Читать книгу A Match for the Doctor / What the Single Dad Wants…: A Match for the Doctor - Marie Ferrarella, Marie Ferrarella - Страница 10

Whirling around, Simon immediately hurried over to the fallen nanny. Crouching over Edna, he checked her pulse and was relieved with his findings. The pulse was going fast, but it was strong.

“She’s not dead, Madelyn,” he told his daughter, indicating Edna’s chest area, which was rising and falling rhythmically.

Nonetheless, Madelyn didn’t appear to be completely convinced. “Then why are her eyes closed?”

“'Cause she’s sleeping.” Meghan emphasized the last word with feeling. She looked at her sister as if Madelyn should have known that.

“That’s not a bad explanation,” Simon observed, surprised with his younger daughter’s assessment. Meghan took it as praise and preened before her sister.

Other than a few words of greeting each day, Simon hadn’t been accustomed to actually talking with his daughters. That had been a domain reserved for Nancy. Since her death, he’d found himself in a whole new world with little to no clue on how to navigate in it. Children were for the most part a mysterious breed to him.

Aware that both his daughters were looking at him expectantly, he explained, “Edna fainted. She hasn’t been feeling well these last couple of days and she probably just turned too quickly.” He’d been too busy getting ready this morning to notice, but now that he reflected, Edna had been coughing and sneezing a great deal more today than yesterday.

Madelyn still didn’t look convinced, or at ease. Her eyes still wide, she asked her father in a halting voice, “Is she—Is Edna going to be all right?” She stood there, nervously waiting for an answer. “She’s not going to—well, you know.” She lifted her small shoulders, as if the word on her tongue was too heavy to bear or utter. “Like Mama,” she finally whispered, trusting her father to make the connection.

He’d been desperately trying to put a lid on his grief this past year, but he hadn’t been oblivious. He had noticed that of his two daughters, Nancy’s death seemed to have affected Madelyn more than it had Meghan. The latter had cried when she’d been told, but she also recovered a great deal sooner than Madelyn had, transferring her affection and loyalty to Edna almost effortlessly.

But then, Meghan was only six and she hadn’t realized yet just how hard life could knock you down when you were least expecting it.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” the soft voice behind him asked.

Simon realized that he’d all but forgotten about the decorator. Probably the first man who ever had, he judged, given how attractive she was.

“Yes, you can hold the girls back,” he instructed. He didn’t want either of them getting underfoot, even if it was eagerness to help that propelled them.

Scooping the unconscious nanny up into his arms, Simon struggled to his feet.

Edna was a decidedly solid woman, he thought, as his arms strained and a rather odd pain cut across the tops of his thighs. The woman was strong for her age. The downside of that was she was also heavy.

As she heard him take a deep breath that suggested he was glad he’d risen without embarrassing himself, Kennon watched the man in silent amazement. Not many men could have done that so smoothly. Ordinarily, they would have either left the woman on the floor until she regained consciousness or asked for help in getting her up and onto a more comfortable surface. He’d just squatted and had done what amounted to a dead lift, an exercise favored by dedicated bodybuilders.

Kennon continued to keep a light but restraining hand on each of the girls’ shoulders, holding them back until their father began to walk. And then, still resting a hand on each of their shoulders, she gently guided Madelyn and Meghan into the living room, behind their father.

It was then that she noticed that the doctor actually did have one piece of furniture downstairs—a sofa that appeared completely out of place in the wide, cathedral-ceilinged room. The maroon, oversize sofa was sagging in a number of places and definitely did not look as if it belonged in the house.

A loaner?

She remembered that on occasion her aunt would make use of one of those companies that rented furniture out by the month. She did it to give the property she was showing a warmer look. Obviously that hadn’t been the goal here. Rather than bright and cheery, the sofa just looked worn and ready to be retired.

Still, it had to be more comfortable than the floor, she reasoned. And the object here was Edna’s comfort, even if she was still unconscious.

Troubled, shifting from foot to foot, Madelyn gave no indication that she’d been placated by her father’s answer. “Are you sure she’s not dead?” the eight-year-old asked anxiously.

Kennon smiled into Madelyn’s face, fielding the question for him. “Your father’s a doctor, honey. I’m sure he knows the difference between someone being dead or alive. Besides—” she leaned in closer to the girl “—if you look very carefully, you can see Edna’s chest rising and falling. That means she’s breathing. Breathing is a very good indication that your nanny’s alive.”

