Читать книгу And Father Makes Three - Kim Watters - Страница 9

Chapter One

“Dr. Randall? Dr. Elizabeth Randall?” Pulling her focus from the patient chart in front of her, Elizabeth Randall snapped her attention to the tall man next to her. Anger simmered beneath her calm facade as she took in his brown hair and strong jawline covered with a hint of a five o’clock shadow. Under any other circumstances, she might have found the stranger attractive.

Not now.

“Yes. I was wondering when you’d get here.”

It was about time someone from Child Protective Services showed up. Mario Martinez-Alvarez had been at Agnes P. Kingfisher Memorial Hospital in Scottsdale, Arizona, just under two hours waiting for a caseworker to appear. The child’s black eye and broken ribs had not been caused by a simple fall from a high chair. Mario’s stepfather had been taken into custody and the mother had yet to be found.

Unlike some, Mario would recover, but each time a young innocent victim came through the hospital doors, her heart broke at the injustice. Children were precious. A gift from God that some people took for granted.

Not Elizabeth. Her fingers tightened on the pen in her hand until it became painful.

“Excuse me? You know why I’m here?”

“Of course. The boy has been transferred upstairs. Dr. Harris is his attending now.” After signing her name, Elizabeth closed the chart and turned slightly so she could rest against the nurses’ station. She took in the man’s casual clothing—a dark blue Phoenix Fire Department T-shirt and jeans. In all her experience with CPS caseworkers, she’d yet to come across one dressed so casually, who didn’t carry a briefcase or at least a notebook or day planner of some sort.

Maybe she’d been hasty in her assessment. “You are with CPS, aren’t you?”

Uncertainty clouded his blue eyes as he shifted his weight. “No, I work for the City of Phoenix Fire Department.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Elizabeth softened her tone, feeling guilty for letting her bad day affect her work. It wasn’t his fault her adopted daughter, Jordan, had developed another infection at her IV site. Crossing her arms, she gave the man her full attention. Concern furrowed the lightly tanned skin on his forehead. “How may I help you then, Mr.…?”

“Blake Crawford. Blake William Crawford.”

He spoke his name as if she should know him. He looked vaguely familiar now. If he worked for the fire department, it was quite possible she’d seen him bring in a patient or two, but they’d never been formally introduced. She’d remember meeting someone like him.

She grasped his extended hand, surprised to feel a slight connection. She shook it off as fatigue.

“Dr. Elizabeth Randall. But you knew that. I’m afraid I’m at a disadvantage here.”

“I need to talk to you about my daughter.”

“Your daughter?” No female children had been brought into the E.R. today and she’d already met the fathers of the few who had come in over the past week. None of them were Blake Crawford. “I don’t believe I’ve met your daughter. When was she brought in?”

“She wasn’t.”

“Then I’m afraid I can’t help you. Have you spoken to her pediatrician?”

“I have no idea who her pediatrician is. She doesn’t live with me.” He ran a hand through his short, cropped hair as his gaze darted around the area before it returned to her. “She’s with you.”

Elizabeth felt the blood drain from her face and she forgot to breathe. That meant—impossible. Nobody knew the identity of Jordan’s biological father. Not even her. She gasped, trying to fill her lungs with air.

A few doctors and nurses milled around the nurses’ station, watching them with interest as they waited for new patients to arrive. Elizabeth wondered if she was being set up. She glanced at the nurse behind the desk. Lidia busied herself with some paperwork and refused to look up. That was it.

This had all the makings of a great April Fool’s Day and birthday prank.

No one got through their special day in the E.R. without some sort of recognition. At least they hadn’t sent a singing telegram like they had with Dr. Kennedy, or worse like they had with Dr. Emory. But this was cruel. Especially with Jordan’s precarious health. Someone would get a good talking to when Blake fessed up. “Which one of my coworkers put you up to this?”

“No one put me up to this. This isn’t a prank.” He reached out to her, but stopped short. “I have every reason to believe my daughter is living with you.”

