Читать книгу The Doctor's Second Chance - Missy Tippens - Страница 12

Chapter Three

“You sure are calling early,” Aunt Edith said on the other end of the phone line. “It’s barely 6:00 a.m.”

Jake stood in his kitchen bouncing Abigail in the crook of his arm. She’d been fussy since she woke at five o’clock.

All morning, he’d tried every trick he knew to soothe her, including walking around the yard before dawn and swinging on his childhood swing set while holding Abigail. She would settle for a few minutes but then start fretting again.

Unlike during her nighttime crying jags, at least she was finally taking her bottle this morning.

“What’s that noise?” Edith asked. “It sounds like a baby.”

“That’s because it is a baby.”

“Is there something you need to tell us?” she said with a laugh.

If only the whole thing were a joke and he could laugh along with her. “Actually, there is. Why don’t you put Uncle Paul on the other phone?”

Edith called for her husband to pick up the other extension, telling him Jake had something important to tell them.

“What is it, son?” Paul asked.

“Remy came by a couple of days ago.”

Edith gasped. “How is she?”

“She’s okay. Looks pretty good, actually. And she’s had a baby.”

Silence.

“Sorry,” Jake said. “Wish I could have prepared you better for that bombshell. But she showed up Friday evening, claiming she’s been clean for a year now but saying she’s not good mother material. She left the two-week-old baby with me and took off.”

“What?” Edith nearly shrieked, probably trying to imagine him taking care of her infant grandchild.

“I don’t know what to say.” Paul sounded worn-out, as if he’d taken one too many emotional beatings.

Jake’s aunt and uncle had been through a great deal of pain and disappointment with their daughter, who’d lied to them, stolen from them and nearly depleted their savings in rehab programs. They’d had to practice tough love for their own sanity.

Once they’d refused to enable her any longer, Remy’s rare visits ceased. Because of financial difficulties, the couple had decided to sell their practice and retire early. They moved south to heal.

Jake hated to be the one to reopen the wound. “I’m sorry to call. I tried waiting, hoping she’d come back in a day or two. But she hasn’t. I have no contact information. No license plate number. Nothing with an address except hospital records, and who knows if Remy still lives there?”

“We have a grandchild,” Edith whispered, tears choking off her voice.

With a whimper, Abigail drew her knees in and spit out the nipple. Not now.

“Yes, and Remy put in writing that she wants me to raise her,” Jake said.

“We have a granddaughter?”

“Edith,” Paul snapped. “A baby isn’t going to instantly make us some normal, happy family. She’ll come back for the girl, disappear and break our hearts all over again.”

His aunt began to cry. Then the phone line clicked as she hung up.

“Uncle Paul?”

“Yeah, I’m still here. What do you plan to do?”

No offer of help. Jake was on his own.

The baby started to fret. He put her to his shoulder and walked outside. What was wrong with her this morning? Was she sick?

“I’ll wait it out,” Jake said. “I’m sure Remy will come back. In the meantime, I had Dr. Crenshaw check her out.”

Paul harrumphed.

“I know we didn’t like the terms of the contract, but I think she’s a good doctor,” Jake said, looking across his backyard to the doc’s house.

She sat at the table on her patio. Had she heard him mention her name to his uncle?

“I’m sure she’s a good doctor,” Paul said. “She had impeccable references. I just didn’t like her negotiating. Didn’t like her evaluation of our business practices.”

Violet stood and started toward him. Great. Just what he needed while his uncle got on a roll.

“Hey, listen. The baby’s fussing. I should go.”

“You didn’t say whether the baby checked out okay.”

“She’s fine.”

“That’s a relief. Maybe Remy managed to take decent care of her.”

“I need to go. The neighbor’s heading this way.” He wouldn’t specify which neighbor.

“Okay. I imagine Remy will turn up soon, unless, of course, she’s back on drugs.”

And wasn’t that the story of Remy’s life? Her problems with drugs had wrecked her life and pretty much destroyed what family Jake had left. “Tell Aunt Edith not to worry about this big clod handling the baby. Doc Crenshaw came over and trained me.”

Paul let out a groan. “Don’t get sucked in by the pretty doctor. I’m sure Grace Hunt from the church will be glad to help you.”

The pretty—more like beautiful—doctor stood in front of him wearing running shorts, an Emory Medical School T-shirt and running shoes. Jake’s neck heated. Surely there wasn’t any way she’d heard their conversation.

“I’ll get the situation figured out,” he said to his uncle.

“We can always depend on you, Jake,” Paul said. “I’ll let you know if by some wild chance we hear from your cousin. Don’t tell Edith or it’ll get her hopes up, but I’ll do some checking to see if I can locate Remy.”

“Thanks.” They hung up, and he forced a smile for Violet. “Good morning. What’s up?”

“I heard Abigail crying earlier when I was out running. Thought I would check on you.”