With a sniff that told Kennon Madelyn was doing her best not to cry, the little girl solemnly nodded her head. “Okay,” she said, accepting the explanation. Even so, her eyes were shining with unshed tears. “It’s just that Mama—”

“Never mind,” her father said, cutting her off briskly. He had no desire to have his personal life spread out before a total stranger. Turning from the sofa, he looked at the decorator his Realtor had sent. She seemed at ease, standing between his daughters like that, he noted. Something he hadn’t quite been able to manage yet. “Miss—” He stopped short, realizing that he was missing a crucial piece of information. “What did you say your name was?”

“Cassidy. Kennon,” she added, supplying her first name without being asked. She smiled at the girls. “I know it’s not the easiest name to remember.”

The doctor frowned slightly, or was that his normal expression, Kennon wondered. If it was, it was a shame, because he was too good-looking a man to detract from his features by perpetually frowning.

“Ease is not always of tantamount importance,” the doctor told her. “But manners are.”

He was a disciplinarian, Kennon guessed. She wondered if he realized how hard that could be on his daughters.

Her own father had been a Marine colonel who lived and breathed the service long after he retired from it. He was quite possibly the most distant man she’d ever known. Growing up with him had been like growing up with a disapproving stranger. Maybe it was her need for acceptance and affection that had made her pick the wrong man to love in the first place.

She heard Simon sigh in obvious exasperation.

Kennon’s attention was immediately drawn to the woman on the sofa. “Is something wrong?”

Simon’s frown deepened. “You mean other than the fact that I need to be at a meeting at the hospital with the chief of surgery in less than half an hour, my girls are due in school and my housekeeper is ill and presently unconscious?” he asked with barely suppressed sarcasm. “No, nothing’s wrong.”

Well, that tongue of his wasn’t about to melt butter anytime soon, Kennon thought. Still, with all that on his plate, she supposed she couldn’t really fault his less than sunny disposition. A lot of men were lost without their wives and he was one of them. She found that oddly appealing.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find a capable young woman to take my daughters to school and then come back to keep an eye on my housekeeper until I can come home, would you?” His tone indicated that he wasn’t actually expecting an answer. He was just blowing off a little steam as he searched for a solution to his overwhelming dilemma.

Kennon paused for a moment. She had cleared her entire morning to give Dr. Sheffield the proper amount of time for a first decorator-client meeting. She wasn’t due anywhere, which meant that she was free to ride to his rescue. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t hesitate, but this situation was a little different.

Kennon couldn’t quite make up her mind whether she thought of Simon Sheffield as exceedingly businesslike or a martinet just this side of stuffy and rude. But she’d always had a soft spot when it came to children, and his daughters were adorable. The man was obviously in need of help. If she came to his aid, maybe the man would feel obligated to engage her services and hire her to decorate his house.

No, she reconsidered, he didn’t strike her as the type who felt obligated or believed in the eye-for-an-eye theory. Not unless it involved pistols at ten paces.

Still, he did need help, she did have the time and she had an affinity for children. She’d always had a weakness for the short set, Kennon thought fondly. And it was obvious to everyone. An only child, she’d started babysitting at a young age and had loved kids as far back as she could remember.

Her mother frequently told her that she had the makings of a wonderful mother. This observation was always accompanied by a plaintive lament that it was such a shame that she hadn’t started a family yet.

Maybe someday. And if her “clock” ran out as she waited for “someday” to come, adoption for single mothers was getting easier.

Oh, what the hell? What did she have to lose by volunteering? Kennon made up her mind.

“Me,” she said.

There was confusion in his deep blue eyes. “You what?”

“The capable person you’re looking for,” Kennon told him. “I can be her. I mean, I am her.” What was it about this man that made her talk as if she had a speech impediment? Kennon blew out a breath and started from the top again. “I can take your girls to school if you tell me which school they’re attending, and then I can come back and stay with your housekeeper until you get back.” The doctor didn’t appear to be won over by her proposal. “If you’re worried about Mrs. O’Malley being alone while I take the girls, I can call my assistant. Nathan will stay with her until I get back.”