One by one, her coworkers took off in various directions without so much as a word. Dread pounded in her veins. The hard edge of the counter bit into her back, so Elizabeth adjusted her position. But nothing seemed comfortable as long as the man who believed he was her daughter’s biological father remained in her view with expectation written in his eyes.

Until she figured out if there was any real truth to this story, this was one conversation she did not want her coworkers to hear. Rumors and gossip blew through the hospital like an out-of-control dust storm, and she didn’t need Jordan hearing the news and getting her hopes up. They had enough to deal with already.

“Come with me.” Gently taking his arm, she led him outside the E.R. toward the towering mesquite tree where the administration had placed a wrought-iron bench in memory of her late husband, Dr. Thomas Randall. Tom. The love of her life. She could sure use his guidance right now because sitting there with another man who claimed to be their daughter’s biological father didn’t feel right, but her only other choice was the noisy cafeteria at lunchtime.

She motioned for Blake to sit yet she remained standing. Folding her arms, she watched him hunker down and wedge his elbows against his knees. A horn honked in the distance and the constant thrum of traffic blended in with the coo of the pigeons as the sunlight glistened off the palm trees lining 92nd Street.

“What makes you think your daughter is with me?”

“Does the name Tessa Pruitt ring a bell?”

Tessa Pruitt! “Should it?”

“Yes. She was the mother of my child.”

Panic churned the coffee in her stomach. No one else knew the name of Jordan’s birth mother. Not even Elizabeth’s best friend, Susie. This wasn’t a joke.

But Tessa had told Elizabeth she didn’t know who Jordan’s father was. Why had she lied all these years?

Elizabeth yearned to sprint away from the madness surrounding her. Run until her lungs burned and her muscles screamed in protest. But she couldn’t. She had a job to do and a daughter to care for. Elizabeth’s stomach lurched as she sank down on the bench next to him and covered her face with her hands. “Tessa was one of my best friends. But what makes you think you’re her daughter’s father?”

* * *

“She sent me a letter.” Blake turned his head and studied the tall, thin woman with short, dark, wavy hair wearing light blue scrubs printed with colorful crayons and a lab coat. Her long, delicate fingers cradled her face, hiding it from his view.

What was she thinking?

He’d had a week to come to terms with the knowledge he was a father. Apparently he’d blindsided Dr. Randall with the news. She probably thought she’d get to keep his child. Tiredness swept over him and he ran his hand across his face. Last night’s paintball marathon with his old high school buddy, Eric Stevens, was best left to the teenagers they used to be, not thirtysomethings who should know better. Blake paid the price today.

An ambulance pulled out from the overhang by the E.R. doors. A Scottsdale team, not Phoenix, but it didn’t matter—they shared a camaraderie nonetheless. He nodded to the driver as he went by. Coming to see Dr. Randall at work probably hadn’t been the smartest move, but he had no other contact information.

He had to see for himself if there was any truth to Tessa’s story. From Dr. Randall’s stunned reaction, his ex-wife’s words were true. Hope surged—the girl was his only remaining family member. Despite his fears about parenting, he wanted to meet this child and be a part of her life.

Blake stood and scratched the back of his neck as he paced the dusty-brown earth in front of the bench. Brittle mesquite beans crunched under his feet. “You know Tessa died three months ago.”

“Yes, from a ruptured brain aneurysm. We always remained friends even though she decided med school wasn’t her thing after her first year.” A tear slid down Elizabeth’s cheek.

“Yeah, med school wasn’t my thing, either.” Blake reached out, but stopped short of wiping the moisture away. He didn’t like the effect this woman had on him. He hadn’t had a reaction like this since Tessa. And look where that relationship had ended up.

A moment of silence lingered between the two.

“It’s not for everybody.” He watched Elizabeth dry her cheeks and regain her composure. “The last time I saw her was right after Christmas two weeks before she died. I knew something was wrong. Her forgetfulness—or spells, as she called them—had become a lot more frequent and her headaches much worse. But she blew off my concerns and focused more than usual on Jordan, as if she suspected something. If only I’d known.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered. Tessa lived by her own rules. When she made up her mind about something, no one could change it.” He tapped his thumb against his jean-clad knee. Something didn’t add up. Dr. Randall didn’t know him, or anything about him, and yet his child was with her. Tessa had always had a secretive side to her and liked to play games. Apparently nothing had changed.

