by Susan Gable
"You are not my daddy!" Sarah said.
The young blonde behind the desk turned to stare at him. The murmurs from the other waiting patients dropped off as they also looked at him, leaving only some morning talk show yapping on the television.
Lexie's face pinkened as she gaped at him.
"What?" he asked.
Her gaze trailed a path down his chest toward his jeans, then quickly jerked back up to his eyes. He wouldn't have believed it possible, but the color in her face deepened. "That T-shirt fits like a second skin," she hissed at him. "Did your housekeeper shrink it or what?"
"Hallelujah," muttered one of the ladies in the waiting area. "That's one fine-looking creation."
Amen, Lexie wanted to shout. Broad shoulders. Well-muscled arms and chest … she could even make out his sculpted abs. He'd filled out a lot since the last time she'd seen him in such a shirt, playing football in her backyard with Marc and Kenny. He looked more like a construction worker than a guy who programmed computers for a living.
The body-hugging white T-shirt drew down to a pair of well-worn jeans that also fit him intimately, like a lover's caress. Her cheeks warmed and she jerked her gaze back up to his face. Again. This time there was a hint of smugness in his eyes.
"I said, is there a problem here, Lexie?"
She whirled to find Kegan standing behind her. "Uh, well, I don't know if I'd call it a problem."
A catastrophe, maybe.
A plague? Yes, that was it. David Mitchell was a plague on her life.
"Why don't we move this little party to someplace more private, like an exam room." Kegan gestured down the newly created hallway. The remodeled clinic was a far cry from the curtained cubbies she'd birthed Sarah in.
"Yes. That's a good idea." She lifted Sarah off the counter, ignoring the fact that Sue Ann, the receptionist, was staring at the man behind her. The hunky one who'd proclaimed himself Sarah's father in front of everyone.
Great, that ought to be all over town by lunchtime.
Kegan held a chart tucked under his arm. Lexie followed him to the small exam room. She lowered Sarah onto the table and propped her hip, leaning her body firmly against the little girl, offering—and drawing—comfort from the contact.
"I'm Dr. Kegan Riley." Kegan offered David his right hand as he shut the door.
"David Mitchell."
Kegan set Sarah's chart on the counter and opened it, flipping through the pages nonchalantly, as though pretending the tension in the room didn't exist. "You brought Sarah in for that chicken pox vaccine we discussed, right?"
"I don't need a shot!" Sarah yelled.
Lexie wrapped her arm around the tiny waist. "Shh. Everything's going to be just fine, baby. If you're a good girl, later I'll take you to Jo's diner for an ice-cream sundae, okay?"
"Hold it," David said. "What kind of side effects does this vaccination have? Is it really necessary? I mean, we didn't have a chicken pox vaccine when we were kids, and we managed just fine."
"I discussed all that with Lexie, Mr. Mitchell."
"Well, since I'm Sarah's father, perhaps you should just discuss it with me. I'm the one making the decisions for her now."
"Oh really?" Kegan leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his white lab coat. "I don't think so. According to the state of Montana, Lexie is Sarah's sole parent. I know. I filled out the birth certificate."
"You didn't list me as the father on the birth certificate?" An accusatory glint sparked in his eyes.
She shook her head.
"What the hell did you put?"
"Uh … um…"
His eyebrows drew down and his jaw tightened. No irresistible smile-craters apparent today. No, now he looked seriously pissed. "Lexie, what does it say on my daughter's birth certificate?"
She swallowed hard, then murmured, "Father Unknown."
"Son of a—" David took a step in her direction, but Kegan quickly moved between them.
"Take it easy," the physician soothed. "I'm sure you and Lexie can work all this out. But only if you both act calmly and rationally."
"She is not Sarah's mother." David's voice held a barely contained note of fury.
"Yes, she is!" Sarah shouted. Lexie was beginning to suspect the normally complacent little girl had inherited a streak of temper from her father. And that only her father could trigger it.
Kegan laughed. "That argument isn't going to work with me. I delivered Sarah."
