by JoAnn Ross
“Are you certain that’s what you want?”
“Only if you both do. I’ve understood from the beginning that there was no way I could keep this child, but that hasn’t stopped me from worrying about what kind of family she might end up with. And all the time, the perfect parents were right in front of me.”
Having witnessed Lena and Reece’s strengthened marriage, having seen firsthand all the little signs of how much the couple loved each other, Molly knew they’d provide not only a comfortable, but a loving, caring home. Something neither Lena nor Molly had ever known.
“Oh, Molly, I don’t have to think about it.” Lena’s beatific smile could have lit up the entire Los Angeles county. “And I don’t have to ask Reece. Because I know he’ll love the idea as much as I do. And I promise that no one would ever love your daughter more than we will.”
“I know that.”
Laughing and crying all at the same time, the two sisters who’d been through so much together, hugged. As if casting her own vote of approval, the baby chose that moment to turn another somersault.
“Are you certain this is what you want to do?” Reece asked Molly over lunch in Mercy Sam’s cafeteria.
They’d spent the first ten minutes of the lunch hour discussing the paper on ER triage and Fast Track treatment he’d presented at the medical conference he’d attended. Understanding that he was deliberately avoiding a discussion of he and Lena adopting her baby, Molly forced herself to bide her time and let him bring the subject up. Which he eventually did. Abruptly and with a great deal less enthusiasm than Lena had predicted.
“Only if you think you’d like being a father,” she said carefully. Nervously, she pressed the back of her spoon against a bloodred gelatin square on her plate that had to be three days old. “I certainly didn’t intend to put any pressure on you, Reece.”
“Hell, Molly, that’s not the problem. I love the idea of being a father. Even more, I love the idea of Lena being a mother. We’ve both wanted a child. But Lena isn’t the only McBride sister I have strong feelings for, and I’m worried this might prove too hard on you.”
“I’ve thought about that,” Molly admitted. After her impetuous offer, she’d spent a long and mostly sleepless night considering all the aspects of the decision. “And I’ve come to the conclusion that it would be easier watching my baby growing up with two loving parents than spending the rest of my life wondering what happened to her.”
Reece remained silent for a time, fiddling with his cutlery, lining up the edges of the stainless-steel knife, fork and spoon as if he were preparing to do surgery. “You said ‘my baby,’” he pointed out quietly.
She got his point immediately. Loud and clear. “It was just a phrase, Reece. I’m well aware that if you agree, she’ll be yours and Lena’s child.”
He gave her a long look rife with both tenderness and concern. And, she felt, lingering questions. “I’m tempted to jump at the opportunity to have a daughter. But I’m still worried—”
“You needn’t be.” Molly reached out and covered his hand with hers. “I’ll admit that I blurted the idea out to Lena when I should have given it more thought. But I have thought about it almost constantly since then and I’m extremely comfortable with this solution.”
He gave her another long look, then turned his hand, linking their fingers together. “You’re a helluva woman, Saint Molly.”
Strangely affected by the warmth in his husky tone, Molly lowered her eyes to the table and didn’t, as she’d always done in the past, protest the nickname he’d teased her with for so many years.
She truly had made the right decision, Molly told herself a week after signing the preadoption papers at the attorney’s office. So why did she feel strangely let down?
“You’ve obviously bonded emotionally with your unborn child,” Sister Benvenuto assured her. “It’s only natural to suffer misgivings.”
Molly’s gaze drifted to a print of an oil painting depicting the Assumption. “It crossed my mind, in the middle of the night, that perhaps, I could keep the baby. After all, I do have a good career, and—”
“Impossible.” Sister Benvenuto looked at her with the same stunned amazement she might reveal were Molly to suddenly announce that she’d taken up striptease dancing at one of the nudie clubs on Hollywood Boulevard. “Nuns cannot have children.”
“But if I were to leave the order—”
“You don’t want to do that, Molly.”