Blake reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter from his ex-wife. It weighed only an ounce, but felt like a ton. The cryptic knowledge it contained had changed his life completely last week, as it would the woman’s sitting next to him. Tessa’s words on the crisp linen stationery days before her death bound them together.

He handed her the envelope. “Here. This will explain things.”

He’d learned of Tessa’s death through her attorney a week ago. Sadness burned the blood in his veins. The grief he’d seen on countless faces as an EMT and fireman for the Phoenix Fire Department clouded his vision. Gone. Dead. He’d loved her, or thought he’d had, but in the end, they were just another statistic.

Unsure if his legs could carry his weight, Blake sat back down next to Elizabeth, making sure to keep as much distance between them as the bench allowed. As she pulled out the paper, he wedged his elbows against his knees, and stared down at an ant carrying a huge crumb, reminding him that struggle was everywhere in life.

He attempted to fill his lungs with much-needed air. As he squeezed his eyes shut, an image of Tessa appeared behind his lids as it had every day since he’d learned of her death. Her long, mocha-colored hair contrasted with her milky-white skin. Her warm, generous smile and chocolate-brown eyes along with her positive outlook on life had shone a ray of hope into the darkness consuming him.

His inability to allow anyone to get really close to him had caused him to blow the best thing that had ever happened in his life.

Now all that remained was a child that he had no idea how to be a father to. He’d better learn quickly. And Tessa had made sure the woman sitting beside him would help. That must be why she’d left his daughter with her.

“I don’t understand this.” Elizabeth stared at him, shock registering in her light blue eyes as she inhaled sharply. Her fingers strangled the stethoscope around her neck until her knuckles gleamed in the bright April sunshine. The moisture gathering in her eyes added another layer of depth to her character, and it rocked him.

“My ex-wife was obviously pregnant when we split up. She had a child and decided not to tell me until after her death.”

“She said she didn’t know who the father was. She never told me she’d been married.”

“We never told anyone. It didn’t last long enough.” Remorse filled him.

Blake took the letter back, scanning the contents again to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. His fingers shook as he took in her slanted, curvy handwriting, which she obviously struggled to create.

Blake,

I hope this letter finds you well. There are two things I want to tell you and I know I don’t have a lot of time left. My brain aneurysm is inoperable and my symptoms are getting worse, which is why I’m putting my affairs in order.

I actually find it kind of ironic that I would die first when you were the one who always took the risks, but such is life. I’ve found God and have been praying daily to find answers, and I’ve finally found peace. I hope you will someday, too. I love you. I always did, always will.

First, I’m sorry I ran out on our marriage, but I only wanted you to be happy. I couldn’t give you what you needed. I hope some day you find someone who can, if you haven’t already.

Second, you are a father. Your daughter is with Elizabeth Randall, who works at Kingfisher Memorial in Scottsdale. Since I cannot be a part of her life anymore, I’m passing on that responsibility to you.

I’m sorry I never told you, and am only doing so with a letter, but I was a coward then, and things still haven’t changed. I suppose I could have found you all those years ago, but I did what I thought best for both of you. I can only hope you’ll forgive me when you see what a beautiful daughter we created. A daughter who needs you. They both do. Please go to them now that you’ve read this letter and love your daughter like I did. Elizabeth can answer any other questions you might have.

With love,

Tessa

Nothing had changed since the day he’d received it. What he couldn’t figure out was why Tessa’s attorney had waited over two months to contact him, or why Elizabeth needed his help. He knew why he needed hers.

He was a father. No longer the last of the Crawfords in this line.

Blake folded the paper back up and tucked it into his pocket again. “What’s her name?”

“Tessa named her Jordan.”

“Jordan?” Somehow Blake managed to keep his voice low and even. Jordan had been his mother’s maiden name. Tessa truly had loved him in spite of his flaws. So why had she left him? And why had she kept the knowledge of their daughter’s existence from him?

