Читать книгу Dad By Choice - Marie Ferrarella, Marie Ferrarella - Страница 10

KYLE MCDERMOTT SHIFTED in his chair. He’d lost count of how many times now. Had he been wearing the jeans he so rarely put on these days, he would have rested his ankle across his thigh. But that wouldn’t fit, given the three-piece suit he was wearing. Besides, it would somehow seem disrespectful to the other occupants of the room, most of whom looked as if they hadn’t been truly comfortable in months.

He glanced at his sister. He knew that Marcie had been uncomfortable for a while now. She was the reason he was here, suffering and growing progressively more agitated.

Kyle didn’t like waiting, had never been able to tolerate it. And even if he could have, he wouldn’t have liked waiting here, in a room full of women whose bodies were in various stages of pending motherhood. He felt out of place, the lone male in the midst of some secret female sorority he had no right to be invading.

As far back as he could remember, Kyle McDermott had never thought of himself as an actual people person. His talents lay in other directions. It was only because he loved his baby sister, Marcie, that he was here. And paying dearly for it.

Trying vainly to stifle an exasperated sigh that begged to be exhaled, he glanced at his watch. Forty-seven minutes. Forty-seven minutes past the scheduled time for Marcie’s appointment.

Where the hell is that doctor?

Never raising her eyes from the magazine she was flipping through, Marcie leaned over in his direction. “It’s not going to go any faster if you keep looking at it.”

“I don’t want it to go faster. I just want your doctor to get here.”

He was trying to keep his voice down, but it seemed as if every set of eyes had turned in his direction. He should never have let Marcie talk him into coming along. It was bad enough having to be her coach, without enduring this.

“When I told you to get your doctor’s first morning appointment, I didn’t think he started at noon.”

“She.” The word left her lips tersely. Marcie gave up the pretense of reading and closed the magazine. “Can’t you even remember that? I must have told you a hundred times.”

“A dozen,” he corrected out of habit, remembering now. Of course, he knew Maitland was a woman. It had just slipped his mind, that’s all. He saw Marcie’s brows draw together the way they always did when she stubbornly dug in. He didn’t want another argument. This was neither the time nor the place. For the sake of peace, he tried for a truce. “Sorry, Marce, I’m preoccupied.”

“You’re always preoccupied.”

It wasn’t the first time Marcie had flung the accusation at him. And to a certain extent, it was true. His mind was always going off in a dozen different directions, taken up by a myriad of details. Maybe that was why she’d turned to Billy Madison in the first place.

This bickering wasn’t going to get them anywhere, Kyle thought. And the only thing worse than sitting here in the middle of a room full of pregnant women was arguing with his sister in a room full of pregnant women. He shouldn’t have come today. If it really meant that much to Marcie to have him along on an office visit, next week would be better for him.

Fed up and tired, Kyle began to rise. Marcie’s hurt look came as no surprise. He fielded it. “Listen, I’d better go. I’ll leave the car for you and I’ll call a cab.”

Marcie reached out to catch his arm, then stopped herself. “Afraid you’ll miss your precious meeting?”

If they hadn’t already been at the center of everyone’s attention, they were now. He’d raised her better than this, Kyle thought. But then, he reminded himself, if he’d truly raised her well, she wouldn’t be in this condition.

Kyle gave up trying to be discreet, though for the moment, he sank back down in his chair. “At this rate, I’m afraid I’ll miss the rest of my life. Your doctor doesn’t seem to respect the fact that other people have schedules, too.”

Having said nothing out of the ordinary and certainly nothing that wasn’t true, he saw no reason for Marcie’s suddenly wide eyes.

Until he heard the voice behind him.

“Oh, but I do, Mr. McDermott. It is Mr. McDermott, isn’t it? I’m assuming that since you’re lecturing Marcie and you definitely look older than eighteen, you have to be the big brother she’s been telling me about, and not Billy.”

It wasn’t often that Kyle could be accused of being caught off guard. Since his father’s death more than ten years ago, when he’d suddenly found himself sole guardian of his younger sister, he’d tried to be prepared for all contingencies way ahead of time. But the woman’s voice, amused, low and reminiscent of aged bourbon taken slow on a long winter’s evening, did just that.

And the sight of her did even more.

Having expected to see a dour, matronly looking woman in sensible black shoes, an austere hairdo and utilitarian clothing, he was momentarily rendered speechless by the slender brunette in three-inch heels and a fashionable, light blue suit that looked as if it had been made for her.

The blue brought out her eyes.

He had no idea why he thought that, or even noticed. He wasn’t given to details like that. Not about people, only about microchips and semiconductors, like the one he’d perfected—the one that was responsible for his fortune.