“Making house calls now, huh?” He stuffed the rejected bottle in his pocket, brought Abigail to his shoulder and then gently patted her back. “Come on, sweet thing. Give a nice big burp for Cousin Jake.”

Abigail complied by spitting up across his shoulder and down his back.

“What’s the deal, Abigail?” he said.

“Some spitting up is normal. Here, let me take her.” Violet took the baby and they headed inside the kitchen.

She grabbed a cloth diaper from a freshly washed stack he’d left on the counter. “I’ll clean her up.”

“Thanks.” Jake went to his room to change shirts.

When he returned to the kitchen, Violet was sweet-talking Abigail. She’d changed her into a clean onesie—a new word he’d learned since becoming a temporary guardian. Violet also had the child calmed.

“Thanks. I think my laundry has multiplied tenfold with one tiny little gal.”

“Has she acted sick this morning? Is that why you were outside so early?”

“I’m sorry if we disturbed you.”

“No, I’m not complaining. Just wondering if everything’s okay.”

“She woke early and has been fussy. Looks flushed.”

Violet placed her lips on Abigail’s forehead. “She feels a little warm to me. Did you take her temperature?”

He winced because he had hundreds of dollars of baby paraphernalia but not the equipment he needed. “I apparently missed buying a thermometer.”

“I have one. Be right back.” She handed over the infant and hurried out the door.

Worried about Abigail and not wanting to drag her to the work site again, he decided he would skip going as planned. There wasn’t a lot Jake needed to do that morning anyway, other than check on the cabinet installers and hurry up the interior painters. He texted Zeb. When Zeb didn’t reply, he called the man’s voice mail to check in and leave instructions.

Violet returned with a bag and pulled out a funny-looking gadget. “Here we go.”

“That doesn’t look like the thermometers I remember.”

She laughed as she gently placed it against Abigail’s temple. “You’ve got to admit this is much more pleasant than the alternative—which, by the way, is my preferred method to measure an accurate temp.”

The instrument beeped, and she showed him the result. One hundred degrees. Now what?

He glanced at the doctor, searching for signs of concern. “From what I read online this morning it isn’t considered a fever until a hundred point four.”

“That’s a good guideline, but we worry more about the young ones.” She brushed back the baby girl’s wispy black hair. Felt her neck.

She didn’t look too concerned, but his stomach churned anyway. He was not fit to parent a baby. He could set budgets, place orders, coordinate schedules, direct multiple crews of workers and make tough decisions all day long. But throw in a variable like four-tenths of a degree of body temperature and he turned into a bumbling idiot.

Abigail whimpered.

“Why don’t we take her temp again?” he said. “Just to make me feel better.”

“Sure. I’ll show you how.”

They went to the living room, and he laid Abigail on the couch. Violet gave him the thermometer and directed him on using it.

Ninety-nine point nine. “Should we be concerned?”

“I doubt it. But I brought my bag, so let me check her over.”

His phone vibrated. A new text message.

While she looked in Abigail’s ears, he checked the text from Zeb.

Owner said kitchen tile wasn’t right color. I checked the order. Is exactly what you told us.

Frustration cinched his gut. Changes cost money and time. I’ll look into it. Baby may be sick, he texted back.

“Ears are fine.” Violet warmed a stethoscope and listened to Abigail’s lungs. “Honestly, she seems fine. Did she cry again last night?”

“From about nine to midnight.”

“Looking more like we’re dealing with colic.”

His phone buzzed again. “Excuse me just a minute. I have a problem at work.”

“Go ahead. I’ll walk with her outside and see if I can calm her.” Violet swaddled the baby in a receiving blanket, then went through the kitchen and out the back door.

The text was from Zeb again. Mrs. E says she hopes you won’t let babysitting interfere with your job.

Mrs. Emerson was the owner of one of the homes they were building. She tended to walk around the work site in a business suit and three-inch high heels, breathing down everyone’s neck. But Jake wanted her to love her home.

He got Zeb on the phone. “Tell Mrs. Emerson not to worry. I want my customers happy.”

“Will do.” Zeb snickered. “Baby is fussy, huh? Sounds like you’re a regular Mr. Mom.”

Jake had seen the man with his grandkids. Zeb had a tough-as-nails exterior and a marshmallow-puff interior. “Yeah, you keep making fun. Next time I see you swinging beside one of your grandkids at the park, you’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Well, Mr. Mom has a backbone after all.”

Jake snorted a laugh. “The girl has been fussy. Temp is a little elevated.”

“When in doubt, go to the doctor. Another excuse to get cozy with the cute new pediatrician who about chewed your rear off Saturday.”

Wondering how many people had overheard that discussion made his face burn. “The doc is actually here checking her now. But I assure you, there’s no coziness where Violet Crenshaw is concerned.” A quick glance out the back door gave him a good excuse to avoid the topic. “In fact, I need to go check on them.”

“You do that, Jake.” Zeb was laughing as he disconnected.