This whole conversation was surreal. He’d come to meet the woman who had Jordan so he could make arrangements to see her. Take her home with him. Learn to be a good father, not like the one who’d raised him. And yet fear gripped his heart.

This couldn’t have happened at a worse time. With his schedule, how could he take care of a child? Who would watch her when he pulled his twenty-four-hour shifts? He’d have to buy a bigger condo, or maybe even a house. What did he even know about kids anyway, especially preteen girls?

None of that mattered. He’d figure it out. “When can I pick her up?”

“Pick her up?” Confusion filled Elizabeth’s voice, followed by compassion. “I’m sorry, Blake, but Jordan’s my daughter now. My late husband and I adopted her.”

“What? When?”

“At birth.”

“Wait a minute. At birth? So why— This doesn’t make any sense.” He jumped up and began to pace, leaving a trail in the dirt.

“I’m sorry you were sent here on a wild-goose chase, Blake. I have no idea why Tessa would be so cruel to either one of us.”

Sirens sounded in the distance and Elizabeth’s phone chirped. He knew she was wrestling with wanting to be in two places at once. Her patients depended on her, but this was an important conversation. Her gaze flipped between the hospital and him.

“This is far from over.”

“What do you want from me, Blake?”

Elizabeth rose to her full height, which almost matched his, and drilled him with her gaze. But he refused to be intimidated by the doctor.

“I want my daughter.”

* * *

“So who was the dude in the blue T-shirt?” Susie Tan stared at Elizabeth over the rim of her coffee cup in the hospital cafeteria a few hours later. The nurse’s lips formed a straight line. “You looked upset when you returned.”

“Jordan’s biological father.”

“Whoa. Wait a minute. He’s what?” Susie’s eyebrows rose and her mouth dropped open.

Elizabeth’s fingers tightened around the foam coffee cup. “Jordan’s father. Apparently the mother lied about not knowing his identity. They were married at the time of Jordan’s conception.”

“Oh, Elizabeth, I’m so sorry. What does he want?” Marcella Rodriguez from the Labor & Delivery department asked.

“Jordan.” Elizabeth barely contained the sob in her voice.

“Does he know?” Susie questioned.

“No.” Elizabeth took a sip of her coffee and scalded her tongue. She closed her eyes and shifted in the hard, plastic chair. How would Blake react to his daughter’s illness? Would it make him go away and leave them alone?

Wrong. That wasn’t fair of her.

“What I don’t get is why now? Why didn’t he come forward years ago?”

“He just found out.”

“Do you suppose he knows something you don’t?” Marcella flipped open the tab of her diet soda, worry creasing her brow. “I mean, I know you won’t want to hear this, but are you sure the adoption was legal? I’d think he would have had to sign off on it, which means he knew about his ex-wife’s pregnancy. The fact he didn’t…”

Elizabeth inhaled sharply and opened her eyes. Ice momentarily chilled her veins. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about. She dragged in a painful breath as his last words rang in her ears. “I want my daughter!”

“Hey, I’m sure the adoption was legal.” Susie interjected. “You know this might work in your favor. A father without all the complications, and it would be nice for you to have someone else to help you through this.”

“Knights in shining armor only appear in fairy tales. I’d still make sure about the adoption. My cousin knows an adoption attorney—he handled their adoption last year.” Concern now laced Marcella’s voice as she ripped open a candy bar and popped a piece of chocolate into her mouth. “I’ll get Arturo’s work number for you unless you can track down the original attorney.”

“It’s probably not necessary, but thanks. I’d appreciate that.” Elizabeth toyed with the salt and pepper shakers on the table to keep her fingers from trembling. Every once in a while—like today—memories of the day she adopted Jordan haunted her. Had she done the right thing all those years ago when she came up with a solution for Tessa’s pregnancy? What if the adoption wasn’t legal after all? What if Blake decided he wanted custody?

What if she lost Jordan in another way?

An uncomfortable silence lingered at the table as Marcella finished up her snack and Susie fingered the red-and-white stir stick in her coffee cup. “So who’s up to seeing a movie Friday night?”