For not the first time, Molly admired—and envied—the nun’s unwavering belief that she knew what was right not only for herself, but for the younger members of the order, as well.
“Sometimes I do.” Molly dragged her attention away from the romantic portrait of the Mother of God floating up to heaven on that gilt-edged, puffy white cloud and forced herself to meet her superior’s hawklike gaze with a level look. “There’s a little boy who used to be a Frequent Flyer in the ER—”
“Benny.”
“Yes.” Molly belatedly recalled fretting about the young boy’s plight in this very office on more than one occasion. “I used to fantasize about running away with him.”
“Fantasies are normal. So long as they don’t get out of hand,” Sister Benvenuto tacked on. “Anyone who knew that unfortunate child might briefly imagine doing exactly the same thing.”
“I imagined being his mother.”
“Again, not unusual.”
“The same way I imagine being a mother to this baby.”
The nun’s expression didn’t change, but Molly detected the faint gray cast that moved like a warning shadow over the remarkably unlined olive complexion.
“It’s merely hormones,” the nun said finally. “I’m neither a nurse nor a mother, but I do know pregnant women are famous for their mood swings. Factor in the little matter of your working too hard, and it would only stand to reason that your mind might indulge itself in harmless daydreams.”
She folded her hands atop the desk, drawing Molly’s attention to the slender gold ring that was a twin to Molly’s own. “So long as you understand that these are fantasies, and not a viable alternative, I can’t see that any harm’s been done.”
“It doesn’t feel like mood swings. It feels like something primal. Something deep in the bone.” And, heaven help her, in her flesh, which seemed to have become too warm and painfully sensitive lately. Just yesterday Reece had accidently brushed against her in the cubicle in treatment room B, leaving her feeling as if he’d taken a torch to her ultrasensitive breast.
“You’ve always had difficulty surrendering yourself to the desire of God. You must pray for relief from your doubts. And for guidance. Believe me, Molly, if you open your heart, Our Lord will not abandon you.”
Sister Benvenuto stood up, signaling that in her mind, at least, this interview was over. Not having the strength nor the inclination to argue any longer, Molly pushed herself out of the too-soft chair and left the book-lined office of the Mother House.
Although it was her day off, she returned to Mercy Sam for her daily visit with Alex, arriving during his physical therapy. Although he’d regrettably ended up losing both legs in the accident, the wonders of modern prostheses had him up on his feet again. Now all he had to do was work out the glitches.
She stood in the doorway, watching as he held on to the parallel bars on either side of his still-strong body, each step an obvious effort. His pain and frustration were evident—sweat had beaded on his brow and above his top lip and he was cursing beneath his breath—but Molly was not at all surprised when he refused to stop until he’d reached the end of the bars.
“That’s wonderful,” she said, clapping her approval.
He glanced back over his wide shoulder, his grimace instantly turning into a grin. “I’m not exactly ready to take on Michael Jordan in a game of one-on-one, but it’s coming along.”
“You’ve improved so much since the last time I watched,” she assured him as she entered the room.
�
�Anything to get out of this damn chair.” He glared at the electric wheelchair the therapist was helping him into.
Molly couldn’t think of any man who’d be more frustrated being confined by such a chair. In her mind, Alex Kovaleski had always epitomized the great American West’s outdoorsman. When he wasn’t working, he was hiking, camping, hunting, and shortly before his accident, he’d even terrified Molly, Lena and Theo by taking up rock climbing during a vacation in Yosemite.
She took a tissue from a nearby box and wiped his damp forehead. “You’ll be walking again before you know it,” she assured him.
“Don’t forget dancing,” a throaty voice from behind the pair offered.
Molly turned to see Theo standing in the door, dressed in a bright cotton dress emblazoned with giant red poppies. Molly didn’t believe that the dress, cut nearly to the waist in back, and ending high on Theo’s still-firm thighs, had been designed for a woman of her years. But she had to admit that it worked.