Well, Abby thought, it seemed as if good looks ran in the family. Marcie McDermott had struck her as a beauty the first moment she’d met the poised teenager. On her brother, Kyle, those dark good looks were even more arresting, although on him they seemed to come with a certain edginess.

That could have been due to the frown on his lips.

Gamely, Abby put out her hand, feeling just a tad like someone bearding a lion in its den.

“Hi, I’m Abby Maitland, Marcie’s doctor, and I’m sorry about the delay.” She looked around the waiting room. It was more packed than she’d expected. Some of her patients had turned up early for their appointments. Murphy’s Law. “Ladies, I’ll see you all in due time. I’m afraid I was unavoidably detained, but I’ll try to make up for it.” Crossing to the inner area, she nodded a greeting at her nurse. “Lisa, please show Marcie into room 1. I’ll be there in three minutes. Faster, if the buttons on the lab coat don’t give me a hard time.”

The nurse she’d addressed as Lisa, a willowy blonde, came to the doorway, a chart in her hands. “Looks like you’re up, Marcie.” But when Kyle rose to accompany his sister, Lisa stopped him with a slight shake of her head. “Not yet, Mr. McDermott. I’ll come get you when we’re ready.”

Great, Kyle thought. More waiting. Now he really couldn’t leave. He didn’t want Marcie to come out and find him gone. God knows what she’d think or do then. For the most part, she’d always been a levelheaded kid, he thought, but this pregnancy had thrown her off.

As it had him. With effort, he banked down the resentment that rose within him.

Kyle sank back onto the seat, resigned. How had he gotten to this place in his life? he wondered. Wasn’t this where the good part was supposed to come in? He’d struggled hard these last fifteen years to get through college and make a go of his business, at times financing things on a shoestring that seemed as if it would snap at any second. He’d made sacrifices to keep the company going, a great many sacrifices. He knew his romance with Sheryl had been a casualty. She hadn’t been willing to share him—not with his dream and not with his sister. So he’d made his choice, stuck with the plan. All so that he and Marcie could finally be in a position to have everything they ever wanted or needed.

So that Marcie would never want for anything.

Now here they were, fifteen long years later. His company was bordering on going public and his sister was bordering on unwed motherhood.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

He looked at his watch again.

Lisa returned to call another patient in, this time to room 2. Before Kyle could ask her how much longer this was going to take, she turned toward him and smiled.

“Mr. McDermott?”

He was on his feet instantly.

Lisa opened the door wider and stepped back. “Dr. Maitland says you can come in now.”

“How very gracious of her.”

Passing the nurse, Kyle struggled to curb his temper. It wasn’t the doctor’s fault that Marcie had gotten herself pregnant. And it wasn’t her fault that Marcie adamantly refused to marry the boy who had gotten her into this condition, despite all Kyle’s assurances that he would set them up and help pay for her education and Billy Madison’s, as well. But it was the doctor’s fault that he was now drastically behind schedule. He didn’t tolerate lateness well, not in himself and not in others. That wasn’t how things got done.

His father had always been late. Late to work, late to pay the bills. Late with everything. That’s why he had never amounted to anything, and why, when he died, there had been a mountain of debts for Kyle to pay off.

He walked into room 1 to see his sister lying on the examining table. A wave of discomfort washed over him. His eyes darted toward the doctor. “Is this going to take long?”

Busy preparing the monitor, Abby glanced in his direction. “Not too.”

Maybe it was the tension of thinking that one of her brothers might be responsible for the baby she’d just left with Ford. Or maybe it was knowing that, at the very least, because of this baby her family had suddenly become the target of every journalist, photographer and news media wanna-be.

Or maybe she just didn’t like Kyle McDermott’s distant attitude. Marcie had confided a few things to Abby in moments of dire unhappiness. Things that hadn’t put the too-too-busy Mr. McDermott in the most flattering light, despite his chiseled, killer looks, his high cheekbones and that dark, flowing mane of hair that seemed just a bit out of place when paired with the expensive suit he had on.

Whatever it was, Abby found herself hanging on to the tattered ends of a far shorter temper than she normally possessed.

The monitor was ready. She walked over to Marcie, but she was still looking at Kyle.

“Most people view this as a miracle, Mr. McDermott, one not to be hurried through like a car wash. This is a very precious time. You get to make the baby go where you want it to and do what you want it to—except for kicking,” she added with a smile as she looked at Marcie. “They really don’t listen when it comes to that, no matter what diplomacy you use.”