"She was a gestational surrogate. Period. Sarah doesn't belong to her any more than any other child in this town does."
Lexie closed her eyes as Kegan spun to face her. She lowered her head, resting her chin on the top of Sarah's. Sarah's sweet scent rose to fill her nose … and tug hard on her heart. Losing this child would be the hardest thing she'd ever faced, surpassing even the pain of leaving her family and dreams behind to become a single parent on the lam.
"Lexie?" Kegan's deep voice demanded she look at him.
She opened her eyes, blinking against the harsh glare of the florescent lights—and reality.
"Is that true?"
The muscles in her neck protested as she nodded. "I'm afraid so," she whispered.
"Momma?"
Lexie's heart clenched at the word. Five years from now, would Sarah still call her that? Would Sarah recognize her? Remember her?
Sarah wiggled against her side. "What's a siriegate?"
"Nothing you need to worry about right now, sport," David said.
Lexie fought against the trembling sensation that seemed to wrack her whole body. She didn't want Sarah upset any further. Hopefully the discussion was far above her comprehension.
"What's it going to take for me to get the birth certificate changed?" David asked.
Kegan's puzzled glance left Lexie and went back to David. "DNA tests, for one thing. You'll need proof to back up your claim."
"Fine. Can you do that?"
Kegan nodded. "I can handle the collection, and I have a lab I can send the samples to for processing."
"Good. Let's do that while we're here, too. No point in wasting any time." David glared at Lexie, and she shivered. "I've lost enough of that already."
"Will it—" Lexie hugged the child closer "—you know, h-u-r-t?" She spelled out the letters carefully.
"No. A swab from inside the cheek is all we need," Kegan said.
"From me, too?" Lexie asked.
"Might as well. Rule out any and all possibilities, right?" Kegan gathered some long paper-coated objects from a drawer, laying them on the counter.
An irrational hope flared deep inside her chest. Was there any possibility the fertility clinic had made a mistake? Probably not.
But … love wasn't always logical.
And if David wasn't Sarah's biological father, then he had no more rights to the little girl than she did.
* * *
Chapter 5
« ^ »
David struggled to contain the thrashing child on his lap. "Sarah, hold still. It won't hurt as much if you relax."
"Nooo! I don't wanna shot!"
"This is just cotton and alcohol, Sarah," the doctor said, swabbing her arm.
The little girl shrieked so loud David feared permanent hearing loss. And he silently cursed Lexie for bailing on him as soon as the painless cheek swabs for the DNA tests had been completed.
"You can start the job of being a father right now," she'd said on the way out the door.
They'd have words over that—along with the fact she'd left him off Sarah's birth certificate—later. How could she have done that to him? She knew that he'd been kept in the dark about his own father's identity until he was thirteen. Even though Lexie had only been nine, he was pretty sure she remembered how he'd run away to her house and the nighttime "peace summits" held by the Jacobses to mediate between him and his mother.
Dr. Riley approached with the vaccination.
"Shh, Sarah. It's going to be okay." David tried to soothe her. She s
creamed again as the needle struck home, and his stomach tumbled. He glared at the doctor as though it were his fault for causing his child pain, and wished there was actually something he could do to make it better.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Dr. Riley said.
"I want Momma." Tears wet David's shirt as Sarah sobbed. "I want my momma! Lemme go!" She wiggled from his embrace in a move that would have made Houdini proud, jumped off his lap and wrestled with the doorknob.
The physician's lab coat fluttered as he grabbed her and lifted her into his arms. "Easy there, sweetie." He pulled a tissue from a box on the counter and wiped her cheeks. "Let's dry those tears. Do you want Sue Ann to give you a sticker?"
Sarah nodded, bottom lip quivering.
Dr. Riley opened the door and then set Sarah on her feet outside the door. "Sue Ann?" he called down the corridor. "Would you please come take Sarah and let her pick out a sticker? Maybe two?"