Her hair was blond again this month—“My summer shade,” she’d announced when she’d shown up for Sunday dinner at Reece and Lena’s last weekend—and bounced on her tanned shoulders as she walked into the therapy room with a familiarity that suggested she’d spent a great deal of time here.
Ignoring Molly, or, more to the point, Molly decided, unconcerned about any audience, she bent down, held Alex’s face between her hands and gave him a long deep kiss that demonstrated their relationship had definitely flowered since New Year’s Eve.
“Lucky guy,” the male therapist standing beside Molly murmured as the kiss went on and on in a way that had her mutinous skin beginning to burn again.
Although she felt uncomfortable witnessing such open sensuality, Molly thought Alex and Theo were extremely fortunate to have found each other. Since they were two of her favorite people, she was thrilled by their romance.
“I’m sorry, Molly,” Theo said when the couple finally came up for air. “I didn’t mean to ignore you. It’s just that whenever I get within kissing distance of this big teddy bear, my heart just runs away with my head.”
Theo seemed more than comfortable with their situation, but to Molly’s amusement, Alex blushed furiously. His face looked every bit as warm as Molly’s felt.
“Dammit, woman, if you’d only learn to use a modicum of restraint—”
“You’d be miserable.” Theo cut him off cheerfully. “We both know the reason you’re working overtime to get back on your feet is so you can take me dancing.” She glanced over at Molly. “He gets so jealous thinking about all my other male admirers.”
“You haven’t wanted any other men since the day I waltzed into your life,” he growled.
Theo sighed dramatically and pressed her hand against her chest. “Heaven help me, I have no idea why I’m so fatally attracted to overly confident macho men.”
“Man,” Alex corrected firmly. But with a gentleness that Molly found endearing.
Theodora’s expression softened. Her eyes, accented by a sweep of sea green shadow, warmed. “Man,” she agreed.
They exchanged a long look that spoke volumes and had Molly suddenly feeling like the third wheel at a junior high school dance. “Well,” she said, clearing her throat, “it’s getting late and—”
“Oh, dear, now we’ve embarrassed you,” Theo said.
“Actually, I think you’re both sweet.”
“Sweet?” Alex looked aghast at the suggestion.
“Sweet,” Molly repeated with a grin. She turned to Theo. “By the way, I’m glad to see you. I’ve been meaning to tell you that was a dynamite article about you in last week’s TV Guide.”
“It was nice, wasn’t it?” Theo agreed.
“They even gave her the cover,” Alex pointed out. “And called her the Diva of Daytime Drama.”
“Which may have been a bit of an exaggeration.” Theo’s false modesty almost made Molly laugh.
“Not if what they said about you increasing ratings is true. And the story line you’ve created sounded fascinating.” Fascinating and convoluted. Molly had lost track of the cast of characters’ layered relationships halfway through the flattering cover article.
“Don’t tell a soul, but it gets even better,” Theo confided. “Poor Allison’s going to discover that the man she’s fallen madly, passionately in love with is her brother.”
“That is a complication.”
“A rather touchy one, I thought. I still haven’t figured out how she’s going to respond. I was considering having her join a convent, but I discovered that’s already been done by Days of Our Lives back in the seventies and I hate the idea of being derivative.”
“I’m also not certain a failed love affair is a valid reason to embrace a religious life,” Molly couldn’t resist adding.
Alex laughed, a rich bold laugh that triggered countless warm memories of all the times he’d been there for Molly and Lena while they were growing up.
“You’re in trouble if you’re looking for reason in a soap opera, sweetheart. From what I’ve noticed, it’s all storm and drama and incest—”
“And don’t forget murder,” Theo added with gusto. “And the secret babies, and…” Her voice drifted as she realized what she’d said. “Aw, hell. I’m sorry, Molly, dear.”
“It’s okay.” Molly smiled. “I’m well aware that if you wrote my life story, no one would believe it. Especially with this latest twist.”