Marcie’s swollen abdomen was partially exposed, and Kyle watched as the doctor with the sharp tongue rubbed some sort of jelly on it. He loved Marcie more than anything in this world and had thought, until this thing with Billy had come up, that he was pretty much privy to all her feelings. But right now he felt intrusive, as if he were somehow invading her privacy. It was the same at the birthing classes. He was out of his depth, had no business being there.

Kyle turned away, not sure where he should look.

As she watched him, Abby’s lips twitched in amusement. He certainly didn’t look like the delicate type.

Can’t tell a book by its dust jacket.

Kyle shoved his hands into his pockets and addressed the wall beyond Abby’s head. “I don’t mean to sound as if this isn’t important to me, it’s just that—”

“You’re running behind schedule, yes, I know.” This man was flirting with an ulcer, if he didn’t already have one. But that was his problem, not hers. “You made that very clear. I’m afraid most of us are running behind schedule practically from the day we’re born. I suspect your niece or nephew might be a few days behind schedule, too.” Amplifier in hand, she looked at him. “Ready?”

Kyle really didn’t know if he was or not. He knew it was absurd, but he felt nervous about this. That was why he’d turned down Marcie’s previous requests to come with her to the doctor’s office. But after the argument they’d had last night, he knew this was the only way she would even speak to him.

Masking his emotions, he nodded. “Yes.”

Abby placed the amplifier against Marcie’s abdomen and began to slowly move it around.

Straining to catch the faintest sound, he heard nothing. Was there something wrong with the baby? Concern edged out discomfort.

“I don’t hear anything,” Kyle said.

Brows drawn together in concentration, Abby held up her hand for silence. “Wait.” And then a smile like late-summer sunshine curved her mouth. Triumph filled her eyes as she looked up at him. “There. Now listen.”

He drew his eyes away from her, because she was none of his concern. He was only here because of Marcie. A strange bittersweet emotion filtered through him as he listened. He’d watched Marcie’s small body become progressively wider and thicker with child, and yet, somehow, it had all seemed like a fantasy.

Until now. Now there was a heartbeat, and he heard it.

Perhaps that was why he’d resisted this meeting so much, even though he had reluctantly begun accompanying Marcie to her birthing classes, going there in place of Billy, whom he would have thought the more likely choice. Because hearing made it real.

He realized that Marcie’s doctor was waiting for him to acknowledge what he heard. He lifted a shoulder and let it drop, not really sure what she wanted from him. “Sounds like hoofbeats.”

Abby paused, rolling his words over in her mind. She listened closely herself. She’d been doing this for a while now, but had never thought of the sound she was monitoring quite that way. The description made her smile.

“I suppose, in a way, it does.” Satisfied that everything was fine, Abby put the probe back into place and moved the monitor aside. “And the beats are getting closer.” Positioning herself beside Marcie, she gently helped the girl into a sitting position. “Not much longer now, Marcie-girl.”

The familiar nickname gave testimony to the bond between Marcie and her doctor, and cinched the silent debate Kyle had been having with himself ever since the drive over here. It was very clear to him that he wasn’t getting anywhere with Marcie in his campaign. He wanted to convince her to give her child a last name and marry the boy she professed to love so much. Billy was more than willing to marry her, but that didn’t seem to be enough to sway Marcie. She was perversely adamant in her refusal, and Kyle could only conclude that she was doing it strictly to annoy him.

But he only wanted what was good for Marcie and he wasn’t about to allow her to cut off her nose to spite her face—and him. Not for the first time, he wondered what had become of the little girl who had been his faithful shadow, who had tried so hard to please him. Who’d been so afraid that he would die, too, and leave her alone in the world.

Now she didn’t seem to care what he thought.

Maybe this doctor of hers could accomplish what he couldn’t. He didn’t care how it came about, as long as it did.

“Okay, Marcie, you’re doing great,” Abby said, making a final notation in her chart. “All systems are go.” She flipped the chart closed. “Continue taking your vitamins, get plenty of rest, and I’ll see you next week.”

But as Abby began to leave, Kyle took her arm, stopping her. She raised her eyes to his quizzically. Was there something she hadn’t covered to his satisfaction?

He dropped his hand when she looked at him. Without meaning to, Kyle lowered his voice. It seemed to rumble as it met her ear. “Doctor, could I see you alone for a minute?”

To his surprise and no small annoyance, since she had been the one to keep them waiting, the doctor glanced at her watch. There was just the slightest hint of an apology in her voice.

“I’m afraid it’ll have to be just for that one minute. As you pointed out, we’re both running behind, and I’m sure you noticed all those women in the waiting room.”