"Sure, Doc." The blond woman from behind the front desk appeared in the hall, craning her neck to see around the doctor and into the exam room. She smiled at David, letting an appreciative glance linger on his torso before she took his daughter's hand and led her off to wherever the stickers were kept.
He fought the urge to cross his arms over his chest.
Dr. Riley closed the door with a sigh.
"Was there something else?" David slid off the table.
"I wanted to let you know it'll take two to three weeks for the DNA test results."
"Two to three weeks?" That seemed far too long. "On the news, the results are ready in a few days."
"In the high-profile cases, they also have politicians riding their butts to make them move faster, and seemingly unlimited taxpayer money to throw at the lab. Sorry, but this is going to take longer."
David sighed. He knew, deep inside, that Sarah was his daughter. The tests were just a formality that bureaucracy required so he could claim his own child. Two to three weeks, though. That was longer than he'd planned to be here. Longer than he wanted to be near Lexie. Her latest betrayal burned like a twenty-thousand-volt electrical surge through a circuit board.
When would he learn?
At least the time would be put to good use, building a relationship with his daughter, who didn't seem to want a father. Not him, anyway.
"Okay, thanks, Doc. Get the results to me as soon as you can." David reclaimed Sarah at the reception desk, accepting the bill thrust at him, and trying to look nonchalant about the gawks, tsks and shaking heads from the waiting-room inhabitants as well as the women behind the front desk. He quietly explained that his checkbook was across the street and he'd have to pay up later. Picking up his daughter despite her protests, he carried her outside and crossed the street again.
Once inside the bed-and-breakfast, he set her on her feet. "There you go, kiddo."
"Momma?" Sarah yelled. "Where are you?"
Lexie appeared from the dining room at the end of the hallway. "In here, baby."
Sarah's sneakers pounded against the wooden floor as she raced to Lexie, who opened her arms wide and lifted the child off the ground, kissing her on the head and murmuring something he couldn't quite catch. The pair vanished through the dining-room archway.
Damn, he'd give anything for Sarah to run to him like that. He sighed and headed upstairs, wanting to cool off a bit before he confronted Lexie about the birth certificate.
He toed off his sneakers, which were already chewing a blister into his bare heel, then dipped into his open suitcase, fished out a navy blue polo shirt and a pair of socks. He'd had no idea a tight T-shirt could cause such a stir. Either that or the town was simply inhabited by a bunch of sex-starved women, judging from the reactions in the medical clinic.
A few minutes later, he propped his shoulder against the dining-room doorway, watching as Sarah imitated Lexie, who was dusting the massive cherry table. "We have to talk," he said to her. He looked pointedly at the child running an old sock around the arms of a chair. "Alone."
"I'm helping Momma," Sarah said proudly, shaking the rag and causing the dust to dance in the sunbeams coming through the window.
"Yes, you sure are. I don't know what I'd do without you." Lexie's words sounded strange, strangled, as if she couldn't quite get them out. She cleared her throat. "But maybe Pappy needs some help, too. I think he's in the backyard. Maybe he's planting those bulbs we bought the other day. Why don't you run out there and see if you can help with the flower beds, okay?"
"Can I get dirty?" Sarah dropped the dust rag onto the seat of the chair.
"Well, planting flowers can be dirty work." Lexie smiled. "Don't forget to put your coat on."
"Yipppiee!" The little girl half skipped toward the doorway, turned sideways and edged past him, a scowl on her face that seemed to indicate she didn't trust him not to grab her and subject her to more pain. Great. Now the kid really didn't trust him.
She inched past, then turned and ran toward the kitchen. "Pappy! I'm helping you!"
Once the back door closed with a bang, Lexie set down the yellow can of furniture polish, then folded her arms across her chest. "Okay, and you want to say…?"
"I cannot believe that you put 'Father Unknown' on her birth certificate! What were you thinking?" He ran his hand over his hair. "You knew damn well who her father was."
"Yes, and I didn't want her father finding us, either. If I had put your name on the birth certificate, you might have used that information to track us down, and I couldn't risk that, David. I know how that must cut, since you didn't know who your own father was for so long, but I didn't do it to intentionally hurt you. I did it to protect her."