* * *

Soft, jet-black hair that smelled like baby shampoo brushed against Violet’s cheek, melting her insides. Calm and relaxed, she was pleased her first appointment wasn’t until eight-thirty. She didn’t need to hurry home.

And Abigail seemed to be relaxing, too. Was getting sleepy.

Jake came out the back door. The sight of him in a T-shirt that molded to his work-toned muscles instantly shot her heart rate up, undoing any soothing from holding Abigail.

“How’s she doing?” he asked.

“Better.” She smiled at him, knowing he could use some encouragement.

He held up the thermometer he’d brought with him, then took another reading. “Ninety-eight point seven.” His shoulders dropped. “That’s good. I feel stupid for worrying.”

“Don’t apologize for erring on the side of caution. Little ones like this can get sick quickly.”

“I was afraid I’d done something wrong bathing her last night. Was afraid she’d gotten chilled. She wasn’t a happy camper through that nightmare.”

Violet bit back a smile. “Bathing will get easier.”

“I hope. I think I took too long. She was okay at first, but then the water got cool. She started squalling, all stiff and furious. I bundled her up afterward, making sure she warmed up.”

Violet’s chest squeezed. The image of this tall, brawny man doing something sweet like warming a chilled baby battered at her heart.

He held out his arms for Abigail.

Hating to give up the warm, sleeping bundle, she handed her over, willing a steel rod into her spine instead of the gelatin this man had put there. “You’re doing fine, Jake. Do you think the fussiness this morning seemed different from the crying she’s done at night?”

“Definitely. This morning’s fussiness hasn’t been as severe. At night, no matter what I do to comfort her, she continually shrieks—which, for the record, is horrendous.”

“I can imagine.”

“I walk the floor, rocking her, singing, cracking dumb jokes, doing everything but standing on my head. It’s as if I’m not even there.” He shrugged, his eyes troubled. “I’ve never felt so helpless in my life.”

Warning, warning! No melting of heart allowed.

“Today, though, I could console her briefly. She didn’t all-out cry, just whimpered and whined.”

“Hmm. That does sound more like a baby feeling ill. There’s a chance she has a tummy ache or some gas. Are you remembering to burp her after her bottles?”

“Yes. But she has been drawing up her legs as if her stomach hurts. One of my subcontractors mentioned a change of formula curing his grandchild’s colic.”

Violet would make a note of the stomach pain in Abigail’s file. “Every now and then, I’ve found changing to lactose-free formula does help. How about I bring some samples to you at lunchtime?”

“It would be easier if I just dropped by to pick them up. Besides, I’d feel better if you weighed the little gal. To make sure she’s growing okay.”

His concern made her stomach swoop. “I’ll be happy to weigh her for you. Come by at noon.”

“Great, thanks.”

Jake carefully wrapped the blanket tighter around Abigail, every tuck of the fabric jarring loose more of the protective barrier from around Violet’s heart, releasing the longing she’d held at bay for so long.

Longing for a husband of her own and a baby to love.

She worked with babies every day. Why was Abigail different?

Could the difference be Jake? What was it about him that gave her crazy notions of love and family?

He rubbed his big, strong hand over Abigail’s tiny head. It hit her then why Jake affected her so. It was because he was a single guy suddenly stuck with a baby.

A guy who needed Violet’s help.

Cold rushed through her veins. She absolutely could not allow herself to fall into the being-needed trap. That’s how she’d gotten sucked into an inappropriately intense—and intimate—relationship with Hank in high school. And ended up pregnant.

She would never, ever again get sucked in by a needy man.

Jake’s not really needy, a little niggling voice said. He’s not manipulating you, demanding your total devotion. He’s just a strong man in a temporary, unfamiliar situation.

He kissed the baby’s forehead and then looked into Violet’s eyes. The moment went on longer than normal—too long—and suddenly something flared between them.

Violet could barely breathe. “We’re usually closed at lunch, so if no one is at the front desk, come on back to the first exam room.”

“Okay. We’ll see you at noon.” His grateful smile did crazy things to her insides.

“I, uh, need to get to the office.” She shot toward the row of hedges between their houses, escaping the handsome babysitter who made her want things she feared wanting.

* * *

A grinning puppy with human-like teeth mocked Jake.

The pup was pictured on a giant, kid-friendly poster hanging on the wall in the pediatric exam room. This whole scenario—him in the former office of the family who raised him, being questioned about a baby who shouldn’t be in his care by the woman who had “bought” the practice from them—was laughable. Sad, but laughable.

Violet, who’d been so helpful that morning, had turned back into serious doctor mode at the office. “Here are the samples.” She pointed to a bag. “Abigail’s weight is good. She’s gained a couple of ounces, which is right on target. Before we try changing her formula, I’d like to first consult with her mother or her regular pediatrician.”

“I have written permission from Remy to make decisions for Abigail.”