This wasn’t going to get said in a minute, and he had enough pressure on him without being timed by a woman who barely came up to his shoulder. Kyle bit back the urge to point out that if she hadn’t come in forty-five minutes late, she wouldn’t be so far behind and might have a few minutes to spare for reasonable requests.

He thought a moment. “All right, after hours, then.” For a change, he had some time to himself this evening. “What time do you get through?”

He made it sound as if she were a worker on an assembly line, Abby thought, able to tell him when she knocked off for the night. She supposed that to a man who, according to the business section in the Herald, was on his way to becoming Austin’s next billionaire, she probably was.

She sank her hands into the lab coat’s deep pockets. “The posted hours on the door say five o’clock.” She’d never shut her doors at that time, even on the first day. “With luck, six.”

Kyle nodded. That worked out perfectly. His last meeting was at four. Barring something unforeseen occurring, he should be finished around five-thirty. Even given the traffic at that hour, he could probably make it back here before she had a chance to escape. He had a feeling that consultations with her patients’ older brothers were not a high priority with the woman.

“Fine, I can be here by six-thirty. That should give you a little time to catch your breath.”

His phrasing seemed to amuse her. Despite her hurry, she paused at the door. “Will I be needing to catch my breath?”

He ignored the strange sensation that ran through him as he watched a quirky smile lift the corners of her generous mouth. At a loss as to how to answer her, he plowed ahead as if she hadn’t asked. “There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

After getting off the table with some difficulty, Marcie combed her fingers through her flattened hair. “He’s going to try to get you on his side.”

“Side?” For Marcie’s sake, Abby gave no indication that she knew anything about the ongoing argument between the girl and her brother. She had a feeling that Kyle McDermott didn’t take kindly to people being privy to what went on in his home behind closed doors. She looked at Kyle now, pretending to wait for enlightenment. “As in a debate?”

“As in railroading,” Marcie muttered resentfully. Obviously frustrated, she tried to jam her swollen feet into her shoes. The dark flats slid to the side, foiling her efforts.

Kyle bent down, captured her shoes and helped her on with them, Abby noted. He seemed to do it without conscious thought, as if helping Marcie was automatic.

Watching, Abby changed her mind about the refusal that was on the tip of her tongue. At least the man had some redeeming qualities. “Six-thirty it is. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

She was gone before Kyle could say anything more.

“GOT ONE FOR YOU, Daisy.”

The matronly-looking woman glanced up from her desk at the police officer ushering the young waif into Serenity Shelter’s tiny office.

The older woman’s face was lined, but her soft brown eyes were kind and she smiled in response to the policeman’s words as she rose from behind her desk. “So, where did you find this one, Rick?”

Rick hooked his thumbs onto his belt as if he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. “In an alley. She was wandering around, dazed.”

Daisy sighed, nodding her head. She peered closer, drawn by the bruises that were just beginning to form. “What’s your name, lamb?”

The policeman answered for her. “She doesn’t know her name.”

Daisy’s eyebrows puckered closer together over a remarkably thin nose. She lowered her voice. “Something wrong with her?”

Rick shrugged, the helpless feeling growing. The young woman he’d found turned to look at him without saying a word. She’d been quiet all the way over here. Quiet on the way to the police station, as well. He supposed losing her memory didn’t leave her with a whole lot to say.

“There’s a bump on her forehead, just where her hair falls over it.” He nodded vaguely in her general direction. “Maybe that did it.” He sucked air in through his teeth. “She says she can’t remember anything.”

“I can’t,” she said softly.

Daisy believed her. The young woman looked as if the sound of her own voice surprised her. Daisy had never had any children of her own. Everyone who passed through the doors of Serenity Shelter was her child. Compassion filled her as she slipped a wide arm around the young woman’s small shoulders.

“Don’t you worry none—it’ll come back to you. But for now, you need a name.” Cocking her head, Daisy looked at her, trying to see beyond the bruises. Trying not to judge whoever had given them to her. That wasn’t her job. “You look a little like my niece, Sara. How about I call you Sara? Would that be all right with you?”

Newly christened Sara nodded her consent.

That settled, there was more. “Has she been seen by a doctor?”

Rick shook his head. “When I checked her for priors and came up empty, I was going to send her to the clinic.” He hesitated. This went beyond duty, but sometimes you had to. “But I thought, in view of the circumstances, maybe you’d want to take her there yourself.”

Daisy snorted. “Checked her for priors, indeed. A sweet-faced little thing like this? Anyone with eyes can see how innocent she is.” And then she nodded. “Yeah, I guess I’ve got time to take her to the clinic. In between my pedicure and my massage.” The sound emitting from her lips was more of a crackle than a chuckle. “Let’s get you checked out, honey, and then we’ll see where we can fit you in.”