“Why?” Simon asked, not attempting to hide the fact that he was scrutinizing her as he asked. He might have gotten along well with her father. Too bad her dad hadn’t stayed in touch after her parents divorced.

Kennon wasn’t sure exactly what Simon was asking. She had volunteered a lot of information just now. “Excuse me?”

“Why would you do that?” he asked her. “Take my daughters to school and have your assistant babysit Edna?” Where he came from, people kept to themselves, they didn’t volunteer to help, especially not essential strangers.

He certainly was the uptight, suspicious type. She was really beginning to feel sorry for his daughters. “Because you just said—”

He waved his hand at her explanation, dismissing it. “I know what I just said, but we’re strangers.”

Was that it? She laughed. “Not for long if I’m going to decorate your house.” She’d already told him that she needed to get to know him in order to do her job—or hadn’t he been paying attention at all? “I can’t think of a better way to get to know you, Dr. Sheffield, than jumping feet first into your life.”

The image obviously captivated the younger of his two daughters. Meghan started giggling. “Can I watch you jump?” she asked.

Kennon couldn’t resist running her hand along the little girl’s soft cheek. Meghan was nothing if not adorably squeezable, but she refrained, knowing from firsthand experience and her mother’s annoying great-aunt, that children didn’t like being squeezed.

“It’s just an expression, honey,” Kennon told her with a laugh. Then she looked at Simon, still waiting for his response. “Offer’s still open.”

He was not in a position to be picky and he supposed that if this overly friendly decorator came with the real-estate woman’s recommendation—Maizie Sommers had reminded him of his own late mother—at least that was better than finding someone in the classified section and taking his chances.

Resigned—his back was up against the wall—he nodded and took out his house key. He held it out to the decorator—he’d forgotten her name again. “Thanks. I appreciate this. By the way, there’s no need to call in your assistant.”

He almost sounded as if he meant what he said about thanking her, she thought. Of course, it might have helped if he’d smiled when he said it, but she had a feeling that Simon Sheffield didn’t do much smiling. Pocketing the key, she asked an all-important question. “And the name of their school?” she asked him.

“Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton,” Edna murmured weakly.

“Edna, you are alive!” Madelyn cried, overjoyed. She threw her arms around the woman, giving her a fierce hug. Meghan piled on top of her.

“Let her breathe, girls,” Simon warned sternly. The next moment he moved his daughters back, away from their nanny. “How are you feeling?” he asked the woman. He took her pulse again. It was still rapid, but not as reedy as it’d been. The beat was stronger now.

“Embarrassed,” Edna replied in a voice that still had very little strength behind it.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he dismissed crisply. “I want you to rest here for at least a few hours—until I get back.”

Edna looked dismayed. She tried to sit up, but was too weak for the moment to follow through. “But the girls—” she began to protest.

“Are being taken care of,” Simon assured the nanny. He turned to the woman who seemed to be a godsend—if he actually believed in things like that. “The girls’ school is on—”

Kennon held up her hand to stop him. “I grew up here,” she told him. “I know where Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton School is.” She began to usher the girls toward the front door. “By the way, the hospital you’re going to, you said that it was Blair Memorial—”

“Yes,” he cut in suspiciously. “Why?”

Definitely not the most trusting of men, she thought. Did the distrust come naturally to him, or had something caused it, she wondered.

“Nothing. I just wanted to say that Blair has a great reputation. My cousin is a pediatrician and she’s affiliated with Blair. Dr. Nicole Connors,” she supplied. She saw him raise a brow at the surname. “As it happens, she’s your real-estate agent’s daughter.” The moment she filled him in, she could guess at his next thought. “Yes, it really is a small world around here.” She turned her attention back to her temporary charges. “Okay, girls, we need to hustle if we’re going to get you to the school before lunch.”

“Lunch?” Madelyn cried, clearly dismayed. “Are we that late?”

Okay, she was going to have to tone down her humor, Kennon thought.

“Just another figure of speech,” she explained. With a hand once more on each girl’s shoulder, she ushered Madelyn and Meghan out the door. And then she looked over her shoulder at the doctor before hurrying off to her vehicle. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she promised in case he thought she was going to dawdle before returning to the nanny.

Simon nodded. “So will I,” he replied.

As the woman with the rapid-fire mouth left, closing the door behind her, Simon had the unshakable impression that he had just been in the company of a grade-five hurricane.