“Oh?” Theo gave her a sharp look. “Have you been holding back on us, darling?”
Molly decided that since it had been her idea in the first place, and neither Lena nor Reece had asked her to keep it a secret, she may as well confide in the other two members of her small family group.
She paused for a heartbeat, decided she was behaving as dramatically as Theo, then said, “Reece and Lena are going to adopt my baby.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. Theo was the first to break it. “Why, isn’t that wonderful!”
As hugs were exchanged, Molly failed to see the concerned look Theo and Alex exchanged over the top of her head.
Chapter Eleven
Unfortunately, Tessa’s opportunity to become television’s newest star fell through when she discovered that auditioning for the part involved a lot more than reading lines.
Her agent, the legendary Terrance Quinn, who had signed her after the meeting Miles had arranged, proved nonchalant about the incident.
“Sleeping with Sands is part of the deal,” he said with a shrug. “Some girls find it worth their while.”
“Not me. I’d rather dress up in a gorilla suit and deliver singing telegrams.”
His lips quirked in an almost smile. “I doubt if it will come to that. You’re getting commercials. And you still have a shot at that new sitcom.”
She’d recently had a first reading for two guys who’d graduated from the UCLA film school, professed to be bored with L.A. faces and were searching for a new look. After numerous callbacks, Tessa—and more importantly Terrance—began to realize that she was at the top of a very short list for the role of the star’s man-hungry sidekick.
“Meanwhile, you’re not a vegetarian, are you?”
“No.”
“Good.” He made a notation on the back of a business card and handed it to her. “You’ve got a commercial for a new hamburger chain that shoots tomorrow night in Westwood. Think you can look as if you’re experiencing an orgasm from a cheeseburger?”
“You bet.”
The hamburger shoot was quick and fast, paid the rent and definitely beat screwing Darren Sands, who’d appeared about as old as dirt and just as inviting.
Even better was the commercial for a Porsche dealer who turned out to be impossibly rich, good-looking enough to be an actor himself and made her feel like the sexiest, most desirable woman on the planet during the shoot.
Wallowing in guilt instilled from her Catholic upbringing, the morning after her impulsive tryst Tessa was waiting for Jason when he arrived home from
night-shift patrol.
“So you slept with the guy,” he said with a shrug after she’d confessed.
He took his police pistol, laid it on the kitchen table, opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. He offered Tessa orange juice which she refused. But when he offered a pill he promised would cure her pounding hangover headache, she accepted.
“Jesus, Tessa, I don’t own you. You don’t owe me any apologies. Or explanations.”
Tessa couldn’t quite make up her mind about how his nonchalant attitude made her feel. On the one hand, she was relieved that he wasn’t angry. Or hurt. On the other hand, she was disappointed that he wasn’t at least a little bit jealous.
“Was it good?” he surprised her by asking.
“Not as good as with you,” she said truthfully. She took another sip of the orange juice.
Although he hadn’t moved, she felt a shift in the air. Dressed in his dark blue uniform, with the metallic badge of authority pinned to his starched shirt, he seemed larger, more powerful.
With his eyes still on hers, he took a long pull on the dark brown beer bottle as he waited for the pill he’d given her to click in. The roofie was related to Valium, but ten times stronger. One of the side effects was blackouts with a complete loss of memory. After busting a street dealer for what was becoming known, in police circles, as the “date rape drug,” he’d kept a bit of the merchandise for his own personal use.
“But not bad, either?” he coaxed.
He moved closer. So close, Tessa had to tilt her head back to look into his face. “I don’t think we should be talking about this.”
His hand cupped her cheek. “I do.” She could feel the imprint of each of his long fingers against her skin. “Did you bathe before coming over here?”
“I took a shower.” There was no way she was going to come here smelling of sin and sex.
“Too bad.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “No reason. Just an idle thought…. I want to hear all the details.”