Nowhere, Sara thought. I fit in nowhere. She looked at them. They meant well, these people, but they had no idea how it felt to have nothing to think about, nothing to remember.

Daisy reached for her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk, then paused. She saw the look in Sara’s eyes. “It’ll come back to you. Whatever brought you here, it’ll come back.” She nodded at Rick, who then took his leave. “You don’t know how lucky you are, not remembering. Some of the stories I could tell you…”

Sara didn’t feel very lucky. The only feeling she had was a vague sense that something was missing. Something vital. Because there was nothing else, she clung to that as she allowed herself to be ushered out into a world she didn’t recognize.

DRAINED, ABBY DROPPED into her chair. The last patient had finally left several minutes ago. She heard the front door close, telling her that Lisa was hurrying home to her twin boys. They’d packed a lot of work into one day. It was 6:19, and they had seen their full load, plus two unexpected patients who’d pleaded emergencies in order to see her. And Mrs. Calvert had had her triplets two weeks early, to add to the excitement of the day.

Abby wondered if it was poor form just to curl up on one of her examination tables and go to sleep.

“You’re not getting enough vitamins, Abby-girl,” she murmured to herself, trying to summon enough strength to get back on her feet again.

She needn’t have bothered. At 6:20, the telephone rang. The flashing red light told her it was coming in on her personal line. Abby pulled the last remaining pin from her hair, and it came tumbling down her back as she reached for the receiver. At least it wouldn’t be a prospective father calling her to frantically proclaim, “It’s time.” Given her druthers, she really didn’t want to have to face another woman in the throes of labor tonight.

Taking a deep breath, she brought the receiver to her ear. “Abby.”

“Abby, it’s Mother. Put on that little television set you have in your office and turn to channel eight.”

Her mother rarely called her at work, and when she did, it wasn’t to tell her to watch something on television. This wasn’t going to be good.

Opening her side drawer to retrieve the remote control, Abby braced herself. “I take it by your tone, I’m not about to be entertained.” She aimed the remote at the set and pressed the power button.

“Only if your sense of humor has suddenly turned bizarre.”

From the sound of it, her mother was struggling to keep a tight rein on her emotions. Concern took a firmer hold on Abby.

The color on the set came into focus. Flipping quickly, she found Channel 8 and the program that had prompted her mother to call her.

“Son of a gun.”

There, smiling up into the camera, was Chelsea Markum—the reporter Abby had taken the baby from this morning. Along the bottom of the screen scrolled the teaser: “Which of the Maitland Men Sired This Baby?” Beside the reporter was a fuzzy photograph of the baby, obviously lifted and freeze-framed from the video taken earlier.

Stifling an exasperated sigh, Abby leaned forward and turned up the sound.

“…Just as the Maitlands’ PR department released word of a silver anniversary party in the works to celebrate the clinic’s twenty-five years of service, we finally learn that there are skeletons in the very proper Maitland closet, after all. No matter how well respected the family, they obviously have something to hide. Something they’re not proud of. So the question still remains—”

Annoyed, Abby turned off the television set. “Ignore it, Mother.”

Her mother’s voice was calmly logical. “How do I ignore the baby?”

The tension headache that had been building all day now threatened to take Abby’s head off. She pressed her fingers to both temples and massaged, knowing it wouldn’t help. “Good point.”

“I’m calling a family conference tonight.” Megan had always been in tune with her children, so her next words came as no surprise to Abby. “If you’re too tired…”

She was, but she also knew that she had to be there. This was serious and it affected them all. Abby pushed away from the desk. “No, I’ll be there.” With effort, she tried to sound brighter. “I just saw my last patient a few minutes ago and I’m free for the evening. I can be at the house in about twenty minutes.”

“I appreciate it.”

Abby could hear the relief in her mother’s voice. “See you.”

She hung up, then suddenly remembered that despite what she’d said to her mother, she wasn’t free. Marcie McDermott’s brother was coming to try to browbeat her into doing heaven only knew what.

“Not tonight, McDermott,” she murmured.

But as she reached for the telephone, Abby realized that she had no idea what his number was. He’d failed to give her his card. Probably to avoid having the appointment called off, she thought, getting to her feet.

Maybe the number was in Marcie’s file. Lisa had been too busy today to take care of the filing. That meant the files were still stacked on the side of her desk in the order the patients had been seen. Marcie’s would be on the bottom.

As she went into the outer office, now dim and eerily still after all the life that had crossed its floors today, a knock on the door startled Abby.

Crossing to it, she saw the outline of someone tall and broad-shouldered through the frosted glass.

McDermott.

“Speak of the devil,” she murmured to herself.