“I am. Are you, Elizabeth? You could use a night out.”

Elizabeth unwound her fingers from the shakers and forced a smile to her lips. “Sure. After I get Jordan to sleep.”

Susie crushed Marcella’s candy wrapper and stuffed it inside her empty coffee cup. “Sounds like a plan.”

Elizabeth’s phone chirped, signaling a text. Pulling out her BlackBerry, she glanced at the message and sighed. “Gotta run. Jordan’s doctor wants to see me.”

* * *

“—I pray the Lord my soul to keep. Amen.”

“Amen.” As Elizabeth gently squeezed her nine-year-old daughter’s hand, anxiety twisted her muscles into a knot. Jordan had lost more weight and her bald spots were more prominent from her last round of chemo. Soon they’d have to shave off the rest of her shoulder-length, dark brown hair. Elizabeth contained the sob in her throat. Jordan had to get better.

Please, God, heal my daughter.

Still kneeling beside her hospital bed, Jordan lifted her head and gazed out the window. Elizabeth knew she looked into the twilight, pretending to see God’s face smiling down at her. While Elizabeth didn’t have her daughter’s imagination and would only see the darkening horizon, the outline of another building to the left of the hospital and the silhouette of Camelback Mountain in the distance, she still felt His love, and the emerging twinkling stars filled her with hope.

While her faith hadn’t waned over the course of Jordan’s illness, the trips to the hospital and doctors’ offices had superseded attending church. That was going to change. Just yesterday, she’d again seen the power of belief when a five-year-old accident victim came through the E.R. doors and the family and friends kept up a silent vigil during the successful three-hour surgery.

Another quick prayer slipped through Elizabeth’s lips.

With the decreasing activity on the children’s floor of the hospital, stillness crept into the room. Elizabeth massaged her daughter’s bony shoulders. So far this bout of leukemia had robbed Jordan of three months of a normal childhood. Yet some of the other children on the floor faced far worse battles. She prayed that they would find a compatible bone-marrow donor and that the doctors here would find cures for the rest of the children.

“Now in bed with you.” Elizabeth helped her daughter slide between the white sheets and settle against her favorite purple-and-pink butterfly pillow. Elizabeth sat on the side of the bed and leaned over to give her a kiss. “Good night, sweetpea. I love you.”

“Good night, Mom. I love you, too.”

Elizabeth caressed Jordan’s cheek. So soft, so innocent, so young. This illness had to be part of God’s plan. He’d drawn her into medicine so that she could assist others, and with His help, she’d find a way to save her daughter.

But did that include Blake Crawford?

Elizabeth folded back the blanket and smoothed out the creases. “We’ll get through this, Jordan. I promise.”

“I know. We did before.” Jordan gave her a tired grin.

“Yes, we did. And this time, we’ll make sure it doesn’t come back.” Rising to her feet, Elizabeth turned off the lights and left the room. Once outside, she leaned against the wall.

Maintaining a positive attitude around Jordan drained her. Overhead, the fluorescent lights dimmed, signaling the end of visiting hours. The harsh, institutional glare made her miss the warm, inviting atmosphere of their two-bedroom townhome. A townhome which stood vacant now because Elizabeth had moved into the doctors’ quarters downstairs while her daughter remained in the hospital.

If only Blake knew how close he was to Jordan when he came to see her today. Did he really want his daughter? Was there anything she could do to stop him?

She squeezed her eyelids shut, glad the hallway was empty. The sound of rustling sheets inside Jordan’s room caught her attention and Elizabeth strained to hear her daughter’s soft, tired voice floating into the hallway.

“Please, God, bring me another daddy before I die. Then Mommy won’t be so lonely anymore. Good night.”

Before I die.

Jordan had lost her will to live, and they still had a long way to go to beat the leukemia. Dipping her head, Elizabeth lost her hard-won composure. She bit her lip as a tear slid down her cheek. Jordan’s nightly prayer still hadn’t changed, not that she expected it would.

Had God been listening? Is that why Blake had shown up when he did? Or did his appearance have another meaning—one that might not have a happy-ever-after ending after all?