind her to support her.

It was Quinn who followed up with questions. Molly couldn’t speak. “What caused the fever?”

“The flu. It’s going around. She got dehydrated, which only made the fever worse.”

“I tried to get her to drink juice, but it kept coming back up,” Molly told him.

“I know. I’ve given her a shot that will settle her stomach and ward off any additional infection, and we put an IV in her. I want you to get some Pedialyte to give her. It comes in liquid and Popsicles. She should be able to keep that down. Wash her face with a lukewarm washcloth to help keep the fever from getting too high.”

Molly nodded even as she reached for her child. Sara snuggled against her mother, but her eyes never opened.

“Is she asleep?” Molly asked, alarmed.

“Almost. The shot made her drowsy. She needs lots of rest and liquids. Feed her soup, keep her still and call if anything worries you.”

“Yes. Yes, of course, Doctor. Thank you so much for seeing us. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate—”

Brady Spencer grinned. “Thank my baby brother. He’s the reason I worked Sara in. But I’m glad I did. She needed attention right away.”

Molly nodded again, swallowing a huge lump in her throat. “Yes, I’ve already told him how much I appreciated his offer to call you.”

The loudspeaker blared out Dr. Spencer’s name, and he excused himself, rushing down the hall to his next emergency, leaving Molly holding Sara close.

QUINN WAS RELIEVED at his brother’s diagnosis. Molly’s fears had begun to affect him, and he’d feared that the small child might’ve had a dangerous ailment.

She was so tiny. Like a doll.

He offered to carry her, but Molly refused. “I have some money in my purse. Could we stop by the pharmacy here in the hospital and see if they have what the doctor recommended?”

“Yes, of course.” He paused and then said, “In fact, why don’t we put you and Sara in the car. I’ll go back and get the medicine. She’ll get heavy if you hold her while we shop.”

“Do you mind?” she asked, her blue eyes anxious.

“Not at all.” He escorted her to the car, putting her in the back seat, guessing she wasn’t going to give up holding her child.

“I’ll hurry,” he promised. Then he returned to the hospital.

In the pharmacy, he found Pedialyte in clear liquid form and in fruit flavors. And the Popsicles, encased in plastic, waiting to be frozen. He chose some of each variety, wanting to be sure Molly had what she needed. After paying, he hurried back to the car.

“I forgot to give you money,” Molly said at once as he slid behind the wheel.

“That’s okay. I’ll add it to your bill.” He’d do no such thing, but those words kept Molly from protesting.

When they arrived back at her house, he came around the car and reached for Sara.

“No! I’ll carry her.”

“Molly, she’ll have to be carried upstairs. Your arms are probably already tired from holding her. It’ll be safer if I carry her. You can go ahead and turn down the covers on her bed.”

“It’s on the third floor,” she warned, watching him.

So much for his manly appearance. She didn’t seem to think he could make it that far. “I think I can make it up two flights of stairs carrying your little girl. She hardly weighs anything.”

As if she took his words as a criticism, she said, “I try to tempt her to eat. She doesn’t have much of an appetite.”

“I think she’s small-boned,” he said, hoping to appease Molly. Hell, he didn’t know what four-year-olds should weigh.

He didn’t know anything about kids. And didn’t intend to. Today was the exception to the rule. He couldn’t have abandoned Molly and Sara when he found them in such desperate straits.

She unlocked the front door, waited for him to enter and then pulled it closed behind him to keep out the cold. “This way,” she said, circling him and starting up the stairs.

He watched her race ahead of him, her trim figure in his face as he followed. He’d been right about her figure beneath that tacky sweat suit she’d worn yesterday.

She was a very attractive woman.

But she was also a mother.

Cross her off the list of potential lovers.

Too bad.

They reached the second floor and she led the way to a staircase almost hidden in the back of the house behind a closed door.

“Isn’t it a pain, living on the third floor?”

“No, it keeps us in good shape.”

He couldn’t disagree with that statement.

“And it’s like living in a tree house. We feel safe, tucked up here.”

They reached the top of the stairs and she led him down a short hall, opening the first door on the right. He followed her, seeing only the bed. She pulled back the covers and turned around to take Sara from his arms.

He let the warm little bundle go, reluctantly. It was only because he felt responsible for her, he quickly assured himself. As he stepped back, he took in his surroundings. Not a large room, but it was the perfect child’s room. A window seat, partially hidden by pink curtains, graced one wall. There was a mural on the wall next to the hall.

The bed had a pink ruffle around the bottom, beneath a pink and green quilt. Stuffed animals sat on several shelves, as well as storybooks. In one corner at the edge of the matching green rug sat a big brown bear.

A room full of loving touches. He had no doubt about who was responsible for the perfect child’s room. Molly Blake was the best mother he’d ever met.

Not that he’d met many mothers. There had been a few society women, a couple of whom had even tried to seduce him when he was dating their daughters. Their selfish attitudes only reinforced his own experience. His mother apparently had been more interested in her own happiness than any problems he or his brothers might have at having been abandoned by her.

Molly was different.

He began backing out of the room. “Um, I’ll leave you to make Sara comfortable.”

She whirled around. “I can’t thank you enough. Oh! The Pedialyte! It’s still in the car.”