His anger eased just a bit. No matter what, he couldn't fault her motivation. His shoulders sagged, some of the tension draining from them. "It stings, Lexie. You know I always vowed my kid would know who her father was, I'd raise her myself, be a real dad, like yours. And you stole that from me."
"No, David. Angela stole that from you. Look, I don't know with one-hundred-percent certainty that Angela would have hurt Sarah. But it wasn't worth the risk, was it?"
David did know with one-hundred-percent certainty. Or at least ninety-nine point nine. After Angela had remarried a wealthy old man, her new stepdaughter had given birth and left the child with his "grandparents" frequently. Angela had been arrested following the baby's death under suspicious circumstances, and had been awaiting her trial for the baby's murder when she'd been killed by another inmate. But he sure as hell didn't want Lexie knowing how right she'd been. He owed her for carrying his child in the first place, for saving Sarah's life and caring for her for four years. And he knew Lexie. She could take that and twist it into something that would suit her. He didn't want her knowing how indebted to her he really was.
"I understand why you ran, Lex."
"And do you understand exactly what it cost me? My family, my job at the Erie library? I couldn't even work as a librarian, 'cause I didn't want a job on the books, or to have anyone access my college records or things like that. Knowing your computer skills, I figured you'd have a way to trace that kind of stuff. Shoot, I don't even own a car anymore, and I'm driving on my expired Pennsylvania license. We use Pappy's truck when we need to go anywhere."
He wasn't sure how to respond to that, since he would have found her if there'd been any public—or not-so-public—records of her.
"David, I need to know your intentions."
"Huh?" Intentions? She sounded like a parent grilling him before a first date.
"If the DNA tests prove that you're her father—"
"I'm her father, Lex. We both know it."
"If you are, do I get anything? Visitation? Pictures once a year? Do I get to be involved in her life in any way? Or am I going to be totally cut out?"
Hellfire and damnation. Leave it to her to ask questions he didn't even want to think about, let alone answer. "I don't know, Lex. I hadn't really thought about it."
"Well, you need to think about it.
I believe you owe me something." She sighed and retrieved the can of polish, then moved to the sideboard, turning her back on him. She didn't want him to see how much that question hurt, to see how willing she was to settle for just about any crumb he wanted to toss her.
"Okay."
"How did she make out with the shot? Did she give you a hard time?"
He snorted. "She didn't bite anybody. Me, especially. For which I was very grateful."
Lexie pressed her lips together to stifle a chuckle.
"That's a step in the right direction, I suppose. And how did you feel?"
"Mad. And … helpless."
She glanced over her shoulder at him. Frustration and pain filled his eyes. "Welcome to parenthood," she said quietly, "where you'll do anything you can to ease your child's pain and protect her, but often can only stand by and comfort after the pain's been inflicted."
"Does it get easier?"
She shook her head. "From what I understand, it only gets harder."
"I can hardly wait." He pushed off the doorway and approached her. "Lexie, I want Sarah to start depending on me, turning to me instead of you. She and I are never going to bond if you don't take a step back." He cleared his throat. "Although I think we could have done without me holding her down for the shot. I don't think that helped my case any."
Step back? Didn't she just explain to him how much it hurt to love a child, but to sit by helplessly?
On the other hand, maybe David had no idea how tough being a parent was. Maybe… "All right. You want me to step back, I will. You want to make the decisions, be my guest." She offered him her best angelic smile as she sprayed the china cabinet and ran the dust rag over it. "Happy parenting."
"Lexie! I need a hand here," David shouted up the back staircase, over the sound of his daughter's uncontrollable sobbing. He turned back to Sarah, who was keeping the kitchen island between them. Water trickled from the ends of half her curls—the half he'd managed to wet down before she'd escaped his attempt to wash her hair. "Hey, sport, you're dripping all over the floor and your nice clean pajamas. How about you let me finish up and then dry your hair?"