But at least he was still standing, he told himself, and that had to be worth something.

Blair Memorial Hospital was absolutely everything he’d been led to believe it was when he had first gotten in contact with Dr. Edward Hale. First-rate in all fields, it was state-of-the-art when it came to cardiac surgery. The hospital even boasted of having a Gamma Knife available. A Gamma Knife afforded surgeons a virtually unobtrusive method of operating that their brethren of the last century could have only dreamed about. For the most part, it had been regarded as science fiction—until it crossed over and became real.

At one point not that long ago, Simon would have gotten very excited about the possibilities that lay ahead of him. Except that these days he felt exceedingly guilty about allowing himself to feel anything but a profound sense of loss and sadness.

Nancy wouldn’t have wanted you to feel that way, the voice in his head insisted. The voice sounded a great deal like Edna at the moment because the woman had known his wife almost better than he had.

He knew that the voice—and Edna—were probably right. Nancy would have wanted him to move on. But he couldn’t. His body, his entire psyche felt as if it was stuck in molasses, in the past, unable to move, unable to blink. Unable to think of life without his partner, his helper, his soul mate.

Remember the girls. They need you.

This time, the voice in his head sounded a great deal like Nancy.

He realized that the chief of surgery was shaking his hand, a pleased expression on the older man’s broad, kind face.

“Well, I’ve got nothing further to say right now except welcome aboard, Doctor,” he told Simon. Eminently satisfied, the older man added, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” Flashing an almost perfect set of teeth, he identified the quote. “That’s from Casablanca. You’ll forgive me, I’m a big movie buff. My wife, bless her, has another term for it, but I like movie buff better. Wives, God love ‘em, they’ve all got our number, don’t they?”

Hale chuckled as he looked at the face of Blair’s newest surgeon on staff. And then the chief of surgery suddenly grew somber.

“Oh, my God, I’m sorry. I forgot that your wife passed,” he said delicately, falling back on the squeaky-clean euphemism for death. “I’m sorry, Doctor. That had to have sounded very callous of me.”

Simon shook his head, doing his very best to detach his consciousness from his surroundings. He’d been doing that for a year now, whenever his thoughts or the conversation veered toward Nancy.

“No, that’s all right,” he demurred, hoping the matter would be dropped.

Not likely. Hale didn’t appear to be finished just yet. Concerned, he laid his hand on Simon’s shoulder and peered into the other man’s eyes.

“How are you getting along?” Hale asked, adding kindly, “Do you need anything?”

Yes, I need my wife back.

Stoically, Simon shook his head. “No, I’m fine. But that’s very kind of you.” Simon glanced at his watch. Three hours had gone by. Had the meeting taken that long? He didn’t feel as if it had, but it obviously must have. “If you don’t mind, my housekeeper’s ill and I’d like to check in on her.”

“Of course, of course.” Hale rose, pumping Simon’s hand again. “Let me know if there’s anything we can do for you here at Blair Memorial. Otherwise, we’ll be looking forward to seeing you at the hospital, say, on Thursday?” he suggested hopefully. He knew that most places began their people on a Monday, but he had another philosophy. “We’ll let you get your feet wet slowly,” he added with a chuckle. “I always found that was the best way. I don’t like overwhelming my doctors by having them start with a full week. Even a state-of-the-art hospital takes some getting used to,” he theorized.

“Thursday will be fine.”

“Remember,” Hale said, walking Simon to the glasspaneled door, “if you find you need anything, or just want someone to talk to, please don’t hesitate to give me a call. My door—and phone—are always open.” He clapped the new surgeon on the back. “I operate by a simple rule—Happy doctors are good doctors. I want to keep you happy, Dr. Sheffield.”

“I appreciate that, chief.” But you’re thirteen months too late for that. “Thank you again, sir.” And with that, Simon took his leave.

The second he turned down the corridor, Simon picked up speed.

He needed to get home to make sure that Edna was all right and that he hadn’t made a huge mistake by opening his doors to that decorator.

Granted that this Kennon Cassidy did seem to have an engaging manner about her, but from what he’d heard, so did the more successful con artists. Although he had nothing in the house that could be taken, still he would feel a great deal more at ease once he was back, attending to Edna himself.

And reclaiming his solitude.