“I’ll go get it.” He was glad for a real excuse to escape the nest Molly had created.

He hurried down the two flights of stairs and went out to the car. When he’d gotten the large sack, he turned back to the house. As he stepped inside, he drew a deep breath and took in his surroundings for the first time.

The first floor reflected as much love and care as Sara’s room. The wood on the banister gleamed with polish. The walls had been recently painted a soft cream. Flowers were tastefully arranged on the desk beside the stairway. A glimpse into the other rooms that opened off the main hall, the living room on the right and a large dining room on the left, were filled with antiques as polished as the banister.

Had she done all the work herself?

It reminded him of the idea he’d intended to explain to Molly. From his own memories of the house, he knew he had the right idea.

But the sudden need to escape, to get out of Molly’s personal space—and even the entryway was a reflection of Molly—seized him. He looked around for a place to set the bag.

“Thanks for getting it out of the car for me,” Molly called as she came down the stairs.

He jerked around and stared up at her.

“Sara’s gone to sleep. She’s resting much better and she’s not as hot.” She reached the bottom of the stairs. “Can I offer you a cup of coffee? It’s not much after all you’ve done for us but—”

“No! No, thank you. I’ve got appointments,” he said, thrusting the bag in her arms. “It was nothing, actually. I hope Sara gets better soon.”

And he ran out of the house.

Molly stood there, the bag in her arms, staring at the door through which Quinn had fled.

What was wrong with him? She’d offered a cup of coffee. That was all. You’d think she’d tried to seduce him.

LYDIA PERRY RUSHED OUT of the cold into the warmth of Worthington House early the next morning, knowing she’d already find her friends hard at work on another quilt. They’d finished the Bachelor’s Puzzle for Molly Blake yesterday afternoon.

“Have you heard?” she said as soon as she entered the room.

“Heard what?” Martha asked, barely looking up from her stitching.

“About poor little Sara Blake.”

Those words got everyone’s attention.

“What wrong with Sara?” Merry asked anxiously. The child was a favorite with all the ladies, but Merry especially delighted in her visits.

“She’s got the flu.”

“Oh, the poor baby,” Tillie crooned.

“She had a very high fever. If it hadn’t been for Quinn, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

Emma looked up sharply. “Quinn? What does he have to do with Sara being sick?”

All the stitching stopped as the ladies stared at Lydia.

“He called Brady and then took Sara and Molly to the hospital. Sara was dehydrated. He gave her an IV and fixed her up. This nurse I know told me how concerned Quinn was. He stayed with Molly the entire time Sara was with the doctor, holding her hand.”

Martha and Tillie stared at Lydia, then at each other, a light dawning in their eyes.

“Do you think—” Tilly began.

“It’s possible,” Martha agreed, nodding vigorously.

“I can’t believe it,” Emma protested. “Why, he steers clear of women like Molly. You know that.”

“Molly’s so pretty,” Bea said timidly.

“Did I miss something?” Lydia asked, puzzled by the conversation flowing around her.

“Not really,” Martha said, taking up her needle again.

“Now wait just a minute. I brought you the news. You should tell me what you’re talking about.”

“She’s right,” Tillie agreed. “It’s just that—Well, there’s not really anything to tell. More like a hope, don’t you know.”

“A hope for what?” Lydia asked in frustration.

Martha took up the explanation. “Quinn is a lovely man. Most people think he’s a flirt, a playboy, but he’s just afraid of being abandoned. That mother of his left him and his brothers afraid of commitment.”

“You sound like one of those ladies’ magazines, like—like Cosmo.”

“I know what I’m talking about,” Martha said sturdily, determination in her voice. “We want him to be happy.”

“He seems happy to me,” Lydia said.

“But he’s not. The boy hurts. He hides it, but I know,” Martha assured her.

“But how does that have anything to do with little Sara?”

“Woman, think with your heart, eh?” Emma suggested.

“You mean you think he and Molly— But if he avoids women like her, I don’t see—”

“He didn’t avoid her yesterday, according to you,” Merry reminded her. “He has such a soft heart.”

“He was kind, but that doesn’t mean he’ll see her again,” Lydia pointed out.

“And so? Whose side are you on?” Martha demanded.

Lydia stared at her friend. “Why, yours, of course. And Molly’s. I want Molly to be happy. Those Spencer boys, I don’t care what you say, they’re heartbreakers. Like their pa.”

“What do you know about Elias Spencer?” Emma demanded.

Lydia’s cheeks turned bright red. “Nothing! I’ve seen him a few times. About town.” Her fingers twitched, telling her friends she wasn’t being totally honest.

“Elias suffers from the same problem as the boys. He’s never forgiven that woman for leaving him and his sons. Probably never will. Anyone messing with him is asking for heartbreak.”

“Then why plan on Quinn having anything to do with Molly? You want her to be heartbroken again? I think Christopher Blake already did enough damage to poor Molly and her little Sara.”

“Quinn wouldn’t hurt either of them. All we have to do is make sure they spend time together,” Tillie said, narrowing her eyes as if trying to think of a plan.

“That won’t be a problem,” Martha said calmly.

Her friends all stared at her.

“What do you mean?” Lydia asked.

“Just wait and see,” Martha said, stitching again. “Are you ladies going to help or just sit there with your mouths open?”